Double Blind. Hannah Alexander
be connected to the recent tragedies that had taken place here at the school? Could it be because Wendy Hunt had called him just before the fire, telling him she had found something disturbing, and that he needed to see it?
Evelyn Metcalf had done the same long ago. Canaan had been in the cafeteria, slouched over his food, under orders from his dorm room father to eat it all before leaving. Canaan’s smallness had seldom been a bonus for him, but at that time no one had seen him. He’d overheard Evelyn whisper something to Betsy behind the counter. “I need to talk to you later,” she’d said. “I found something in the medical records that I can’t figure out.”
Moments later, Canaan had seen a teacher, Kai Begay, get up from his table in the faculty section, behind a partition. Later, Evelyn had been found dead. Canaan had always wondered if anyone else had heard the exchange.
If it had been just his child’s imagination that made him suspect something sinister had happened, then why was he so anxious now that danger may have lain in wait all these years?
Chapter Nine
S heila felt sick all of a sudden—and in over her head. She had lost all her curiosity about her mother, though she was sure that would return. But now, everything seemed to be happening too quickly.
“So, I think we’ve exposed everything about Sheila that we can tonight,” she said drily, hesitating at the cafeteria door. “Why don’t we learn a little about Dr. Canaan York?” Anything to delay the inevitable plunge.
To her relief, he took the hint and ceased further probing. He also didn’t open the door. “I’m not a good principal.”
“Most doctors I know wouldn’t make good principals, but this position is temporary, isn’t it?”
He nodded. “If I can make it three more weeks.”
“I understand this has been your first year at the school clinic.”
He looked at her. “I’m sure Granddad managed to tell you everything about my life since you left. He has a tendency to…um…boast a little more than I’d like him to.”
“Oh, yeah, you mean the way he has of saying, ‘My grandson, the doctor,’ every other sentence?”
Canaan chuckled.
“He told me you joined a clinic practice in Ganado as soon as you’d completed your residency.”
“That’s right,” Canaan said. “Many of the Twin Mesas’ graduates went to college in Ganado, so I knew many of my patients already.”
“Sort of like built-in job security,” she said.
Canaan hesitated. How he wished he’d been able to have built-in marriage security so easily. “You know how hard it can be for The People to trust outsiders, or even strangers in our tribe.”
“Your grandfather said a large percentage of Twin Mesas’ graduates go on to college.”
“Yes, Granddad’s proud of that.” Canaan hesitated. “I am, too.”
Sheila glanced up at the change in his voice. “You don’t sound too sure of that.”
He shook his head. “Some of the graduates didn’t make it to college. Two didn’t even live to graduate. They had such high hopes for the future, but they died before they could realize their dreams.”
“How?”
“Accidents.”
“What kind of accidents?”
“One from heatstroke. He was found out in the desert two years ago. He should have known better. He grew up in this desert.”
“And the other?” Sheila asked.
“Car wreck down in Gallup last year. Hit by a drunk.”
“So the deaths were unrelated.”
He grimaced.
She wondered if he realized how poorly he hid his thoughts. He’d never been good at keeping his emotions off his face. “So you came here after you became so concerned about the deaths.”
He didn’t return her look. “After Grandad asked me to.”
“He wanted you here to keep an eye on things,” she guessed.
He glanced through the glass doors into the cafeteria. “And that didn’t work, either. Three died under my watch.”
“And the Hunts were also former students,” she said.
“All three were former students. Bob Jaffrey was, as well.”
“You’re desperate to find out what’s going on.”
He nodded.
“Tell you what, I’ll keep a close eye on your work next week, and give you a critique on Friday.”
“Just what I need,” he said dryly. “Another critic.”
“I’ve heard there’s been quite a turnover of principals in the past few years,” she said.
“Seems that way.”
“I’m not getting myself into the middle of a mess, am I?” she asked. “You know, student pranks, stuff like that?”
“No pranks. Nothing we can’t handle.”
“But there is something.”
He turned to look at her for a long moment as his hand went to the cafeteria door. He grasped the handle, then stood still. “Do you remember when we were kids, we used to try to help Granddad’s neighbor herd his sheep?”
“And we spooked them every time.”
“Right. The kids remind me of those spooked animals.”
“How?”
He opened his mouth, then closed it again, shaking his head. “I’m afraid you’ll see what I mean when you start talking to them.” He pulled open the door. “If you do, will you tell me?”
“I’ll add it to my critique.”
Sheila took a deep breath and preceded Canaan into the noisy cafeteria. The huge room, as modern and clean as the exterior of the building, had been designed with children in mind. Bulletin boards held beautiful drawings and collages. She wondered if Canaan had a hand in the inspiration for some of the masterpieces.
The aromas were the same as they had been nearly a lifetime ago. Sheila knew if she closed her eyes, the smell of yeasty rolls and bubbling stew would draw her back to the days when Betsy Two Horses had stood at the serving line, teasing and laughing with the hungry children.
Recognition and remembered affection warmed Sheila as she caught sight of the Navajo woman. Funny how she could remember Betsy and Canaan and the ruggedness of the land surrounding the school so very well, but she could barely remember her mother’s image.
No, not funny, but certainly sad.
From across the length of the large cafeteria, Betsy didn’t look more than fifty, though she must be past seventy. Tendrils of her hair, still as black as Sheila remembered, had escaped the ponytail that emphasized her thin, angular face. As she reached up to push the strands back, her dark eyes met Sheila’s.
For a moment, Betsy stared. Her thick, dark brows gave her a glowering appearance, until a gleam of recognition lightened the woman’s expression.
Canaan touched Sheila’s arm and led her forward, past the chattering kids holding their trays and the dorm parents who monitored to make sure their charges behaved while the principal was in the room.
“Well, Betsy?” Canaan said. “You told me you’d recognize her.”
Betsy looked at Canaan, then at Sheila. In the light, the deep lines of her face belied