CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Kari's eyes burned from staring at the laptop screen for three straight hours, but she couldn't stop now. She was close to something.
Two weeks later, Torres approved work that three other inspectors had flagged as non-compliant.
Kari added Torres's name to her growing list and kept digging.
She'd started with Sheridan's Sunset Ridge files, but the real story was in the patterns across his other projects.
A complaint about substandard concrete in Tucson, settled quietly with an NDA.
Workers in Flagstaff reporting safety violations, paid off and transferred.
An environmental assessment in Sedona that should have halted construction but somehow got revised and resubmitted with a passing grade.
Every incident had Sheridan's fingerprints on it.
And every incident followed the same pattern: complaints filed, then quietly withdrawn.
Witnesses who changed their stories. Documentation that got conveniently lost or altered.
The kind of problems that didn't just disappear on their own—the kind that got solved with cash in envelopes, favors traded, pressure applied in the right places.
She couldn't prove money had changed hands. Not yet. But she'd seen this pattern before, and it always smelled the same.
Her phone rang. Maria.
"Tell me you found something," Maria said without preamble. "Because I've spent hours watching security footage and interviewing neighbors and I've got no idea where Tessa Crane is."
"Yes, I found something. Whether it helps us, I'm not sure yet.
" Kari leaned back from the laptop, rubbing her eyes.
"Sheridan's company has a history of environmental violations and illegal construction practices.
Nothing that got him criminally charged, but enough accusations and settlements to establish a pattern. "
"How does that connect to the murders?"
"What if the murders aren't about revenge for the petroglyphs at all?
What if they're about preventing exposure of criminal activities?
" Kari pulled up her notes. "Think about it—Garrison was the investor, Hoffman approved the permits, Sheridan did the construction.
All three would know about any illegal practices.
If someone thought they were going to expose those practices, or if they were threatening to turn evidence over to authorities. .."
"That's a motive beyond environmental activism," Maria said slowly. "But who? Who benefits from keeping those practices hidden?"
"The developer, for one. Charles Sterling—his name is all over these documents.
" Kari had seen Sterling's signature on dozens of contracts and approvals in Sheridan's files.
"If his flagship project is revealed to be built on fraud and environmental crimes, he faces serious consequences.
But he's not the only one with something to lose.
Any of the investors, the contractors, even the city officials who approved questionable permits—they all have reasons to want this buried. "
"So we're looking at a wide field of potential suspects."
"Yeah. And most of them would have the resources to hire someone to handle their problems quietly."
Maria was quiet for a moment. "You're thinking about the accomplice theory, but turning it around. Not Hatathli with accomplices, but two or more accomplices using Hatathli as a convenient scapegoat."
"Exactly. Frame the environmental lawyer who publicly threatened the victims, make it look like activism turned violent, and meanwhile the real motive—covering up corporate crimes—stays hidden."
They were both silent for several moments.
"What about the archaeologist?" Kari asked. "Dr. Caldwell. She documented the petroglyphs, fought to stop the resort. She'd know about the legal battles, might know about irregularities in how the project got approved."
"You want to interview her?"
"Yeah. If she was deep in the legal fight, she might have information about the victims we don't have. And she might have insight into who else was involved in pushing the project through despite the opposition."
"Okay, I'll set it up. Caldwell teaches at ASU—she should be on campus today." Maria paused. "Kari, I want to believe this theory about corporate cover-up. It makes more sense than the department's accomplice nonsense. But without proof..."
"I know. We're running out of time, and Hatathli's running out of options." Kari closed the laptop. "But this feels right. The environmental activist angle is too convenient, too perfectly constructed. Someone's using Hatathli's anger and public statements to cover their real motive."
"Then let's prove it. I'll call Caldwell, see if she can meet with us this afternoon."
After they hung up, Kari sat staring at her notes for a long moment. Three people dead, all connected to a project built on illegal practices. Thomas Hatathli charged with murders he didn't commit.
And somewhere, a killer who'd carefully constructed a narrative that directed attention away from the real crime.
* * *
Dr. Jennifer Caldwell was on her hands and knees when Kari and Maria arrived at her office, photographing what appeared to be a broken piece of pottery with the intensity of a crime scene investigator.
"One second," she said without looking up, adjusting the angle of a portable light. "This sherd is eighteenth century Hopi—absolute miracle it survived in storage this long without proper documentation."
She took three more photos from different angles before standing, brushing dust off her jeans. Caldwell was probably mid-forties but moved like someone twenty years younger, all efficient energy and unconscious grace.
"Sorry about that. When ASU's storage facility floods and dumps a hundred years of artifacts in your lap, you work whenever you can.
" She gestured at the chaos of her office—not the genteel clutter of an academic, but the organized disaster of someone managing multiple crises simultaneously.
Boxes of pottery fragments competed for floor space with rolled maps, a laptop balanced precariously on a stack of field journals, and a wall-sized photograph of petroglyphs that Kari recognized immediately.
The ones at Sunset Ridge. Before they were destroyed.
"You're here about the murders," Caldwell said, following Kari's gaze to the photograph.
"Detective Santos," Maria said, extending her hand. "This is Detective Blackhorse."
Caldwell shook their hands, her grip firm. "I'm happy to help however I can, though I'm not sure how much I can tell you. I knew the victims by reputation, but I never met any of them personally."
"We're interested in the legal battle over the petroglyphs," Kari said as they sat. "You were the primary archaeologist documenting the site, correct?"
