The Pictograph Murders

Alex McKelvey longs to fit in. She doesn’t realize that her earth-mother style—the connections she feels toward the earth and to a certain eerie pictograph panel—sets her off from the crowd. Wanting only to enjoy the beauty of the Utah desert, she packs up her gear and her Siberian husky, Kit, and joins an archaeological dig. But when the site’s owner vanishes, forces combine to sweep up Alex and Kit in a whirlwind of pot hunting, witchcraft, and murder. Who is that stranger who suddenly appears, styling himself on the folklore figure Coyote? His ability to draw the best—and the worst—from Alex leads her to the dismaying discovery that the villain she seeks is closer at hand than she had thought.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

THIRTY-THREEAlex did not have to wait long to hear answers to some of her questions. The next day—another in a series marked by heat and glare—brought with it more frustration as the archaeologists began losing the battle to catch up on their schedule. Believing he could elicit more from his crew chiefs and students. Hanks rode everybody hard. Anxiety bloomed over the site like a drought-resistant summer weed.Raff arrived to announce that the San Juan County Sheriff’s Department had launched an official missing persons search for Harry Hoskers, then left again. The emergency was far too young for anyone to entertain truly unpleasant thoughts, but vague imaginings lurked in everyone’s mind.On her way to the latrine, Alex glanced at the goat skull sitting on the backdirt pile. The big rainstorm of nearly a week ago had undermined it so that the skull had begun slipping down the side of the backdirt pile. The ominous black feather hung from its eye socket by a mere spider’s web. It was only a matter of time before a dust devil or canyon breeze whisked it away. When that happened, the skull would look like just another bit of desert detritus.She shook her head, realizing as she did that she felt the beginnings of a headache. She put her fingers to her temples and rubbed. Like an engine revving, the pain grew. She returned to excavating but within an hour felt quite ill.”Rennie, I’ve got to lie down before I throw up,” she said.“What’s wrong?” Rennie asked.“Headache,” Alex said, gritting her teeth. “Migraine.”“Need a ride to camp?”“No, I can make it—I’ll take the wash. It’s only a fifteen-, twenty-minute walk, and that’s about how much time I have before it gets really bad. I’ll keep to the shade. I’ll try to come back later.”Rennie nodded. “Take all the time you need.”Alex dropped her trowel into the equipment box, took a big drink of water, and walked off the site. When she arrived at the wash, she lay down in the shade until the nausea passed. Then she hiked the wash unsteadily, arriving at her tent, which had only just begun to slip into the cottonwood’s shade. Its interior was still hot as blazes, but Alex unzipped the front flap and staggered through, collapsing onto her cot.No sooner did she lie down than she was struck by the impression that something was wrong. She lifted her head and looked around. Everything seemed in place. She could see no obvious signs of disturbance, yet the impression was strong. Was it a scent or the lingering trace of something else unpleasant or just the migraine playing tricks on her mind?The pain overwhelmed her. Closing her eyes, she saw strange lights. She sank down, too exhausted to think about the warning impression any more. Remembering she kept painkillers on hand for situations like this one, she sat up to take them, shakily unzipping the back tent flap and two side ones, hoping for a breeze. Then she lay back down and fell into something that vaguely resembled sleep.Voices woke her some time later. As her attention focused, she realized they were coming from Heather’s tent. Alex tried to ignore them but then recognized Tony Balbo’s polished tones. Without making a sound, she rolled over and peeked out the open back tent flap.Tony carried a cooler out of Heather’s tent while Heather set up two lawn chairs. He flipped the cooler’s lid up and took out a couple of beers, opening one and handing it to Heather. He opened the other for himself. They both settled into the chairs and began drinking.Alex had seen enough to lose interest. In accordance with the school’s standards, the archaeology department was supposed to run a dry camp, but everyone knew there were infractions, especially among volunteers or others not directly tied to the school. Neither