"Martin Kooyahoema," she said when they asked, leaning back in her desk chair."I remember him.Quiet guy, kept to himself.Checked in when he was supposed to, never caused problems."
"What was your impression of him?"Kari asked."Was he trying to rehabilitate, or just going through the motions?"
Janet considered the question carefully."Hard to say.He was compliant, but there was always something closed off about him.Never really engaged with the support services we offered.Job training, counseling, community reintegration—he'd show up if required, but you could tell his heart wasn't in it."
"Did he ever express anger?Resentment toward the system, toward the community?"
"Not openly.But there was something underneath.A bitterness, maybe.Like he blamed everyone but himself for where he'd ended up."Janet pulled out a worn file folder."He was eligible for tribal employment assistance, but he never applied.Never used any of the programs designed to help ex-offenders get back on their feet.Just did his time on parole and then disappeared."
"Do you know where he went after parole ended?"
"No idea.He wasn't required to keep in touch once his supervision period was over."Janet's expression grew troubled."What's this about?What has Martin done?"
"His DNA was found at a crime scene," Kari said carefully."We need to talk to him."
Janet nodded slowly, unsurprised."I always wondered if he'd end up back in the system.Some people carry their prison with them even after they're released.Martin had that look."
They asked for the names of associates, family members, and anyone who might know where Martin was living now.Janet provided what she could—a sister who lived in Tuba City, a former cellmate who'd also been released and was supposedly working construction in Flagstaff, a few acquaintances from his old neighborhood.
The sister was their next stop.She lived in a small house with peeling paint and a yard full of children's toys.A woman in her early forties answered the door, looking harassed and exhausted.
"Sydney Kooyahoema?"Kari asked, holding up her badge.
The woman's face closed immediately."What do you want?"
"We're looking for your brother, Martin.We need to talk to him about an ongoing investigation."
"I haven't seen Martin in over a year," Sydney said flatly."And even if I had, I wouldn't tell you where he is.He's had enough trouble with police."
"This is serious, Ms.Kooyahoema.We need to speak with him."
"Then find him yourself.I don't keep tabs on my brother."She started to close the door.
"He could be in danger," Polacca said quickly."Or he could be a danger to others.Either way, we need to locate him."
Sydney paused, the door half-closed."Martin wouldn't hurt anyone.Whatever you think he's done, you're wrong."
"Then let him tell us that himself," Kari said."Help us find him so he can clear this up."
For a moment, it looked like Sydney might relent.Then her expression hardened again."I'm done talking to cops."The door closed firmly.
"She's protecting him," Polacca said as they walked back to the vehicles.
"Or she doesn't know where he is," Kari countered."Family estrangement isn't uncommon with ex-offenders.They burn too many bridges."
The former cellmate was easier to locate but no more helpful.They found him on a construction site in Flagstaff, a large man with prison tattoos and a guarded demeanor.He claimed he hadn't spoken to Martin since they'd both gotten out, said Martin had wanted to cut ties with everyone from that part of his life.
"Guy was paranoid," the cellmate said, not pausing in his work tacking up drywall."Thought everyone was watching him, waiting for him to mess up so they could send him back.Last time I saw him, he was talking about going off-grid, finding somewhere nobody would bother him."
"Where would that be?"Kari asked.
"Hell if I know.Martin didn't trust me enough to share his plans."The man paused in his hammering, looking at them directly for the first time."You got his DNA, you said?From a crime scene?"
"That's right."
He shook his head slowly."Then he must've really screwed up this time.Martin was always good at that—screwing things up just when it looked like he might get his life together."
By early afternoon, they were no closer to finding Martin Kooyahoema than they'd been that morning.Every lead turned cold, every contact claimed ignorance.It was as if Martin had simply vanished, cut ties with everyone who'd known him, gone to ground in a way that made tracking him nearly impossible.
