"We do our jobs.Handle our cases.Keep the peace."Kari turned away from the fence, away from the technicians and the SUVs and the land that should have been theirs to search."And we stay ready.Because sooner or later, they're going to need something from us.When that happens, I want to be in a position to help."
They walked back to their patrol vehicle in silence, the sun hammering down on their shoulders.Kari slid into the driver's seat and started the engine, letting the air conditioning wash over her face.Through the windshield, she could see the fence stretching away into the distance, a barrier between her and the answers she desperately needed.
Her mother had died believing that people were being murdered to protect corporate secrets.Now there was proof that at least one of her cases was exactly what she'd suspected.Evan Naalnish had been killed, his body hidden, his disappearance written off as just another tragic accident in the unforgiving desert.
Sixteen other cases remained in Anna's files.Sixteen other deaths that might not be what they seemed.And somewhere in those files, Kari believed, was the answer to her mother's death as well.
She put the vehicle in gear and pulled away from the fence, leaving the FBI to their work.For now, there was nothing more she could do here.But that didn't mean there was nothing more she could do.
As she pulled back onto the road and headed toward Window Rock, she couldn't shake the feeling that her mother's investigation had just become a lot more complicated.And possibly a lot more dangerous.
Anna Chee had spent her final weeks pulling on threads that powerful people wanted left alone.Now Kari was pulling on those same threads.
She just hoped she'd live long enough to see where they led.
CHAPTER TWO
Dorothy Naalnish's house sat at the end of a dirt road, the ruts deep enough to scrape the undercarriage of Kari's Jeep if she wasn't careful.She'd made this drive three times now since Ben had found the remains, and each visit felt harder than the last.
The house itself was modest but well-maintained, a single-story structure with a covered porch and a vegetable garden that showed signs of recent attention.Wind chimes made from shells and bits of turquoise hung near the front door, their soft music carrying across the yard as Kari parked and stepped out into the afternoon heat.
She had nothing new to tell them.That was the worst part.Three days of FBI investigation, and all she could offer was the same empty reassurances she'd given before.We're doing everything we can.These things take time.We'll let you know as soon as we hear anything.The words felt hollow even in her own mind.
The front door opened before she reached the porch steps.Dorothy Naalnish stood in the doorway, a woman in her late sixties whose face bore the particular grief of a mother who had waited fifteen years to learn her son's fate.Her silver hair was pulled back in a traditional bun, and she wore a long skirt and velveteen blouse that reminded Kari of her grandmother Ruth.
"Detective Blackhorse."Dorothy's voice was warm despite the exhaustion in her eyes."Come in.I just made coffee."
"Thank you, Mrs.Naalnish."
The interior of the house was cool and dim, the curtains drawn against the sun.Photographs covered nearly every surface.Evan as a baby, held by a younger Dorothy.Evan at his high school graduation, grinning beneath his cap.Evan in hiking gear, standing at the rim of a canyon with a backpack and a notebook in his hand.The photos stopped at twenty-four, frozen in time like the young man himself.
Kari had studied these photographs during her previous visits, had memorized the face of the man whose bones now lay in an FBI evidence locker.He'd been handsome, with his mother's high cheekbones and an easy smile that suggested someone comfortable in his own skin.A geology enthusiast, according to his sister Charlene.Someone who loved exploring caves and rock formations, who kept detailed notebooks about everything he found.
Someone who had found the wrong thing in the wrong place and paid for it with his life.
Dorothy poured coffee into mismatched mugs and set one in front of Kari at the small kitchen table."Charlene wanted to be here, but she had to get back to Albuquerque.School doesn't stop just because..."She trailed off, gesturing vaguely at the air.
"I understand."Kari wrapped her hands around the mug, grateful for something to hold."How is she doing?"
"Better than me, I think.She was only nine when Evan disappeared.She grew up knowing he was gone, accepted it, but I..."Dorothy sat down across from Kari, her movements slow and deliberate."I spent fifteen years hoping.Every time the phone rang, every time someone knocked on the door, part of me thought it might be news.Good news.That he'd had some kind of accident, lost his memory, been living somewhere else all this time."She shook her head."Foolish, I know."
"It's not foolish.It's human."
"Maybe."Dorothy sipped her coffee."At least now I know.That's something.We had the ceremony last week, you know.A small one, just family and a few friends.We couldn't bury him properly, not yet, but we needed to do something.To acknowledge that he's really gone."
Kari nodded.She'd heard about the memorial service from Ben, who had attended on behalf of the department.A token funeral, he'd called it.A way for the family to begin grieving properly after fifteen years of uncertainty.
"The medicine man said Evan's spirit was at peace," Dorothy continued."That he'd been waiting for us to find him, and now he could move on."Her eyes met Kari's."Do you believe that, Detective?That the dead can wait for us?"
The question caught Kari off guard.She thought about her mother, about the seventeen months since Anna Chee's body had been found near Spider Rock.About the questions that still haunted her, the investigation that had consumed so much of her time and energy.
"My grandmother would say yes," Kari said carefully."She believes the dead stay close until their business is finished.Until they've been properly honored."
"And you?"
Kari considered the question.A year ago, she would have given a diplomatic non-answer, something about respecting different beliefs without committing to any of them.But the cases she'd worked since returning to the reservation had changed her perspective on many things.
"I think there are things I don't understand," she said finally."Things that don't fit neatly into the categories I was trained to use.But I've learned to stay open to possibilities I might have dismissed before."
