Sterling couldn't meet her eyes.
"Get away from me," Diana said coldly.
Maria called for backup while Kari stayed with Rebecca, who'd curled into herself, all fight gone.
They waited in silence until backup arrived. Officers read Rebecca her rights and led her toward the vehicles. Sterling tried to approach his daughter, but she turned her face away completely.
"Mr. Sterling," Maria said, "you'll need to come to the station for a statement. You'll likely face charges related to your wife's death and the illegal construction practices."
Sterling nodded numbly.
As they processed the scene, Kari stood at the overlook watching the sun sink. She thought about Catherine Sterling, who'd tried to do the right thing and died for it. About Rebecca, who'd destroyed her own life for revenge. About three murder victims who'd been complicit but hadn't deserved execution.
And about Thomas Hatathli, who'd been hours from prosecution for murders he didn't commit.
"We need to call the prosecutor," Kari said. "Get Hatathli released immediately."
"Already done," Maria said. "They're processing his release now."
Kari nodded, feeling the exhaustion that followed major cases. Three people dead, Rebecca facing life in prison, Sterling destroyed, Hatathli freed but traumatized.
"No winners here," she said.
"Never are," Maria agreed quietly.
As they finally left the overlook, Kari thought about her mother—about Anna Blackhorse's research into patterns of indigenous people being silenced when they threatened corporate interests. Anna had been right about the pattern. Right that people were being killed to protect business secrets, right that deaths were being covered up.
Rebecca Sterling had just proven Anna's entire theory. And somewhere in Anna's seventeen cases were other truths waiting to be found.
Kari had solved this case. But Anna's work wasn't finished.
First, though, she needed to see Thomas Hatathli walk free. Needed to close this case completely before opening the next one.
As they drove away from the Sterling estate, Kari felt the weight of everything settling on her shoulders. Justice had been served, after a fashion. But it felt hollow—necessary but unsatisfying, right but not good.
The best they could do was make sure the truth came out, make sure the innocent went free, make sure the guilty faced consequences.
And hope that somewhere, in some way, that mattered enough to justify the cost.
EPILOGUE
Ben Tsosie turned off his headlights a quarter mile from the Devco Holdings fence line and coasted his truck to a stop behind a cluster of boulders. The reservation stretched dark and quiet around him, no lights visible in any direction except the stars overhead and the faint glow of distant towns on the horizon.
His phone showed three missed calls from Kari and several texts, the most recent from this afternoon: Case closed. Heading back tomorrow. Need to debrief on both investigations.
Ben had read the brief news reports about the Paradise Valley murders—developer's daughter arrested, multiple victims, innocent man exonerated. Kari had solved it, as he'd known she would. And now she'd want to focus on Anna's research, on the pattern of deaths that had consumed her mother's final years.
He typed a quick response: Glad you're safe. Following up on something tonight. Will call tomorrow when I have news.
Then he turned off his phone completely. Where he was going, he couldn't risk it lighting up or making noise.
Ben gathered his gear—rope, headlamp, gloves, water, first aid kit. He'd told no one about this plan, not Captain Yazzie, not Kari, not even his wife. If Devco Holdings caught him trespassing on their property, he needed to be able to claim it was unauthorized personal action, not official police business. Keep the department clear of any blowback.
Ben crossed the open ground quickly, staying low, using the natural terrain for cover. He'd scouted this approach earlier in the day, identifying the section of fence farthest from any security cameras or regular patrol routes. Not that he could be certain they weren't watching—corporate security could have sensors and cameras he'd never spot.
But he'd come too far to turn back now.
The fence was eight feet of chain link topped with barbed wire, a professional installation with concrete footings. Ben used wire cutters to create an opening near ground level, just large enough to squeeze through. He'd repair it on the way out, make it less obvious that anyone had been here.
