CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The genealogical files were spread across Kari's laptop screen in a series of overlapping windows—DNA analysis reports, family tree diagrams, participant consent forms, and Patricia's meticulous notes documenting everything she'd discovered.
Kari had been reading for over an hour, her coffee long since gone cold, her eyes burning with fatigue. But the exhaustion fell away as she absorbed what Patricia had found.
The data was extraordinary. Patricia had collected DNA samples from over sixty families across multiple Hopi villages, then cross-referenced the genetic markers with historical records, oral histories, and genealogical documentation.
The result was a complex web of ancestry that revealed just how interconnected the Hopi people were—not just with each other, but with neighboring tribes as well.
Many families had Navajo ancestors. Some had Zuni or Apache heritage going back several generations.
A few had surprising connections to Puebloan groups from New Mexico.
The genetic evidence showed centuries of intermarriage, trade relationships, and cultural exchange that had been somewhat obscured by modern tribal boundaries and enrollment requirements.
It was beautiful data, really. A testament to the rich, complex history of the Southwest's indigenous peoples.
But Kari could also see why it would be threatening.
Tribal enrollment was often calculated by blood quantum—the percentage of ancestry from a specific tribe. If someone thought they were "full-blooded" Hopi but DNA revealed significant ancestry from other tribes, it could affect not just their identity but their legal status within the tribe.
She found the Namingha family data. Patricia had been careful to anonymize it in her notes, referring to them only as "Family 7," but cross-referencing with other details made it clear who she was discussing.
The chairman's daughter had married a man of mixed Hopi-Navajo heritage.
Their children—the chairman's grandchildren—were enrolled as Hopi, but their actual genetic ancestry was more complex.
Not enough to automatically disqualify them from enrollment, but enough to raise questions if someone wanted to challenge their status.
Kari made notes, looking for patterns, for anything that might point toward a specific person with a specific motive.
But the more she read, the more she realized the problem was that too many people had motives.
Dozens of families were represented in this data.
Any of them might have secrets they wanted to keep hidden, histories they didn't want exposed.
She was deep in a section about historical migration patterns when she noticed the time on her laptop: 7:14 AM. Late enough to call the chairman.
She pulled out her phone and dialed his number. It rang four times before he answered.
"Yes?"
"Chairman Namingha, this is Detective Blackhorse. I apologize for calling so early—"
"What is it now, Detective?" He didn't bother hiding his annoyance. "I'm about to leave for a meeting in Flagstaff. I have maybe two minutes."
"I need to verify some information about the tribal council meeting last night. The one that ran late."
A pause. "What about it?"
"Was David Lomatuway'ma present for the entire meeting?"
Another pause, longer this time. When the chairman spoke again, his voice was colder, more guarded. "Why are you asking me this?"
"I need to confirm the specific timeline. He mentioned giving a presentation around nine-fifteen—"
"He did. I was sitting directly across from him for most of the meeting.
He gave his presentation on cultural preservation protocols at nine-fifteen, then participated in the discussion for the rest of the evening.
We didn't finish until nearly midnight." The chairman's tone was emphatic.
"David Lomatuway'ma was at that meeting from the moment it started until the moment it ended. Is that clear enough for you?"
"Yes, sir. Thank you for—"
"Detective, I don't know what you think you're investigating here, but David is a respected cultural preservation officer.
He's done more for this community than—" He stopped himself, seemed to reconsider his words.
"I have to go. If you have further questions about David or anyone else on my council, you can submit them in writing to my office. "
The line went dead.
Kari sat for a moment, staring at her phone. The chairman's tone had been defensive, almost protective. But his statement had been clear and unequivocal: David had been at that meeting all night.
Which meant David couldn't have attacked Emma.
She walked out to the main squad room, where Polacca was refilling her coffee. "I talked to the chairman."
"And?"
"He confirms David was at the council meeting the entire time.
Says he was sitting across from him, watched him give a presentation at nine-fifteen, saw him participate in discussions until after eleven-thirty.
" Kari shook her head in frustration. "The chairman wasn't happy about being asked, but he was very clear. David's alibi is solid."
Polacca absorbed this, her expression troubled. They were both silent.
"Has the hospital called?" Kari asked. "About Jake, I mean?"
"No, but I called them about twenty minutes ago. Jake's awake and coherent. Doctor says we can talk to him. I was about to come in and tell you." Polacca grabbed her jacket. "Want to head over there now?"
Kari glanced back at her laptop, at the genealogical files still open on the screen. There was so much more to review, patterns she hadn't fully explored yet. But Jake was their only witness to his own abduction. Whatever he could tell them might be more valuable than anything in Patricia's data.
Then again, why not divide and conquer?
"You go," Kari said. "I want to keep working through these files. See if there's something here that explains why Jake was targeted, or if there's another connection we're missing."
"You sure?"
"Yeah. Call me if he tells you anything significant."
Polacca left, and Kari returned to the conference room, settling back in front of her laptop. She pulled up a new section of Patricia's notes—correspondence with participants about unexpected findings, families who'd been surprised by their results.
She was reading an email exchange about a family who'd discovered Zuni ancestry they hadn't known about when Chief Lomayesva walked in. His expression was serious, troubled.
"Detective Blackhorse. What are you working on?"
"Patricia Lomahongva's genealogical research files," Kari said, not looking up from the screen. "Lucas Saufkie cracked the encryption last night. I'm reviewing the data, looking for connections to—"
"Where did you get authorization to access those files?" The Chief's voice was sharp.
Kari looked up, confused by his tone. "Authorization? Lucas is our tech. He cracked the password on evidence from an active murder investigation. That's his job."
"Those files are protected under tribal privacy laws." Chief Lomayesva moved closer to the table. "The council specifically refused your request to access the genealogical data. That decision doesn't change just because your technician figured out the password."
"With respect, Chief, this is evidence in a homicide investigation. Three people are dead—"
"And those files contain private genetic information about dozens of families who participated in good faith, believing their data would be kept confidential.
" He reached over and gently but firmly closed her laptop.
"I understand your frustration, Detective.
But you don't have the authority to review this information without proper authorization from the tribal council. "
Kari felt anger flare in her chest. "Two people were murdered specifically because of what's in these files. A third was nearly killed. I need to understand what they discovered that was worth killing for."
"I agree. Which is why I've called an emergency council meeting this afternoon to request they authorize your access.
" The Chief's voice was calm but unyielding.
"But until they do, you can't continue reviewing data they've explicitly protected.
It's not about the investigation, Kari. It's about tribal sovereignty and our right to control information about our own people. "
"So I'm supposed to just stop investigating? Wait for politicians to debate privacy concerns while the killer is still out there?"
"You're supposed to respect the legal and cultural boundaries that exist here.
" Chief Lomayesva pulled the laptop toward him.
"I brought you in because I thought you understood that.
Because your mother understood that. She knew how to work within our systems, how to ask the right questions without trampling over the things that matter to us. "
The invocation of her mother stung. Kari wanted to argue that her mother had also fought against bureaucratic barriers, had pushed for truth even when it was uncomfortable.
But she also knew the Chief was right about one thing: Anna had learned to navigate these tensions with more grace than Kari was currently displaying.
"How long?" Kari asked, her voice tight. "How long until this council meeting?"
"Three PM. I'll make the case that you need access to solve these murders.
But I can't promise they'll agree." He picked up the laptop.
"I'm going to secure this in my office until the matter is resolved.
You can review other evidence, interview witnesses, pursue other leads.
But the genealogical data is off-limits until the council authorizes it. "