CHAPTER EIGHT
The jangling of her phone pulled Kari from a dream filled with shadows and herbs, her neck protesting sharply as she jerked upright. Disoriented, she blinked at her surroundings, realizing she'd fallen asleep at her kitchen table, her grandfather's journal still open beneath her cheek.
"Detective Blackhorse," she answered, her voice rough with sleep and the lingering echoes of disturbing dreams.
"Kari, it's Ben." His voice carried the unmistakable tension of bad news. "There's been another one. Woman named Jennifer Holbrook, found at Antelope Lake. Same signature as Reynolds—herbs in the mouth, deliberate positioning."
Kari was instantly alert, fatigue burning away under a flood of adrenaline. "When?"
"Park ranger found her body about thirty minutes ago. I'm heading your way now—be there in fifteen. Captain Yazzie is already en route to the scene."
"I'll be ready," she said, ending the call and rushing to change her clothes.
She splashed cold water on her face, the shock helping to clear the fog of insufficient sleep.
As she quickly braided her hair, Kari caught her reflection in the bathroom mirror—the dark circles under her eyes, the tightness around her mouth.
After just one night with her grandfather's case files, she recognized the same signs of strain that had appeared in his journal entries as the investigation progressed.
By the time Ben's SUV pulled into her driveway, Kari had gathered the essential files, packed a small bag with evidence collection supplies, and filled a travel mug with coffee strong enough to strip paint. She slid into the passenger seat, noting the similar signs of fatigue on Ben's face.
"You look how I feel," she said, buckling her seatbelt as Ben reversed out of the driveway.
"Didn't sleep much after your call," he admitted. "Spent most of the night making discreet inquiries about Manuelito."
"Any luck?"
"Some." Ben accelerated onto the main highway, the SUV's emergency lights clearing their path through early morning traffic. "My uncle's neighbor's son saw him at the trading post near Black Mesa three days ago."
Kari frowned, surprised. "He's back?"
"By the sound of it, he was never really gone—not for long, anyway. He's kind of a drifter. Comes and goes at will." He nodded at Kari's files. "Learn anything interesting?"
Kari took a long sip of coffee, organizing her thoughts.
"I went through my grandfather's journal twice last night.
Second murder in 1973 was Laura Yellowhair, thirty-two, wildlife photographer for National Geographic.
Found at Antelope Lake on April 17th, exactly where our new victim was discovered. "
"So we're definitely looking at someone recreating the original killing pattern," Ben said grimly.
"Exact locations, same victim profiles, identical ritual elements." Kari pulled out her notes. "Joseph suspected Manuelito was involved somehow. The journal entries show increasing frustration with Manuelito's evasiveness, the way he seemed to anticipate Joseph's movements."
As they approached Antelope Lake, the rising sun illuminated a scene transformed from natural beauty to clinical investigation—tribal police vehicles, the medical examiner's van, evidence markers creating a precise grid across an area cordoned off with yellow tape.
Officer Begay met them at the perimeter, his young face drawn with distress. "Detectives. Victim's rental car is over there." He pointed to a blue sedan with slashed tires. "I spoke with her this morning during routine patrol. Warned her about being alone out here."
"This isn't your fault," Kari said immediately, recognizing the guilt eating at the young officer. "Tell us what you know."
"Jennifer Holbrook, thirty-five, photojournalist from San Francisco.
Credentials in her wallet show she was shooting for Arizona Highways magazine.
" Begay's professional demeanor was undermined by the slight tremor in his voice.
"Park ranger found her body at 6:27 during opening rounds. Called it in immediately."
"Where exactly was she found?" Ben asked.
"Up there." Begay pointed to a small clearing about fifty yards up a gentle slope. "Just off the main trail. Captain Yazzie and Dr. Hatathli are already at the scene."
As they climbed the path, Kari noticed the careful arrangement of evidence markers leading to where Jennifer's body lay. Captain Yazzie stood nearby, conferring quietly with Dr. Hatathli as the medical examiner conducted her preliminary examination.
Yazzie looked up as they approached, his expression grim. "Second victim, exactly as we feared. Same ceremony, same positioning as Laura Yellowhair in 1973." He cursed softly under his breath. "We sent patrols, and still he got through."
Kari knelt beside the body, studying Jennifer Holbrook with professional detachment despite her growing unease.
The woman lay on her back, arms at her sides, palms upward in the same deliberate arrangement they'd found with Martin Reynolds.
Her expression was peaceful rather than frightened, suggesting she hadn't suffered visibly before death.
"Cause of death appears to be asphyxiation, not stabbing," Dr. Hatathli said, pointing to subtle bruising around the victim's neck. "No defensive wounds. No indications of struggle at all."
"She was incapacitated somehow," Kari said, noting a fine yellow powder residue around the victim's nose and mouth. "What's this?"
Dr. Hatathli carefully collected a sample. "I'll need to analyze it, but it appears to be some kind of organic compound. Possibly herbal."
"The same herb bundle?" Ben asked, indicating the now-familiar arrangement of sage, cedar, juniper, and white flowers protruding from the victim's mouth.
"Identical composition to what we found with Reynolds," Dr. Hatathli said. "And based on Captain Yazzie's description, identical to what was documented in the 1973 cases."
Kari opened her grandfather's case file, comparing the photographs of Laura Yellowhair with the scene before them.
The similarities were undeniable—same location, same positioning, same ceremonial elements.
The only significant difference was the cause of death: Laura had been stabbed like Reynolds, while Jennifer had been strangled.
"Different method, same result," Ben said. "The physical killing seems secondary to the ceremonial arrangement."
Yazzie's expression darkened. "I remember when Laura Yellowhair was found. I was a rookie, first week on patrol. Still a little surprised I didn't quit after that."
"There's another detail we need to discuss," Kari said, glancing from Yazzie to Ben. "Joseph's notes mentioned a specific pattern—five victims across five sacred sites. If the killer is adhering to the historical sequence exactly, we should expect three more victims at the remaining sites."
"Whipple Creek, Cottonwood Wash, and Echo Cave," Yazzie said, nodding. "I've already ordered increased patrols at those locations, but our resources are stretched thin across the reservation."
"We need to find Manuelito," Ben said. "Whether he's the killer or knows who is, he's our best lead right now."
"Why are you looking for Manuelito?" Yazzie asked, looking from Ben to Kari. "You think he's linked to the murders?"
"Not for sure," Kari admitted. "But my grandfather suspected him, even if he couldn't prove direct involvement."
Yazzie considered this, then nodded. "Find him, but approach carefully. If he's involved, he's clearly dangerous. If he's not, he may still have insights we need."
As the forensics team continued processing the scene, Kari and Ben stepped away to confer privately.
"What strikes me most," Ben said, "is how methodical these recreations are. Most serial killings show escalation—more violence, shorter intervals between victims. But these are precise, patient repetitions of what happened fifty years ago."
"Suggesting the killer has a specific endgame," Kari agreed. "Something that requires exact replication of the historical pattern."
"The herbs, the positioning at specific locations—it all points to ritual purpose rather than psychological satisfaction," Ben said. "Most importantly, it gives us the blueprint. If the killer follows the original pattern exactly, the next murder will occur at Whipple Creek."
"Unless we can break the pattern by finding Manuelito first," Kari said. "Your cousin's husband has contacts near Black Mesa?"
Ben nodded. "Allen Growing Corn. His mother's family is from that area. If Manuelito is staying anywhere nearby, Allen's relatives might know where."
"Then that's our next move," Kari said decisively. "As soon as we finish processing this scene, we head to Black Mesa. I'm not waiting for another body to appear.