It wasn't much, but it was something. Confirmation that their mystery caller had fled on foot to a vehicle parked several houses down—smart, keeping her car away from Sheridan's immediate property. Combined with the words and tone of the woman on the phone, these details painted a picture of someone who presented herself carefully, who thought about how she appeared to others.
But what was she hiding? Was it something innocent…
Or did she have something to do with Sheridan's murder?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Kari met Maria at Phoenix PD headquarters at six-thirty in the morning, both of them running on coffee and determination. The building was already active despite the early hour—the pressure of three unsolved murders in Paradise Valley meant overtime for everyone, extended shifts, and compressed timelines.
"Judge signed off on the phone tracking twenty minutes ago," Maria said, leading Kari through the bullpen toward her desk. "Tech team is running the trace now. Should have coordinates within the hour, assuming the phone's still active."
"And if it's not?"
"Then we hope the canvas teams got lucky overnight and someone else noticed our mystery woman." Maria dropped into her chair, pulling up files on her computer. "I've got officers checking traffic cameras near Sheridan's neighborhood, seeing if we can catch the sedan leaving the area. Also running missing persons reports, just in case our caller didn't make it home safely last night."
Kari absorbed that possibility. If the killer had realized someone else was at Sheridan's house, if they'd been watching and waiting, the woman who called 911 might be in serious danger. "What about Hatathli?" she asked. "Where are we with him?"
"Still in custody. The chief is firm on charging him with all three murders at the press conference this morning." Maria's expression was grim. "I tried arguing that the third murder proves he couldn't have done it, but the accomplice theory is locked in. They're going to present him as the ringleader of some kind of environmental extremist network."
"Based on what evidence?"
"Based on political pressure and the need to look like we're in control." Maria pulled up crime scene photos from all three murders. "But here's what we actually have: three victims, all connected to the Sunset Ridge Resort. All killed with the same weapon—ballistics confirmed the bullets match. And DNA evidence places Hatathli at the first two scenes, but not at Sheridan's house. He has an iron-clad alibi of being in our custody."
Kari studied the photos, looking for patterns she might have missed. Just then, she was distracted by the sound of raised voices down the hallway. She recognized the general direction—near the interrogation rooms—and the aggressive tone of someone who believed they had momentum.
"What's that?" she asked, already standing.
Maria's expression shifted. "Shit. Caruso."
"Who?"
"Detective Vincent Caruso. Homicide, twenty-three years on the job, thinks aggressive interrogation is an art form." Maria was up and moving toward the hallway. "He's been pushing to question Hatathli since the arrest, thinks he can break him into confessing about the accomplices."
Kari followed Maria down the corridor, the voices getting louder as they approached. Through the small window in the interrogation room door, she could see Thomas Hatathli sitting at the metal table, his hands clasped in front of him, his face showing the strain of his time in custody. Across from him stood a barrel-chested detective in his late forties, leaning forward with his palms flat on the table, invading Hatathli's space.
"—don't believe for a second you acted alone," the detective was saying, his voice carrying through the door. "You want to protect your accomplices, fine. But you're going down for all three killings whether you talk or not. Only question is whetheryou spend the rest of your life in prison or if you cooperate, and maybe we can work something out."
Kari pushed through the door before Maria could stop her.
"What's going on here?"
Detective Caruso straightened, annoyed. "Who the hell are you?"
"Detective Kari Blackhorse, Navajo Nation Police. I'm consulting on this case." Kari looked at Hatathli, seeing the exhaustion in his eyes, the way his shoulders were tight with stress. "Where's your attorney?"
"I asked the same thing," Hatathli said, his voice hoarse. "Detective Caruso said this was just an informal conversation, that I could answer a few questions without bothering my lawyer."
"There's no such thing as an informal conversation when you're in custody and facing murder charges." Kari turned to Caruso. "Does his attorney know you're questioning him?"
"His attorney isn't here, and the suspect agreed to talk to me," Caruso said. "I didn't violate any rights."
"So you're questioning a represented suspect without his counsel present."
Caruso smiled humorlessly. "I've been doing this job since before you were out of high school, Detective. I know what I'm doing."
Kari stepped between Caruso and the table. "Then you know that extracting a confession from someone who's been in custody without proper rest or legal counsel is a good way to get that confession thrown out."
Caruso's face reddened. "I got authorization from my lieutenant to question this suspect. I don't need permission from a consultant to do my job."
