Page 3 of Close By (Kari Blackhorse #1)

Kari arrived at the Navajo Nation Police Department headquarters fifteen minutes early for her shift, a habit ingrained from her years in Phoenix.

The single-story beige building with its modest blue sign looked nothing like the gleaming glass precinct she’d left behind, but there was something comforting in its unassuming presence against the vast desert backdrop.

She’d been back for just over three weeks now, but the transition still felt incomplete.

Every morning, she caught herself reaching for the Phoenix PD mug she’d left behind, looking for the high-rise view that no longer existed.

The tribal headquarters, with its community bulletin boards and hand-drawn missing persons flyers, operated on a different rhythm—slower in some ways, more urgent in others.

As she approached the entrance, the glass door swung open. Detective Ben Tsosie was already on his way out, his angular face set in its usual serious expression. He wore the department’s standard khakis and button-down but somehow made the uniform look more formal than everyone else.

“Blackhorse,” he said, nodding briefly. “Good timing. We’ve got a call.”

Kari switched directions without breaking stride, falling into step beside him. “What kind of call?”

“Body at Canyon de Chelly. Near Spider Rock.” Tsosie’s voice was clipped and professional. “Hikers found it about forty minutes ago.”

Kari felt a jolt of adrenaline at the word “body,” followed by a twinge of discomfort at the location. Spider Rock wasn’t far from where her mother had been found.

“Tourist?” she asked, following Tsosie to his department-issued SUV.

“Unknown. Officer Nez is securing the scene. Said we should hurry.” He unlocked the vehicle with a chirp of the remote. “I’ll drive.”

It wasn’t a question, but Kari didn’t mind. The drive would give her a chance to observe Tsosie, to begin understanding the man she’d be partnering with for the foreseeable future. Three weeks in, and he remained largely a mystery—competent, punctual, and about as forthcoming as a petroglyph.

They settled into the SUV, Tsosie adjusting his seat before pulling out of the parking lot. The morning heat was already intensifying, the dashboard reading 88°F. By midday, it would likely hit triple digits.

“ETA?” Kari asked, watching the reservation landscape pass by her window—scattered houses giving way to open desert.

“Forty-five minutes. Less if we push it.”

Tsosie accelerated smoothly, the SUV handling the transition from pavement to dirt road with barely a shudder. He drove with quiet confidence, one hand on the wheel, his eyes scanning the horizon as if cataloging what had changed since he’d last passed this way.

The silence stretched between them, not quite uncomfortable but nowhere near ease.

In Phoenix, Kari had partnered with Maria Santos for three years—long enough that conversation flowed naturally, interspersed with comfortable silences built on mutual understanding.

Here, with Tsosie, every silence felt like a test neither of them knew how to pass.

“You know this area well?” Kari asked finally, partly out of genuine curiosity and partly to break the quiet.

Tsosie nodded. “Grew up near the south rim. Used to hike these canyons every summer with my uncles.”

“Hunting?”

“Sometimes.” His eyes remained on the road. “Mostly just learning.”

“Learning what?”

He seemed to consider this for a moment. “How to read the land. Where to find water. Which plants heal and which harm.” After a pause, he added, “My father believed a boy should know these things.”

It was more personal information than Tsosie had offered in their entire three weeks working together. Kari filed this away—he responded to direct questions about the land, about tradition. Things that mattered to him.

“My mother tried to teach me some of that,” she said. “During the weekends I spent here. But I was more interested in my father’s stories about the FBI.”

Tsosie’s expression didn’t change, but something in his posture shifted. “Your father was federal?”

“Twenty years with the Bureau. Behavioral Analysis Unit for the last ten.”

“Hm.” The noncommittal sound might have meant anything.

“You don’t like the feds?” Kari asked directly.

Tsosie glanced at her. “They have their place. Just not here.”

“And where’s my place?” The question came out more sharply than she’d intended.

This time, Tsosie turned to look at her fully before returning his eyes to the road. “That’s for you to figure out, Blackhorse. You came back for a reason.”

“To care for my grandmother,” Kari said automatically, the explanation she’d given everyone, including herself.

Tsosie just nodded, neither accepting nor rejecting the statement. The SUV crested a small rise, and the vast expanse of Canyon de Chelly opened before them, its red walls catching the morning sun like ancient fire.

