Cordova rose. “May I take a look?”
Mrs. Nez nodded. Cordova opened the closet door, and Bernie watched him take a step back in surprise. The pungent stench of mothballs escaped and mixed with the aroma of wood smoke from Mrs. Nez’s stove. Bernie had grown up with the smell and would have been surprised if Mrs. Nez hadn’t used them as well as natural cedar to protect her rugs.
From where she sat, Bernie could see that, like the rest of the house, the closet was neat. A large rug rolled into a cigar shape filled the single shelf. The floor had a pair of white athletic shoes, insulated boots, and a small gray suitcase. A few shirts, jeans, and a padded camo jacket hung from the clothes bar.
Bernie asked, “Are you sure your grandson never talked about Aza Palmer?”
Mrs. Nez had been watching Cordova unzip and rezip the empty suitcase. She said, “My grandson never mentioned that name.”
Cordova said, “Was R—”
Bernie caught his eye and glared. How many times did she have to tell him?
“Um . . . was your grandson interested in the Grand Canyon?”
“He never talks about that. Never been there yet.”
“What about the proposal to build a new resort? Did he speak to you about that?”
“No.”
Cordova rejoined Bernie on the couch and leaned forward toward Mrs. Nez. “Officer Manuelito and I are almost done here. Is there anything else you wish to tell us about your grandson?”
She turned to Bernie, switched to Navajo. “He’s a good boy. He helps me here more after we had the ceremony for him. I don’t know why he got hurt. I don’t know what I will do . . .” Her voice cracked and she turned away.
Bernie translated, giving Mrs. Nez a moment to compose herself.
Bernie noticed Cordova glance at the keys on the counter. “I need to inspect the truck,” he said. “Is it locked?”
Mrs. Nez didn’t respond.
Bernie shook her head. No reason to lock a vehicle out here.
Cordova rose from the couch. Bernie followed. “Ahéhee’. Thank you for your time, Grandmother. We may be back in touch with you if additional questions arise.” She conveyed her sympathy to Mrs. Nez and left a business card, although she doubted that the grandmother would ever call.
When they were outside, Cordova said, “I’ll take a look at the vehicle. Be right back.” Bernie climbed into her unit, started the engine for the heat, and watched him disappear behind the house and emerge on the other side after a few minutes. He slid in, put on his seat belt.
“Did you learn anything?”
“Nothing suspicious in the cab or the bed. I didn’t see a bomb-making studio outside there either.”
Bernie turned onto the bumpy trail of a road.
He said, “It would be nice if Mrs. Nez knew more about the girlfriend. Sonnie in Farmington. Not much to go on there. You think the old lady was truthful about that?”
“Most grandmothers I know would have more information, but she seemed to be talking straight there. But she’s lying about something. Well, maybe not lying, but not telling the whole truth.”
“Probably about Horseman being a good boy. What makes you—”
His phone buzzed, and he held up a finger and answered.
“Sure. Absolutely. We just finished with the grandma.” A pause. “The standard ‘how could my angel be involved.’” And then, “Oh really?” He ended the call.
Bernie said, “Was Mrs. Nez helpful to you?”
“Yeah. I doubt that Horseman had anything to do with the bomb. He was a petty crook, considering driving off with an expensive car at the wrong time.”
“If he was going to steal the car, why didn’t he? Why did he just linger there?”
“Maybe he wanted to wait until the game was nearly over so he wouldn’t stand out from the crowd. Maybe he reconsidered the heist while thinking about his sweet Granny? If the bomb was triggered by the ignition, he’s dead because he was dumb enough to pick the worst possible car to steal. If it was triggered by a cell phone somewhere, then we’ve got a new layer of questions.
“So while you and Sam check for potential witnesses, I’m going to look into those e-mail threats. I’m sure this is tied to the mediation. Whoever did this knew there would be extra security at the meeting, so they planned the attack for Shiprock.”
Bernie nodded. “At the game, just the rent-a-cops.”
As they headed back to the substation, the clouds moved away from the sun. Tsé Bit’a’í, the volcanic monolith of Ship Rock that gave the town its name, stood bathed in the welcome late-fall light. The formation had many different personas depending on the season, the time of day, the weather. Today it looked formidable and imposing, a sacred guidepost in the Navajo cosmos. Diné stories of the Hero Twins’ journey to make the world safer mention the huge stone landmark rising from the desert floor as the place of both bloody murder and wise compassion. She relished the gift of being born Navajo, part of such a special place.
Cordova removed sunglasses from the inside pocket of his coat and put them on. “You know, I’m going to miss these views when I get to Michigan. That, and the sunshine.”
“What’s Michigan like?”
“Good hunting. Good football. Lots of water—the Great Lakes. They have a bunch of colleges. Trees everywhere and a lot more towns and people. You ever heard of Detroit, Ann Arbor, Battle Creek?”
She ignored the question. “Do you have friends there?”
“Not me, but my wife’s college roommate lives in Wyoming.”
“Wyoming? Chee and I want to go to the rodeo in Cheyenne next summer. Are you heading up there before you leave?”
Cordova chuckled. “I meant Wyoming, Michigan. It’s near Grand Rapids. You never heard of it? Just like I never heard of Sheep Springs until I came out here.”
They drove awhile, and then he said, “What do you think Mrs. Nez was lying about?”
“I don’t know, but it has something to do with her grandson’s past.”
“She glossed over the past. OK, here’s what we know. Horseman was arrested for car theft, which probably means he stole other vehicles before getting caught. Rookie Sam discovers Horseman’s burned body at the blast site. You and I visit Horseman’s house. There’s no evidence of bomb making, no sign that he knew or cared a thing about explosives or knew Palmer. You with me so far?”
“Yes.” Bernie kept her eyes on the road.
“OK. Granny says an unknown friend, maybe the girlfriend, picked him up to go to the game even though he has a vehicle and that he’s a good boy. But she knows he’s not a good boy. I think Horseman’s a guppy in the shark pond. I’m moving on to the big fish.”
Bernie thought as she drove and Cordova went back to his phone messages. She wanted to believe what Mrs. Nez told them about Rick turning his life around. But, in her gut, she knew the old lady had a secret.
8