CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The call came at ten-forty PM, just as Kari was finally considering going to bed.
She'd been sitting in her motel room reviewing case notes for the third time that evening, her laptop balanced on her knees, the television muted in the background.
The council's refusal still burned in her chest, a frustration that wouldn't let her rest. Two people were dead, and the answers were locked behind encryption and political caution, and there was nothing she could do about it except to keep working the angles they had.
Her phone lit up with Chief Lomayesva's number.
"Blackhorse," she answered, already knowing from the late hour that it wouldn't be good news.
"There's been an incident."
Kari's heart sank. "What happened?"
"Emma Talayesva was attacked at her home about an hour ago."
Another body. A third victim.
"But she's alive," the Chief continued, surprising Kari. "She's at the station giving a statement. I thought you'd want to talk with her."
Kari was on her feet before he finished speaking, already grabbing her jacket. "I'll be there in twenty minutes."
She called Polacca as she headed to her Jeep, the night air cold enough to make her breath visible. Polacca answered on the second ring, her voice alert despite the hour—clearly she hadn't been sleeping either.
"Emma was attacked," Kari said without preamble. "I'm heading to the station now."
"I'll meet you there."
The drive through the dark was tense, Kari's mind racing through implications.
The killer had gone after Emma. Of course, they had—Emma was the keeper of Patricia's research, the coordinator of the genealogical project, the person who knew what had been discovered.
If Emma was dead, that would have left the encrypted files as their only access point, effectively shutting down that avenue of investigation.
But Emma was alive. The Chief had said she was safe. Which meant either the killer had been interrupted, or Emma had fought back, or something had gone wrong with the attack.
The Hopi Tribal Police station was lit up, several vehicles in the parking lot despite the late hour. Kari found Polacca already waiting by the entrance, her expression grim.
"What do we know?" Polacca asked as they walked in together.
"Just that she was attacked and survived. Nothing else yet."
Chief Lomayesva met them in the hallway, looking tired and angry. "She's in interview room two. I've had officers process her house—the attacker broke in through a bedroom window, left the knife behind when they fled. We're running it for prints now, but I'm not optimistic."
"She saw them?" Kari asked.
"Ask her yourself. She's been waiting to talk to you."
Emma Talayesva sat at a table with a blanket around her shoulders and a cup of tea held in her trembling hands. She looked exhausted, her eyes red-rimmed, her hair disheveled. But she was alive. She was here.
"Ms. Talayesva," Kari said gently, sitting across from her. Polacca took the chair beside Kari. "I'm glad you're safe. Can you tell us what happened?"
Emma took a shaky breath and began. She described hearing the neighbor's dog barking, the growing sense of unease, the sound of someone entering through her bedroom window. Her voice was steady at first, but grew more strained as she reached the moment of confrontation.
"I was in the living room when I heard someone in the hallway. I could hear them breathing—this fast, strange breathing, like he was struggling to get enough air." Emma's hands tightened on the cup. "Then he came into the light."
"He?" Polacca asked. "You're sure?"
Emma nodded.
"What did he look like?" Kari asked.
"He was wearing dark clothes and a mask."
Kari felt a chill. "What kind of mask?"
"I couldn't tell exactly—it was dark, and I was terrified.
But it was definitely Hopi, definitely ceremonial.
The kind you'd see in dances, in sacred contexts.
" Emma's voice shook with what might have been anger as much as fear.
"He was using something sacred to hide his face while he tried to kill me. "
"Did he say anything?" Polacca asked.
"He asked about Patricia's files. Demanded to know where they were." Emma looked down at her tea. "I told him I couldn't access them, that they were encrypted. He said if I couldn't provide the files, I was no use to him. Then he showed me the knife."
Had the killer made similar demands of the other victims?
"What happened next?" Kari kept her voice calm, even as her pulse quickened.
"I had tea on the coffee table—chamomile, still hot. I grabbed it and threw it in his face. The liquid, I mean. All of it." A ghost of satisfaction crossed Emma's features. "He screamed and dropped the knife. I ran for the front door."
Kari watched Emma, waiting for her to continue.
"I got to the door," Emma went on after a moment, "but couldn't get the lock open—my hands were shaking too badly.
I could hear him coming down the hall behind me, that breathing getting closer.
Then suddenly he was right there, his hand on the door next to my head.
" Emma's voice was barely a whisper now. "I thought I was dead."
Kari leaned forward. "But you're here. What happened?"
"I still had my phone in my other hand. I just..
. I swung around and hit him with it. As hard as I could.
Aimed for his face." Emma's eyes were distant, replaying the moment.
"I felt it connect, heard him make this sound—pain, anger, I don't know.
But it gave me enough time to get the lock turned. I got the door open and ran."
"Did he chase you?"
"At first. I could hear footsteps behind me. But then..." Emma's brow furrowed. "Then he stopped. I kept running—I didn't stop until I got to my neighbors' house two doors down. But when I looked back, he wasn't behind me anymore. Probably got spooked that someone would see him."
