The small clearing where Rachel Delgado lay came into view suddenly, framed by two weathered sandstone outcroppings.Dr.Susan Hatathli knelt beside the body, her medical examiner’s kit open nearby.She looked up as they approached, nodding in silent greeting.
Kari took in the scene with practiced detachment.The victim lay on her back, arms at her sides, palms up—similar to Harrington but not identical.She wore hiking clothes—cargo pants, sturdy boots, a light jacket now darkened with dried blood.Her throat had been cut with a single deep slash, the wound gaping beneath the desert sun.
But it was the arrangement that captured Kari’s attention.Small bundles of herbs had been placed at the woman’s head, feet, and hands—sage, cedar, and globemallow.A circle of what appeared to be cornmeal surrounded the body, interrupted in four places by small objects Kari couldn’t immediately identify.
“Same signature,” Tsosie said quietly, crouching to examine the herbs without touching them.
“Similar,” Kari corrected.“The positioning is slightly different.Harrington was facing east.She’s facing north.”
“The herbs are placed differently too,” Tsosie added.
Dr.Hatathli stood, pulling off her latex gloves.“Cause of death appears to be exsanguination from the neck wound.Single cut, left to right, consistent with a right-handed attacker.Sharp blade, possibly a hunting knife.”
“Very different from the way Harrington was killed,” Kari said.
Dr.Hatathli nodded.“His cause of death was cervical fracture after significant trauma.This is cleaner, more efficient—without any signs of the fury with which Harrington was attacked.This one’s more recent, too.Based on body temperature and lividity, I’d estimate she’s only been dead a few hours.”
“So sometime early this morning,” Kari said, scanning the surroundings.The scattered equipment drew her attention—a backpack with collection vials spilled nearby, a broken camera at the base of a rock formation about twenty yards away.An oak walking stick lay on the ground, partially covered in sand.
“She was running from something,” Tsosie observed, following Kari’s gaze.“Dropped her gear while fleeing.”
Daniels had been circling the scene, taking photos with his phone.He rejoined them, his expression thoughtful.“Two killings in the same general area within days of each other.Different causes of death but similar ritual elements.We’re looking at a serial offender with a ceremonial fixation.”
Kari registered his use of “we” but didn’t comment on it.“The ceremonial elements are wrong,” she said instead.“Inconsistent with authentic practices.”
“Wrong how?”Daniels asked, his attention sharpening.
Kari glanced at Tsosie, a silent question passing between them: how much to share?She suspected Daniels would use any information they gave him to assert federal control, but withholding details could hinder the investigation.
Tsosie gave a slight nod, deferring to her judgment.
“The placement of herbs isn’t consistent with any traditional Navajo ceremony,” she said, keeping her explanation minimal.“The directional orientation is incorrect for protective purposes, and the use of cornmeal in this pattern doesn’t align with blessing ceremonies.”
“The killer is mimicking ceremonies they’ve studied but don’t truly understand,” Tsosie added.
Daniels considered this.“So we’re looking for someone with knowledge of Navajo ceremonies but not practical experience.That narrows the field considerably.”
“It’s one possibility,” Kari said, not wanting to commit to any theory yet.
She turned her attention to the scattered equipment, moving carefully to avoid disturbing potential evidence.The broken camera was high-end, its lens cracked from impact with the rocks.Nearby lay the bag it had likely been carried in, along with a soil sampling kit similar to what the tribe’s environmental officers used when testing for contamination.
Something glinted beneath a juniper bush a few feet away.Kari approached, spotting a smartphone in a heavy-duty protective case.
“Got a phone,” she called, pulling on latex gloves before retrieving it.
The screen was intact, protected by both the case and the soft soil it had landed on.Kari pressed the power button, relieved when it lit up.A red recording indicator flashed in the corner of the screen.
“It’s still recording,” she said, stopping the audio file that had been running for hours.The battery showed 12% remaining—the phone’s rugged case must have included an extended battery.
“Play it,” Daniels said, moving closer.
Kari navigated to the audio files, finding one that had started at 5:43 AM that morning and run until she’d just stopped it.She scrolled back, looking for the final moments of recorded sound before the phone had been dropped or lost.
She pressed play, and Rachel Delgado’s voice filled the clearing:
“I’m an environmental consultant conducting legal soil sampling.My location and activities have been logged with my office.”
A pause, then:“Good morning.Beautiful sunrise coming.”
