CHAPTER TWELVE
Ben's truck was in the driveway, but he didn't answer the door on the first knock.
Kari waited, her hand raised to knock again, listening for movement inside. The afternoon sun beat down on her shoulders, and somewhere in the distance a dog barked—a sharp, rhythmic sound that echoed across the quiet neighborhood.
She knocked again, harder this time. "Ben? It's Kari."
Footsteps inside. Then the click of a lock disengaging, and the door swung open to reveal Ben Tsosie looking like he hadn't slept in days.
The bruises on his face had faded to yellow-green smudges, and the cuts had scabbed over, but something in his eyes told Kari the damage went deeper than the skin. He peered over her shoulder, studying the street before turning his attention to her.
"You should have called first," he said.
"I did. Twice. You didn't answer."
Ben grimaced and stepped back to let her in. "Sorry. I've been... distracted."
The inside of the house was dim, the curtains drawn against the afternoon light. Kari noticed that the furniture had been rearranged since her last visit—the couch pushed back from the window, a chair positioned with a clear sightline to the front door.
Small changes. The adjustments of someone who expected trouble.
"How are you doing?" she asked.
"I'm vertical. That's something." Ben moved into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water from the tap. He didn't offer her one. "The doctor says I'm healing fine. Physically, anyway."
"What's that mean?"
Ben was quiet for a moment, staring at the water in his glass like it held answers he couldn't find anywhere else.
"I keep thinking about those three days.
Going over it in my head, trying to figure out what I could have done differently.
How I could have learned more information, done more to figure out who they were.
" He shook his head. "It doesn't help. But I can't stop doing it. "
"That's normal. After what you went through—"
"I know it's normal," he said sharply. Then he sighed. "Sorry, I'm just a bit on edge."
That's normal, too, Kari thought, but didn't say.
Ben took a long drink of water, then set the glass down. "I have a feeling you didn't come here just to check on my mental health. What's going on?"
Kari hesitated, weighing how much to share. During the drive here, she'd gone back and forth, torn between the need to enlist his help and the desire to protect him. Ben was still recovering, still processing his own trauma. The last thing he needed was another case to worry about.
But he was also her partner, and keeping him in the dark felt wrong. Besides, she needed his insight.
"I caught a body yesterday," she said. "Female runner, found in the desert near the Yazzie sheep trail. At first I thought it was an accident—heat exhaustion, maybe, or a medical emergency during a training run. But it's more complicated than that."
She walked him through what she'd learned: the GPS data showing the desperate zigzag flight through the desert, the peaceful positioning of the body, the autopsy results confirming death by dehydration and heat exhaustion.
Then she told him about Maria's call, about Jennifer Hayes and Jordan Rodriguez, about the pattern that was emerging across jurisdictions.
"Three runners in two weeks," Ben said when she'd finished. "All training for the same race. All chased through the desert until they dropped."
"That's about the long and short of it."
"And no one connected the dots until now because the bodies were found in different jurisdictions."
"Different counties, different departments.
Everyone working their own piece without seeing the bigger picture.
" Kari leaned against the kitchen counter and crossed her arms. "Maria's been following it from the Phoenix side, but she couldn't get traction without a clear connection to her jurisdiction.
Now that Jessica Ramirez turned up on tribal land, we have a link. "
Ben nodded, looking engaged, excited even. Kari sensed that, at least for the moment, his memory of his three days in captivity had receded to the background of his thoughts. If her visit accomplished nothing beyond that small reprieve, it would be worthwhile.
"Someone's hunting them," he said. "Using the desert as a weapon. Herding them away from help until their bodies give out."
"That's my read. The question is who, and why."
"Competition? Someone who wants to win this race badly enough to eliminate the top contenders?"
"That's my working theory."
Ben moved to the window and twitched the curtain aside, peering out at the street. The gesture was quick, automatic—the habit of someone who had been checking that window regularly. "What about the race itself? Who organizes it? Who has access to the list of participants?"
"The race director is a guy named Cedric Dalton. I'm planning to talk to him, but I haven't had time yet. And the participant roster is posted publicly on the race website—anyone with internet access could see who's registered."
Ben let the curtain fall and turned back to face her. "So the killer could have picked targets from the roster. Researched them, figured out their training patterns, made contact somehow."
"One of Jessica's training partners mentioned she'd gotten advice from another runner about a route to try.
Someone she connected with online, through a running forum.
She was going to try his suggested route the weekend she disappeared.
But she didn't have a name, and Jessica never mentioned other details. "
Ben absorbed this, visibly working through the implications. Then his attention shifted back to the window, and Kari saw the tension return to his shoulders.
"What is it?" she asked.
"Probably nothing." He didn't sound convinced. "There's been a car. Dark sedan, tinted windows. Keeps driving past every few hours."
"Have you gotten a plate?"
"Partial. Arizona tags, but I couldn't make out the full number." He turned away from the window and met her eyes. He smiled humorlessly. "They want to know if I'm going to suddenly 'remember' those three days."
"They probably know I'm here." Kari began to feel she may have made a mistake by coming here.
A casual observer might just assume she was a concerned detective checking up on her partner.
But someone paranoid about a witness, someone with a secret so precious they were willing to kill to keep it buried—that kind of person might very well jump to conclusions.
"Don't worry," Ben said, as if reading her thoughts. "If they try to come in here, I'll be ready." He patted his holstered Glock.
Kari nodded, but she didn't feel any better. Anyone, even a seasoned detective, could get ambushed, even in his own home. Especially if he was outnumbered. The thought made Kari want to stay with him until this situation was resolved, but that was a Catch-22.
How was she supposed to resolve the situation if she was sitting on her hands?
No, the best way to protect Ben was to catch the people responsible for kidnapping him and nearly ending his life. In other words, the best defense was a good offense.
"What are you thinking?" Ben asked.
"Nothing." She pushed off from the counter, straightening her shoulders. "I should go. I've got more interviews to conduct, and Maria's sending over files on the other two victims. We're going to coordinate—share information, work the case from both ends."
Ben walked her to the door. At the threshold, he paused. "Kari. This runner case—it's not connected to what happened to me. Different people, different motive."
"I know."
"But be careful anyway. You're already on someone's radar because of the Naalnish investigation. If you start making waves on another case, start attracting attention from another direction..." He didn't finish the sentence.
She smiled. "I care about you, too."
She stepped out onto the porch, squinting against the afternoon sun. "If that car comes by again, get the full plate. We'll run it, see what comes up."
"Will do."
She walked to her Jeep, feeling Ben's eyes on her back until she pulled out of the driveway. As she drove away, she checked her rearview mirror, scanning for dark sedans or anything else that seemed out of place.
Nothing. Just empty streets and quiet houses and the vast desert stretching toward the horizon.
But she knew they were out there—watching, biding their time, making plans.
They wouldn't wait forever. Eventually, even if they thought Ben had forgotten his ordeal, they would find a way to silence him for good.
A car accident, maybe.
Waiting wouldn't keep Ben safe. It was time to take the fight to the enemy.