"Tell me more about the breathing," Kari said. "You mentioned it sounded strange."
"It was fast. Really fast, like they were agitated or excited."
"Like wheezing?"
"Maybe. I don't know. It all happened so fast, and I was so scared. I'm sorry I can't be more specific."
"You're doing fine," Polacca said. "What about height and build? Can you estimate?"
"Medium height, I think. Not particularly tall or short. Average build. The dark clothes made it hard to tell much else." Emma's voice grew more strained. "I know that's not helpful. I know you need more than that. But between the mask and the lighting and my own panic, I just didn't see much."
If nothing else, the attacker was likely to have burns on his face, possibly elsewhere as well. That would make it easy to identify him.
Kari asked the question she'd been building toward. "Ms. Talayesva, about the files Patricia gave you. After everything that happened tonight, after being attacked by someone willing to kill to keep that information secret—will you share it with us?"
The question hung in the air between them. Emma looked down at her tea, her expression conflicted. The silence stretched long enough that Kari thought she might refuse again, might cite the council's directive even after nearly dying for it.
"I don't know," Emma said finally. "I need time to think.
To process what happened. To figure out what the right thing to do is.
" She looked up, and Kari saw anguish in her eyes.
"The council ordered me not to share it.
I have ethical obligations to the families who participated.
But two people are dead, and someone just tried to kill me.
I don't... I don't know what the right answer is anymore. "
"How much time do you need?" Kari asked, trying not to rush her, even though time was of the essence.
"I don't know that either. Ask me tomorrow. I'm going to stay with my sister in Flagstaff for a while, get away from here, clear my head." Emma's hands were shaking again. "I promise I'll think about it seriously. I promise I won't just dismiss what you're asking. But I need time."
It wasn't the answer Kari wanted, but it was better than an outright refusal. And pushing harder tonight, when Emma was traumatized and exhausted, would only drive her further away.
"Okay," Kari said. "Take the time you need. But please, think about this—whoever attacked you tonight, they've already killed two people. They will kill again if they think someone else knows what Patricia discovered. The only way to stop them is to understand what they're protecting."
"I know," Emma whispered. "Believe me, I know."
Chief Lomayesva arranged for officers to escort Emma to her sister's house in Flagstaff that night, along with her laptop and whatever belongings she needed. By midnight, she was gone, and Kari and Polacca stood in the station parking lot, both too wired to sleep despite the late hour.
"The mask," Polacca said, breaking the silence. "Using a Hopi ceremonial mask to commit a crime—that's not just about hiding identity. That's making a statement."
"About what?"
"About belonging. About understanding. About being part of the culture.
" Polacca's voice was thoughtful. "Someone outside the community wouldn't think to use a ceremonial mask.
They'd use a ski mask, a bandana, or just darkness.
But a Hopi mask? That's someone who knows what those masks mean, who has access to them, who sees themselves as part of this world. "
"We need to track that mask," Kari said. "Find out where it came from. Who owns ceremonial masks, if any have been reported stolen, who would have access."
Polacca nodded slowly. "That's going to be complicated. Ceremonial masks are... sensitive. Many families have them, passed down through generations. They're not registered or tracked officially—that would go against the whole point of them being sacred objects."
"But someone would know if one went missing. Someone would notice."
"Maybe. If it was stolen from a family's collection, yes.
But if someone made their own mask, or if it's an older one that's been in storage.
.." Polacca's expression was troubled. "And Jake Honanie is one of the people who makes ceremonial items. He'd have the knowledge and materials to create a mask. "
"Which we can ask him about tomorrow." Kari paused. "Is there anyone who would know about mask collections? Someone who tracks cultural items for the tribe?"
"David Lomatuway'ma would be the person to ask. Cultural preservation is his job—he'd know which families have significant collections, if any items have been reported missing recently." Polacca pulled out her phone. "I'll call him first thing in the morning, set up a meeting."
"Good. And we should ask the museum too—Dr. Sekaquaptewa might know if any masks have gone missing from their collection."
They stood for a moment in the quiet parking lot, the cold night air sharp in their lungs. Kari thought about the ceremonial mask, about someone using sacred items to hide their face while committing murder. There was a symbolism there, a meaning she couldn't quite grasp yet.
"Get some sleep," Polacca said. "We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow."
Kari nodded, though she knew sleep would be difficult. Her mind was already churning through the details, looking for patterns, connections, the thread that would unravel everything.
She was climbing into her Jeep when Polacca's phone rang. The officer answered, listened for a moment, and her expression changed.
"When?" Polacca asked. "How long ago?" She listened again, her jaw tightening. "Okay. We'll be right there."
She ended the call and looked at Kari through the Jeep's open window. "That was dispatch. Someone just reported an abduction."
"Who?" Kari asked. "Who was abducted?"
"Jake Honanie."