Death Walker by Aimée & David Thurlo Page B

admitted.“Let’s face it. He would certainly know how to do a proper ash painting, and so would his followers. It’s part of their training. Precise details play an important part in their rituals, as in ours, and any skinwalker would pay more attention to that than the killer did.”
    Ella stood up. “I’m going to contact Big Ed.” Ella dialed and after a few minutes managed to reach her boss’s pager. She wasgrateful when the return call came only a few moments later. Ella gave Big Ed a full report, then waited as he considered his reply.
    “I don’t like this,” Big Ed finally said. “I’m going to call the psychiatric hospital. A request from me personally will get us a faster response. I’ll demand an official accounting of all his movements, even if it entails talking to every nurse and guard.”
    “Onanother, hopefully unrelated, matter. Do you know how that bus accident happened?” Ella asked.
    “Survivors say the driver swerved to avoid hitting some sheep in the road. He lost control,” Big Ed replied, then paused. “What do you mean, ‘hopefully’?”
    “Some of the people I’ve spoken to claim that the murder was just a trigger for a series of disasters. I was just thinking out loud,” Ella explained.

    “Well, they’re wrong. We have enough on our hands already. I’ll get back to you.”
    As Ella hung up the telephone, she saw her mother by the stove preparing their favorite dinner dish, a Navajo taco. The aroma of the freshly fried sopaipilla filled with beans, chiles, and meat permeated the air, making her mouth water.
    Rose sprinkled some shredded cheddar cheese over the steaming food and placedit on the table before her daughter.
    Ella’s eyes widened. “I hope this is for both of us, mother.” The sopaipilla was huge, flaky, and golden, brimming over with a cheesy pinto bean mixture that spilled all the way to the rim of the plate.
    “It’s for you, and I expect you to eat every last bite of it. You’re going to need your strength.”
    “If I eat all this, I won’t be able to fit behind my steeringwheel!” she protested with a laugh. “Come on, split it with me.”
    With a martyred sigh, Rose picked up another plate. She divided the portions, stubbornly leaving sixty percent of the food for Ella. “I worry about you,” Rose said. “I can’t help you catch criminals, but at least I can make sure you’re well fed and healthy. Don’t deny me that.”
    The simplicity of the statement and the strong emotionsbehind it made a warm rush of affection course through Ella. For a moment, she could see herself in her mother, and her mother in her. The need to provide comfort, to be needed, was very much a part of them both.
    Ella observed the way her mother held her fork, and for a moment was entranced by how similar their hands were. The bond that held them as mother and daughter was stronger now that theywere both widows. Recognizing and sharing each other’s pain had drawn them together in a way good times never could have.
    The telephone rang just as Ella finished her last bite. She walked to the counter and picked up the kitchen extension.
    “Yazzie’s been under almost constant supervision,” Big Ed informed her. “He most definitely has not left the facility at any time. They are just as worriedabout a homicidal ex-cop as we are.”
    “What about telephone calls?”
    “He talks to his lawyer, of course, and those conversations are privileged, but that’s about it. I spoke with my cousin’s wife who works there, and she said that the staff is intimidated by him, and so are the other patients. She claims that weird things are always happening around Yazzie. It got so bad that Administration wasforced to hire more guards to keep everyone calm.”
    “Weird how? This is a mental facility, right? You would expect things to be a little, well, different.”
    “I asked her that too. She said that one of the nurses had lost an earring and for days had everyone looking for