CHAPTER FIVE
A week felt like a year.
Kari had never been good at waiting. It was one of her flaws, she knew—the impatience that drove her to push harder, dig deeper, chase leads that more cautious investigators might have let go.
That impatience had served her well over the years, had helped her close cases that others had written off as unsolvable.
But it had also gotten her into trouble more times than she could count.
Now it was eating her alive.
Ben had stuck to his story through seven days of recovery, seven days of doctors and nurses and the occasional FBI follow-up, seven days of Kari sitting beside his bed and biting her tongue every time she wanted to demand answers. He'd told her to trust him, and she was trying.
But trust was hard when the man she trusted was clearly hiding something, clearly carrying a weight that she could see pressing down on him every time he thought she wasn't looking.
Today, finally, the doctors had cleared him to go home.
Kari pulled her Jeep up to the medical center entrance and watched Ben emerge through the automatic doors. He moved stiffly, his body still healing from the abuse it had suffered, but he walked under his own power. That was something. A week ago, she hadn't been sure he would walk again at all.
He climbed into the passenger seat and pulled the door closed. For a moment, they just sat there, neither of them speaking.
"Thanks for the ride," Ben said finally.
"Did you think I was going to make you walk?"
A ghost of a smile crossed his face. "Wouldn't have been the worst thing I've done this month."
She put the Jeep in gear and pulled away from the medical center. The drive to Ben's house took twenty minutes—twenty minutes of silence that felt heavier than any conversation. Kari kept her eyes on the road, her hands on the wheel, her questions locked behind her teeth.
Trust him, she reminded herself. He said he'd explain when he got out. Give him a chance to keep his word.
Ben's house was a modest place on the southern edge of the reservation, a single-story structure with a small yard and a porch that he'd been meaning to repair for as long as Kari had known him. She pulled into the driveway and cut the engine, but Ben didn't move to get out.
"Come inside," he said. "There's something I need to do first. Then we'll talk."
She followed him into the house, watching as he moved through the familiar space with an unfamiliar wariness.
He checked the windows, examined the door frames, ran his hands along the edges of light fixtures and behind picture frames.
In the kitchen, he opened cabinets and peered beneath the sink.
In the living room, he pulled cushions off the couch and examined the seams.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
He put a finger to his lips. Kari shivered. She knew what he was doing—looking for bugs, cameras, any indication that they would be under surveillance here.
It took him nearly thirty minutes to check every room, every closet, every potential hiding spot. When he had finally finished, he stood in the middle of his living room, his shoulders sagging with a mixture of relief and exhaustion.
"Nothing," he said. "Either they didn't bother, or they're using something too sophisticated for me to find."
"Or they're watching some other way."
"Yeah." Ben lowered himself onto the couch, wincing as his bruised ribs protested. "Or that."
Kari sat in the armchair across from him. The moment had arrived—the conversation she'd been waiting a week to have. But now that it was here, she found herself almost afraid to begin.
"You said you'd tell me everything."
Ben nodded slowly. "I did. And I will." He took a deep breath, then met her eyes. "I lied to the FBI. I lied to the doctors and nurses who kept asking questions. I've been lying to everyone for seven days, and I need you to understand why before I tell you the truth."
She studied him, waiting for him to go on.
"When I went over that fence, I found something.
Mining equipment—heavy machinery, the kind you'd use for exploratory drilling.
And holes. Dozens of them, scattered across the property, like someone was taking core samples.
Testing the soil, the rock formations underneath.
" He paused. "Whatever's under that land, they're getting ready to extract it.
And they've been planning this for a long time. "
Kari thought about her mother's research, the questions Anna had circled in her notes. Corporate purchase price 400% above market value. Why?
"That's what Evan Naalnish found," she said. "Fifteen years ago. That's why they killed him."
"That's my guess. He was a geology student, poking around in caves and rock formations.
He probably stumbled onto early signs of whatever's down there—enough to make him a threat.
" Ben's jaw tightened. "They caught me before I could document anything.
Hit me from behind, knocked me out cold.
When I woke up, I was in a construction trailer at an old airfield north of Phoenix.
They kept me there for three days, asking questions.
What did I see? What did I know? Who had I told? "
"And you didn't tell them anything."
"I told them I didn't see a damn thing. Over and over, no matter what they did." He gestured vaguely at his fading bruises. "They weren't sure whether to believe me. I could hear them arguing about it—whether to let me go, whether to..." He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't need to.
Kari's chest tightened. "They were going to kill you."
"They were thinking about it. I escaped before they made up their minds.
" Ben leaned forward, his expression intent.
"Here's the thing—they knew about the search warrant before it was executed.
They cleaned the site, moved their operation, stayed one step ahead.
That means someone inside is feeding them information.
Someone in law enforcement, maybe the Bureau, maybe somewhere else.
If I report what really happened—the trailer, the interrogation, the mining equipment—whoever's leaking will know exactly what I saw.
They'll destroy evidence, if they haven't already, and they'll come for me.
Probably you, too, since we work together. "
Kari didn't like the sound of this. "So you're just going to pretend it didn't happen?"
"I'm going to pretend I don't remember it happening.
There's a difference." Ben sat back. "The doctors already think I have memory gaps from the head trauma.
The FBI thinks I'm either lying or genuinely can't recall what happened.
As long as I stick to that story, as long as I act like this whole thing is behind me, whoever's watching will think they got away with it.
They'll get complacent. And that's when we find our opening. "
Kari turned this over in her mind. It made a certain kind of sense—the logic of a man who had spent three days in enemy hands and emerged with a clearer understanding of what they were up against. But it also meant living a lie, maintaining a fiction that would require constant vigilance.
"I think some of the staff at the medical center were keeping tabs on me," he said. "And not out of any concern for my health. They were keeping track of what story I told, whether or not I'm consistent."
"Well," Kari said slowly, "they haven't come after you yet, which suggests they believe you really don't remember what happened."
"Maybe. They might also be looking for a good opportunity.
Even if they believe I've forgotten, they won't rest easy.
I could suddenly remember, and then they've got a huge problem on their hands.
" He shook his head grimly. "No, one way or another, they're going to try to get rid of me eventually.
Which is why we need to get to them first."
Kari stood and walked to the window, looking out at the familiar landscape of the reservation. Red earth and scrub brush and distant mesas, unchanged by the conspiracies of men.
"What exactly are you saying we should do?" she asked.
"We act normal. We do our jobs. We don't give them any reason to think we're still investigating." Ben's voice was steady, but she could hear the strain beneath it. "And meanwhile, we keep building our case. Quietly. Carefully. Until we have enough to bring the whole thing down."
Kari was silent. She didn't like this—waiting, acting normal, hoping they didn't send someone to strangle Ben in his sleep.
"We're going to get justice for Evan Naalnish," Ben said. "And for your mother, and for every other person these bastards have killed to protect their secrets. I promise."
Kari turned back to face him. The man on the couch looked nothing like the confident detective she'd worked alongside for the past two years. He looked battered, exhausted, held together by willpower and stubbornness.
But he was still Ben. Still her partner. Still the person she trusted more than anyone else in the world.
"Okay," she said. "Business as usual. We act like this is all behind us."
"Can you do that? Pretend everything's fine when you know what we're up against?"
Kari took a deep breath and let it out slowly, hating this plan but unable to think of a better alternative. "I can do it," she said. "For now."
Ben nodded. Something passed between them—an understanding, a commitment, a shared recognition of the danger they were walking into.
"For now," he agreed.
"But if they come for you, if you get so much as a hint that your life is in danger, I'm going to find every one of these bastards and kill them."
Ben smiled. "I wouldn't expect anything less."