CHAPTER FIFTEEN #2
What connected these people? What had drawn them to specific locations at vulnerable moments? And how had the killer identified them as suitable targets for his ceremonial purposes?
The answers, Kari suspected, lay somewhere in her grandfather's missing notes—or in the memories of those who had lived through the original Shadow Walker killings.
"Captain approved our trip to Phoenix," Ben said as he put his phone away. "And Daniels is sending agents to Haskie's home address. They'll coordinate with Phoenix PD."
Kari nodded, finishing her coffee. "We'll need to be sensitive when we speak with Mrs. Haskie.
Losing a spouse is devastating under any circumstances, but learning they were murdered as part of a ritual pattern.
.." She trailed off, unable to fully articulate the particular horror of such a notification.
"I found her address," Ben said, sending the information to their phones. "Upscale neighborhood in North Phoenix."
"Let's go," Kari said, already moving toward the door. "Maybe this time, we'll find the connection that brings this all together."
***
The summer heat had already settled over Phoenix by the time they pulled into the driveway of the Haskie residence—a tasteful Southwestern-style home in a gated community where drought-resistant landscaping framed neat stucco exteriors.
Two vehicles were parked in the circular driveway: a Phoenix Police Department cruiser and a silver Mercedes sedan.
"Local liaison," Ben said, nodding toward the cruiser as they parked behind it. "Standard protocol for cross-jurisdictional investigations."
They approached the front door, the morning sun already intense enough to make Kari regret her choice of dark blazer. A Phoenix PD officer greeted them, his expression professionally somber.
"Detective Tsosie, Detective Blackhorse," he said, checking their credentials. "I'm Officer Rodriguez. Mrs. Haskie is expecting you. She has her sister with her for support."
"Thank you for the heads-up," Kari said. "How is she doing?"
Rodriguez's expression conveyed volumes. "As well as can be expected. Initial shock. She hasn't asked many questions yet."
Ben nodded in understanding. "We'll be as brief as possible."
Rodriguez ushered them inside, where the climate-controlled interior offered immediate relief from the mounting heat. The home's interior reflected tasteful affluence—Southwestern art on the walls, quality furniture arranged to take advantage of large windows overlooking a backyard pool area.
In the living room, two women sat on a leather sofa, their posture conveying the particular stiffness of recent grief.
The older woman—Elaine Haskie, Kari presumed—looked to be in her early sixties, her gray hair pulled back in a neat bun, her face bearing the distinctive high cheekbones and strong features of Navajo heritage.
Her eyes were red-rimmed but dry, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.
"Mrs. Haskie," Kari said gently as they entered. "I'm Detective Kari Blackhorse, and this is my partner, Detective Ben Tsosie. We're very sorry for your loss."
Elaine nodded, her composure remarkable given the circumstances. "Please sit down," she said. "This is my sister, Margaret."
The other woman, slightly younger but with similar features, acknowledged them with a nod. Her protective posture beside Elaine spoke of a deep bond between the siblings.
"We understand this is an incredibly difficult time," Ben said as they seated themselves in armchairs opposite the sofa. "But we need to ask you some questions about your husband that might help us understand what happened."
"The Phoenix officer said Jason was murdered," Elaine said, her direct approach surprising Kari. "That it might be connected to other killings on the reservation. Is that true?"
Kari exchanged a glance with Ben, making a split-second decision about how much to share. "We're investigating that possibility," she said carefully. "That's why we need to understand more about why Mr. Haskie was at Cottonwood Wash last night."
Elaine's brow furrowed. "Cottonwood Wash? That makes no sense. Jason was supposed to be meeting with tribal officials about their vehicle fleet maintenance contracts. He's been consulting with them for the past few months."
"At Cottonwood Wash?" Ben asked, his tone reflecting Kari's own confusion.
"No, at the administrative offices," Elaine said. "At least, that's what he told me. He left yesterday morning for a two-day trip. He was going to stay at the Holiday Inn in Chinle." She hesitated. "Why would he be at Cottonwood Wash? That's not even close to where his meetings were scheduled."
