"Can anyone verify your whereabouts on those specific days?"
"I don't know.Maybe.I live alone, I work alone, I train alone."Dalton's voice had taken on a defensive edge."That's not unusual in this community.Most serious runners train alone—it's how you build the mental toughness you need for races like this."
"What about the race registration data?Who has access to the list of participants, their contact information, their emergency contacts?"
"I do.My volunteers do, the ones who help with logistics and safety coordination."Dalton frowned."But that information isn't secret.We post the participant roster on our website.Anyone who wanted to know who was running the Sonoran 100 could find out with a few clicks."
"Including their training schedules?Their preferred routes?"
"No, that's not public.That would come from—" Dalton stopped, a new realization crossing his face."From conversations.From the forums, the social media groups, the places where runners share information with each other."
"Or from someone who reached out offering advice.Someone who positioned themselves as an experienced desert runner, willing to help newcomers prepare for the race."
Dalton stared at her."You think someone is targeting my runners specifically.Using the race as a hunting ground."
Kari said nothing.She just watched him, letting him form his own conclusions.
"I don't—" Dalton shook his head, looking shaken."I can't think of anyone who would do something like this.The ultra community is small.We know each other.We support each other.The idea that one of us might be..."He couldn't finish the sentence.
"I'm going to need a copy of your registration data.All participants, their contact information, any notes you have about their experience levels or training plans.I'm also going to need access to any forums or groups where your runners communicate with each other."
"I can get you the registration data.The forums are public—I can send you links."Dalton looked up at her desperately."Detective, I want to help.Ineedto help.These were my people—my runners, my community.If someone is hunting them, I want them caught more than anyone."
"Then help me catch them."Kari stood, pulling out a business card."Send me everything you have.And if you think of anyone—anyone at all—who might have a reason to target these runners, call me.Day or night."
Dalton took the card, turning it over in his hands."I've been organizing this race for fifteen years.I know every mile of the course, every training route in the area, every rock and wash and ridge line.If someone is using that knowledge to hurt people..."His voice cracked."I'll do whatever I can to stop them."
Kari studied him for a long moment.Then she rose.
"I'll be in touch," she said, and left him sitting at the picnic table, staring at her card as the desert sun sank toward the horizon.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Kari arrived unannounced.
Paul heard the knock from across the hallway and watched James go rigid in his chair, as if he recognized the sound of the knock and wasn't looking forward to what might come next.James stood, smoothed his shirt, and went to answer the door.
Paul stayed where he was, listening.
"Kari."James's voice was carefully neutral."This is unexpected."
"I'm heading down to Phoenix in the morning.Flagstaff was on the way, so I thought I'd stop by."
"Come in.Please."
Paul moved to the doorway of the home office as Kari entered the living room.She looked tired—the kind of tired that came from too many hours in a car and too many interviews that didn't lead anywhere useful.Her eyes found Paul first, and if she was surprised to see him there, her face didn't show it.He got the briefest nod of acknowledgement before her gaze swept to the office behind him, to the boxes and the papers and the maps pinned to the walls.
"You've been busy," she said.
"Your mother was thorough," James said.He was hovering—standing too close, then correcting himself by moving too far away, his hands finding and abandoning his pockets.Paul had watched this dance before, always from the outside, always unsure whether to intervene or stay invisible.
Kari stepped past Paul into the office, scanning the documents spread across every surface.She picked up one of Anna's handwritten pages, studied it, set it down.Her expression gave nothing away, but Paul noticed how carefully she handled the paper: the way her fingers lingered at the edges, as if touching something her mother had touched was the closest she could get to touching her mother.
"Anything useful?"she asked.
"We're still sorting through it," Paul said, stepping in before James could oversell what they'd found or, worse, start apologizing for things that had nothing to do with the investigation."Your mother documented a lot.It's going to take time to separate the signal from the noise."
"I don't have a lot of time.I've got three dead runners and a pattern that's accelerating."Kari turned to James."If you find anything that connects to the case I'm working—anything at all—I need to know immediately.Not when it's convenient, not when you've built a complete picture.The moment you find a thread."
