"Detective Santos," Maria said, extending her hand. "This is Detective Blackhorse."
Caldwell shook their hands, her grip firm. "I'm happy to help however I can, though I'm not sure how much I can tell you. I knew the victims by reputation, but I never met any of them personally."
"We're interested in the legal battle over the petroglyphs," Kari said as they sat. "You were the primary archaeologist documenting the site, correct?"
"I was. The petroglyphs were extraordinary—hunting scenes, astronomical markers, family lineages dating back at least five hundred years, possibly longer." Caldwell pulled out a folder thick with photographs. "When I learned they were in the path of the Sunset Ridge Resort development, I tried everything to get the site protected. Filed for historic preservation status, contacted tribal authorities, launched a media campaign. Nothing worked."
She spread photographs across her desk—images of intact petroglyphs, ancient art carved into desert stone with remarkable skill and detail. Kari felt a familiar anger looking at them, knowing what had been destroyed.
"The developer—Charles Sterling—fought every attempt at preservation," Caldwell continued. "His lawyers argued the site didn't meet criteria for federal protection, that the petroglyphs weren't significant enough to halt a major economic development project. Which was absurd, but money talks louder than history."
"You filed a lawsuit to stop construction," Maria said.
"I did. Along with several advocacy groups and tribal representatives. We argued that the environmental impact assessment was inadequate, that Sterling had rushed through permits without proper review, that the cultural significance of the site warranted protection." Caldwell's expression grew bitter. "We had a good case. Strong evidence, expert testimony ready to go. We might have actually won."
"What happened?" Kari asked, though she suspected she knew.
"I dropped the lawsuit." Caldwell looked away, focusing on the photographs. "Legal fees were mounting, and I couldn't afford to continue. Academic salaries don't cover extended litigation against corporate lawyers."
"When did you drop it?"
"About six months before construction began. Which gave Sterling just enough time to break ground before anyone else could mount a legal challenge." Caldwell gathered the photographs, returning them to the folder. "I've regretted it ever since. Every day I think about what was lost, what I could have saved if I'd just found a way to keep fighting."
Kari studied her carefully. The regret seemed genuine, but there was something else in Caldwell's demeanor—a guardedness, a reluctance to meet their eyes directly.
"Did anyone from the resort project contact you during the lawsuit?" Kari asked. "Try to convince you to drop it, offer settlements, anything like that?"
"Sterling's lawyers made settlement offers, yes. Standard practice in litigation. But I refused them." Caldwell's hands moved restlessly among the papers on her desk. "I wasn't interested in money. I wanted to save the site."
"What about after you dropped the lawsuit? Did Sterling or his people follow up, make sure you weren't planning to refile or join other legal challenges?"
"Why are you asking about this?" Caldwell's tone sharpened. "What does my lawsuit have to do with current events?"
"We're trying to understand the full context of the Sunset Ridge project," Maria said smoothly. "All the conflicts, all the players involved. You were one of the primary opponents, so your perspective matters."
Caldwell frowned thoughtfully. "I suppose that makes sense. To answer your question—no, no one from Sterling's organization contacted me after I dropped the suit. I imagine they were relieved to have one less problem to deal with."
Kari still sensed she was holding something back. But what?
"Dr. Caldwell, have you continued researching the Sunset Ridge project since dropping your lawsuit?" Kari asked. "Documenting the damage, monitoring the construction, anything like that?"
"I've driven by a few times. Seen the protesters maintaining their vigil. But no, I haven't been actively documenting anything." Caldwell stood. "Is there anything else? I have a class starting in twenty minutes."
"Just one more question," Kari said, not moving from her chair. "Do you know anything about illegal construction practices at the resort? Environmental violations, falsified permits, anything that might have been covered up during the approval process?"
Caldwell's expression went carefully blank. "I'm an archaeologist, Detective, not a building inspector. My expertise is in cultural preservation, not construction law."
"But you would have reviewed the environmental impact assessment as part of your lawsuit. You would have looked at the permits, the approval process, trying to find grounds to stop the project."
"I would have, yes. And I found plenty of issues with how quickly permits were approved and how superficially the environmental review was conducted. But that's not the same as proving illegal activity. It's just... sloppy bureaucracy and a system that favors developers over preservation."
Kari stood slowly, meeting Caldwell's eyes. "If you do remember anything about those permits or the approval process, anything that seemed suspicious or worth investigating,please contact us. It might be relevant to understanding why the murders happened."
"I'll keep that in mind." Caldwell walked them to her office door. "I hope you find who did this."
As they walked back to Maria's car, Kari thought about everything Caldwell hadn't said, all the careful evasions and defensive responses. The archaeologist knew more than she was sharing, and the lawsuit dismissal wasn't as simple as running out of money.
"She's hiding something," Maria said, echoing Kari's thoughts.
