Either way, regardless of what that last cryptic comment meant, it seemed clear that her grandfather had had his eye on Manuelito.Kari wondered where Manuelito was now.If he was out of state, maybe she could reach him by phone.
But not in the middle of the night.For now, she was going to read through the journal again, cover to cover.
And see if she couldn't figure out who this "N.H."character might be
CHAPTER SEVEN
Jennifer Holbrook drummed her fingers on the steering wheel as the tribal police officer examined her driver's license and rental car agreement.The officer—a young man whose nameplate read "Begay"—maintained the patient, impassive expression she'd encountered throughout her photojournalism career when authorities questioned her presence.
"Tourist season doesn't typically bring visitors to Antelope Lake this early," Officer Begay said, handing back her documents."Especially not at 5:30 in the morning."
Jennifer offered her most disarming smile."I'm not your typical tourist.I'm shooting a photo essay on sacred landscapes at dawn for Arizona Highways magazine.The light on the water at sunrise is supposed to be incredible."She gestured to the professional camera equipment visible on her passenger seat."I've been planning this shoot for months."
The officer glanced at her gear, his expression softening at the evidence supporting her story."We have increased patrols in this area right now.There was an incident recently."
"What kind of incident?"Jennifer asked, her journalistic instincts immediately engaged.
"Just a precaution," Begay replied, skillfully evading her question."I should advise you that visitors are encouraged to travel in pairs, particularly in remote areas like this one."
Jennifer nodded, maintaining her pleasant expression while inwardly dismissing the warning.At thirty-five, she'd photographed conflict zones in three countries and navigated urban crime scenes for major publications.A deserted lake at dawn hardly registered on her personal risk assessment scale.
"I appreciate the concern, Officer," she said."I'll only be here for the sunrise shoot, then I'm heading straight to Canyon de Chelly for an afternoon assignment."
Begay seemed to weigh his options before stepping back from her vehicle."Stay on the marked paths.Cell reception is spotty, so keep your vehicle in sight.And I'd recommend completing your shoot within the hour—we're expecting increased tourist traffic by mid-morning."
"Understood.Thank you, Officer."
As Begay returned to his patrol vehicle, Jennifer felt a familiar rush of satisfaction.Throughout her career, she'd perfected the art of projecting just enough competence to reassure authorities while appearing sufficiently harmless to avoid deeper scrutiny.The balance had served her well from Afghanistan to Zimbabwe.
She waited until the patrol car disappeared around the bend before continuing down the gravel road toward Antelope Lake.The warning about increased patrols intrigued her—perhaps there was another story here beyond scenic landscapes.She made a mental note to ask around in town later.
The road wound through juniper and piñon pine, the eastern horizon just beginning to lighten with predawn glow.Jennifer researched this location extensively, studying topographical maps and satellite imagery to identify the perfect vantage point for capturing the lake and its surrounding mesas.According to her research, a small hill about a quarter-mile from the shore offered the ideal elevation.
She parked her rental car in a small turnout, gathering her equipment—a Pentax K-1 Mark II with multiple lenses, tripod, filters, and a small drone she occasionally used for aerial perspectives despite questionable legality in some locations.The weight of the gear felt reassuring against her back as she hiked up the narrow trail toward her planned shooting location.
The hill was higher than it had appeared on maps, and Jennifer found herself breathing harder than expected as she crested the rise.The view, however, immediately assured her she'd chosen correctly.Antelope Lake stretched before her, its surface perfectly still in the windless dawn, the surrounding mesas mirrored in the water.The first hints of sunrise painted the eastern sky in bands of amethyst and gold, promising the spectacular light conditions she'd anticipated.
"Perfect," she murmured, quickly setting up her tripod and mounting the camera.
Jennifer worked methodically, capturing bracketed exposures as the light evolved minute by minute.She lost herself in the familiar rhythm of adjusting settings, reframing compositions, switching lenses to capture both wide landscapes and intimate details of light playing across water.This was where she felt most alive—alone with her camera, witnessing moments of natural beauty that most people slept through.
As the sun cleared the horizon, casting long shadows across the landscape and igniting the lake's surface into molten gold, Jennifer stopped shooting momentarily, simply absorbing the scene.After fifteen years of professional photography, she still experienced moments of pure wonder that reminded her why she'd chosen this path.
The sound came so faintly at first that she dismissed it as wind through juniper branches.Only when it repeated did she recognize the distinctive crunch of footsteps on rocky soil.Jennifer turned, expecting to see Officer Begay returning to check on her.
Instead, she found herself facing a stranger.
He stood about twenty feet away—a man of middling height dressed in a dark sweatshirt with the hood pulled over his head.In his hands, he held what appeared to be a small bundle of plants or herbs that released a sweet, pungent scent she couldn't identify.
Something in his stillness, the deliberate way he had positioned himself between her and the path back to her car, triggered the situational awareness that had kept her safe in many dangerous environments.
"Good morning," she said, keeping her tone friendly while subtly shifting her stance to maintain balance if quick movement became necessary."I didn't realize anyone else was up here."
The man didn't immediately respond.His gaze moved from her face to her camera equipment, then to the lake beyond, as if assessing her purpose here.
"This is a sacred place," he finally said."Especially at times like this."
Jennifer nodded, recognizing the opening to what would typically be cultural information shared with tourists.She'd encountered similar exchanges throughout her travels documenting indigenous lands.
