CHAPTER TWENTY
Kari's back found the cold metal of the garage's side wall. She swept the darkness with her weapon, trying to track the sound of David's movement. The space had become a maze of shadows and blind spots, and he was using every one of them.
She needed light. Her phone was in her pocket, but pulling it out would require using her free hand, which would create a moment of distraction he could exploit. Her weapon had a light attachment, but activating it would also reveal her exact position.
"You know what's interesting about asthma?" David's voice came from near the front of the garage, closer to the main door. "It's unpredictable. Stress makes it worse. Exertion makes it worse."
Kari heard the distinct sound of an inhaler—a sharp hiss followed by held breath.
"Emma mentioned that her attacker stopped chasing her," David said after a moment.
"She thought maybe I was letting her go, that it was some kind of warning.
But the truth is, I couldn't keep running.
My lungs were seizing up, every breath felt like breathing through a straw.
I had to let her go or risk collapsing right there in the street. "
"So you're admitting it," Kari said, her voice steady despite her racing pulse. "You attacked Emma."
"I'm not admitting anything that will ever reach a courtroom." His voice was moving again, circling. "This is just us, Detective. Just two people having a conversation in the dark."
Kari's eyes had adjusted enough now to make out general shapes. She could see the dark bulk of the Explorer, the workbench running along one wall. But David remained a ghost, moving between shadows.
"The chairman really doesn't know," David said, his tone almost conversational.
"About what I did. He thinks he's protecting a colleague who opposed dangerous research.
When you're found dead in my garage, he'll tell the police the same story—that I was at that meeting all night, that I couldn't have been involved.
He'll genuinely believe he's telling the truth. "
"Until other witnesses contradict him."
"What witnesses? Everyone at that meeting saw me give my presentation.
Saw me participate in discussions. They'll remember me being there because I was there for most of it.
" David's voice carried a hint of pride.
"The human memory is remarkably unreliable.
People conflate their overall impression of an event with specific moments.
They remember that I was at the meeting, so they assume I was there for all of it.
The chairman isn't lying, not really. He's just remembering what he expects to remember. "
"You slipped out," Kari said, piecing it together. "During one of the breaks or when the discussion got heated. Left for forty-five minutes, drove to Emma's house, attacked her, then came back before the meeting ended."
"Fifty-two minutes," David corrected. "I timed it. Emma's house is only fifteen minutes away. That gave me plenty of time."
Kari heard him move again, the soft scuff of shoe on concrete. He was working his way around the garage, maybe trying to get behind her. She shifted her position, keeping her back to the wall, her weapon tracking toward each sound.
"What's in Patricia's research about your family?" Kari asked. "What are you hiding?"
David was quiet for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice was softer, almost vulnerable. "My daughter isn't really my daughter. Not biologically."
Kari's mind raced, trying to understand the implications. "You adopted her?"
"In a sense. My wife and I couldn't have children.
Her sister—her younger sister who lived in Phoenix—got pregnant from a relationship with a white man.
A man she had no intention of marrying or even telling about the baby.
The pregnancy would have been a scandal for their family, so we came to an arrangement.
I would claim the child as mine. We'd say my wife had been pregnant but had kept it quiet.
The baby would be raised as Hopi, enrolled in the tribe, given a legitimate place in the community. "
"And Patricia's DNA analysis would have revealed that your daughter didn't have your genetic markers."
"It would have revealed that she had significant non-Hopi ancestry.
Enough to call her enrollment into question.
Enough to make people ask questions about her parentage.
" David's voice was strained now, emotional.
"She's twenty-three years old. She's lived her entire life as Hopi, as my daughter, as a member of this community.
She's engaged to be married to a good man from a good family.
And Patricia's research would have destroyed all of that. "
"So you killed to protect a secret adoption."
"I killed to protect my daughter's identity and future!
" David's voice cracked with anger. "You can't understand what it means to her.
She knows she's adopted—we told her the truth when she turned eighteen.
But no one else knows. No one questions her place here.
And if Patricia's research had become public, if people had seen the DNA evidence showing her mixed ancestry. .."
"Her enrollment would have been challenged. Her marriage prospects might have suffered. People would have gossiped." Kari's voice was hard. "So you murdered two people to avoid gossip and bureaucracy."
"I protected my daughter from having her entire identity stripped away!" David's control was slipping now, emotion bleeding through. "You think it's just gossip? You think it's just bureaucracy? It's her whole life. Her place in this world. Everything she is."
"And Patricia's life? Robert's life? Emma's life? What about Jake's life—you tried to kill him just because he might have seen your vehicle. How many lives is your daughter's secret worth?"
"As many as necessary." David's voice had gone cold again, the emotion shut down. "You talk about lives like they're all equal. But they're not. My daughter—her future, her happiness, her identity—is worth more than all of them put together."
"That's not your decision to make."
