She looked in the bag and smiled at him. “Almost as good as a sandwich. Thanks. I’ll change and let’s eat.”
Chee didn’t like hospitals. He couldn’t free himself of the idea that people died there. He thought about suggesting that they go somewhere other than the cafeteria, but he wanted to be close when Palmer got out of surgery.
She dressed quickly. They ordered a Coke for her, coffee for him, hamburgers for both, and took their trays to a vacant table.
Chee said, “How was your ride to Flagstaff?”
“Fine, once I got inside the helicopter. I wondered if I would get sick. I kept remembering how airsick the Lieutenant always gets. The fog lifted, and I got to see the canyon from a condor’s perspective.”
“Cool.” Chee felt his phone vibrate. “It’s Cordova.” He took the call.
Bernie sipped her Coke and thought about ordering a second hamburger.
“She’s banged up, but she says she’s fine. Here.”
He handed his phone to Bernie.
Cordova said, “I wanted to let you know we just arrested Blankenship.”
“For being a jerk?”
Cordova chuckled. “We had him on the radar from a protest in California. They matched him to the surveillance video but it took a while because he shaved his head and he’d had a beard and long hair in California. He was behind the vandalism at the Justice Center, the problems with the power and the heat.”
“Did Blankenship say anything about the bomb at Shiprock?”
“No. He denies involvement in that. I heard you took care of Lee pretty good.”
“I just stepped out of his way and let gravity do the job. Did search and rescue find him?”
“What was left. A big predator had a meal out of him.” Cordova cleared his throat. “Take care of yourself, Manuelito. If you and Chee get to Michigan, look me up.”
She gave Chee his phone and put her drink down. “I’m stunned about Lee. How can a guy who seemed so nice and helpful—”
Chee said, “I forgot to tell you. Leaphorn sent an e-mail about his conversation with Mrs. Nez. She saw the guy who hired her grandson to mess with the car. You know, the envelope said that down payment should be returned to Blankenship, but she described the man as a tall, thin bilagaana with a white cowboy hat. That’s Lee.”
He stopped talking as an attractive Navajo woman walked up to their table. She looked at Bernie.
“Are you Bernie Manuelito?”
“That’s me.”
“I’m Lona Zahne.”
“Lona! Your smile has hardly changed since high school. This is my husband, Jim Chee.”
Chee stood. “Join us.” He waved toward an empty chair.
“Thanks, but I’m here with a message for you, Bernie. Rocket—I mean Robert—wants to talk to you.”
“How’s he doing?”
“Much better, thanks. He’s young and strong, and that will help him recover. He said you asked him a question and he didn’t tell you the truth. Finish your food and come up when you can.” She gave Bernie the room number.
After Lona left, Bernie said, “You told Palmer that Robert wanted to see him. Was that true?”
Chee smiled. “Of course. Robert might not have actually said it, but he does. Why else would he have been such a pain in Tuba City?”
On their way to the stairs, they encountered Denny Duke. The old Paiute broke into a grin. “Hey there. I have something for you to give Mr. Palmer.” He showed them Palmer’s black bag. “I found it in the outhouse.”
Chee said, “Yeah, I remember seeing it there.”
Bernie said, “What happened to the delegates after Palmer disappeared? Did everyone behave?”
Duke said, “Ma’am, you’d be surprised. They listened to the Indian stories, and then Mr. Keevama asked everyone to climb back on the bus. He said Chee and you were looking for Mr. Palmer and that the FBI was helping.”
Like all good storytellers, Duke paused. “Guess what happened then?”
Bernie said, “I don’t know. What?”
“Mr. Keevama told the delegates they should cancel the mediation until future notice. The Navajo representatives agreed, and then they acted like it was really their idea. The rest of them went along with it, even the Canyonmark dudes.” Duke laughed. “The Grand Canyon has been there a long time. It will still be there when the next plan to change it comes along.”
He said to Bernie, “You know, I met you at that big game in Shiprock when you helped keep everything calm. You did real good.”
“I thought I remembered you.”
“My neighbor’s grandson is a Chieftain. He’s on the team, but mostly on the bench.”
Duke gave Palmer’s bag to Chee. And he was gone.
Robert’s face was swollen, and an ugly bruise stretched between his right eye and his chin. His left arm was in a sling. Lona sat in a chair next to him. Chee took his familiar place against the wall.
Bernie walked over to Robert. “Hi. Your mother said you wanted to talk to me. Is it all right with you if she and Chee stay here, too?”
“Sure.” Robert looked down at his damaged arm, then raised his gaze past her to the wall with the whiteboard for patient and staff comments. “Mom told me about what happened in the canyon, about Lee hurting you and my dad. I can’t believe it.”
Bernie said, “He fooled me, too.”
“We were at that restaurant with Dad and you asked me about the explosion, right?”
“I remember.”
“Well, I know why Rick was there, I just didn’t want to talk about it with my dad around.”
“Do you want to tell me now?”
He nodded. “Rick knew a lot about cars, so when Lee asked me for somebody who could help his friend, some dude named Blankenship, I gave him Rick’s name.”
Young people like Robert didn’t mind saying the names of the dead. Bernie waited.
“When we were driving to the big game, Rick told me that Blankenship had given him a bunch of money to put something in a fancy BMW. He figured it was a tracking device.”
“Rick said the guy who owned the car owed Blankenship money. He wanted Rick to steal the car later, when it wouldn’t be so obvious. Rick felt funny about that; he was trying to go straight but he needed cash because he wanted to get married.”
Robert pushed against the pillows to sit a bit straighter. “We got to the game way early and Rick put in the tracker. We watched Aza play, and Rick noticed his number—twenty-three. He got a funny look on his face. He told me that was the number on the special license plate on the car he’d messed with—a Beemer from Arizona—and that he needed to undo what he’d done. He said he’d be right back and he went out through the side door.
“That tracking device was really a bomb. Rick went out to remove it. Blankenship must have seen him, figured out what he was up to, and set it off.”