Tony nor Heather was enrolled, although the university was surely paying Heather’s salary. While Alex thought the indulgence showed contempt for camp rules, she wasn’t surprised and really didn’t care. She lay back down, the throbbing in her head demanding far more attention than Tony’s and Heather’s drinking habits.In spite of her uneasiness with Tony’s nearness, Alex felt safe as long he didn’t know she was in her tent. She listened to Tony pump Heather for information. She told him work on the site had fallen way behind schedule. He asked what areas of the site were being worked. Heather told him and then divulged information that Alex didn’t know. Taylor was opening a meter-wide test trench bisecting the worst part of the pot-hunting damage in the middens. As Tony questioned Heather about the test trench, Alex closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep. Then another voice roused her. It was Todd’s. Curiosity overcame discomfort. Quietly, she rolled over and looked out the window.She saw Tony reach into the cooler, pull out a beer, pop the top, and offer it to Todd. The thirteen-year-old Navajo considered a moment, accepted the can, and drank. Tony stood and offered Todd his chair, sitting down in the dirt at his feet. Heather watched with her usual blank stare.Alex forgot her headache as she watched Tony ply Todd with charm. He chatted Todd up about nonspecific aspects of camp life. Then he began speaking in confidential tones about the difficulties of dealing with the up-tight whites in the camp.Todd tried to sidestep the topic. “It’s not so bad,” he said. “I don’t mind.” Then he laughed. “Sometimes, it’s very interesting.”Tony chuckled, too. “No doubt it is,” he said. Catching Todd completely off guard, he said, “Speaking of interesting, I heard you had an interesting experience.”Todd froze. Assuming a mask, he looked at Tony as if from a distance. “What do you mean?” he asked.“Last night in the wash.” Tony looked away as if the business were no big deal. Alex understood the ploy. Todd could take up the subject or leave it, whichever he chose.She hoped Todd would leave it, but he stepped right into the snare.“What do you mean?” he repeated.“You know—the coyotes.” Tony fell silent, letting another pause do his work for him.Todd shifted nervously. He forced a chuckle, crossed or leg over the other, ankle to knee, and gripped the arms of h chair. “Yeah,” he said, chuckling again. “That was …”“Spooky,” Tony suggested for him.Todd didn’t reply. Alex wondered why he didn’t just leave like he did when he became uncomfortable around her. She watched in surprise as the young Navajo drained his beer. He set the can down on the arm of the chair and got up.“Another?” Tony asked.“No, thanks,” Todd replied. “I better get going.”As Todd took a couple steps toward the mess, Tony threw out another hook. “It must have been pretty unnerving. With coyotes, you never know what will happen.”“Yeah,” Todd said, taking a few more steps.“The woman with you—what did she do?”Todd stopped and faced Tony. Although he didn’t answer the question, he seemed interested in what Tony would say next.“Alexandra—Alex. Did the coyotes bother her?”“What do you mean?” Todd asked.Alex’s neck and shoulder began to cramp. She eased h self back onto her cot and lay there, her whole body prickling with tension.“You had a bit of a scare when you saw Ma’i, didn’t you?” Tony said, using the Navajo name for the folk character Coyote. “But Alex—she wasn’t scared, was she?”“I wouldn’t know,” Todd replied.“Come on, Todd. She wasn’t scared.” Tony let this assertion stand between them for a moment. “She wasn’t scared, Todd,” he insisted.Silence. Alex’s heart pounded in her head. What was begetting at?“Do you know why she wasn’t scared?”“Maybe she was,” Todd replied, forcing lightness into his voice.“Do you know why she wasn’t scared, Todd?” Tony repeated.“Okay, why?”“Because she has strong blood. You know what I mean, don’t you?”Todd didn’t reply, so Tony elaborated. “She’s a witch.”Todd laughed nervously.“She is,” Tony asserted in a matter-of-fact tone. “I tell you because I know you can appreciate what I’m saying.”Silence. Then, “What makes you say a crazy thing like that?”“It isn’t crazy. That’s something I’d expect a white boy to say. You’ve been brought up to know better.”“I have?”“Of course.” Again, one of Tony’s engineered silences fell. “She’s a born witch,” he said at last. “She came into the world with powers. Isn’t it amazing? A bit alarming, too, I would suppose.”Under her breath, Alex whispered, “You’ve got to be kidding!”