The phone rang four times before someone answered. "Devco Holdings, how may I direct your call?"
"Hi, my name is Ben Tsosie. I'm an officer with the Navajo Nation Police Department, and I'm investigating a cold case missing person from fifteen years ago. The person was last seen in an area that's now part of your property, and I'd like permission to access the land to continue my investigation."
There was a pause. "One moment please."
Ben waited, listening to hold music that sounded like it had been recorded in the 1980s and never updated. He looked at the fence again, at the heavy-duty construction that seemed designed for more than just keeping out casual hikers.
A different voice came on the line. "This is Michael Petrus, site security coordinator. You said you're with tribal police?"
"That's right. Navajo Nation Police Department. I'm investigating the disappearance of Evan Naalnish, who went missing in this area in 2010. I have reason to believe he may have been on what's now your property when he disappeared."
"I see. And you're requesting access to conduct a search?"
"Yes sir. Just for a few hours, to check the canyon system and see if there's any evidence of what happened to him. His family has been waiting fifteen years for answers."
"I understand that's difficult for them." There was a brief pause. "However, this is private property, and we have liability concerns about allowing access. If something were to happen to you during your search—an injury, an accident—the company could be held responsible."
"I'm a trained officer with wilderness experience. I've been hiking this terrain for years. And I'm conducting an official investigation into a missing person case."
"I appreciate that, Officer Tsosie. But our policy is very clear on this matter. No unauthorized access to company property, regardless of the reason. If you need to conduct a search, you'll need to obtain a warrant through the proper legal channels."
Ben felt his frustration building. He'd expected some bureaucracy, but this level of resistance seemed disproportionate. "Mr. Petrus, I'm not asking to search buildings or secure facilities. I just want to walk through a canyon looking for evidence related to a fifteen-year-old missing person case. Surely the company can make an exception for something like this."
"I'm afraid not. The land is posted as private property, and entering without authorization would constitute trespassing. I have to insist that you respect that boundary."
"Can I speak to someone with authority to grant exceptions? Maybe a manager or—"
"I have full authority over site access decisions, and my answer is no. If you want to search the property, get a warrant. Otherwise, I'll have to ask you to leave the area." Petrus's tone hardened. "And Officer Tsosie? We have security patrols that monitor this property. If you're standing at the fence line right now, which I suspect you are based on this conversation, you should know that you're being observed. Any attempt to cross that fence will result in immediate notification to local authorities and potential charges."
Ben looked around, suddenly aware that there might be cameras he hadn't noticed. "I'm conducting a legitimate investigation—"
"Then conduct it through legitimate channels. Get your warrant, come back with proper authorization, and we'll cooperate fully. Until then, stay off our property."
The line went dead.
Ben stared at his phone, surprised. He'd expected bureaucratic delays, maybe some back-and-forth about liability and procedures. What he hadn't expected was outright hostility, threats about being observed, and a flat refusal to even consider accommodating a missing person investigation.
That reaction—that level of defensiveness—suggested Devco Holdings was protecting something more important than just liability concerns or property rights.
Ben photographed the fence, the gate, the warning signs, and the area beyond as thoroughly as he could from his position. Then he made his way back down the canyon, troubled.
As he hiked back toward his truck, his radio crackled with a call from dispatch about a domestic disturbance that needed response. Regular police work, the daily responsibilities that filled most of his time. He'd spent half a day following a cold trail, and what did he have to show for it? Some initials carved in stone, a fence, and a hostile phone call.
But as he walked, Ben kept thinking about Michael Petrus's tone, about the threat of being observed, about the way Devco Holdings had immediately escalated to warnings and legal language instead of simply explaining why access couldn't be granted.
That wasn't the response of a company with nothing to hide. That was the response of a company protecting a secret worth keeping.
And he was going to figure out what that secret was.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Kari's eyes burned from staring at the laptop screen for three straight hours, but she couldn't stop now. She was close to something.
The email thread on her screen was from 2022, buried deep in Victor Sheridan's company files—a tense exchange between Sheridan and a building inspector named Torres about "scheduling flexibility" for a surprise OSHA visit. Torres's responses were careful. Sheridan's were increasingly direct. The final email was just a phone number and "Call me. We'll work something out."
Two weeks later, Torres approved work that three other inspectors had flagged as non-compliant.
Kari added Torres's name to her growing list and kept digging.
