Page 29 of Close By (Kari Blackhorse #1)

“Damn it,” Kari muttered, trying Dr. Redford’s front door and finding it locked. “We must’ve just missed her.”

The lights were off, the driveway free of vehicles except the ones belonging to Kari and Tsosie. There was no sign of Redford anywhere.

Tsosie scanned the quiet neighborhood, his hand resting near his service weapon. “We need a warrant.”

“There’s no time.” Kari moved to a side window, peering through blinds into darkness. “Three people are dead, and if Redford’s pattern holds, someone else may die tonight.”

The decision crystallized instantly. Without giving herself time for second-guessing, Kari pulled her jacket sleeve over her hand and smashed the decorative glass panel beside the front door, then reached through to unlock it from inside. Tsosie watched, his expression conflicted.

“I never saw that,” he said quietly.

“Exigent circumstances,” Kari replied, entering with her flashlight drawn. “We have reason to believe more lives are in immediate danger.”

The house’s interior matched its academic owner’s persona—bookshelves lining every wall, papers stacked in neat piles, everything meticulously organized. But as Kari moved deeper into the house, Tsosie close behind, they found a home office that told a different story.

An entire wall was covered with maps of the reservation, red pins marking locations Kari instantly recognized—Monster’s Hand where Harrington died, the mining site near Delgado’s murder, the mesa where they’d found Mitchell.

But there were two additional pins, marking sites where no murders had yet occurred.

“She’s planning more,” Tsosie said, examining the maps. “These are all sacred sites documented in anthropological literature.”

Kari had already moved to Redford’s desk, where open notebooks revealed page after page of meticulous notes—part academic research, part disturbing personal journal. She scanned them quickly, her unease growing with each paragraph.

“She thinks she’s becoming a Skinwalker,” Kari said, the words feeling strange in her mouth. “These are her observations of her own ‘transformation.’ Times, dates, physical symptoms.”

“Psychosis,” Tsosie suggested, though his tone held a note of uncertainty.

“Or something else.” Kari turned pages, finding diagrams of ceremonial arrangements identical to those at the murder scenes. “She believes killing at these sacred sites will somehow cure her. That each death weakens the Skinwalker’s hold.”

“She’s trying to reverse what she thinks is happening to her,” Tsosie said.

Kari’s phone was already in her hand. She dialed Daniels’s number. He answered on the second ring.

“We’ve confirmed Redford is our killer,” she said without preamble. “We’re at her house now. Evidence everywhere—maps marking the murder sites plus two additional locations. She’s hunting tonight.”

“How did you get into—” Daniels began, sounding surprisingly alert given the hour, then stopped himself. “Never mind. What locations?”

Kari read off the coordinates from the map. “We need units at both sites immediately.”

“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.”

The statement seemed to break through, just briefly. Redford straightened, a flicker of her normal self visible in her posture. “Treatment?” She laughed, the sound brittle and wrong. “I’ve had treatment. Therapists, medications, hospitalizations. Nothing helps what’s inside me.”

She took a step forward, and Kari adjusted her stance, finger hovering near her trigger. “Stay where you are, Dr. Redford.”

“But you understand, don’t you?” Redford continued as if Kari hadn’t spoken. “About what happens when the boundary thins, when the Skinwalker finds its way in.”

The calm certainty in her voice was more chilling than her earlier feral behavior. This wasn’t just psychosis—it was a coherent delusion, a complete alternative reality in which Redford’s actions made perfect sense.

“The boy wasn’t quite right,” Redford said, sounding disappointed. “Too young, too ignorant. Just desecration without understanding. But you—” Her eyes fixed on Kari with renewed intensity. “You’re perfect.”

“Perfect for what?” Kari asked, buying time, knowing backup was still minutes away.

“The final transformation. The cure.” Redford’s posture changed again, becoming more hunched and more animal-like. “Diné blood with a modern mind. The perfect vessel for transfer. I can be free, and you’ll know how to contain it.”

She moved suddenly, with speed that shouldn’t have been possible for a woman her age and size. Kari fired, the shot missing as Redford ducked with unnatural quickness. The knife flashed in the moonlight as Redford closed the distance.

Kari shifted to defensive tactics, her police training taking over.

She blocked Redford’s first slash, then struck out with her flashlight, connecting solidly with the professor’s shoulder.

The blow would have staggered most attackers, but Redford barely seemed to notice as she pivoted to attack again.

Each movement drove Kari further toward the ravine’s edge, a fact she registered with growing alarm.

Redford wasn’t fighting like a normal human—she seemed impervious to pain, her strength amplified beyond what her small frame should possess.

Adrenaline, Kari’s rational mind insisted.

Psychotic breaks could produce seemingly superhuman abilities as the brain overrode normal limitations.

But something deeper, something connected to the stories her grandmother had told her as a child, whispered another explanation.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Kari said, blocking another strike but feeling her feet slide dangerously close to the ravine edge.

“Hurt me?” Redford’s laugh held no humor. “You can’t hurt what I’m becoming. But you can free what’s left of Elaine Redford. All it takes is the right ceremony. The right exchange.”

She lunged again, and this time the knife found its mark, slicing across Kari’s upper arm. Pain flared, hot and immediate, but Kari maintained her defensive stance, knowing she couldn’t retreat any further without plummeting into the ravine.

Redford paused, seeming to savor the moment, her head tilting again at that unnatural angle. Behind the mask, her eyes burned with triumph and anticipation.

“Perfect,” she whispered. “Now we begin.”