Kari noted this discrepancy in her notebook. "Mrs. Haskie, can you tell us more about your husband's work with the tribal council? How long had he been consulting with them?"
"About three months," Elaine said, reaching for a glass of water on the coffee table.
Her sister's hand moved to her back, a silent gesture of support.
"After he retired from the BIA, he started his own consulting business, specializing in fleet maintenance for government agencies.
The tribal council contracted him to evaluate their vehicles and recommend improvements to their maintenance protocols. "
"Had he mentioned any concerns about this work?" Ben asked. "Any conflicts or unusual interactions with council members or staff?"
Elaine shook her head. "Just the usual bureaucratic frustrations. He was actually pleased with how responsive the council had been to his recommendations. They'd already implemented several of his suggested changes."
"Did your husband have any interest in traditional sites or ceremonies?" Kari asked, thinking of the other victims' academic backgrounds. "Any research interests beyond his mechanical engineering expertise?"
This question seemed to surprise Elaine. "Jason respected our heritage, but he wasn't particularly traditional. His focus was always practical—machines, systems, efficiency." She paused, a flicker of confusion crossing her features. "Why do you ask? What does that have to do with his murder?"
Kari chose her words carefully. "We're exploring all possibilities, Mrs. Haskie. The location where your husband was found has historical and cultural significance. We're trying to understand why he might have been there."
"He wouldn't have gone there on his own," Elaine said with certainty. "Not at night, not alone. Jason was methodical, planned everything. If he was at Cottonwood Wash, someone must have asked him to go there."
"Do you know who might have made such a request?" Ben asked.
Elaine shook her head. "His primary contact was Councilman Wilson Begay. They spoke regularly about the fleet management project." Her eyes suddenly widened with a new thought. "The girls—has someone told the girls? Rachel is in Chicago, and Sarah is in Seattle."
"Phoenix PD is coordinating notifications," Kari assured her. "I'm sure they'll be contacted soon, if they haven't been already."
Margaret squeezed her sister's hand. "I'll call them as soon as we're done here."
Kari continued gently, "Mrs. Haskie, did your husband mention meeting anyone specific during this trip? Anyone outside the official council meetings?"
"No," Elaine said. "Just the standard protocol review with the fleet manager and then the presentation to council members scheduled for this morning." Her voice caught. "He was preparing his slides the night before he left. So proud of the improvements they'd already implemented."
Ben made a note. "Would you be comfortable sharing his phone records with us? It might help us determine who he was in contact with before..." He let the sentence trail off.
"Of course," Elaine said. "Whatever helps find who did this. But I don't understand—why Jason? He wasn't important in the way that attracts enemies. He fixed things, made systems work better. That's all he ever did."
The question hung in the air, its simplicity masking the complex horror beneath it. Why Jason indeed? What had placed him in the path of a killer recreating murders from five decades earlier?
"That's what we're determined to find out," Kari said, meaning every word. "Mrs. Haskie, could you tell us more about your husband's meeting with the tribal council? Who specifically requested his services?"
"It was initiated by Councilman Begay," Elaine said. "He heads the infrastructure committee. Jason had done similar work for the Hopi Tribe last year, and Councilman Begay had heard good things about his recommendations."
"And this would have been Jason's final presentation?" Ben asked.
"Yes," Elaine said. "He'd completed his assessment and was presenting his final recommendations for ongoing maintenance protocols." She shook her head again. "I still don't understand why he would have been at Cottonwood Wash."
"We found his rental car at the trailhead," Kari said. "Did he typically rent cars for his reservation visits?"
"Always," Elaine said. "Our personal vehicles are older. He preferred having reliable transportation when traveling for work, especially in remote areas."
Kari made another note, then asked, "Has Jason mentioned anything unusual recently? Any concerns, strange phone calls, unexpected visitors?"
Elaine thought for a moment. "Nothing out of the ordinary.
He was focused on this presentation. Spent hours finalizing his recommendations.
" Her eyes suddenly welled with tears, the first crack in her composed exterior.
