EPILOGUE
Ben Tsosie turned off his headlights a quarter mile from the Devco Holdings fence line and coasted his truck to a stop behind a cluster of boulders.
The reservation stretched dark and quiet around him, no lights visible in any direction except the stars overhead and the faint glow of distant towns on the horizon.
His phone showed three missed calls from Kari and several texts, the most recent from this afternoon: Case closed. Heading back tomorrow. Need to debrief on both investigations.
Ben had read the brief news reports about the Paradise Valley murders—developer's daughter arrested, multiple victims, innocent man exonerated.
Kari had solved it, as he'd known she would.
And now she'd want to focus on Anna's research, on the pattern of deaths that had consumed her mother's final years.
He typed a quick response: Glad you're safe. Following up on something tonight. Will call tomorrow when I have news.
Then he turned off his phone completely. Where he was going, he couldn't risk it lighting up or making noise.
Ben gathered his gear—rope, headlamp, gloves, water, first aid kit.
He'd told no one about this plan, not Captain Yazzie, not Kari, not even his wife.
If Devco Holdings caught him trespassing on their property, he needed to be able to claim it was unauthorized personal action, not official police business.
Keep the department clear of any blowback.
Ben crossed the open ground quickly, staying low, using the natural terrain for cover.
He'd scouted this approach earlier in the day, identifying the section of fence farthest from any security cameras or regular patrol routes.
Not that he could be certain they weren't watching—corporate security could have sensors and cameras he'd never spot.
But he'd come too far to turn back now.
The fence was eight feet of chain link topped with barbed wire, a professional installation with concrete footings. Ben used wire cutters to create an opening near ground level, just large enough to squeeze through. He'd repair it on the way out, make it less obvious that anyone had been here.
Inside the fence line, the landscape looked no different from outside—same desert scrub, same rock formations, same ancient geology carved by water and wind. But knowing it was forbidden territory made everything feel different, charged with danger and secrecy.
Ben moved carefully toward the canyon where Evan's sister said her brother had been exploring.
He'd memorized the route from topographical maps and his earlier reconnaissance, but navigating in darkness with only starlight was challenging.
He couldn't risk using his headlamp yet—too visible from a distance.
It took him nearly an hour to reach the canyon entrance, moving slowly and carefully across terrain that could break an ankle or hide a rattlesnake.
The desert at night was alive with sounds—insects, small mammals, the occasional distant howl of a coyote.
Ben had grown up in this landscape and knew its rhythms, knew how to move through it without panic or recklessness.
The canyon walls rose on either side, blocking some of the starlight and making the darkness deeper. Ben finally risked turning on his headlamp, keeping it on its dimmest setting and angling it downward to minimize visibility from outside the canyon.
He found Evan's carved initials easily—E.N. 2010, still visible on the protected rock face. Ben paused there, thinking about a young man excited about geology and wilderness, documenting features that fascinated him, having no idea that his curiosity would get him killed.
Beyond the initials, the canyon branched into smaller tributaries.
Ben followed the one that led deeper into Devco Holdings' property, toward the areas marked on geological surveys as having interesting rock formations and cave systems. If Evan had discovered something significant—toxic waste dumping, illegal mining, whatever Devco was hiding—it would likely be in the more remote sections.
The terrain became more challenging. Loose rock made footing treacherous, and several times Ben had to use his hands to climb over obstacles. He was breathing hard, sweating despite the cool night air, adrenaline and exertion combining to make his heart race.
A small cave opening appeared in the canyon wall, barely large enough to squeeze through. Ben examined it with his headlamp. The entrance showed signs of disturbance, rocks arranged in a way that looked deliberate rather than natural.
Someone had been here, had marked this location or possibly tried to conceal it.
He squeezed through the opening into a larger chamber beyond, his headlamp revealing a space about fifteen feet across with a ceiling that disappeared into darkness above. The walls showed natural striations and mineral deposits, nothing immediately unusual.
But on the far side of the chamber, another opening led deeper into the rock.
Ben approached it carefully, testing each step before committing his weight.
The ground felt solid but showed more signs of disturbance—scratches in the rock, loose stones pushed aside, the subtle indications that someone had been through here and tried to cover their tracks.
The second passage led down at a steep angle, requiring Ben to half-climb, half-slide into whatever lay below. He went slowly, one hand on the rope he'd secured at the entrance, using it to control his descent.
The passage ended abruptly at the edge of a drop-off.
Ben's headlamp beam revealed open space below—a ravine or chamber hidden beneath the desert floor, invisible from above.
The kind of geological feature that explorers like Evan would have been excited to document, the kind of hidden space that corporations could use for illegal dumping without anyone knowing.
Ben tested the edge carefully, finding it unstable. Loose rock shifted under his weight, and for a heart-stopping moment he felt himself sliding forward, the ground giving way beneath his feet.
He threw himself backward, grabbing at anything for purchase. His hand found a solid outcropping and he held on while the loose rock tumbled into the darkness below, clattering and echoing as it fell.
His breath came in gasps. That was too close.
Ben waited for his heart to stop racing, then examined the drop more carefully. Maybe twelve feet down to a relatively flat surface below. Steep but climbable if he was careful. He secured his rope around a solid rock formation and rappelled down slowly, testing each foothold before trusting it.
The bottom was a narrow ravine that curved away into darkness. Ben's headlamp revealed rocky ground scattered with debris—stones, bits of wood, accumulations of windblown sand and vegetation from fifteen years of erosion.
And bones.
Ben's light caught white gleaming among the debris. He moved closer, picking his way carefully across the uneven ground.
The bones were partially buried, scattered by time and scavengers but still clearly human. A femur, ribs, vertebrae. And nearby, partially concealed under a drift of leaves and dirt, a skull.
Ben knelt beside it, his heart hammering in his chest as he carefully brushed away the debris. The skull was damaged, the left side showing obvious trauma—a depressed fracture that spoke of massive blunt force impact. The kind of injury that would have been immediately fatal.
Ben closed his eyes, both sorrowful and grateful at the same time. He had found Evan Naalnish.
Of the other sixteen deaths Anna had been investigating, how many of those people had been murdered, too? And had Anna been killed for making those connections?
Ben didn't know for sure. But he had a feeling that Kari's quest to discover what had happened to her mother had just gotten a whole lot more dangerous.