CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Jake Honanie's workshop sat at the edge of a small cluster of buildings, its windows still glowing with light despite the late hour.
The front door stood open, a rectangle of yellow spilling onto the dirt parking area where two tribal police cruisers were already parked, their light bars casting red and blue strobes across the scene.
Kari pulled up beside them and was out of her Jeep before the engine fully stopped. Polacca emerged from her own vehicle a second later, both of them moving with the focused urgency of people who knew every minute mattered.
A young tribal officer—his nametag identified him as Officer Lomaquahu—met them near the workshop entrance. "Witness is inside. Name's Thomas Pavatea, owns the silversmith shop next door. He saw the whole thing."
"Walk us through it," Kari said.
"Mr. Pavatea was closing up his shop around nine-thirty when he heard what sounded like a struggle.
Came outside and saw two men near Jake Honanie's truck—Jake and another man.
The other man had Jake in some kind of hold, was forcing him toward a dark-colored SUV parked on the street.
Got Jake into the vehicle—shoved him in the back seat—then drove off heading east."
Officer Lomaquahu gestured toward the main road. "Mr. Pavatea called it in immediately, maybe two minutes after the vehicle left. But by the time our units got here, there was no sign of them."
Kari nodded, unsure what to make of this. The bad news was that Jake's life was in danger, assuming he was still alive. The good news was that, once again, the unsub was acting recklessly, making mistakes. It was only a matter of time before they caught him.
"Let's go talk to the witness," she said.
They found Thomas Pavatea inside the workshop, sitting on a stool near Jake's main workbench. He was a man in his sixties, his hands shaking as he held a cup of water an officer had given him. His face was pale, his eyes still wide with the shock of what he'd witnessed.
"Mr. Pavatea," Kari said gently, approaching slowly so as not to startle him. "I'm Detective Blackhorse. This is Officer Polacca. Thank you for calling this in. Can you tell us exactly what you saw?"
Thomas took a sip of water, then set the cup down carefully.
"I was locking up my shop—it's right next door, the silversmith place.
Everything was quiet. Then I heard a sound like someone falling, something heavy hitting metal.
I looked out and saw Jake on the ground next to his truck, and there was a man standing over him. "
"Can you describe the man?"
"Tall. Taller than Jake, anyway. Maybe six feet or a bit more. He was wearing dark clothes—a jacket, jeans maybe." Thomas's brow furrowed with the effort of remembering.
"Jake was trying to get up, and the man grabbed him. Got behind him, had his arms wrapped around Jake's chest. Jake was fighting—I could see him struggling, hear him yelling."
"What was he yelling?" Polacca asked.
"Let me go. Help. Things like that." Thomas's voice shook.
"I started moving toward them, shouting that I was calling the police.
But the man—he was so strong. He just dragged Jake to this SUV that was parked on the street.
Dark color, maybe black or dark blue. Couldn't see much detail in the streetlight. "
"Did you see the license plate?"
"I tried, but they were moving fast, and the angle was bad. Only got part of it." Thomas pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket—he'd written down what he'd seen. "I got the first three characters before they turned the corner. G-N-7. That's all I'm sure of."
Kari took the paper, her mind already calculating how useful this would be. In a state like Arizona, with thousands of dark SUVs, three characters wasn't much to go on.
"The man who took Jake—did you see his face?"
"No. Between the distance and the hood, I never got a clear look. And it all happened so fast. Maybe thirty seconds from when I first saw them to when they drove away." Thomas looked down at his hands. "I should have done more. Should have run over there faster, or—"
"Don't second-guess yourself," Polacca said. "You did the right thing, calling for help. You gave us information. That's what we needed."
"Did the man say anything?" Kari asked. "Anything you could hear?"
"Nothing I could make out. If he spoke, it was too quiet or drowned out by Jake's yelling."
They asked more questions—about the SUV's make and model (Thomas thought maybe a Ford Explorer or similar, but wasn't certain), about whether Jake seemed injured (he was moving under his own power but seemed dazed), about whether there might have been anyone else in the vehicle (Thomas didn't think so, but couldn't be sure).