"He was supposed to call me last night from the hotel, but when I didn't hear from him, I assumed he was working late or had fallen asleep. "
Margaret put her arm around her sister's shoulders as Elaine struggled to maintain her composure. "Perhaps that's enough questions for now," she suggested quietly.
Kari nodded in understanding. "Just one more, if you don't mind. Did your husband know anyone named Martin Reynolds or Jennifer Holbrook? They were both recently on the reservation."
Elaine wiped her eyes with a tissue Margaret had pressed into her hand. "The names don't sound familiar. Jason didn't mention them to me."
"Thank you for your time, Mrs. Haskie," Kari said, standing. "We'll keep you informed of any developments in our investigation."
"When can I bring him home?" Elaine asked, her voice breaking slightly. "For burial."
"The medical examiner needs to complete their examination," Ben said gently. "We'll work with Phoenix PD to expedite the process as much as possible."
As they moved toward the door, Elaine suddenly called after them. "Detective Blackhorse?"
Kari turned back. "Yes, Mrs. Haskie?"
"Find who did this," she said, her grief momentarily hardening into something fiercer. "My husband deserved better than to die alone in the dark."
"We will," Kari promised, the weight of that commitment settling alongside all the others she carried.
Outside, the Phoenix heat hit them like a physical force after the air-conditioned interior. They walked silently to their vehicle, both processing what they'd learned—and the many questions that remained unanswered.
"Tribal council," Ben said as they reached the SUV. "That's our connection to Haskie. But it doesn't explain Reynolds or Holbrook."
"Unless there's something about the fleet vehicles that intersects with their research somehow," Kari suggested, though even to her ears the connection seemed tenuous at best.
They settled into the vehicle, the air conditioning struggling against the midday heat. "We need to speak with Councilman Begay," Kari said, starting the engine. "Find out exactly what Haskie was consulting on, and why he might have been at Cottonwood Wash instead of his hotel."
Ben shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Investigating the tribal council..." he said, his voice trailing off.
"I know," Kari said, understanding his hesitation. The tribal council represented both governmental authority and cultural leadership. Treating council members as potential suspects—or even as sources of suspicious activity—veered dangerously close to disrespect in traditional terms.
"It feels wrong," Ben admitted. "These are elected officials, respected community leaders."
"And one of them may have been the last person to communicate with our victim," Kari said. "I don't like it either, Ben, but we can't ignore a direct connection to Haskie's presence on the reservation."
Ben stared out the window as Phoenix traffic flowed around them. "How do we approach this? We can't exactly march into the council chambers and start questioning elected officials about a murder."
"We start with Councilman Begay," Kari said. "Respectfully. Professionally. We focus on Haskie's work, his movements before his death. We don't accuse anyone of anything."
"And if we find something suspicious?"
"Then we proceed carefully," Kari said, navigating onto the highway that would take them back toward the reservation. "With Captain Yazzie's direct involvement, and with all appropriate protocols observed."
Ben nodded, though his expression remained troubled. "My uncle sits on the council," he said after a moment. "Not Begay's committee, but still. These are people we've been taught to respect since childhood."
"I know," Kari said, her voice softening. "But someone lured Jason Haskie to Cottonwood Wash last night. Someone who knew our surveillance was focused on Whipple Creek. Someone with knowledge of both the original murder pattern and our current investigation."
The implications hung in the air between them as the city gave way to open desert, the road stretching ahead like an invitation—or a warning.
"Alright," Ben said finally. "We talk to Councilman Begay. Carefully. Respectfully. And we see if we can't get answers about why Haskie was at Cottonwood Wash instead of his hotel room."
"That's all I'm suggesting," Kari assured him, though in her mind, the questions ran deeper.
Who on the council might have connections to the original Shadow Walker case?
Who might have access to knowledge about the ceremonial elements?
Who might benefit from reviving fears that had gripped the community fifty years earlier?
And most troubling of all: as the killer continued recreating the pattern that had haunted her grandfather until his death, who else might be targeted