"It was absolutely my decision to make. I'm her father. Protecting her is my responsibility, my obligation. It's what fathers do."
A sound—the metallic scrape of something being lifted from the workbench. Another tool, maybe, or something heavier. Kari's finger moved to the trigger, ready.
"I'm not going to let you arrest me," David said. "I can't. If I'm arrested, if this goes to trial, everything comes out. My daughter's adoption, her parentage, all the details Patricia discovered. The very thing I killed to protect would be exposed anyway. I can't let that happen."
"Then what's your plan? Kill me and hope Polacca doesn't figure it out?"
"Kill you and disappear." David's voice was calm again, decided.
"I have money saved. Contacts south of the border.
I can be gone by tomorrow, start over somewhere else.
Without you to push the investigation, without your testimony connecting the dots, the case goes cold.
Polacca is good, but she doesn't have your instincts. She won't figure it out."
"You're wrong."
"Maybe. But I'd rather take my chances running than spend the rest of my life in prison while my daughter's secret is dissected in open court."
Kari heard movement—fast, sudden. He was coming at her from the left, from behind the vehicle. She swung her weapon in that direction but couldn't see him clearly enough for a clean shot.
Then something hit her from the right—not David, but something he'd thrown. A heavy toolbox, maybe, or a piece of equipment. It struck her shoulder, knocking her off balance. Her weapon swung wild as she staggered, trying to recover.
David was on her then. He grabbed for her weapon, trying to wrench it from her grip. She held on, twisting away, but he had leverage and momentum. They grappled in the darkness, both fighting for control of the gun.
Kari drove her knee up, aiming for his midsection. Felt it connect, heard him grunt. His grip loosened for a second. She tried to pull away, to create distance, but he recovered faster than she'd expected. His hand caught her wrist, strong and desperate.
They crashed into the workbench, tools scattering. Something sharp cut across Kari's forearm. David's breathing was harsh and labored, but he didn't let go. His other hand was reaching for something on the bench—that wrench from earlier, maybe, or something worse.
Kari made a decision. She stopped fighting for distance and instead moved closer, inside his reach. Used her free hand to grab his face, pressing her thumb into the burned area on his cheek where Emma's tea must have scalded him.
David screamed, a raw sound of pain and fury. His grip on her wrist loosened. Kari wrenched her weapon arm free and brought the butt of the gun down hard on his temple.
He went down, hitting the concrete floor with a heavy thud. Kari backed away immediately, breathing hard, her weapon trained on his prone form. For a moment, he didn't move, and she thought he might be unconscious.
Then he stirred, groaning. Tried to push himself up.
"Don't," Kari said, her voice hard. She was breathing heavily, her heart hammering. "Don't move. Put your hands on the floor where I can see them."
David complied slowly, his movements pained. He rolled onto his back, hands visible. Blood trickled from where she'd struck him, dark against his skin.
"It's over," Kari said.
"No." David's voice was thick, slurred. "Not over. Can't be over. My daughter..."
"Your daughter will have to live with the truth about what you did. Just like you'll have to live with it in prison."
She pulled out her phone with her free hand, keeping her weapon trained on him. Dialed Polacca's number. It rang once.
"Kari? Where are you? Martin's clear—his story checked out. Where did you go?"
"David's house. His garage. I need backup now, and an ambulance. I have the suspect in custody, but he's injured."
"David? What—I'm on my way. Five minutes."
Kari ended the call and looked down at David, who was still on the floor, his breathing ragged and wet-sounding. His inhaler had fallen during the struggle, lay somewhere in the darkness beyond reach.
"Please," David said. "I can't… can't breathe."
Kari studied him, wondering if Patricia and Robert had begged him for mercy, for help. She imagined ignoring him, or perhaps finding the inhaler only to stomp on it and see his reaction.
But she couldn't do that, couldn't be that person. She wasn't like David.
Keeping one eye on David in case he was exaggerating his symptoms as a ruse, Kari searched for the inhaler. It didn't take long to find it. She scooped it up, then handed it to David.
He took a puff, held it, then settled back, relaxing. "Thank you," he murmured.
She said nothing, just stood vigil over him, waiting.
In the distance, sirens grew louder, drawing closer. Help was coming. The law was coming. The machinery of justice that David had tried so hard to avoid was finally, inevitably, arriving.
Kari looked down at the man who'd killed to protect a secret, who'd staged deaths at sacred sites while lecturing her about respect for tradition.
He'd called himself a father protecting his daughter.
But Patricia and Robert had been someone's children, too.
Emma had a family who loved her. Jake had people who cared about him.
David had weighed their lives against his need for secrecy and found them wanting.
Now he lay on the cold concrete floor of his garage, surrounded by his tools and his covered vehicle and all the careful preparations he'd made to hide what he was. The mask had finally come off. The pretense was over.
Justice was on its way.