CHAPTER FIVE
The drive to Phoenix took just under three hours, the landscape gradually shifting from reservation territory to suburban sprawl.
Kari had made this drive countless times during her years with Phoenix PD, but it felt different now—like returning to a place she'd once lived but no longer quite belonged.
Phoenix PD headquarters looked exactly as she remembered it.
Same imposing concrete structure, same parking lot full of marked units and unmarked detective cars, same institutional atmosphere.
Kari found a visitor spot and headed inside, her Navajo Nation Police badge getting her through security and up to the Homicide division on the third floor.
Maria Santos was waiting in the lobby, and Kari felt a surge of genuine happiness at seeing her former partner.
Maria had cut her hair short since they'd last seen each other—practical for the Phoenix heat—and was wearing the same battered leather jacket she'd had for years, the one with the coffee stain on the left cuff that she'd never bothered to clean.
She still had that habit of standing with her weight shifted to one side, like she was always ready to move, and when she smiled it was the real thing, not the tight professional smile she used for brass and witnesses.
"Kari Blackhorse." Maria pulled Kari into a brief, fierce hug. "Look at you. Reservation life agrees with you."
"It has its moments." Kari stepped back, studying Maria's face. "You look tired."
"This case. It's been..." Maria shook her head. "Come on. Let's talk somewhere private."
She led Kari through the familiar maze of cubicles and offices, past detectives working phones and computers, past the conference rooms where Kari had spent countless hours reviewing evidence and building cases.
A few faces looked familiar, but most were new.
Turnover in a homicide division was always high.
Maria's office was small but functional, the walls covered with case photos and timelines, her desk piled with files and coffee cups. She closed the door and gestured for Kari to sit.
"First things first," Maria said, settling into her chair. "Thank you for coming. I know this pulls you away from your work on the rez, but I needed someone I could trust. Someone who wouldn't just tell me what the brass wants to hear."
"Yazzie said you're skeptical about Hatathli's guilt."
"I am. But let me walk you through what we have, and you can tell me if I'm seeing ghosts or if there's something real here.
" Maria pulled out a thick case file. "Two victims. Richard Garrison, fifty-eight, killed in his Paradise Valley home on the evening of April 18th.
Margaret Hoffman, sixty-two, killed in her home on April 25th.
Both shot with what ballistics confirms is the same weapon—a nine-millimeter handgun with a suppressor attached. "
"No signs of forced entry at either location?"
"None. No defensive wounds, either, no signs of struggle. Garrison was shot in his home office, Hoffman in her kitchen." Maria laid out crime scene photos. "Clean executions. The killer knew what they were doing."
Kari studied the photos. "How'd you connect the cases?" she asked.
"The Sunset Ridge Resort development. Garrison was the primary investor, Hoffman was the city planning official who approved the permits.
" Maria pulled out more documents. "The project was controversial from the start—it involved building a luxury resort on land near ancient petroglyphs.
Indigenous groups protested, archaeologists raised concerns, environmental lawyers filed objections.
But the city approved it anyway, and construction began last year. "
"And destroyed the petroglyphs in the process."
"Yeah. That's where Thomas Hatathli enters the picture.
" Maria showed Kari a photo of the lawyer.
"He was the lead attorney fighting the development, representing Hopi and Navajo families who opposed the project.
When the petroglyphs were destroyed during construction, Hatathli made public statements that were.
.. inflammatory. Called the developers criminals, said they had blood on their hands, said they'd answer for what they'd done. "
"Threatening language."
"That's how the prosecution will frame it.
But Kari, I've dealt with activists for twenty years.
There's a difference between angry rhetoric and actual violent intent.
Hatathli is a lawyer—he's spent his entire career working within the system, filing motions and briefs, not committing murders. I'm just not sure about this."
"But you found his DNA at the crime scenes."
"Hair samples, yes. Not many—just a few strands at each location. But they match Hatathli's DNA profile. His DNA is in the system from a previous arrest at a protest years ago."
"Where specifically were the hairs found?"
"Garrison's office, near where the body was found.
Hoffman's kitchen, on the floor by the table.
" Maria leaned forward. "Here's what bothers me—the hairs are the only physical evidence.
No fingerprints, no footprints, no fibers, no trace evidence of any kind except these perfectly placed hair samples. It feels... staged."
"Like someone planted them."
"That's what I think. But try selling that to the brass when we've got DNA evidence and a suspect with clear motive and documented threats against the victims." Maria rubbed her face.
"The department is under enormous pressure on this one, Kari.
Paradise Valley is where Phoenix's wealthiest residents live.
Two of them murdered in their own homes?
That's the kind of thing that makes powerful people nervous.
They want this solved, they want someone in custody, and they want to feel safe again. "
"And Hatathli fits the profile."
"Perfectly. Native American activist angry about cultural destruction, publicly threatening the people who caused that destruction, his DNA at both crime scenes." Maria shook her head. "It's too perfect. Like someone created the ideal suspect and gift-wrapped him for us."
Kari thought about David Lomatuway'ma, about how the Hopi case had seemed straightforward until she'd started looking closer at the details. Evidence could be misleading, especially when someone wanted it to be.
"Who else could have motive?" she asked.
"That's the problem—lots of people had reasons to dislike Garrison and Hoffman.
The resort project was controversial, generated plenty of anger from environmental groups, indigenous communities, even some local residents who opposed the development.
But none of them had their DNA at the crime scenes. "
"Except someone could have collected Hatathli's DNA and planted it. Hair samples aren't hard to acquire if you have access to someone's space." Kari studied the crime scene photos again. "What about the weapon? Has it been recovered?"
"No. And that bothers me too. If Hatathli committed these murders, where's the gun? We searched his home, his office, his car—nothing. He either ditched it somewhere we haven't found, or he never had it in the first place."
"What does he say?"
"He lawyered up immediately. Public defender is good—Sharon Wolfe, she's been with the PD's office for the better part of two decades, knows her stuff.
She's been reviewing all the evidence, wasn't ready to talk until today.
" Maria paused. "That's actually why I wanted you here.
I need someone to talk to Hatathli who won't approach it as 'we know you're guilty, just confess.
' Someone who can read him, see if he's really a killer or if we're being played.
If I'm wrong about this, I want to know. "
Kari smiled ruefully. "I'm not a miracle worker."
"No, but I value your perspective. Your ability to see past the obvious, to understand the cultural context without letting it blind you to the facts.
" Maria's expression was earnest. "You were always good at that, Kari.
Reading people, understanding motivations that didn't fit neat categories. That's what this case needs."
Kari felt the significance of what Maria was asking.
Interview a suspect in custody, evaluate whether he was capable of murder, do it in a way that respected both his rights and the complexity of indigenous activism.
And do it all while Phoenix PD brass wanted a quick resolution and media outlets demanded answers.
"When can I talk to him?" Kari asked.
"Now, if you want. He and his lawyer are in Interview Room 2." Maria stood. "I'll be watching from observation. Take your time, get a feel for him. I trust your instincts on this."
They walked together through the station, Maria briefing Kari on additional details—timeline of the murders, witness statements, forensic reports. By the time they reached the interview rooms, Kari had a fuller picture of the case, though it raised more questions than it answered.
Maria stopped outside Interview Room 2, her hand on the door handle. "You ready for this?"
Kari looked at the closed door of Interview Room 2, knowing Thomas Hatathli waited on the other side.
A man accused of two murders—now three—with DNA evidence against him but possibly innocent.
A man whose only crime might have been being too visible, too vocal, too perfect a scapegoat for someone with a more calculated plan.
"Ready as I'll ever be," Kari said.
Maria nodded and pushed open the door.