Navajo Courage. Aimee Thurlo

noticed.”

      She laughed. “I wouldn’t want you to get bored,” Valerie said as she led the way past the shuttle vans. “Not that there’s much of a chance of that, not on this case,” she added, growing somber as she got back to the business at hand. “The body found this morning was in the city, not county, but since the M.O. matches, it’s my case, too. The county crime scene unit is already there. City detectives will no doubt be there as well, standing by and looking over my shoulder every step of the way.”

      “Do you happen to have the full report detailing the first crime scene?”

      She nodded. “It’s on the seat of the car. You can study it on our way to the number two site.”

      He didn’t respond.

      “Did you hear me?” she added.

      “Of course.”

      “Then grunt or something, will ya?”

      He paused, then added by way of an explanation, “Conversation…There’s more of a demand for it out here in the city.”

      They soon reached a white unmarked sedan with local government license plates. While she unlocked the door, he noted the folder on the passenger’s seat.

      “How much do you know about the last killing?” she asked as they both got in.

      “I was briefed by my captain. I know that the murder suggested a Native American connection—Navajo, to be specific.”

      “Yeah. The cause of death was the result of stab wounds from a large knife. What made it—shall we say unusual?—was that the victim was also stabbed with a blade shaped from a human thighbone. The M.E. was able to narrow that down via fragments recovered from the wounds. Pieces broke off when the bone blade hit the victim’s ribs. There was a lot of weird symbolism at the scene, too. You can see that in the photos.”

      He nodded, studying the folder’s contents.

      “My first thought was that it was some sort of Satanic or Goth ritual, but one of our officers insisted that it was connected to Navajo witchcraft. He said that the powder we found scattered on the body, what he called corpse poison, was a trademark of skinwalkers. The M.E. confirmed later that it contained human tissue. We also found coyote hairs on the victim’s skin and clothing. Locks of her hair had been cut off, probably with the murder weapon. One last thing—interesting, not to mention weird—the tips of both index fingers, actually the entire joints, were cut from the body. They weren’t at the scene, so the perp must have taken them with him.”

      He nodded, understanding more than he was willing to talk about yet. “Was vic number two mutilated in the same way?”

      Valerie nodded. “That’s what I was told, but we’ll be able to see for ourselves soon enough.”

      As he studied the crime-scene photos, Luca recognized the symbol of the Brotherhood of Warriors that had been made from ashes and left next to the body.

      “If the perp’s intent had been to slow down identification of the victim, he would have taken all the fingertips,” she said. “So the whole thing is just plain weird.”

      “Was either victim Navajo or part Navajo?”

      “The first one’s name is Ernestine Ramirez and she’s Hispanic. The latest victim is a twenty-year-old woman named Lea Begay.”

      “The most recent victim has a Navajo name,” he said. “But from now on, vic one and two will suffice.”

      Valerie winced. “Sorry. I was told not to use the names of the victims around you, but I forgot. It has something to do with the evil side of a person that sticks around ’cause they can’t enter Heaven, right?”

      “Not quite right, but you’ve got the idea,” he answered. “What else struck you about the first scene? Does anything in particular stay in your mind?”

      “There was a small arrow with a bead at the end. It had been shot or jabbed into the victim. It was less than six inches long, doll-sized. I asked, but was told you’d explain that part.”

      “Arrows like those are shot from a small ceremonial bow made from a human shinbone,” he answered.

      “Here’s something else I’d like to know,” she said after a thoughtful pause. “Why were you, in particular, sent to help us with this case?”

      “I’m a police detective, and more important, the son of a respected medicine man.” Luca lowered his voice before uttering the next phrase. “Skinwalkers are my father’s natural enemies—and mine.”

      “Are you a medicine man, too?” Valerie asked in a whisper, not really understanding his need for secrecy but mirroring his tone nevertheless.

      He shook his head. “I trained for it but in the end I chose police work.”

      “The job gets in your blood, doesn’t it?” Her voice was still soft. “It starts as something you do and ends up being part of everything you are.”

      Her observation said a great deal about her. Valerie was turning out to be an interestingly complex woman as well as beautiful.

      “To catch a killer I need to put myself in his head—to see things as he does,” she continued. “I hope you can help me do that. I need to start thinking like a skinwalker.”

      He touched the special medicine pouch he wore looped through his belt. “Don’t use that word so freely,” he said at last.

      “Because I might call evil to us, like when I use the names of the victims?”

      He nodded and said, “It’s even more so with the evil ones. The spoken word has a great deal of power.” He glanced down at the file. “I’m going to need a few more moments to study this file.”

      “No problem. We’re still about ten minutes from the second site. It’s past the university, near Central Avenue.”

      As silence stretched out between them in the car, she kept her eyes on traffic but her focus was on him. There was something magnetic about Luca Nakai—an intensity that wove its way around her and sparked her imagination. Police officer…medicine man…He was a man of many layers and something told her that beneath that imperturbable calm was a man worth getting to know much better.

      Chapter Two

      They were still underway and despite their silence, or maybe because of it, her attention had remained riveted on the man sitting next to her.

      “You have questions about me,” Luca said, still looking down at the contents of the folder.

      She almost choked. Maybe he should have added mind reader to his list of qualifications. Recovering quickly, she glanced at him casually.

      “You have questions about me, too, I would imagine,” she said, turning it around on him. “You’re a guest of our department, so why don’t you take your shot first, then I’ll take mine.”

      “You know why I’m on this case. Why were you chosen?” he asked without hesitation.

      “Fair question,” she said with a nod. “I was chosen because I’ve been given special training to deal with violent crimes against women. I’ve only been working homicide for six months, but I’ve closed all the cases I’ve worked on so far.” Her car radio came on and she answered.

      “Our ETA’s less than five minutes,” she responded to the caller, then, racking the microphone, glanced over at him and continued. “One big problem with this case is that we already have reporters breathing down our necks. Information about the killer’s unusual signature reached the media and that’s made this a hot story. The public’s pushing for quick answers.”

      “Uncovering hidden truths often takes time. Accuracy and speed are enemies,” he said, expelling his breath in a soft hiss.

      “These