As he pocketed his phone, Ben noticed movement at the Sacred Pathways office.Tso emerged, locking the door behind him.Instead of heading toward the tour gathering area, however, he walked directly to his personal vehicle—a dark green Jeep Cherokee parked behind the building.Tso placed a worn leather satchel in his passenger seat before starting the engine.
Ben moved quickly to his department SUV, prepared to follow at a discreet distance.As Tso's Jeep pulled onto the main road, Ben allowed two vehicles to move between them before beginning his pursuit, maintaining enough distance to avoid detection while keeping the green Cherokee in sight.
Tso drove at precisely the speed limit, his vehicle following the main reservation road for several miles before turning onto a less-traveled dirt track that wound between rocky outcroppings.Ben reduced his speed further, allowing the distance between vehicles to increase on the open terrain where his pursuit would be more easily noticed.
The dirt road continued for nearly two miles before Tso's Jeep turned again, this time onto an almost invisible path that Ben would have missed entirely had he not been watching the Jeep.He stopped his SUV, knowing that following too closely now would certainly alert his subject to surveillance.
Instead, Ben grabbed his binoculars and exited his vehicle, moving to a vantage point that offered a view of where Tso's path seemed to lead.In the distance, he could make out a traditional hogan—a single-room dwelling constructed in the ancient style but appearing abandoned, its wooden door weathered by years of exposure to the elements.
Tso parked his Jeep about fifty yards from the structure, took his satchel, and walked unhurriedly to the hogan.He paused at the entrance, seeming to perform some small gesture of respect before pushing the door open and disappearing inside.
Ben marked his own location on his GPS, then called for backup."Detective Tsosie requesting assistance at my location," he said quietly into his radio."Surveillance subject has entered an isolated structure approximately two miles off Highway 264, heading north on unmarked dirt track.Approach with caution, no lights or sirens."
"Copy that, Detective," came the response."Units en route.ETA fifteen minutes."
Fifteen minutes.Ben weighed his options.If Tso was simply visiting an ancestral dwelling or using it for innocent cultural purposes, approaching without cause could damage community relations.But if the hogan was connected to the murders, perhaps even serving as preparation space for ceremonial elements, waiting for backup might mean losing crucial evidence.
The decision crystallized as Ben observed smoke beginning to rise from the hogan's central smoke hole—thin, white smoke suggestive of burning herbs rather than a cooking fire.The same herbs placed in victims' mouths?The possibility couldn't be ignored.
Ben moved carefully down the incline, approaching the hogan from an angle that would keep him out of sight from the single small window.His service weapon remained holstered but unsnapped, ready if needed.The quiet of the desert afternoon amplified every sound—the crunch of his boots on sandy soil, the distant call of a hawk, his own measured breathing as he closed the distance to the structure.
When he reached the hogan, Ben positioned himself beside the door, listening intently.From inside came a low murmuring—Tso's voice, though speaking too softly for Ben to make out individual words.The language wasn't English, but it didn't sound like Navajo.Something older, perhaps, or a ceremonial variation not meant for casual conversation.
Ben edged closer to the small window, angling himself to see inside without being observed.What he saw sent ice through his veins.
Tso knelt before a small fire pit in the center of the hogan, the smoke from burning herbs rising lazily toward the ceiling vent.Arranged in a semicircle before him were photographs—images that appeared to be driver's licenses or ID photos of Martin Reynolds and Jennifer Holbrook, along with what Ben recognized as a tribal ID photo of Jason Haskie.
Beside these photos lay what looked unmistakably like case files—manila folders containing papers covered with handwritten notes.And most disturbing of all, on a small blanket to Tso's right sat carefully prepared bundles of herbs—identical in composition to those found in the victims' mouths.
Ben no longer had doubts.This wasn't innocent cultural practice or academic interest.This was active involvement in the Shadow Walker murders, possibly preparation for the next victim.
Drawing his weapon, Ben moved to the door, positioning himself to control the single exit."Tribal police!"he called."Marcus Tso, come out with your hands visible!"
The murmuring inside ceased immediately, replaced by sudden stillness.Then came the sound of rapid movement—papers being gathered, items being collected.
"Marcus Tso," Ben repeated, louder."You are ordered to exit the structure immediately with your hands where I can see them."
When no response came, Ben made his decision.With his weapon raised, he pushed the door open with his shoulder, quickly scanning the interior for threats as he entered.
Tso stood at the far side of the hogan, his satchel now bulging with whatever he'd hastily packed into it.The photographs and files were gone from their semicircular arrangement, though the herb bundles remained beside the fire pit.
"Freeze!"Ben commanded."Hands where I can see them!"
Instead of complying, Tso lunged toward what Ben hadn't noticed until that moment—a rear exit cut into the hogan's wall, partially concealed by hanging blankets.Tso ducked through the opening, disappearing from view.
Ben crossed the room in three rapid strides, following through the makeshift exit.Outside, he caught sight of Tso sprinting toward a rocky outcropping that would provide cover and a potential escape route through the connected ravine system.
"Stop!Police!"Ben shouted, pursuing at full speed.
Tso glanced back once, his expression unreadable at this distance, then increased his pace.He was fast—remarkably so for someone who spent most of his days leading leisurely tours.
Ben leveled his weapon, had a clear shot at Tso's legs, but hesitated.Departmental protocol prioritized preservation of life, and Tso was currently unarmed as far as Ben could determine.Instead, Ben holstered his weapon and poured everything into the pursuit, his years of training and natural athleticism narrowing the gap between them.
As Tso reached the first rocks of the outcropping, Ben closed to within ten yards."Tso!"he shouted."There's nowhere to go!Backup is already on the way!"
Whether it was this knowledge or simple fatigue, Tso's pace faltered.Ben seized the opportunity, launching himself forward in a tackle that brought both men to the ground in a cloud of dust.
Tso struggled fiercely but briefly, his resistance ending when Ben secured his wrists with handcuffs.Only then did Ben become aware of his own ragged breathing, the sweat soaking his shirt in the late afternoon heat.
