CHAPTER TWO
Kari parked her Jeep beside Ben's department SUV, noting the growing collection of vehicles—tribal police cruisers, the medical examiner's van, even Captain Yazzie's personal truck. Whatever had been discovered here warranted significant attention.
Cold Water Canyon lived up to its name even in the July heat.
The nearby natural spring kept the air several degrees cooler than the surrounding desert, the temperature difference creating swirling eddies of wind that whispered through juniper trees and sage brush.
In winter, locals said, the canyon walls trapped cold air so effectively that frost could linger in shadowed crevices until noon.
Today, however, it wasn't natural frost that had brought a chill to this scenic spot favored by hikers and photographers.
Ben waited for her at the trailhead, his tall frame silhouetted against the late morning sun.
At thirty-six, he carried himself with the quiet confidence of someone who knew the reservation's landscape as intimately as his own home.
In the months since Kari's return, their partnership had evolved from professional wariness to genuine trust—a balance of her analytical training and his traditional knowledge that had proven remarkably effective.
"Morning," he said as she approached. No pleasantries, no wasted words. Like Ruth, Ben valued directness over social niceties. "Body's about half a mile up, at the western overlook."
"You mentioned ceremonial elements," Kari said, falling into step beside him as they headed up the trail. "What exactly are we looking at?"
"White male, mid-fifties. Single stab wound to the chest. But here's where it gets unusual—his mouth is stuffed with herbs." Ben glanced at her. "Not random vegetation. Specifically arranged bundles that look deliberately prepared."
"Any identification?" Kari asked, her mind already cataloging potential scenarios, precedents, and analogous cases.
"Wallet still in his pocket, untouched. Martin Reynolds, fifty-three, professor at Phoenix College. According to his faculty ID, he teaches art history." Ben ducked beneath a low-hanging branch. "Expensive camera equipment still at the scene, car keys in his pocket. Doesn't appear to be robbery."
"Who found him?"
"Couple of college students hiking at sunrise. They're still here—pretty shaken up, but coherent. Hiked back down to call it in once they had cell reception."
Ben paused at a bend in the trail. "Kari, the herbs... they're specific types used in healing ceremonies. I recognized sage, cedar, and juniper right away, but there's something else mixed in that I couldn't identify."
The information settled uncomfortably in Kari's mind, connecting to the day she'd just spent gathering those very plants with Ruth.
Was it coincidence that a murder involving ceremonial herbs occurred the same day she'd been learning about their traditional uses?
Experience had taught her that such alignments rarely happened by chance.
"Time of death?" she asked.
"Dr. Hatathli puts it between 7 and 9 PM yesterday based on body temperature and lividity. More precise estimate once she gets him back to the lab."
They rounded the final curve in the trail, and the crime scene came into full view.
The western overlook offered one of the most spectacular vistas on the reservation—red rock formations stretching to the horizon, the sacred peaks visible in the distance on clear days.
Tourists and locals alike visited for sunrise and sunset photographs, making it a well-trafficked spot despite the moderate hike required to reach it.
Today, the natural beauty was overshadowed by the cluster of tribal police personnel surrounding something on the ground near the edge of the overlook. Captain Yazzie stood slightly apart, conferring with Dr. Susan Hatathli, the tribal medical examiner. Both looked up as Kari and Ben approached.
"Detective Blackhorse," Yazzie said, acknowledging her with a nod. At fifty-eight, he carried the quiet authority of someone who had navigated the complex jurisdictional challenges of reservation law enforcement for decades. "Glad you could join us."
"Sir," Kari replied. "Detective Tsosie briefed me on the basics."
Yazzie gestured toward the body, around which evidence markers had been placed. "Dr. Hatathli was just explaining the unusual aspects of the scene."
The medical examiner adjusted her glasses, and her expression was professionally neutral despite the disturbing scene. "Single stab wound to the chest. Clean edges suggest a knife with a sharp, narrow blade. No defensive wounds visible, indicating the victim was taken by surprise."
Kari approached carefully, mindful of potential evidence.
