Ryana started to sob. A nurse who had been watching them took a step closer and gave him a stern look. “Mr. Natachi is going to surgery in a few minutes. They need time alone. You can wait in the hall.”
Arthur Green Yazzie. The name drummed in his head, reverberating like a soundtrack in a B movie. He went to his police unit, radioed the station, and talked to Black.
He relayed the story of the shooting in detail, providing a better description of the car, including a roundish dent in the rear bumper.
“You said earlier a white license plate. Arizona?”
“I just got a glimpse, but no. I think California.”
He added Ryana’s reaction and the name she’d given up.
“How’s the victim?”
“Still alive. They’re taking him to surgery. Have you heard of this Yazzie guy?”
“Green Yazzie was the go-to guy for bad news out here for a long time. It followed him like a stench. But he never got violent. I haven’t thought about him for a while. If he’s back in the area, he’s been a good boy.”
Chee remembered Ryana’s reticence to give him the name. “It happened pretty quick and the car had tinted windows. I didn’t get a look at who was in the vehicle, but my gut tells me at least two people. The driver and the shooter.”
“Somebody needs to see if Ryana has more to say.” Black paused. “You want to work this case.”
It was a statement, not a question, but Chee responded anyway. “You bet. Can you get a search warrant for Ryana’s place and Mr. Natachi’s home? The tracks I saw might match those of the shooter’s vehicle, and I noticed blood on the door frame of her house.”
“Will do. I’ll talk to Largo, tell him what’s up and that I’d like you to take charge of this.”
Attempted murder—or homicide, if Mr. Natachi died—took precedence over nabbing speeders, dealing with drunks, and even shutting down meth labs. Largo understood how what looked like a minor incident could evolve into something bigger. And, of course, the FBI also could be involved.
“I’ll call now.” Black sighed. “I like that old man, and if he has a chance to survive, it’s because of you.”
After that, Chee thought about the best way to make the phone call he’d been dreading and arrived at no conclusion. He dialed the number before he could talk himself out of it.
Leaphorn answered on the third ring. “Yá’át’ééh. Make it quick, Chee. I’m on my way out.”
“So, I was at a house outside of Chinle, working a burglary case. The man I went to interview got shot while I was there. His granddaughter ID’d the shooter as Arthur Green Yazzie.” From his years of working with the Lieutenant, Chee knew better than to add his speculation and opinions.
“Arthur Green Yazzie?”
“Yes, sir.”
“She’s wrong. He’s still incarcerated. Besides, he was an addict with a history of burglaries and even some robberies but no violence. The case I worked that sent him to prison was a few years ago. He got a long sentence.” Leaphorn told him where the man was serving time. “Are you the investigator on the shooting?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Call Mona Willeto—she’s Yazzie’s sister, remember? The call you told me about a few days ago. Let her know I asked you to find out what she has to say. Tell her I’m slammed on the case I’m working now. Use your judgment to decide if she knows anything about what happened in Chinle. Got it?”
Chee thought Leaphorn had ended the call, but then the Lieutenant was back. “And if you decide it is important, don’t wait three days to give me the message.”
Chee called Mona Willeto and left his cell number as well as that of the Shiprock substation for follow-up on her voicemail.
He returned to the room where he had left Ryana, Mr. Natachi, and the nurses. It was empty. At the desk, he found the nurse who had been with them and asked about the old man.
“He’s in surgery, then he’ll be in recovery. He won’t be able to see anyone for quite a while. I’d estimate four or five hours from now at the soonest.”
“Do you know what happened to the young woman who was with him?”
“After you left, she answered some health questions about him and waited until he went to surgery and the doctors determined that he didn’t need a blood donation right now. I haven’t seen her since. She was eager to get out of here.” The nurse pushed a strand of hair back in place. “A lot of people aren’t comfortable in hospitals.”
“I was making some phone calls in my car, facing the building’s exit. I never saw her leave.”
“She didn’t want to talk to you, did she? I know you have a job to do, but you badgered that poor girl. Couldn’t you see she was heartbroken?”
Chee thought of several responses, none appropriate.
He called Ryana’s cell phone but wasn’t surprised when she didn’t answer. From his unit he radioed Black with an update, including Leaphorn’s statement that Yazzie should still be in prison. “I’m going back to Mr. Natachi’s house. I want to take another look at the place where he was attacked.” In the rush to get the injured man to the hospital, he could have missed something.
“OK. We’re working on a search warrant.”
On this second trip along the rim of Canyon de Chelly, Chee encountered more traffic. The Navajo families who sold souvenirs to visitors had set up at the scenic overlooks with the canyon’s buttes, ruins, and natural sandstone architecture as their backdrop. The rebuke from Leaphorn still burned. He’d made a mistake in not giving the Lieutenant the message right away, but Leaphorn hadn’t wanted to talk to the woman anyway. The Lieutenant was acting grumpier than usual.
He thought about Mr. Natachi’s situation. Why, near one of the most sacred places in the world, would a man be abducted, returned to his home, and then shot? Why had Ryana accepted responsibility for the incident? He couldn’t put the pieces together, but he sensed that the beautiful young woman was deeply involved.
The officer dispatched to limit access to the site of the shooting sat in his unit at the junction of the main road and the rutted drive that led to Ryana’s house. Chee introduced himself, and the man, Ralph Slim, did the same. “The lieutenant told me to expect you. No one has been by since I arrived. He wants me to wait until the search team got here and we get a warrant. Was the incident by the main road?”
“No, closer to the house. Is there a back way in?”
Officer Slim grinned. “You know there is. Everybody has a back way and an alternate to that and then the way you can walk up, come on horseback, or with a four-wheeler. I haven’t heard any vehicles since I arrived except those on this road.”
“When did you get here?”
“A while ago. If I’d known you were coming, I would have ordered lunch.”
“I hope I won’t be here that long.”
Slim turned down the music on the radio. “Yeah, me, too. Black expected to hear from the judge within the hour.”
Chee parked next to the patrol car. He stood in the shade to make a call. When Ryana had not answered after the sixth ring, he heard the beep of an incoming call and picked it up.