After twenty minutes, it was clear they'd gotten everything useful from Thomas. Kari thanked him and asked Officer Lomaquahu to take his formal statement and then make sure he got home safely.
Outside, the night air was cold and sharp. Kari stood in the workshop parking area, looking east toward where the SUV had disappeared, trying to think through the possibilities. Polacca stood beside her, both of them processing what they knew.
"Dark SUV, partial plate, heading east," Polacca said. "That gives us a direction but not much else."
"The killer has Jake," Kari said. "They took him alive, which means they need him for something. Or they're planning to stage him like they did Patricia and Robert."
"If they're staging him at a sacred site, we need to figure out which one." Polacca pulled out her phone, opening a map application. "There are dozens of ancient sites within an hour's drive of here. Burial grounds, ceremonial locations, significant historical places. We can't search them all."
"We focus on the ones that match the pattern. Remote, accessible by vehicle but requiring some hiking. Places with known burial contexts." Kari felt the weight of the task pressing down on her. "We need every available unit searching. Set up a grid, assign sites to different teams."
"I'll call it in." Polacca made the call to dispatch, her voice crisp as she requested all available officers to report for a coordinated search. When she ended the call, she looked at Kari. "They're pulling everyone they can. We'll have maybe six units plus us. Eight search teams total."
"It's not enough. Not for the number of sites we're talking about."
"I know." Polacca shook her head grimly. "But it's what we have."
They went back inside Jake's workshop, coordinating with the other officers who were arriving, dividing up the most likely sites based on distance and accessibility.
Kari pulled up crime scene photos on her phone, looking at the specific locations where Patricia and Robert had been found, trying to identify common features that might help them predict where the killer would take Jake.
Remote but accessible. Significant burial context. It described too many places.
"This is like looking for a needle in a haystack," Kari muttered, staring at the map Polacca had spread across Jake's workbench. "We're missing something. Some way to narrow this down."
"The killer is losing control," Polacca said. "He failed with Emma, then tried to compensate by taking Jake—but why Jake? He wasn't involved in the genealogical project."
Kari shook her head. "There has to be some other connection."
"Whatever the case, the killer's getting desperate. That might mean he's going to take a shortcut, use a location that's convenient rather than perfect."
Kari nodded, following Polacca's logic. "He knows he has to move fast, doesn't have much time. Probably isn't interested in any long hikes into remote locations. So we focus on sites that are close to roads, that don't require extensive hiking."
"That helps." Polacca marked several sites on the map with a red pen. "These six are all within a quarter-mile of vehicle access. If I were in a hurry, I'd choose one of these."
They divided the six sites between the available teams, with Kari and Polacca taking the two northernmost locations. As officers headed out to their assigned areas, Kari felt the familiar adrenaline of a case breaking open, mixed with the gnawing fear that they were already too late.
The first site was empty—an ancient pueblo ruin that looked untouched, its walls standing silent against the night sky. They searched it quickly but thoroughly, finding no signs of recent disturbance.
They were heading back to their vehicles to move to the second location when Polacca spoke, her voice quiet and careful. "Can I tell you something?"
Kari looked at her, surprised by the sudden shift in tone. "Of course."
"When Chief Lomayesva told us he was bringing in an outside detective, he didn't assign me to work with you.
I volunteered." Polacca kept her eyes on the path ahead, her profile shadowed in the moonlight.
"The other officers thought I was crazy.
Working with a Navajo detective on a Hopi case?
That's asking for conflict, for political complications. But I insisted."
"Why?" Kari asked.
Polacca was quiet for a long moment, and when she spoke, her voice was thick with emotion.
"Because three years ago, my younger brother was killed.
He was found dead at a sacred site near Canyon de Chelly.
The investigators said it was an accident—that he'd been drinking, wandered off in the dark, fell and hit his head. Case closed."
Kari felt a chill. Canyon de Chelly. Her mother's investigation. The seventeen unsolved cases.