CHAPTER SEVEN #2
"Or it could mean you're seeing patterns that aren't there because you're looking for connections to your own culture." Polacca's voice was flat, but the accusation was clear. "Not everything involves the Navajo, Detective."
Kari bit back her irritation. "I'm not trying to make this about cultural rivalry. I'm trying to understand who has the knowledge to commit these crimes."
"Everyone here has knowledge of Hopi practices. That's not a clue. That's just life in this community." Polacca turned away, moving toward where the Hopi man was sitting on a rock.
"Where are you going?" Kari asked.
"To interview James Koyiyumptewa," Polacca said over her shoulder.
Kari watched her go, frustrated by the wall Polacca kept throwing up every time Kari tried to discuss theories or interpretations.
She understood the defensiveness—Polacca didn't want to believe that someone with deep cultural knowledge, someone from within the community, could be doing this.
But refusing to consider the evidence wasn't going to help them catch the killer.
After taking a moment to calm herself, Kari joined Dr. Nakai, who looked up as she approached. Dr. Nakai was a woman in her fifties, her face showing no sign of shock or unease at the presence of the dead man. Kari had the impression that Dr. Nakai had seen a lot during her time.
"Time of death is approximate, but I'd estimate sometime between midnight and four AM last night," the ME said. "Cause appears to be similar to the Lomahongva case—multiple stab wounds. He was killed elsewhere and brought here post-mortem. The arrangement happened after death."
"Any defensive wounds?" Kari asked.
"I'll know more after the full autopsy, but preliminary examination suggests yes. He fought back." Dr. Nakai gestured to the victim's hands. "Tissue under the fingernails, abrasions on the knuckles. He tried to protect himself."
Kari filed that information away. Patricia and Robert—both killed with a knife, both fought back, both transported to ancient sites and surrounded by items with ceremonial significance. The pattern was clear, even if the motive wasn't.
Polacca joined them.
"That was quick," Kari said, glancing at James Koyiyumptewa, who was now rubbing his face with both hands.
"He didn't have much to say," Polacca answered. "He saw vehicle lights out here late last night, came to investigate this afternoon, and found the body. Didn't see anyone, didn't hear anything specific. Just lights in the distance."
"No description of the vehicle?"
"Too dark, too far away. Could have been a truck or an SUV. That's all he could tell me."
Kari pondered the timeline. Patricia had been last seen at seven PM the previous night, Robert at six PM. Robert had apparently died between midnight and four AM.
"Dr. Nakai," Kari said. "Could you hazard a guess as to Patricia Lomahongva's time of death?"
"I'd say between seven-thirty and nine PM last night," Dr. Nakai answered.
That meant that between six PM and four AM, someone killed Patricia and Robert, transported their bodies, and staged their bodies. A lot of work for ten hours. With any luck, the killer would be sleeping today rather than targeting anyone else.
Kari turned her attention back to the scene, trying to see past the horror to the information it contained.
Two victims now, both connected to the Cultural Center.
Patricia had been a genealogist, Robert an anthropologist. Both worked with cultural information, with history, with the documentation of Hopi heritage.
But what was the motive? Why had they been targeted?
"Robert's office," Kari said suddenly. "We need to see it. If he was working on something related to Patricia's research, there might be evidence there."
Polacca nodded slowly. "The Cultural Center's still open. We can go there now."
* * *
Robert Nuvangyaoma's office was larger than Patricia's had been, with windows that looked out over the mesa.
The space was organized but busy—bookshelves crammed with anthropological texts, filing cabinets with drawers slightly ajar, a desk covered with papers and note cards arranged in what must have been a meaningful system to their owner.
Polacca stood by the door while Kari moved to the desk. The top layer of papers was recent—printouts from academic journals, notes about upcoming conferences, correspondence with other researchers. But underneath, she found something more relevant.
A manuscript. Incomplete but substantial, maybe eighty pages printed and marked up with handwritten edits. The title page read: "Genetic Ancestry and Tribal Identity: Implications for Enrollment and Cultural Continuity in Contemporary Hopi Society" by Robert Nuvangyaoma, Ph.D.
Kari picked it up carefully, flipping through the pages.
The writing was dense, academic, but the subject matter was immediately clear.
Robert had been analyzing Patricia's genealogical data, looking at the broader implications of what DNA testing revealed about Hopi families.
He discussed tribal enrollment requirements, the tension between genetic ancestry and cultural identity, the political and social ramifications of genealogical research that challenged official records.
"He was writing about Patricia's findings," Kari said, holding up the manuscript. "An academic paper about the genealogical project and what it meant for the community." She paused, frowning. "But if this data was so sensitive and protected, how did Robert have access to it?"
Polacca moved closer, reading over Kari's shoulder. "Robert wasn't just writing about the project—he was part of it. He and Patricia were collaborators. She handled the genealogical research and data collection, he provided the anthropological analysis. That's how it was set up from the beginning."
"So he had full access to all the findings?"
"Everything Patricia discovered, Robert knew about. They were working together to prepare for the community presentation—she would present the genealogical data, he would discuss the broader implications for tribal identity and policy."
Kari felt a chill. Not just one person who knew the dangerous findings, but two. Both now dead.
"Who else would have had access to this research?" Kari asked.
Polacca pulled out her phone and scrolled through something.
"There's a social worker—Emma Talayesva.
She coordinates genealogical services for the tribe, helps people access DNA testing through university partnerships.
If anyone besides Patricia and Robert knew the full scope of what was being discovered, it would be her. "
"Then we need to talk to her. Today."
Polacca made the call, speaking quietly in Hopi, then switched to English. "Emma? This is Officer Polacca... Yes, I know, it's terrible... Listen, I need to speak with you about the genealogical project. Can you meet us at your office in twenty minutes?" A pause. "It's urgent. Thank you."
She ended the call and looked at Kari. "She'll meet us at the tribal social services building. It's about ten minutes from here."
As they left Robert's office, Kari carried the manuscript with her, feeling its weight as more than just paper.
Two people connected to this genealogical project were now dead.
Whatever Patricia had discovered in her research, whatever truths about ancestry and identity she'd been preparing to share with the community, someone was willing to kill to keep it hidden.
The question was who. And the answer might be locked behind Patricia's password-protected computer, or in files held by this social worker they were about to meet.
Kari thought about what David Lomatuway'ma had said that morning—that sometimes genealogical research revealed things that challenged people's understanding of their heritage, that such information could be disruptive. She hadn't understood then just how dangerous that disruption could be.
Now, standing in a dead man's office, holding his unfinished manuscript, she understood perfectly.
Someone, she suspected, was protecting a secret. And they were willing to kill anyone who threatened to expose it.