“Is that really the only reason you came back?” he asked, so quietly she almost missed it.

Kari didn’t answer immediately. The question hit closer to home than she was comfortable with.

She’d left Phoenix at the height of her career—three commendations in as many years, the fastest promotion to detective in her precinct’s history.

The department had thrown her a goodbye party no one really believed she needed.

“My mother’s death changed things,” she said finally. It wasn’t a complete answer, but it was the most honest one she could offer at the moment.

Tsosie accepted this with another nod. “Loss has a way of pulling us back to our beginnings.”

The simple observation, delivered without judgment, surprised her. There was a depth to Tsosie she hadn’t expected based on their limited interactions so far—a perceptiveness beneath his professional reserve.

“You lost someone?” she asked.

“My sister. Four years ago.” He said it matter-of-factly, but Kari caught the subtle tightening of his grip on the steering wheel. “Car accident near Gallup.”

“I’m sorry.”

Tsosie acknowledged her sympathy with a slight inclination of his head. “She was studying to be a doctor. Would have been the first in our family.”

The conversation lapsed into silence again, but it felt different now—less a barrier and more a shared space, each of them processing the small pieces of themselves they’d just revealed.

The SUV bounced over a particularly rough patch of road, sending a plume of red dust in their wake. Tsosie handled the terrain with practiced ease, slowing only when necessary to navigate around larger obstacles.

“You think we’ll catch any jurisdiction issues with this one?” Kari asked, thinking aloud. “Canyon de Chelly is technically a national monument.”

“Managed by the Navajo Nation,” Tsosie countered. “But it depends on the victim. If it’s a tourist…”

“The feds will be all over it,” Kari finished his thought.

“And if it’s one of ours, they’ll lose interest fast.” There was no bitterness in his tone, just a pragmatic assessment of reality both of them understood.

“How long have you been with Tribal PD?” Kari asked, surprised that she didn’t actually know.

“Fourteen years. Started as patrol when I was twenty-two.”

That would make him thirty-six now—two years older than her. Though something in his manner had always made him seem older.

“Made detective six years ago,” he continued. “Needed something to focus on after my sister died.”

Kari understood that impulse all too well. Work had always been her refuge, the place where chaos could be ordered, where problems had solutions if you just applied the right methodology.

“Why did they partner us?” she asked suddenly. It was a question that had been nagging at her since her transfer. With her outsider status and federal connections, she’d expected to be sidelined, not paired with one of the department’s most experienced detectives.

Tsosie considered the question as he navigated a sharp turn. “Captain Yazzie believes in balance. I know the land, the people. You know homicide.” He paused. “And maybe he thought you’d need someone who understands what it means to come back.”

The simple assessment caught Kari off guard. She’d assumed their pairing was political—keeping an eye on the half-Navajo detective with the FBI father and the big-city methods.

“For what it’s worth,” Tsosie added, “your reputation preceded you. Eighty-nine percent clearance rate in Phoenix. That speaks for itself.”

Kari hadn’t realized he’d looked into her background. “You did your homework.”

“Wouldn’t you?” He almost smiled. Almost.

The road narrowed as they approached the east access point. A wooden sign marked the boundary of the national monument, its paint faded by years of sun and wind. Tsosie slowed the SUV to a crawl, scanning the area for Officer Nez.

“There.” Kari pointed to a tribal police cruiser parked beneath the sparse shade of a juniper tree. A uniformed officer stood beside it, waving them over.

Tsosie pulled up alongside the cruiser and cut the engine. Officer Nez approached—a stocky man in his mid-forties with the weathered face of someone who spent most of his days outdoors.

“Detectives,” he greeted them, his expression grave. “Thanks for coming so quickly.”

“What have we got?” Kari asked, stepping out of the SUV into the wall of heat.

Nez glanced between them. “Hikers found it about two hours ago. A German couple, taking the Spider Rock trail. Woman got sick from the heat, they went off-trail looking for shade. Found more than they bargained for.”

“Condition?” Tsosie asked, reaching into the back seat for his field kit.

Nez’s face tightened. “Bad. Real bad. Like nothing I’ve seen before, and I’ve been working these canyons for twenty years.” He hesitated. “It’s… not natural.”

