Free Blackening Song by Aimée & David Thurlo

straightened her clothes and hair as best she could, then returned to the table. Blalock watched her speculatively, as if trying to assess how big a mistake he’d made by showing her the report.
    She sat downand leaned back, doing her best to look calm and professional. Her mouth was still dry, but she rejected the idea of trying to pick up her coffee cup just yet. “Let’s start with what you need to know. What’s on that report doesn’t explain what you’re dealing with.”
    “I gathered that.”
    “Traditionally, a mutilation like this was done to a slain enemy warrior who’d fought bravely. A medicine mancould use the stolen items for his medicine bundle. This was supposed to be a powerful ward against the medicine man’s enemies.”
    Blalock’s eyes narrowed. “Do you realize the implications of what you’re saying?”
    “I am not telling you that my brother did it. What I am telling you is that whoever framed him knows a great deal about old Navajo medicine and traditions.”
    “We have evidence that placesyour brother at the scene. Remember the concha from his belt?”
    “That concha might have been one he crafted as a gift or a spare. Or maybe it was one stolen or lost weeks or even months ago. What you have is nothing more than circumstantial. Don’t try to lead me into any false conclusions with fancy footwork. It won’t work.”
    Blalock shrugged. “Tell me this. Do you believe your brother is capableof killing someone?”
    “His father? No.”
    “How about in self-defense?”
    “Even if my father had attacked him—and I assure you he wouldn’t have done that—Clifford would have offered no resistance.”
    “Is it possible he might have killed his father to increase his own powers as a medicine man?”
    Ella struggled to keep her temper in check. “You’re looking at it wrong. Clifford isn’t that kind of medicineman. Murder would be the undoing of everything he claims to be, everything he’s worked for and represents to the People.”
    “So you’re saying that there’s another Navajo medicine man out there, who wanted some extra power?”
    “Not a Singer,” she answered softly. “Today this type of crime can only be associated with skinwalkers. They traditionally gather power by whatever means they can. They subvertrituals and use them to hurt others. Traditional beliefs give them a very strong hold over people and can do a great deal of harm.” She took a swallow of water, trying to keep her voice even. “Someone may be using our ways to put bizarre twists on what might otherwise be a straightforward case,” she added softly.
    “You still believe, at least partly, in this kind of stuff, don’t you?” Blalockasked.
    “I acknowledge the harm it can do. That’s reality and has nothing to do with beliefs.”
    Blalock locked the report in his briefcase. “You’ve had a good career in the bureau, so don’t screw it up now. Stay out of this. If you hear anything, come to me and let me handle it.”
    They walked back to his truck. “You won’t be able to solve this on your own. You’re dealing with too many things youdon’t understand,” Ella insisted.
    “Once the tribal police realize I’m going to be right there, every step of the way, I’ll get their cooperation. They want this solved too.”
    “They’ll investigate, but what makes you think they’ll take you into their confidence?” Ella asked pointedly.
    Blalock smiled slowly as he started the pickup. “They don’t want an outsider’s interference, and the only waythey’re going to get rid of me is to help me find answers.”
    Not far from the Destea home, Ella asked Blalock to pull over. “I can walk from here,” she said. “It’s less than a quarter of a mile to the door.”
    “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he warned. “You don’t know who might be hiding out there.”
    “That’s why I want to be on foot,” she answered. “I’m much less likely to be