The victim lay on his back, arms at his sides in what appeared to be a deliberately arranged position rather than the random sprawl typical of someone who had collapsed after being stabbed.
Martin Reynolds had been a fit-looking man with silver-streaked brown hair and the outdoor tan of someone who spent considerable time hiking or photographing in natural settings.
His expression in death was one of surprise rather than terror—whatever had happened had occurred too quickly for fear to register fully.
Most striking, however, was what protruded from his mouth—a small bundle of herbs, carefully tied with what appeared to be red thread. The bundle had been forced between his lips with enough pressure to remain in place, but not violently enough to damage the surrounding tissue.
"The herbs were placed post-mortem," Dr. Hatathli said, noting Kari's focused attention. "No signs of struggle to expel them, no associated tissue damage consistent with antemortem placement."
"So he was killed, then arranged," Kari said. "There was something about camera equipment?"
Ben pointed to an evidence marker near a tripod and professional-grade camera lying on the ground several feet away. "Top-of-the-line Nikon. Worth at least five thousand dollars. Memory card still inside with images of petroglyphs from farther along the canyon."
"If robbery wasn't the motive," Kari said, "then there's a good chance this was personal."
"Or a crime of opportunity," Ben said. "The killer may have been lurking around, waiting for someone—anyone—to show up alone."
Captain Yazzie's expression darkened. "One way or another, the herb placement suggests knowledge of traditional practices. Unfortunately, that's going to complicate public perception of this case."
The unspoken concern was clear. Any crime with ceremonial elements risked reinforcing harmful stereotypes about Indigenous communities, particularly given the location on reservation land.
They'd navigated similar challenges during the skinwalker case, when an anthropology professor had twisted Navajo traditions into murder tableaus.
"We'll be methodical and discreet," Kari assured him. "Have the students who found him been interviewed?"
"Officer Nez took their preliminary statements," Yazzie said.
"Nothing unusual observed. They were taking photos of the sunrise from the overlook and discovered the body behind that rock formation.
" He pointed to a natural sandstone outcropping that partially shielded the crime scene from the main viewing area.
"No witnesses, no suspicious vehicles reported in the parking area yesterday evening. "
Kari circled the body, noting the precise arrangement.
Not just the herb bundle, but the positioning suggested deliberate care had been taken—arms placed exactly parallel to the torso, legs straight, head centered.
Someone had taken time with this, unafraid of discovery in an area that, while not heavily trafficked after sunset, wasn't exactly remote or isolated.
"Dr. Hatathli," she said, "can you tell me more about the herb bundle?"
The medical examiner gestured for her to come closer.
"It contains sage, cedar, and juniper—common elements in purification ceremonies.
But there's another component that's less typical.
" She indicated small white flowers mixed with the more familiar herbs.
"I believe these are from a plant traditionally used in healing rituals for specific ailments, but I'd need confirmation from someone with deeper knowledge of medicinal practices. "
Kari thought immediately of Ruth, who would likely recognize the plant immediately.
"I'll look into it," she said. "Anything else unusual about the scene?"
Dr. Hatathli shook her head. "Nothing that immediately stands out beyond the deliberate arrangement and herb placement. Full autopsy will tell us more."
Kari stepped back, surveying the entire scene from a distance. The overlook offered spectacular views but limited approach routes. Anyone coming up the main trail would have been visible to Reynolds for several minutes before reaching him. Yet he had apparently been taken completely by surprise.
"The killer either knew the area well enough to approach from another direction," she said to Ben, "or was someone Reynolds had no reason to fear."
Ben nodded, following her line of thinking. "There's a game trail that connects to the main path about a quarter mile back. Difficult to navigate if you don't know it's there, but it would allow someone to approach from behind those rock formations."
Captain Yazzie, who had been listening to their exchange, suddenly frowned. "The herbs in the mouth," he said slowly. "It reminds me of something I haven't thought about in years."
All three turned toward him, recognizing the shift in his tone.
"My grandfather used to tell stories about killings that happened before the big drought," Yazzie continued. "Would have been fifty years ago now. Several murders where victims were found with medicine herbs stuffed in their mouths."
"On the reservation?" Kari asked.