CHAPTER FOUR
They approached the police tape, and Lomayesva ducked under it, holding it up for Kari to follow.
The ground beyond was rocky and uneven, requiring careful footing.
Kari's eyes swept the area automatically, cataloging details the way she'd been trained: disturbed earth, footprints, the placement of evidence markers.
As they rounded a natural formation of red sandstone, the full crime scene came into view.
Kari stopped, her breath catching.
She'd seen death before. Violent death. She'd worked homicides in Phoenix, where bodies had been mutilated, posed, degraded in ways that spoke to the darkest aspects of human nature.
She'd developed the professional distance necessary to process such scenes, to look past the horror and see the evidence.
But this hit her hard, nonetheless.
The victim was a woman, probably in her sixties, lying on her back on a flat section of earth that had been cleared.
Her torso was bloody where she had been stabbed multiple times.
Her arms were stretched out at specific angles, her legs straight, her head oriented toward the east. Around her, arranged in patterns that Kari's untrained eye couldn't fully interpret but recognized as deliberately ceremonial, were items that looked ancient.
Pottery shards. Bone fragments. Stone implements that might have been tools or might have been something more sacred.
The juxtaposition of the fresh corpse and the ancient artifacts created what was simultaneously a crime scene and something that looked disturbingly like a ritual tableau.
The woman's clothing was modern—a simple blouse and slacks—but her positioning and the surrounding arrangements spoke to something far older.
"Shit," Kari breathed, not quite meaning to say it aloud.
"That was my reaction too," Lomayesva said quietly.
He stood a few feet back, giving her space to process.
"The call came in early this morning. A tribal ranger doing his rounds found her.
At first, he thought it was an archaeological site that had been vandalized. Then he realized the body was fresh."
Kari forced herself into detective mode, pushing past the initial shock to see the details. The woman's face was pale, her eyes closed. There was no obvious sign of trauma visible from this distance—no blood, no obvious wounds. Her expression was almost peaceful, which somehow made it worse.
"Has she been identified?" Kari asked.
"Patricia Lomahongva. Sixty-two years old. Genealogist. Lived alone since her husband died three years ago." Lomayesva's voice was tight with controlled emotion. "She was a good woman. Respected in the community. Did a lot of work helping families trace their lineage."
Kari noted the name, filing it away. "When was she last seen alive?"
"Yesterday, at the Cultural Center. She had an office there where she did her research. Several people saw her leave around seven PM."
"So she was killed sometime between seven PM last night and this morning when she was found." Kari took a careful step closer, her eyes tracking the ground. "Who's processed the scene?"
"My evidence tech and the medical examiner." Lomayesva gestured toward a Hopi woman in her thirties working near the edge of the taped area, photographing something in the dirt. "Dr. Nakai did the preliminary examination earlier. She'll do the full autopsy later today."
Kari studied the arrangement of artifacts around the body. "These items—the pottery, the bones. They're not props someone brought to stage the scene?"
"No. They were already here. This is a burial site, Detective. Has been for centuries. Those artifacts were part of the original interments." His voice hardened. "Someone dug them up. Removed them from their resting places. And then arranged them around Patricia's body in a specific pattern."
The violation inherent in that act made Kari's stomach tighten.
This wasn't just murder. It was desecration on multiple levels—the killing of a living person and the disturbance of the ancient dead, all woven together in a tableau that suggested someone with deep knowledge of what they were defiling.
"The arrangement," Kari said carefully. "Does it mean something? Is it recreating something specific?"
Lomayesva was quiet for a moment. "That's part of why I need an outsider.
Everyone I've asked has given me a different answer.
Some say it's a traditional burial position.
Others say it's wrong, that certain elements are out of place or facing the wrong direction.
A few elders have refused to even look at the photographs, saying it's too dangerous to speak about. "
"Dangerous how?"
"There are beliefs about death, about the dead, about the proper way to handle remains.