“Listen, I gotta go help with supper,” Todd said, his voice flat. “You’re nuts.” There were sounds of footsteps as Todd left, breaking into a trot.“Her dog, too!” Tony called after him. “The coyotes didn’t kill the dog because it’s a witch’s beast. The dog’s got powers too!”The footsteps faded as Todd retreated from Tony’s assault. Alex heard Tony chuckle—almost giggle.“Why did you do that?” Heather asked, her question shot through with hesitation.“Why not do it? It’s the truth,” Tony said, tossing off her reproach with disdain.“But they were friends … ”“Women like that have no friends.”“But … ”“Shut up, Heather. You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Alex heard the threat of rejection in his voice. Sure enough, he said, “Sometimes I wonder why I spend my time with you. I don’t know if I even like you.”Heather fell silent.“Still, there must be something about you I find satisfying.”No response from Heather.“Have another beer,” Tony said. Sounds of a cooler opening, ice raiding, and a pop top tearing off. “Tell me more about this test trench they’re planning.”Tony and Heather sat on the other side of the cottonwood for another twenty minutes. If Alex hadn’t heard Tony’s abuse just moments before or the bizarre interchange he’d had with Todd, their conversation would have sounded like any casual chat about the site’s archaeology. At last, Alex heard them put away their chairs and cooler and walk toward the mess area.Alex lay stunned. She wondered if Tony knew she was in the tent and had staged the entire scene for her benefit, as she suspected he had the other night at the fire. But no—he hadn’t known, couldn’t have known. His treatment of Heather assured her of that. Abusive men did not invite witnesses to their private parties. She knew something about how that went.Thoughts and feelings rolled, fragmented, and flashed. Confusion and anger slid into and out of each other, creating disturbing mixtures, each breaking away as new arrangements of mental struggle broke through. She sat up and tried to get a grip on herself. “He thinks I’m a witch!” she exclaimed softly. “So that’s what all that was about the other night!”Suddenly, Alex was glad she had parried his thrust at her, knocked his hand aside before he had been able to touch her. She had touched him in the course of pushing him away, but if she had allowed him to touch her, he would have assumed that she was inviting him into her soul. It was a common theme in folklore: the devil couldn’t cross your threshold unless you asked him in.She felt her head. The pain was gone but she still felt weak and shaky. What should she do now? Obviously, revealing her knowledge of Tony’s attempt at provocateuring would be a bad idea. In fact, she couldn’t let him find out that she had been in camp at all. She pulled out a water bottle from beneath her cot and took a long drink of warm water. She had to get away before Kit found her or anything happened to betray her presence.She stuck her head through the tent door and looked around. Nobody in sight. She stepped out and zipped the tent shut as quietly as possible. Then, slipping through the grease-wood, she made for the wash. Her plan was to go back to work and then return to camp with everyone else. That way everything would appear normal. Hearing pans clatter in the kitchen, Alex was grateful for once for Wiggins’s blundering ways. The commotion provided cover for her escape.She dropped down into the wash, stopped, looked over her shoulder, and was startled to see Todd standing on the bank, watching. The two of them gazed at each other for several seconds. Alex considered talking to him about what had happened. Todd regarded her silently, standing motionless in a grove of sapling cottonwoods, neither inviting nor discouraging a response. Finally, she decided against saying anything at all and walked off down the wash, giving Todd the freedom to make of her behavior what he would.Busy with notes, Rennie acknowledged Alex’s return to the site with a glance. However, Hector welcomed her warmly.“Where did you go?” he asked. “We missed you.”Alex heard real affection in his voice and felt grateful for his sincerity. After what she had just experienced, she had begun to wonder if there were any sincere people left in the world.“Well thanks,” she said, patting him on the shoulder. “Had to go find some shade. I wasn’t feeling well.”“Oh. Are you better now?”