Shutter(62)

FORENSIC PHOTOGRAPHER WANTED. That’s how the ad started. They offered a salary, benefits, and quick certification. Forensics. It made me giggle. That has got to be the worst job for a Navajo, I thought, but a salary and benefits sounded like something I could get used to. I called the number, spoke to a gruff man who told me to come by the next morning about 9:00 A.M., then hung up abruptly. I drove out to Tohatchi to tell Grandma the good news.

Mr. Bitsilly and Grandma were sitting in her kitchen around some sweet rolls and steaming cups of coffee when I arrived. I brought my box of pictures, some fancy coffee, and a large sausage pizza from Godfathers Pizza—Grandma’s favorite, all the way from Albuquerque. Mr. Bitsilly laughed and grabbed a huge slice to have with his coffee.

Grandma was furious about the job interview. “Why are you still obsessed with dead people?”

“And your ghosts? Have they been bothering you?” Mr. Bitsilly munched on his pizza. “Something like this could make it worse.”

“It’s not always going to be dead people. It’s evidence, car crashes, investigations. Things like that. I’ll be with the police, so I’ll be safe.”

“I don’t know about that.” Grandma looked out the window.

“Just be careful out there,” Mr. Bitsilly spoke up. “And if you feel like something evil has you, send me your clothes and I will pray over them.” He took another bite. “You can’t bring those evil spirits back here to your grandma’s house.”





CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Nikon AF-S DX Zoom-Nikkor 55–200mm f/3.5-5.6G IF-ED

ERMA HAD NO intention of letting me sleep. In my dream, I sat inside the Apothecary, like a quiet drunk at the end of the bar. The place was buzzing and classy, the sun just setting and pulling the deep light from the table candles into the outdoor patio.

I watched Erma take inventory from a supply room as a man with a blue duffel bag hanging over his shoulder came around the corner, startling her. She dropped a bottle of scotch on the floor, shattering the glass. He laughed and grabbed her around the waist.

“Come on, Matty.” Erma squirmed out of his arms and moved to pick up the glass. “We’re slammed tonight.” She threw her bar towel at Matias and he kneeled down to scoop the glass and scotch into the trash.

“I’m sorry. When are you off?”

“I don’t know,” Erma said. “I told Mom I wouldn’t be home too late.”

“I’m leaving my bag here, babe.” Matias shoved the duffle behind the racks of booze and margarita salts, then came out and kissed Erma on the forehead. “Don’t work too hard.”

Erma smiled and walked back to the bar. I watched her shelve more bottles and count money. The stool screeched as I propped myself up again, drawing Erma’s gaze. She came over and looked me straight in the eye.

“Wake up!” she screamed. The air became cold around her breath.

I jolted up on Armenta’s couch, my boots still on. It was freezing. The dream had felt too realistic, as if I had spent the night drinking at the Apothecary, headache included.

I could hear the roar of a tractor out in the front of the cabin. I folded Armenta’s quilts on the couch, watching him maneuver his tractor on the snowy path. The sun had already begun to cast its rays through the valley, melting the fresh snow.

I stepped outside and trotted toward the comfort of my own car.

As the tractor rolled up to the last bit of driveway, it pulled hard to the left, and the gravelly hum of the engine stopped. Armenta jumped out of the warm cab, looked my way, and waved as I backed out of his driveway. I rolled my window down.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said. “I had to clear the way so I can go see my wife for breakfast.”

“No need to apologize.” I smiled. “Thank you so much for letting me stay. You’re very generous.”

“Be careful, Rita.” He unfolded the collar of his coat up around his neck. “This whole thing with Garcia . . . it’s better to not even get involved.”

“Thank you, sir.” I reached out my hand and he shook it. “I’ll be careful.”

ONCE I WAS home in my apartment, I yearned for sleep, but there was just so much to process. My mind whirled around everything Armenta had told me, all the things Garcia had done over the years. I never thought he would go so far as to be caught up in cartels and backdoor judicial extortion.

“You’re not going to go to sleep, are you?” Erma perched next to me like a raven, stiff with urgency. “The more you find out, the more I can remember. You can’t stop. Do you hear me, Rita? You can’t stop.”

My living room had gone cold. I had not even been here an hour, and Erma was already working on me.

“You were part of the whole thing, Erma.” Her lies were making my headache worse. “Don’t act like you didn’t know what was going on.”

“I wanted to make life better for my baby; is that so wrong? I can only hope that she is safe with my mom. They wouldn’t really go after her, would they?”

“They went after you, didn’t they?” Erma’s rage was pulling on me. “They killed you and the baby you had inside you. They will kill whoever they want until you give them what they want.”

Erma’s fury and sadness hit like a brick. Her scream rang so loud and cold that I thought even Mrs. Santillanes would hear it—and every other tenant, for that matter. I curled myself into a ball on the sofa to escape it.