“Nearest backup is twenty minutes out,” Daniels said, and Kari could hear him already moving, shouting orders to others.“Sit tight.Do not approach alone.I repeat, do not—”
“We can be at these sites in ten minutes,” Kari cut in.“People are going to die if we wait.”
The silence on the other end told her Daniels was calculating the same equation she was—protocol versus lives.“I’m ordering you to wait for backup,” he said finally, his tone making it clear he knew she wouldn’t.
“Understood,” Kari replied, already heading for the door with Tsosie right behind her.“We’ll secure the scenes until you arrive.”
She ended the call before Daniels could respond.
Outside, they paused beside their vehicles, the night air cool against Kari’s face, carrying the scent of desert sage.
“We’ll have to split up,” she said, looking at the map coordinates she’d transferred to her phone.“You take the northern site, I’ll take the one near Twin Bluffs.”
Tsosie nodded, his expression grave.“Be careful, Kari.Redford may not be the only danger at these sites.”
The statement hung between them, laden with meaning beyond its surface.Kari felt for the medicine pouch in her jacket pocket, its weight reassuring against her palm.
“Just focus on saving whoever she’s targeting,” she replied.“Backup will be right behind us.”
They parted with a final nod, each racing toward their vehicles.As Kari pulled away, she caught Tsosie’s last glance in her direction—concern edged with something that looked unsettlingly like fear.
The drive to Twin Bluffs took nine minutes at speeds that would have earned her a citation on any normal night.Kari kept her lights flashing but siren silent, not wanting to announce her arrival.The road ended a quarter-mile from the coordinates, forcing her to continue on foot.
She moved with practiced caution, service weapon drawn, flashlight beam cutting narrow arcs through darkness.The site’s topography became clearer as she approached—a natural amphitheater of stone with a narrow ravine at one edge, dropping away to unseen depths.At its center stood a rock formation that resembled a hand reaching skyward, eerily similar to the one where Harrington had died.
A pattern.A purpose.Sacred sites with specific meanings in Navajo tradition.
The scream tore through the night without warning—male, young, raw with terror.
Kari broke into a run, following the sound to its source.She crested a small rise and spotted him immediately—a young man in a hooded sweatshirt, clutching his arm as blood seeped between his fingers, stumbling away from something Kari couldn’t yet see.
“Help!”he cried when he spotted her, his voice cracking with fear.“She’s fucking crazy!She came out of nowhere!”
Kari reached him in seconds, quickly assessing his injury—a deep cut along his forearm, bleeding steadily but not arterial.“I’m Detective Blackhorse, Navajo Nation Police.Where is she now?”
“Back there.”He pointed toward the rock formation, his hand shaking.“She had a knife, some kind of mask.I thought she was security or something, but then she—she made this sound.Not human, man.Not human.”
“My car is back that way,” Kari said, pointing toward the road.“Blue Jeep, emergency lights flashing.Go there and lock yourself inside.Backup is coming.”
The young man needed no further encouragement before stumbling in the direction Kari had indicated.She watched until he was safely away from the site, then turned toward the rock formation, moving with heightened awareness, every sense alert.
The night had gone unnaturally quiet—no wind through the junipers, no small creatures rustling through underbrush.Only the sound of Kari’s measured breathing and the soft crunch of her boots on sandy soil broke the silence.
The attack came from above.
A dark shape dropped from an outcropping Kari had just passed, landing lightly ten feet away.Kari spun, weapon raised, flashlight illuminating a figure she registered, after a few moments, as Dr.Elaine Redford.
Gone was the composed academic Kari had interviewed.This Redford moved with a predator’s fluidity, her small frame somehow more substantial, more threatening.She wore what appeared to be a ceremonial mask, its features distorted by shadows and the harsh flashlight beam.In one hand she clutched the stolen museum knife, its blade darkened with fresh blood.
Most disturbing were the eyes behind the mask—wild, unfocused, yet burning with purpose.Not the eyes of the meticulous professor, but something else entirely.
“Dr.Redford,” Kari called, keeping her voice steady, weapon trained center mass.“Put down the knife.It’s over.”
Redford tilted her head at an unnatural angle, studying Kari.When she spoke, her voice emerged as a guttural rasp entirely unlike her usual precise academic tone.
“Not Redford,” she said, the words distorted behind the mask.“Not anymore.Almost free now.”
“You need help,” Kari tried again, maintaining distance while assessing options.The steep ravine lay fifteen yards to her left—a deadly drop she needed to avoid.“Whatever you believe is happening, we can get you treatment.”
