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“I can manage,” Kari said.“But I do have one more question.Your cousin Natoni—where can I find him?”

“He lives on the reservation, near the canyon.But he’s probably at the visitor center today—he leads tours on Wednesdays and Thursdays.”Emma hesitated.“Detective… Natoni wouldn’t hurt anyone.Whatever happened to Dr.Harrington, it wasn’t my cousin’s doing.”

“I just need to speak with him about their interaction,” Kari assured her.“Standard procedure.”

As Emma left, Kari sat in Harrington’s chair, trying to process what she’d discovered.The professor had deliberately gone to a sacred site against explicit warnings, without permission, during a full moon.And somehow, her father was connected to his research.

She pulled out her phone, staring at her father’s contact information.They hadn’t spoken since her mother’s funeral, their relationship having grown increasingly strained after he’d remarried three years ago.Now, finding his business card among Harrington’s papers seemed too significant to be coincidence.

She thought of dropping in on him—she was already in Flagstaff, after all.But the thought of seeing him face-to-face unsettled her.A call would be better.

And still, she hesitated.

Before she could decide whether to call him, her phone rang.Tsosie’s number flashed on the screen.

“Blackhorse,” she answered.

“We’ve got preliminary results from Dr.Hatathli,” Tsosie said without preamble.“Time of death confirmed between thirty-six and forty-eight hours ago.But there’s something else.The herbs placed around the body?They’re not from a Blessing Way ceremony.They’re protective elements, the kind used to contain something dangerous.”

Kari thought of Emma’s words about places where boundaries were thin, about beings in the in-between places.About a time called “The Walking Earth.”

“I found something, too,” she said.“The guide who refused to take Harrington to the site—his name is Natoni Begay.He specifically warned Harrington not to go there during the full moon.”

There was a brief silence on the line.“We need to talk to him,” Tsosie said finally.“Where is he now?”

“Likely at the Canyon de Chelly Visitor Center.I’m heading back to the reservation as soon as I finish here.”Kari hesitated, then added, “There’s one more complication.Harrington was in contact with my father about his research.”

Another silence.“Your father, the FBI agent?”

“The same.He’s retired from the FBI—and he’s working with the Museum of Northern Arizona full-time now, apparently.He volunteered there part-time years ago while he was still an agent.”

“Interesting timing,” Tsosie said neutrally.

“I know,” Kari said.“I’ll figure out what the connection is.”She glanced at her watch.“I should wrap up here and get back.It’s a two-hour drive.”

“I’ll meet you at the visitor center at four,” Tsosie said.“We should talk to Natoni together.”

After ending the call, Kari gathered Harrington’s research materials into an evidence bag, signing the chain of custody form.As she prepared to leave, her gaze fell again on the photographs lining Harrington’s wall—beautiful, scientifically significant images of stone formations that had existed for untold years.

One photo in particular caught her attention—a red sandstone formation with five towering pillars reaching skyward like fingers.Even in the photograph, there was something unsettling about it, something that resonated with ancient warning.

Monster’s Hand.The place where Mark Harrington had died.

Kari’s phone buzzed with a text message.It was from her father: “Heard you’re in Flagstaff.Coffee at Macy’s?Important information to share.”

She stared at the message, wondering how he knew she was in town, what information he might have.The coincidence seemed too neat, too convenient.But in her experience, coincidences in murder investigations usually weren’t coincidences at all.

She typed a brief reply: “Can’t now.Working a case.What information?”

His response came quickly: “About the professor they found at Canyon de Chelly.News travels fast.I consulted on his research.Need to talk in person.”

Of course, he already knew.Flagstaff was a small city, academic circles even smaller.And her father had always maintained his connections to law enforcement, even in retirement.

“Tomorrow,” she texted back.

The reply was immediate: “Okay.Stay safe, Kari.”

Kari slipped the phone into her pocket without responding.Whatever her father knew, it could wait until she’d spoken to Natoni Begay.She needed facts, not her father’s interpretations filtered through decades of FBI perspective.

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