Kari exchanged a quick glance with Tsosie. “Not natural” could mean many things—from animal predation to ritualistic elements. She supposed she’d know soon enough.

“ID?” she asked.

“Nothing definitive yet. Male, best we can tell. Caucasian. Middle-aged.” Nez shifted uncomfortably.

“Body temperature and decomposition stage indicate he’s been dead no more than forty-eight hours.

The desert heat accelerates the process, so hard to tell for sure yet.

” He sighed heavily. “Look, I’ve secured the scene, but I haven’t gone closer than necessary. Some things…” He trailed off.

“We understand,” Tsosie said. “Where are the hikers now?”

“Ranger station. Park Service is taking their statement. They’re pretty shaken up.”

Kari retrieved her own kit from the SUV—a compact case containing gloves, evidence bags, and the basic tools of scene investigation. “How far to the site?”

“Half-mile hike from here. Not too rough, but it’s heating up fast,” Nez warned. “I’ll take you there, then I need to get back to the hikers. Rangers aren’t used to handling witnesses in a potential homicide.”

As they prepared to follow Nez, Tsosie paused, looking at Kari. “You good with this? Given where we are?”

The question surprised her—a small acknowledgment that he understood the potential personal connection to her mother’s death. It was the kind of consideration she wouldn’t have expected from their limited interactions so far.

“I’m good,” she assured him, meaning it. Whatever waited for them, she wouldn’t let it rattle her. “Let’s see what we’ve got.”

Nez led them along a narrow trail that wound through scrub brush and around weathered rock formations. The morning heat intensified with each step, the sun climbing higher in the cloudless sky. Kari felt sweat beginning to soak through her shirt at the small of her back.

“Any signs of struggle at the scene?” she asked, keeping pace with Nez.

“Hard to tell. Ground’s disturbed, but could be animals.” Nez glanced back at her. “There’s equipment too. Camera stuff, looks expensive.”

“Tourist then, most likely,” Tsosie said.

“Maybe,” Nez conceded. “But tourists usually stick to the trails, especially after what the guides tell them.”

“Which is what?” Kari asked.

Nez shrugged. “The usual. Stay on marked paths. Respect sacred sites. Don’t wander around at night.”

Nez stopped abruptly, pointing to a rock formation ahead. “The body’s just beyond there. I’ve marked the approach with yellow tape.” He hesitated, seeming reluctant to go further. “You might want to… prepare yourselves.”

Tsosie nodded his understanding. “We’ll take it from here.”

Nez seemed relieved. “I’ll be back at the vehicles. Radio if you need anything.” He turned to go, then stopped. “One more thing. Whatever did this… I don’t think it was human.” He opened his mouth to say more, then thought better of it. He headed back down the trail, leaving Kari and Tsosie behind.

The two detectives continued forward, following the yellow crime scene tape that marked the path. The terrain grew more rugged, the rock formations casting long shadows across their path. In the distance, the distinctive spire of Spider Rock rose from the canyon floor like a watchtower.

“You know the legends about this place?” Tsosie asked unexpectedly as they walked.

“Some,” Kari admitted. “My grandmother used to tell me Spider Woman lived on top of Spider Rock. That she would catch disobedient children and take them to her home on the summit.”

Tsosie nodded. “The old ones say she taught the Diné to weave. But there are older stories too. About what was here before.”

“Before Spider Woman?”

“Before everything.” Tsosie’s voice had dropped. “Stories my grandfather wouldn’t tell near nightfall.”

The conversation settled into silence as they rounded the final bend. The yellow tape formed a perimeter around a small clearing between two large boulders. A high-end camera tripod stood tilted to one side, its owner nowhere in sight.

“Ready?” Tsosie asked, snapping on a pair of latex gloves.

Kari nodded, doing the same. Together, they approached the edge of the taped perimeter, carefully scanning the ground for evidence. At first, all Kari could see was the abandoned equipment—a camera bag, a water bottle, what looked like a light meter.

Then Tsosie stopped suddenly, his body going rigid.

“Shit,” he breathed, the word barely audible.

Kari followed his gaze to the shadow between the boulders and felt her breath catch in her throat. Officer Nez’s warning—“like nothing I’ve seen before”—suddenly seemed grossly inadequate for what lay before them.