“I am,” she said. “It cleared things up in ways I hadn’t expected.”Hector glanced at the sky. Overhead it was an unbroken blue, but in the distance a pillow of white moisture plumped itself above the Abajos. “I think I see a storm brewing up there,” he said.Alex looked toward the mountains. “I think so,” she said. “Maybe it will condescend our way.”“We could use a little condensation,” Hector joked. “Alex, I don’t suppose you know a spell that would give those clouds a nudge in our direction?”Alex stood stunned for the second time that day. After a moment of confusion, she realized Hector’s question was a joke, but combined with the still glowing effects of Tony’s assertions that she was a witch, it disturbed her.“What do you mean?” she asked, realizing as she said it that she sounded just like Todd had when Tony had cornered him.“I just thought you may have run across some weather magic in your study of folklore and your attention to witchcraft,” Hector said.She studied his face for a moment and noted the slight turn at the corners of his mouth. He was trying to play with her in a harmless way, not at all like Tony’s manipulations. She managed a strained smile. Closing her eyes and wiggling her fingers in the air, she chanted, “Partly to mostly cloudy with a 50 percent chance of thunderstorms.” She opened her eyes. “How’s that?”Hector chuckled. “Couldn’t ask for more,” he said. Alex relaxed a little. She was beginning to enjoy Hector, especially the funny little personality changes she saw him making day by day. But his innocent question had helped her decide what to do. She would leave the field school to go look for some answers—and maybe for a few good questions, too.Raff showed up again that evening to report that no one had found a trace of Harry Hoskers. Dr. Hanks received the news solemnly. “I’m sure he just went on one of his side trips,” he posed.This suggestion was met by silence.“I keep coming back to what old Redhorse said that day he showed up at the site,” Raff said.“Redhorse came to the site? What for?” Hanks asked.“That’s right, you weren’t here,” Raff said. “At the risk of offending the dead Ancient Ones, he made a special trip over, said we had witch trouble.”Hanks threw up his hands. “How come nobody told me this?”“I guess we forgot,” Danny said.“That’s it then,” Hanks said. “Something’s happened and Redhorse knows what.” He turned to Raff. “You have to go talk to him—find out more.”Raff shook his head. “He already said all he’s gonna. If I go over and bother him, it’ll only make him regret bringing it up.”“What a disaster!” Hanks growled. “That man has been nothing but trouble from the day I met him.”“Are you talking about Hoskers or Redhorse?” Taylor asked.“Hoskers, of course!” Hanks snapped.Everyone fell silent.“Well,” Raff said, breaking the gloomy silence. “I gotta get my sorry self back to Blanding. I’ll let you know if anything else turns up.”Alex stood. Her car was still at Raff’s house where she had left it after the storm. Now she wanted it back. She could wait till tomorrow afternoon—laundry day. But she thought she might break loose before that, maybe as early as tomorrow morning.“Can I catch a ride?” she asked. “I need to pick up my car.”“Oh, yeah,” Raff said. “I’ve been meaning to get your keys and have my wife drive it out, but with all that’s happened … ”“Why don’t you just wait till tomorrow when we go in for laundry?” Taylor asked.“I just want it back now,” Alex replied evasively.“Fine with me,” Raff said. “But you’ll have to drive back over the reservation in the dark, you know.”“I know,” Alex said.“Alone,” he teased.“I know!”“Let’s go then,” he said.Alex ran out to her tent to fetch her car keys. Sensing something was up, Kit ran after, keeping a close eye on her. When Alex returned to the mess area, she asked Raff if Kit could ride along.“No problem. You might need her on the way back to help ward off the skinwalkers. Some of them can run as fast as cars, you know.”