Navajo Courage. Aimee Thurlo

      “Not just that. I figured that a skinwalker would be watching for anyone who might be a hataalii, a medicine man, and wearing a medicine bundle,” he said, pointing to his jish. It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the complete truth either. The skinwalker, or skinwalker wannabe, had issued a clear challenge to the Brotherhood of Warriors and would have undoubtedly been looking to see who’d come in response to that.

      “Did you get a close enough look to be able to make an ID?” she asked him.

      He shook his head. “Just general size and shape, and the fact that he moved like a man, not a woman. I’m not talking about fitness, just gait, okay?”

      She gave him a wry smile. “No harm, no foul. I get you. But that puts us at a dead end. Let’s go back and interview the witnesses.”

      “They may be reluctant to talk to us, particularly in a case where witchcraft’s involved. Navajos aren’t the only ones taught to avoid things of that nature.”

      Valerie gave him a surprised look. “I have no idea how you investigate a case like this on the reservation,” she said, “but, out here, they can either talk or find themselves down at the station. I don’t take ‘no’ for an answer—not when I’m investigating a homicide.”

      As they approached the crime scene Valerie was aware of everything about her new partner. Their styles of working were vastly different, yet she had a feeling about him. A quiet man of strength, Luca had come prepared to solve the case. She could feel his determination and understood that feeling well. They’d mesh well as partners…if only she could stop letting the fire in his eyes distract her.

      Focusing back on the case, Valerie spoke to the city officer who’d kept the witnesses separated. Elderly Mrs. Santiago had been escorted home so Valerie approached the younger woman who’d remained behind. Mary Sanchez had listed her employment as entertainer, but the short skirt, revealing tank top and hard look despite her age left little doubt what kind of entertaining she did.

      “I’m tired, guys, and ready to go home. Tell me what you need so I can get out of here,” she said in a weary voice.

      “We’ll make this as quick as possible. Just tell us what you saw,” Valerie said.

      “It was around eight. I was on my way home—I usually cut through this alley—when I heard Mrs. Santiago looking for that blasted cat of hers. The thing’s a nuisance, but it’s all she’s got so I decided to help her find him. I know he likes digging through the garbage, so I looked in the alley near her trash can. He was up on that wall,” she said and pointed, indicating the spot just above where they’d found the body. “The cat was making such a racket I thought he was hurt, so I went over to pick him up. That’s when I saw the dead girl,” she said and shuddered. “I’ve seen people cut up before, but this was bad—real bad.”

      Valerie gave her time to pull herself together. A crime scene like this one was enough to rattle even a seasoned veteran.

      “The blood—it was everywhere—and that Satanic stuff, right out of a horror flick. That’s going to give me nightmares for the rest of my life,” she whispered. “And poor Mrs. Santiago. She came up behind me for a look before I could warn her away. She nearly fainted.”

      “Did you notice anyone else around—maybe someone wearing a gray sweatshirt, hood over their head?” Luca asked.

      “Not today. Sometimes I see people in sweats out jogging, but that’s usually closer to the university,” Mary answered.

      Leaving her to sign the statement she’d given earlier to the county officer in charge of the crime scene team, they followed up on Mrs. Santiago.

      The sergeant who’d secured the scene directed them to a house two doors down. “That woman’s got to be in her eighties and she was looking downright frail. I let her go back to her home and left an APD officer with her.”

      When Luca and Valerie arrived at the house they were greeted by brightly colored flowers that edged the path to the front door. Although the paint on the trim was faded and the screen door looked worn, they could see that the owner had done her best with her limited budget.

      Mrs. Santiago was a small woman with intelligent eyes that, at the moment, mirrored only a barely contained panic despite the presence of the burly city cop standing beside the window.

      Not wanting to traumatize the elderly woman any further, Valerie released the APD officer, then, seeing a knitting basket across the room, smiled. Her mother had been an avid knitter and if Mrs. Santiago was anything like her, the activity would immediately relax her.

      “Let me move that closer to you,” Valerie said, picking up the basket. “That’s a lovely sweater,” she added, looking at the partial work lying on the top.

      “It’s for my niece. I’m hoping she’ll come for Christmas….”

      “That’ll be a wonderful present,” Valerie said. “I’m sure she’ll love it.”

      Mrs. Santiago fingered the yarn absently then picked up her needles and began to knit. “I’m going to have to stop letting Oscar out. These days, between the gangs and the drugs, no one’s safe. But the way that poor woman was massacred, and those things around the body…” Mrs. Santiago shuddered and her knitting needles began to click together at a furious pace. “That’s not drug related or the work of the gangs around here. That’s brujería.”

      “Excuse me?” Valerie asked.

      “I know witchcraft when I see it—but that’s not Spanish brujería. That’s from your people, isn’t it?” she asked, looking at Luca.

      “What makes you say that?” he asked.

      “I overheard two officers talking,” Mrs. Santiago said in a hushed tone and crossed herself. “When you’re old like me, people don’t notice, or maybe don’t care that you’re there. Sometimes that’s a good thing, other times it’s not.” She paused and lapsed into a long, thoughtful silence.

      Getting impatient, Valerie started to press her, but Luca shook his head and signaled her to wait.

      “Like that strange man I saw this morning,” Mrs. Santiago added at long last. “He hovered around at the edges of the crowd, watching the officers instead of trying to get a look at the body like the rest of the people there. I think he was more interested in the officers’ reactions than anything else.”

      “What was he wearing?” Valerie asked immediately.

      “A gray sweatshirt with a hood. He was probably a jogger trying to lose weight. He must have been sweating like crazy in that outfit.”

      “Did you happen to get a look at his face?” Luca asked. “Was he Anglo, Indian, maybe black?”

      “I didn’t get a close enough look. All I really noticed was the sweatshirt ’cause it struck me as odd in this heat. Then a deputy asked me a question. By the time I glanced back, the man was gone.”

      “How tall was he?” Luca asked. He’d never seen the person standing still up close, and it was harder to estimate the height of someone who was running.

      “He was about your size and weight. But that’s all I can tell you. My eyes…they don’t work too good at a distance.”

      Despite that, their oldest witness had noticed more than most others had today. “We’ll need you to sign a statement, then we’ll be out of your way,” Valerie said.

      “Good, because it’s time for me to get Oscar’s lunch ready. He gets crabby when he doesn’t get his tuna on time.”

      Soon they left Mrs. Santiago’s, and, as they walked back to the scene, Valerie matched Luca’s strides. He was built for strength and endurance…. The possibilities sparked her imagination.

      Almost instantly, Valerie pushed those thoughts firmly back, shaking her head.

      Noticing