Page 27 of Close By (Kari Blackhorse #1)

“Serial killers don’t always fit convenient profiles,” Kari said. “And we’re not talking about random violence. These are planned, methodical killings with specific victims selected for specific reasons.”

“Selecting them is one thing. Physically dominating them is another.” Daniels shook his head.

“Harrington’s neck was broken with considerable force.

Delgado was an experienced outdoorswoman who would have fought back.

Mitchell was slight but wiry, with the conditioning of someone who spent decades on archaeological digs.

Are we expected to believe this Dr. Redford—what is she, average-size woman, five-foot-four, a hundred and twenty pounds give or take? —overpowered these people?”

“The element of surprise would be significant,” Tsosie interjected. “And we don’t know if she’s working alone.”

“Now it’s a conspiracy?” Daniels didn’t bother hiding his skepticism. “This feels like grasping at straws, Detective Blackhorse. We have a solid profile built on established patterns of ritualistic killers. This… academic veneer doesn’t fit that profile.”

“Your profile is wrong,” Kari said flatly.

“It was wrong from the beginning because it assumed a traditional Navajo practitioner would make the ceremonial errors we observed. No one with lived cultural knowledge would make those mistakes. But someone with academic knowledge—someone like Redford—absolutely would.”

“And she conveniently corrected those mistakes after you pointed them out to her?” Daniels shook his head.

“That would require her to be simultaneously methodical enough to construct elaborate murder scenes and careless enough to reveal herself by improving her technique immediately after your consultation.”

“Or arrogant enough to believe no one would make the connection,” Kari countered. “Psychopaths often overestimate their intelligence relative to others. She might have seen it as an irresistible challenge—to demonstrate her learning, to prove her superiority.”

Daniels sighed, his expression suggesting he was dealing with a particularly stubborn child.

“I’ve been building profiles for violent offenders for over twenty years, Detective.

The type of killer who performs these ritualistic murders is almost invariably male, physically dominant, with a history of escalating violence and boundary-testing.

They don’t emerge fully formed from anthropology departments. ”

“And I’ve been dealing with my culture’s ceremonies my entire life,” Kari shot back. “Those ceremonial elements tell a story that your profile doesn’t account for.”

“I think what Detective Blackhorse is suggesting,” Yazzie intervened smoothly, “is that we expand our investigation to include Dr. Redford as a person of interest, not that we abandon other avenues.”

Daniels looked like he wanted to argue further, but professional courtesy prevailed. “Fine. Assign someone to look into her background, check her movements against our timeline. But I want the primary focus to remain on finding suspects who match our established profile.”

“I’ll handle Redford myself,” Kari said.

“With Detective Tsosie,” Yazzie added firmly. “No one works alone on this case.”

Daniels turned to leave, then paused in the doorway. “One more thing, Detective Blackhorse. If you develop theories about potential suspects, I expect to be informed immediately, not after you’ve had a private strategy session with your colleagues. Clear?”

“Crystal,” Kari replied, not bothering to point out how hypocritical his demand was, given the way he’d steamrollered their investigation from the beginning.

After Daniels left, closing the door with deliberate care, Yazzie turned to Kari. “He’s not entirely wrong about the physical aspect. Redford would have needed help or exceptional planning to overpower these victims.”

“Maybe,” Kari said. “But every other aspect of this case points to her. The ceremonial knowledge, the corrections that align perfectly with my visit, the connections to all three victims.”

“So we investigate,” Yazzie said simply. “Quietly, thoroughly, following protocol. If she’s our killer, evidence will confirm it. If not, we’ve eliminated a possibility.” He glanced at the clock on his wall—nearly 1 AM. “But not tonight. Get some rest, both of you. Start fresh in the morning.”

As Kari gathered her notes, Tsosie fell into step beside her. “For what it’s worth,” he said quietly, “I think you’re onto something. The ceremonial improvements after your visit are too coincidental.”

“But you have the same doubts as Daniels,” Kari guessed, reading the reservation in his expression.

“About the physical aspects, yes. Harrington’s neck was broken with significant force. But…” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “There are other possibilities. Other explanations.”

Something in his tone raised a flag in Kari’s mind. “What are you thinking?”

Tsosie glanced around, ensuring they weren’t overheard. “In the old stories, there are beings that can grant strength beyond human capacity. Temporary power in exchange for… offerings.”

The suggestion should have sounded absurd to Kari’s evidence-trained mind. Yet she found herself remembering Ruth’s warning: Your killer is creating openings. Whether they know it or not.

“You think Redford is trying to summon something?” she asked, her tone carefully neutral.

“I think someone with her knowledge of ceremonies might believe they could,” Tsosie replied, equally careful. “The positioning of the bodies, the specific herbs, the progression from incorrect to correct ritual elements—it resembles a pattern of learning, of trying to establish communication.”

The idea sent a chill through Kari that had nothing to do with the station’s aggressive air conditioning. “That’s a significant leap from academic sociopath to supernatural summoner.”

“Is it?” Tsosie asked. “Our traditions teach that power responds to intention, not just action. If Redford believes these ceremonies can open boundaries, does it matter whether she’s right? The motivation—and the victims—remain the same.”

It was the kind of conversation Kari could never have had with her colleagues in Phoenix, where psychological profiles and forensic evidence formed the foundation of every case theory.

Was it disturbing that Tsosie could so casually introduce supernatural elements into their investigation? Or refreshing?

“Either way,” she said finally, “we need evidence. Concrete, admissible evidence that places Redford at or near the crime scenes, that connects her to the stolen ceremonial items, that establishes motive beyond academic interest.”

“Agreed.” Tsosie nodded. “We start first thing tomorrow. Background, movements, connections. By the book.”

Kari had already pulled out her phone, thumb scrolling through screens. “I’m not waiting until morning.”

“What are you doing?” Tsosie asked, following her to her Jeep.

“Faculty directory.” She found what she was looking for, then switched to a map application. “I want eyes on Redford tonight.”

“Yazzie said—”

“I know what the captain said.” Kari looked up, meeting Tsosie’s gaze directly. “Three victims in five days, Ben. That means there’s a good chance someone else dies tomorrow. I’m not waiting for a fourth body to prove I’m right.”

Tsosie studied her for a long moment, weighing duty against instinct. “Daniels will have a field day if he finds out.”

“Then he doesn’t find out.” Kari slid behind the wheel of her Jeep. “I’m going with or without you. But I’d rather have backup.”

The silence stretched between them, filled with the weight of careers balanced against lives. Then Tsosie sighed. “Give me five minutes to grab my gear. I’ll follow in my vehicle.”