Spider Woman's Daughter Read Online Free PDF

the computer.”
    “And will you look for Leaphorn’s phone?” she asked. “I’m going to check the rest of the house, see if there’s anything out of the ordinary. Maybe his cell will turn up, and I can call Louisa’s cell.”
    She left Chee fanning through the folders. She noticed again how quiet the house was, how different from her cubicle at the station or the constant noise of her unit when she was on the road. The semiretired life might be nice, she thought, but kind of lonely.
    She found Louisa’s bedroom at the end of the hall. Unlike Leaphorn’s room, it looked ransacked. Clothes tossed everywhere, drawers hanging open, shoes on the dresser top. She looked in the closet for a suitcase and saw empty hangers.
    Chee’s voice startled her. “Some of these folders might be worth following up on, but they’re old. Bigman can look at the computer files, see what’s more recent. You ready?”
    “I’m coming.” She told him what she’d found, and what she hadn’t found.
    “Maybe Louisa keeps her suitcase in the garage or in another closet. Maybe she’s just naturally messy. Like your little sister.”
    Bernie said, “I don’t think she’s messy. Look how neat the rest of this house is. I think she left in a hurry. Let’s go. You’ve got a lot to do.”
    On the way out, she pulled a business card from her pocket and wrote “Louisa, call ASAP” on the back. She left it in the center of the kitchen table, along with Leaphorn’s truck keys.
    Bernie slid into the passenger seat of Chee’s police unit, feeling the heat from the upholstery and a film of sweat on her upper lip. Chee maneuvered in behind the wheel and had just started the engine when Largo’s voice bellowed through on the scanner.
    “Chee, is Bernie with you?”
    “Yes, sir. We’re heading back to the Navajo Inn for her car.”
    “Not yet,” Largo said. “We found a vehicle that could be the shooter’s. Bernie needs to give us an ID.”

3

    “W e’ve got the car,” Largo said again. “At least, we think so. At Bashas’. Bernie needs to verify that before it gets hauled in.” An officer at the scene in the parking lot was keeping an eye on the sedan until the tow truck came to deliver it to the impoundment yard, where the Arizona police investigators could go over it for evidence.
    “We’ll be there in ten minutes,” Chee said. “By the way, Louisa may be missing.”
    Largo said, “I’ll put the word out.”
    Bashas’ grocery, on the main drag near the Navajo Nation fairgrounds, was always busy. Merchandise reflected the needs of customers, most of them Diné and many of them rural. Folks could buy basic items in bulk you might not see at a neighborhood grocery outside the reservation: animal feed, Blue Bird flour, granulated sugar in twenty-five-pound bags, gallon tubs of lard. The store stocked canned food in monster sizes, fresh meat, vegetables, and fruit. The sprawling bakery department made sheet cakes for all occasions. On any given day, a dozen women with children or grandchildren in tow populated the aisles.
    The modern, well-stocked market was one of the best things about Window Rock, Bernie thought. She loved to stand in the produce section when the sound of thunder came over the speakers, followed by the mist that sprayed the lettuce and parsley. She could pick up a loaf of bread and a bottle of aspirin for her mother and get a sandwich for those long days when she knew she’d be close to nowhere at lunchtime.
    They spotted the Navajo Police car near the back of the lot. Next to it Officer Brandon Wheeler stood in the hot sun, looking at a dark blue sedan. Bernie and Chee climbed out and headed toward him into a gust of fiercely blowing June wind. Grains of sand bounced off their pant legs and swirled in the hot dry air. Air-propelled plastic bags plastered the wire fence that surrounded the lot and hung like flags from the piñon trees. Bernie didn’t like the wind. It made her uneasy.
    She walked around