Kari opened drawer after drawer, finding more of the same—meticulous documentation, careful research, the accumulated evidence of Patricia's dedication to helping people understand their ancestry.But nothing jumped out as obviously relevant to her murder.No threatening letters, no angry emails printed out and saved, no indication of specific conflicts.
Kari turned her attention to the computer and pressed the power button.The machine hummed to life, and after a moment, a login screen appeared asking for a password.
Kari studied the desk, looking for the kind of security vulnerabilities that people often created for themselves.A sticky note with a password written on it, a notebook with credentials, anything that might give her access.She found several sticky notes scattered across the desk's surface, each with what looked like reminder notes or fragments of information.
"Call Maria - results ready"
"Check sources for Tewa connection"
"Presentation outline - May 15th"
None of them were obvious passwords, but Kari tried variations anyway, typing in words and numbers that might have significance.Patricia's birth year.The date on the presentation note.Common password patterns.Nothing worked.
She opened the desk drawer, searching for anything that might help.A small notebook caught her attention—an address book with names and phone numbers.She tried several of the names as passwords.Still nothing.
"Having trouble?"Polacca asked from the doorway.
"It's password-protected.I was hoping she'd left herself a reminder somewhere, but she was probably too smart for that."Kari sat back in the chair, frustrated."We might need to bring in a tech specialist to crack this."
"That'll take time.And authorization from the family."
"I know."Kari turned back to the desk, still searching.There had to be something.People rarely made their passwords truly random—they chose things that had meaning to them, things they could remember.But without knowing Patricia personally, without understanding what mattered most to her, Kari was just guessing.
She was trying another combination—the name of Patricia's late husband combined with a year—when Polacca's phone rang.The officer pulled it from her pocket, glanced at the screen, and answered.
"Polacca."She listened for a moment, and then her face tightened, her jaw setting in a way that suggested the news wasn't good.
"When?"Polacca asked.Another pause."Same as the other?"She listened, then said, "We're at the Lomahongva residence.We'll be there in twenty minutes."
She ended the call and looked at Kari."There's been another murder.Body was discovered about an hour ago at an ancient site east of here.Male victim, arranged the same way Patricia was."
Kari felt her stomach drop."Same killer?"
"Looks that way."Polacca was already moving toward the door."The chief wants us there immediately."
Kari took one last look at the computer screen, at the password prompt that was keeping her from whatever information Patricia had stored there.Then she shut down the machine and followed Polacca out of the house.
* * *
The second crime scene was in many ways identical to the first—an ancient burial site marked with police tape, artifacts arranged around the body in careful patterns.But the impact of seeing it was different.The first scene had been shocking, a singular violation.This second scene was confirmation of a pattern, proof that whoever had killed Patricia Lomahongva wasn't finished.
Kari ducked under the police tape and approached the body slowly, her eyes cataloging every detail.The victim was a Hopi man, probably in his mid-forties, wearing casual clothing that suggested he hadn't been dressed for any kind of ceremony.Like Patricia, he'd been positioned with his arms and legs at specific angles, his head oriented toward the east.Around him, ancient pottery shards and bone fragments created a ritual tableau.
A Hopi officer was photographing the scene from various angles, while Dr.Nakai, the medical examiner Kari had seen earlier that morning, knelt beside the body, making preliminary observations.About fifty feet away, a Hopi man in his fifties sat on a rock, his face pale and drawn.The one who'd found the body, Kari assumed.
"What do we know?"Kari asked Polacca quietly.
"Victim is Robert Nuvangyaoma.He worked at the Cultural Center as an anthropologist in the research department."Polacca's voice was controlled, but Kari heard the strain beneath it."I knew him.Not well, but enough to say hello in the hallway."
"I'm sorry."
Polacca didn't acknowledge the condolence, just continued in that same flat tone."He left work yesterday around six PM.Didn't come home.His wife reported him missing this morning, but we hadn't had time to do much with it before..."She gestured at the scene.
Kari moved closer to the body, careful not to disturb anything.From this angle, she could see the victim's face—peaceful in death, eyes closed, no obvious signs of trauma visible.But there was something about the arrangement that struck her as both familiar and strange.
"The positioning," Kari said, gesturing to how the body lay."Is it accurate?From a Hopi cultural perspective?"
Polacca moved to stand beside her, studying the scene with an intensity that suggested she was seeing things Kari couldn't."The basic elements are correct.The orientation, the placement of the hands, the way the artifacts are arranged around the cardinal points—it follows traditional patterns."
