CHAPTER SIX
Finn watched Martinez fidget with her sleeve as she described Mitchell's last department meeting.
Everything about the professor's timing felt wrong—showing up at the victim's house unannounced, claiming authorization from a department head who hadn't even finished processing the news of Mitchell's death.
"So Mitchell discovered something important," he prompted. "Important enough to make her nervous."
"Tracy was always careful with her research," Martinez said. Her assistant—David Bowden, according to his ID—kept glancing at his tablet, his leg bouncing with nervous energy. "She understood the responsibility she carried."
"You keep saying that." Finn leaned forward. "But what exactly was she responsible for? What made this research so sensitive?"
Martinez smoothed her blazer, a gesture that reminded Finn of his old flight instructor's tells. "Archaeological sites are complex. Sacred spaces need protection—"
"Dr. Martinez," Finn cut in. "Someone killed your colleague. Arranged her body in ceremonial dress. Used her own research against her. So either you start giving me straight answers, or I'll have probable cause to bring you both in for obstruction."
Bowden's leg stopped bouncing. Martinez's lips tightened into a thin line.
"David," she said quietly. "Show him."
Bowden hesitated, then handed over his tablet. On the screen was an email chain between Mitchell and Martinez from two weeks ago.
Elena—Need your insight. Found references to ceremonial site matching Elder Joseph's description. If I'm right, this changes everything we thought we knew about the winter rituals. But something feels off. Signs of recent activity.—SM
Martinez's reply: Be careful, Tracy. Some doors aren't meant to be reopened.
Mitchell's response came hours later: Too late. Already found the entrance. Meeting someone there tomorrow who might have answers. Will update you after.
"That was her last email to me," Martinez said. "I tried calling her the next day, but she didn't answer."
Finn checked the date. "This was five days before she disappeared." He scrolled through more emails, noting Mitchell's increasing paranoia about being followed. "Did she tell you who she was meeting?"
"No. But she was excited. Said they had special knowledge of the site."
"Special knowledge," Finn repeated. The phrasing nagged at him. "What exactly did Mitchell find in those caves?"
Before Martinez could answer, the front door opened. Sheila entered, her face tight with whatever she'd learned from the ME. Her eyes met Finn's, and he saw the subtle signal there—they needed to talk privately.
"Dr. Martinez," Sheila said. "My deputy will finish getting your statement. But I need to speak with him first."
They stepped onto the back porch, closing the door behind them. Fall sunlight filtered through yellow leaves, casting dappled shadows across Sheila's face as she described Jin's findings.
Finn felt his jaw tighten. "A professional kill. Someone with training."
"And a connection to the old missing hiker case." Sheila's voice was low. "Same method, Jin said. Which means—"
"Our killer's done this before." Finn ran a hand through his hair, processing. "But why make it painless? Why take the time to dress her body?"
"Respect," Sheila said. "Or ritual. Maybe both." She glanced through the window to where Martinez sat ramrod-straight on Mitchell's couch. "What did you get from them?"
Finn showed her the emails. "Mitchell found something in those caves.
Something important enough to get herself killed over.
" He watched Sheila's eyes narrow as she read.
"There's more. Martinez is holding something back.
The way she talks about Mitchell's research—it's like she's more worried about protecting information than finding a killer. "
Sheila handed the tablet back. "Keep pressing. I need to check on the search teams." She paused, studying his face. "You okay? You've got that look."
"What look?"
"The one you get when something's bothering you but you can't put your finger on it."
Finn smiled despite himself. Sometimes he forgot how well she could read him. "Just thinking about Mitchell's last email. Meeting someone who had 'special knowledge' of the site. Almost sounds like—"
"Like they were waiting for her to find it," Sheila finished. She squeezed his arm. "Be careful with Martinez. If she knows more than she's saying..."
"I know. You be careful, too."
Sheila nodded and headed for her vehicle. Finn watched her go, then turned back to the house. Through the window, he saw Martinez and Bowden in what looked like an intense whispered conversation.
Time to find out what they were hiding.
Inside, Martinez and Bowden fell silent as Finn entered. Their sudden stillness reminded him of suspects in an interrogation room, that moment when they realize they've said too much.
"Let's try this again," he said, remaining standing. His years as a pilot had taught him the value of positioning—how to establish presence without overt intimidation. "You came here looking for something specific. What?"
Martinez's fingers worried at a silver pendant around her neck. "I told you. The department—"
"Called you to secure sensitive materials. Yes. But you didn't answer my question." He held up Bowden's tablet. "These emails—Mitchell found something that 'changes everything we thought we knew.' What was it?"
"It's not that simple," Martinez said.
"Make it simple."
Bowden shifted uncomfortably. "Dr. Martinez, maybe we should—"
"Be quiet, David." Martinez's voice had an edge Finn hadn't heard before. She turned back to Finn. "Something changed after that last email from Tracy. She called me late at night. Said she needed to verify something, that she'd made a terrible mistake." She paused. "She sounded scared."
"What kind of mistake?"
Martinez shook her head. "She wouldn't say. Just that she had to make it right."
Bowden cleared his throat. "Dr. Martinez..."
She shot him a warning look, but Finn caught it. "David? Something to add?"
The assistant's leg started bouncing again. "It's just... Dr. Mitchell wasn't just researching the sites. She was mapping them. Creating a database of locations, access points. She said it was for preservation, but..."
"But what?"
"But some of us worried she was going too far. These places—they're sacred. Not meant to be catalogued like museum specimens."
Finn studied Bowden's face. The young man's anxiety seemed genuine, but there was something else there. Something personal.
"You worked closely with Mitchell?" he asked.
"I was her research assistant for two years, before James Cooper."
"And given what you know of Dr. Mitchell and the precautions she took, is it possible someone accessed her work without her knowing it?"
Bowden's eyes darted to Martinez. "Anything's possible, I guess. She was careful, but someone determined enough…"
Martinez's grip tightened on the book. "If someone has her research... her recordings of the oral histories..."
"They'd have locations of sacred sites across the region," Bowden finished quietly.
Finn's phone buzzed—a text from Sheila: Need you at the caves. Now.
"We're not done here," he told Martinez and Bowden. "I'm having officers escort you both to the station. We'll continue this conversation there."
Outside, he called in the request for escorts, then sat in his vehicle for a moment, thinking. Mitchell had found something in those caves—something that scared her enough to reach out to Martinez. Then she'd gone to meet someone with "special knowledge" of the site.
Someone who'd been waiting for her to find it.
His phone buzzed again. Another text from Sheila: Bring climbing gear.
Whatever the search teams had found, it was going to be a long day.