Speaking about such things incorrectly, or in the wrong context, can invite.
.. problems." He seemed uncomfortable with the vague explanation.
"I'm not saying I believe it. But I can't dismiss how much fear this is causing in the community.
And that fear is making my investigation difficult. "
Kari understood. She'd faced similar challenges in January, when people's spiritual beliefs had intersected with her need for concrete information. The key was respecting those beliefs while still pursuing the truth.
She took another step closer to the body, careful not to disturb anything.
From this angle, she could see more details.
The woman's hands were positioned palm-up, fingers slightly curved.
There was dirt under her fingernails—had she been killed here, or brought here after death?
Her clothing showed no signs of struggle, no tears or obvious defensive wounds.
"What did the ME say about cause of death?" Kari asked. "Is it as obvious as it looks?"
"Multiple stab wounds to the torso and neck. Dr. Nakai counted at least seven distinct penetrations."
"Strange that there isn't more blood on the ground."
Lomayesva nodded. "Seems to suggest she was killed elsewhere, then brought here and... displayed."
"And the weapon?"
"Not recovered. Based on the wound patterns, probably a knife with a blade four to six inches long.
Could be a kitchen knife, a hunting knife, something traditional.
We won't know for certain until the autopsy is complete.
On a better note, she fought back—there's tissue under her fingernails that will hopefully give us DNA. "
"How far is this site from where she was last seen?"
"About four miles. Accessible by vehicle if you know the back roads, but you'd need to walk the last quarter mile. The ground's too rough for anything but a truck or ATV."
Kari scanned the surrounding area. The rock formations provided natural cover, and the site was isolated enough that someone could work here for hours without being observed.
But transporting a body, arranging it, excavating, and positioning ancient artifacts—that all took time.
Whoever did this had been confident they wouldn't be interrupted.
"Can I get closer?" Kari asked.
"The tech has already photographed and documented everything. Just be careful where you step. We've got markers for footprints."
Kari moved forward slowly, her eyes on the ground. She could see the evidence markers—small yellow flags indicating points of interest. Most clustered around the body itself, but a few trailed off toward the rock formation, suggesting a path of approach.
When she was within a few feet of the body, she crouched down, studying Patricia Lomahongva's face.
The woman looked like someone's grandmother, with soft features and gray hair that had probably been neatly styled before all this.
There was something obscene about seeing her arranged like an artifact herself, reduced to a component in someone's twisted display.
Kari's gaze moved to the artifacts surrounding the body.
The pottery shards were arranged in a specific pattern—she could see that much, even if she didn't know what the pattern meant.
The bone fragments were placed at cardinal points around the body.
And there, near the woman's right hand, was something that looked like a small stone tool, its surface worn smooth by centuries of handling.
"These artifacts," Kari said, not taking her eyes off the arrangement. "How long would it take to excavate them? To find them and dig them up?"
"Hours, probably. Maybe longer if you were being careful not to damage them.
" Lomayesva had moved closer, standing just behind her.
"The question everyone's asking is how someone knew exactly where to dig.
These burial sites aren't marked. The knowledge of what's buried where is held by specific families, passed down through generations. It's not public information."
"So whoever did this either had that traditional knowledge, or they had help from someone who did."
"That's what scares people. The idea that this could be someone from within the community. Someone who should be protecting these sites, not violating them."
Kari stood and turned to face him. "Chief, I appreciate you bringing me here.
And I can see why you need an objective perspective.
But I have to be honest—I don't know how I'm supposed to work this case.
I have no official authority in Hopi territory.
I don't know the cultural context well enough to interpret what I'm seeing.
I don't know the community, the politics, who might have had access to this knowledge.
" She gestured at the scene. "Without someone local to guide me, to help me understand what I'm looking at, I'm going to be operating blind. "
Lomayesva nodded, as if he'd been expecting this. "I've thought about that. Which is why I'm assigning one of my officers to work with you." He turned and called out, "Polacca!"