Navajo Courage. Aimee Thurlo

she said. “We got separated back there while pursuing the suspect and things could have gotten out of hand in a hurry. Let me give you my cell phone number in case that happens again and we need to find each other fast.”

      As she gave him her number, he wrote it down on a notepad he’d taken out of his jacket pocket.

      Bringing out her PDA, she waited for him to reciprocate but he didn’t volunteer the information. After a moment she added, “I need yours, too.”

      “I don’t have a cell phone. They don’t work well enough on the Rez to make them of any real use to us. We have radios in our department vehicles and carry handhelds.”

      Valerie just stared at him. “No cell phone?” Had he told her that he’d just beamed down from an alien spacecraft, he couldn’t have surprised her more. Her cell phone was permanently attached to her ear. She’d almost worn it into the shower a few times.

      “In that case, I need to get one for you,” she said after a beat.

      “How about a handheld radio?”

      “I’ll find both—a radio and cell phone for you,” she said, heading over to get the emergency spares in the crime scene vehicle.

      After making sure he had one of each, Valerie arranged to get the surveillance tapes from the nearby businesses, especially those within a four-block stretch along Central Avenue. Maybe they’d get lucky and locate an image of Hooded Guy.

      They continued to work the crime scene until midafternoon, viewing surveillance feeds from the various businesses by using the equipment in the crime scene van. Unfortunately, none of the cameras had revealed the passage of a man in a hooded sweatshirt. He had either not been wearing the sweatshirt when passing within camera range or had traveled along a side street.

      Once the crime scene unit finished with their on-site work and began packing up, Valerie and Luca headed back to her unmarked unit.

      “Do you know where you’re staying, or were you supposed to make arrangements once you got here?” Valerie asked him.

      “I figured I’d track down a motel after I got here. Any suggestions?”

      She paused, considering her answer. There was an empty furnished apartment next door to hers. She knew that her landlord would happily allow an officer to use it, too. Yet something told her that having nothing but a thin wall between them would make for some very long, restless nights. “Let me think about it while we go over to the university. We need to pay Professor Finley a visit.”

      Chapter Four

      Ten minutes later Valerie parked her department vehicle in the empty police parking space just a hundred or so feet from the anthropology administration office. While en route they’d called ahead and learned that Dr. Maurice Finley was chairman of the department and “somewhere” on campus. He’d be sent a text message to meet them at his office.

      Luca stepped out of the passenger side, admiring the tall pine trees around the older pueblo-inspired structures of the UNM campus. Large expanses of grass and plenty of shade were a welcome relief from the places in the city he’d already been to today.

      Valerie reached into her pocket, feeling for the photograph of the victim the crime scene tech had printed out for them back at the crime lab van. Somehow, she doubted that it would do them much good here today. Introductory classes like the low-numbered 100 courses tended to be very large at the university, where the enrollment exceeded 26,000 students. But they had to try.

      “There are probably more students here than in the Navajo Nation’s largest town,” Luca said, mirroring her thoughts. “Unless the victim sat in the front row of the class, chances are the professor won’t have any idea who she was.”

      “Probably so.” As Luca and she walked together, Valerie grew aware of the outdoorsy scent that clung to him. It fit him perfectly. There was something about Luca that reminded her of the rugged New Mexican desert. He belonged out in nature—just as much as she belonged in the city.

      As they entered the air-conditioned building, she felt in her element. A few minutes later they were seated on comfortable padded chairs along a glass-paneled wall in the department’s main office. Several people came in, including an energetic dark-haired man who glanced at them with interest after noting their weapons. The older student, probably in his late twenties and carrying a briefcase, turned to the attractive dark-haired office assistant.

      “Hey, Steve,” the young woman said, looking up at him and giving him a big smile. “What brings you by here?”

      “I couldn’t find Dr. Becenti,” he said, “but the sign on his office door says he’s supposed to be there.”

      The woman checked something on her computer monitor, then looked up and shrugged. “You’re right. It’s his office time according to his schedule. Maybe he dropped in earlier, but took off when nobody showed up. Did you have an appointment?”

      “I didn’t think I needed one.”

      “There’s an Anasazi dig going on up in Rio Rancho. He might have gone there to check it out. You could try there next.”

      “Okay, Bernie, I’ll give that a shot,” Steve said, then left in a hurry after glancing at his watch.

      A few minutes later, a fit-looking man in his late thirties, wearing slacks, a lightweight tan blazer and carrying a leather briefcase in his free hand, rushed into the office. A bicycle helmet was under his arm.

      “You must be the police officers,” he said, spotting them instantly. “I’m Maurice Finley.” He nodded to Luca and shook Valerie’s hand.

      “Sheriff’s Office. I’m Detective Jonas. This is…my partner,” she said, unsure about using Luca’s full name out loud.

      Giving her an imperceptible nod, Luca answered, “Navajo Tribal Detective Nakai.”

      “The text message from my secretary said you wanted to speak to me concerning one of my students. Is he, or she, in some kind of trouble?”

      “Can we do this inside your office?” Valerie said, noting the department secretary and another student employee nearby within easy listening range.

      “Works for me. This way.”

      A few minutes later, Finley looked up from the photograph Valerie had handed him, a grim expression on his face. “Poor girl. And, yes, I do know who she is.” He looked at Luca. “I’m going to have to say her name. Is that okay with you?” he added, obviously familiar with Navajo fears concerning the recently deceased.

      Luca nodded.

      “This is—was—Lea Begay, a young Navajo woman who was enrolled in my survey course, Anthropology 101. With a lecture hall full of students I ordinarily wouldn’t know her name, but she and I had a private conference a few weeks ago.”

      “And she wasn’t happy with the outcome of your meeting,” Valerie concluded, recalling the written comment Lea had made.

      “How’d you know?” Finley asked, then, not waiting for an answer, continued. “She was having trouble with a class and wanted to drop out before her current grade could go into her records. She was afraid of losing her scholarship. As head of the department, I promised to bring up the matter with her professor.”

      As he spoke those last words, he didn’t look at either of them, and that made Valerie suspect she wasn’t getting the complete story. Glancing over at Luca, she saw he hadn’t bought into it either.

      “How far was she willing to push to get what she wanted?” Luca asked. “And did she end up making any enemies who were in a position to retaliate?”

      “You mean like me? I barely knew the girl, and I never spent time with her except in class—and that one meeting. All I can tell you is that she didn’t drop out of my lecture. It was Dr. Becenti’s class that she was concerned about. Her friends or family might know more