"I was. The petroglyphs were extraordinary—hunting scenes, astronomical markers, family lineages dating back at least five hundred years, possibly longer.
" Caldwell pulled out a folder thick with photographs.
"When I learned they were in the path of the Sunset Ridge Resort development, I tried everything to get the site protected.
Filed for historic preservation status, contacted tribal authorities, launched a media campaign. Nothing worked."
She spread photographs across her desk—images of intact petroglyphs, ancient art carved into desert stone with remarkable skill and detail. Kari felt a familiar anger looking at them, knowing what had been destroyed.
"The developer—Charles Sterling—fought every attempt at preservation," Caldwell continued.
"His lawyers argued the site didn't meet criteria for federal protection, that the petroglyphs weren't significant enough to halt a major economic development project.
Which was absurd, but money talks louder than history. "
"You filed a lawsuit to stop construction," Maria said.
"I did. Along with several advocacy groups and tribal representatives.
We argued that the environmental impact assessment was inadequate, that Sterling had rushed through permits without proper review, that the cultural significance of the site warranted protection.
" Caldwell's expression grew bitter. "We had a good case.
Strong evidence, expert testimony ready to go. We might have actually won."
"What happened?" Kari asked, though she suspected she knew.
"I dropped the lawsuit." Caldwell looked away, focusing on the photographs. "Legal fees were mounting, and I couldn't afford to continue. Academic salaries don't cover extended litigation against corporate lawyers."
"When did you drop it?"
"About six months before construction began.
Which gave Sterling just enough time to break ground before anyone else could mount a legal challenge.
" Caldwell gathered the photographs, returning them to the folder.
"I've regretted it ever since. Every day I think about what was lost, what I could have saved if I'd just found a way to keep fighting. "
Kari studied her carefully. The regret seemed genuine, but there was something else in Caldwell's demeanor—a guardedness, a reluctance to meet their eyes directly.
"Did anyone from the resort project contact you during the lawsuit?" Kari asked. "Try to convince you to drop it, offer settlements, anything like that?"
"Sterling's lawyers made settlement offers, yes. Standard practice in litigation. But I refused them." Caldwell's hands moved restlessly among the papers on her desk. "I wasn't interested in money. I wanted to save the site."
"What about after you dropped the lawsuit? Did Sterling or his people follow up, make sure you weren't planning to refile or join other legal challenges?"
"Why are you asking about this?" Caldwell's tone sharpened. "What does my lawsuit have to do with current events?"
"We're trying to understand the full context of the Sunset Ridge project," Maria said smoothly. "All the conflicts, all the players involved. You were one of the primary opponents, so your perspective matters."
Caldwell frowned thoughtfully. "I suppose that makes sense. To answer your question—no, no one from Sterling's organization contacted me after I dropped the suit. I imagine they were relieved to have one less problem to deal with."
Kari still sensed she was holding something back. But what?
"Dr. Caldwell, have you continued researching the Sunset Ridge project since dropping your lawsuit?" Kari asked. "Documenting the damage, monitoring the construction, anything like that?"
"I've driven by a few times. Seen the protesters maintaining their vigil. But no, I haven't been actively documenting anything." Caldwell stood. "Is there anything else? I have a class starting in twenty minutes."
"Just one more question," Kari said, not moving from her chair. "Do you know anything about illegal construction practices at the resort? Environmental violations, falsified permits, anything that might have been covered up during the approval process?"
Caldwell's expression went carefully blank. "I'm an archaeologist, Detective, not a building inspector. My expertise is in cultural preservation, not construction law."
"But you would have reviewed the environmental impact assessment as part of your lawsuit. You would have looked at the permits, the approval process, trying to find grounds to stop the project."
"I would have, yes. And I found plenty of issues with how quickly permits were approved and how superficially the environmental review was conducted. But that's not the same as proving illegal activity. It's just... sloppy bureaucracy and a system that favors developers over preservation."
Kari stood slowly, meeting Caldwell's eyes. "If you do remember anything about those permits or the approval process, anything that seemed suspicious or worth investigating, please contact us. It might be relevant to understanding why the murders happened."
"I'll keep that in mind." Caldwell walked them to her office door. "I hope you find who did this."
As they walked back to Maria's car, Kari thought about everything Caldwell hadn't said, all the careful evasions and defensive responses. The archaeologist knew more than she was sharing, and the lawsuit dismissal wasn't as simple as running out of money.
"She's hiding something," Maria said, echoing Kari's thoughts.
"Yeah. Question is what, and whether it connects to the murders."
"You want to dig into her background? See if there's more to the lawsuit story?"
"Yes. Start with court records—see if there were any settlements or agreements filed when she dropped the case. Also check for any complaints or incidents involving Caldwell and the resort project."
Maria unlocked the car and they both got in, the afternoon heat making the interior stifling despite being parked in shade. She started the engine and cranked the air conditioning.
"It's almost five," Maria said, checking the dashboard clock. "I need to get back to the precinct, write up reports before everyone goes home. You want to come or should I drop you somewhere?"
Kari thought about it. "Drop me at my hotel. I need a couple hours to go through everything we've learned, see if I'm missing connections."
"Call me if you find anything. I'll do the same."
As they pulled out of the ASU parking lot, Kari watched the campus slide past—students walking between buildings, normal life continuing while she and Maria tried to untangle a web of murder and corruption.
Somewhere in all the information they'd gathered, there was a pattern that would point to the real killer.
She just had to see it before it was too late for Thomas Hatathli.