“So I’ve heard,” Alex said irritably.The ride into town would have been pleasant if Alex had not been consumed with her own problems. She petted Kit absentmindedly as the dog rode between her knees. Finally she said, “Things don’t look too good for the project.”Raff drove a while before he answered. “No, they don’t. I shoulda known.” They rode in silence the rest of the way into town.Alex declined Amy’s invitation to visit, thanked Raff for the ride, and jumped into her old wagon. She didn’t relish having to drive back to camp in the dark over those lonely reservation roads and wanted to get it over with.As she drove, she watched for animals. The whole reservation was open range and cattle and horses frequently lounged on or at the edge of the asphalt. Also, she wanted to avoid hitting other desert dwellers like jackrabbits and coyotes.Only a few miles of reservation remained when Alex caught sight of a heap lying in the road. She braked and swerved, fighting to keep control of her car. She ran off the pavement and clipped the car’s right fender through the sagebrush. Kit was thrown to the floor. The car came to rest with a cloud of dust swirling past the headlights.Kit jumped back into her seat and threw Alex a look. “Ooawoo-awoo!” she yodeled in complaint.Alex sat still, waiting for her heart to stop pounding. She looked in her rearview mirror but only saw empty road. She wound down the window and peered out and could just make out the bundle lying a short distance back.“Sorry about that,” she said to Kit. “So what do you think? Should we go back and see what that was or drive like blazes out of here because we don’t want to know?”Kit yipped.“I’ll take that as a ‘yes,’” she said. “But yes, what?”She put the car into gear and turned the wagon around. “Inquiring minds want to know,” she said.She cruised back along the road until the form on the asphalt took shape in her headlights. She studied it from a distance until the jumble made sense.“It’s a body!” she exclaimed. She edged the car closer. The body didn’t move. She flipped open her glove box, pulled out a flashlight, and got out of the car. So far nothing from the heap lying on the road.“You stay here,” she said to Kit, who was sticking her head out the window. “If something bad happens, go for help.”Kit growled, then yipped.“Fine,” Alex answered. “It’ll be your own fault then if you end up in a skinwalker Navajo taco.”Cautiously, Alex approached the heap. Except for ubiquitous cricket-song, the night was still. When she got within six feet of the body, a soft, wheezing sound reached her ears. Snoring! Someone was sleeping in the middle of the road! Thinking how near she had come to extending the person’s nap forever, Alex strode forward angrily. “Hey there. Hey!” Shining her light over the body, she made out the booted, jeaned, and jacketed form of a Navajo man. She rocked him with her foot.“Wake up! You’re in the middle of the road!”The snoring shattered and grumbling took its place. Alex shined her light into the man’s face and he held up his hand to ward off the beam.“Get out of the road!”He pulled his jacket collar up and turned away.“GET UP!” she yelled. “Go sleep over there!” With the flashlight’s beam, she indicated a patch of sand off to the side of the road.The man glared. Getting to his knees, he picked up the old cowboy hat he’d been using as a pillow and staggered off the road.“He’s drunk,” Alex said under her breath, watching the man move unsteadily across the pavement. “Time to leave.”She trotted back to the car and got in, wasting no time pointing it in the direction of camp. When she had put a couple miles between herself and the sleeper, Alex remembered something a Navajo student at the Y had told her about the reservation having a high rate of hit-and-run accidents. “Some people believe it’s because of the reservation’s high rate of alcoholism—you know, a lot a drunken driving—but really, it’s skinwalkers,” he said. Alex had raised her eyebrows. “Really, it’s true,” he had insisted. “People come across skinwalkers in the roads at night and go out of their way to hit them—get rid of them.” But given the events of the last ten hours, Alex hoped she hadn’t just seen Todd’s future lying back there on the asphalt.She drove into camp and was greeted by Rennie, Danny, and Taylor. “How was your trip?” Rennie asked. “Fine,” she said. “Except I nearly got me one of them skinwalkers.”The three chiefs looked at her in surprise.“Or was it a sleepwalker?” she wondered.

About the Author

P. G. Karamesines lives and writes in southeastern Utah. She has won several literary awards from Brigham Young University, the University of Arizona, the Utah Arts Council, and the Utah Wilderness Association. Her M.A. is from BYU (creative writing), and she has pursued post-graduate studies in folklore and linguistics at the University of Arizona. She has published in literary journals and popular magazines locally and nationally. Three of her poems were published in the anthology, Harvest. This is her first novel. A sequel, Loon Woman, is in preparation.

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