Page 8 of Silent Prey

"We're sorry for your loss, Mrs. Hayes," Sheila said softly, her voice imbued with empathy. "We understand this must be hard for you, but we are following some new leads and thought you might have some information that could help us." She hoped the words ‘new leads’ would give the woman some hope.

Mrs. Hayes' gaze met Sheila's. Her aged eyes seemed to soften a bit as she nodded slowly. "Alright then," she agreed, sounding more resigned than hopeful. "Come in."

As they walked inside the house, Sheila was struck by the contrast between the ranch's rustic exterior and the modern interior. The living room was spacious, with a minimalistic design. A large leather couch faced a floor-to-ceiling window, offering a view of the vast fields outside. Paintings of landscapes adorned the muted walls, every piece echoing a profound love for nature.

Mrs. Hayes led them to the dining room, where she offered them seats at a long wooden table laden with fresh vegetables from the garden. A photograph at one end of the table caught Sheila's attention; it was a family portrait taken several years ago. Amanda was young, barely out of her teens. Her blonde hair cascaded in waves to her shoulders, her green eyes sparkled with life, and a vibrant smile brightened her face.

Sheila exchanged a glance with Finn before turning back to Mrs. Hayes, who was now seated at the opposite end of the table. She poured them cups of iced tea, her hands trembling slightly.

"Your daughter was beautiful," Sheila said, not just out of courtesy but truthfully admiring Amanda's effortless charm.

"Yes," Mrs. Hayes replied, taking a moment to look at the photo and then quickly turning away, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "She was full of life...adventurous."

Finn took a sip from his glass, shooting Sheila a glance before gently setting it down on the wooden table. "Mrs. Hayes," he said, his voice pitched low and calm, reassuring. "Did Amanda have any enemies? Anyone who might wish her ill?"

The question hung heavy in the room for a few moments before Mrs. Hayes shook her head slowly. "No…not that I know of. She was well-liked by many people. Her love for wildlife photography often took her to remote places...but she never mentioned anyone who bore any ill will toward her."

The room fell silent again, apart from the faint ticking of a grandfather clock stationed near the fireplace. Sheila noted the lines on Mrs. Hayes' face, etched deep with worry and grief. She couldn't imagine what the older woman was going through.

Finn cleared his throat. "How often did Amanda visit Antelope Island?"

"Oh, she loved that place," Mrs. Hayes said, her eyes brightening. “Spent a lot of time there because it was the perfect backdrop for her work.” Her voice held a tinge of pride as she continued, “She had quite the eye for capturing nature's beauty."

"Was she always alone when she went out on these trips?" Sheila asked.

“Most of the time, yes.” Mrs. Hayes paused, frowning.

“What is it?” Finn asked.

“There was someone she met on the island a number of times, a hunter. They seemed to talk quite a bit. To hear Amanda talk of it, it was entirely accidental—they just ran into one another while she was photographing wildlife and he was stalking game. But it sounded a little too accidental, if you ask me.”

“You think he was seeking her out?” Sheila asked.

Mrs. Hayes shrugged. “I got the impression from her that he was quite taken with her. She didn’t feel the same way, though—thought he was a little…strange.”

“How so?”

“The kind of strange from spending too much time alone, I guess.”

“What was this hunter’s name?” Finn asked.

“I’m not sure—she didn’t go into too much detail. I think she sensed I was worried for her and didn’t want me hovering.”

Sheila nodded, thinking. She glanced at the box of items on the edge of the table.

“Would you mind if we look through this?” she asked, gesturing.

Mrs. Hayes’s face tightened. “Actually, I would," she said, her gaze locking with Sheila's. "Those are my daughter's things. I haven't been able to look through all of them yet...and I'd like to be the one who does that."

Sheila could imagine where Mrs. Hayes was coming from. A mother's need to hold on to every last piece of her child, especially when all else was lost—it made perfect sense. Still, there might be a clue to solving Amanda’s murder in there.

“I understand how important those things are to you,” Sheila said, choosing her words carefully. “But it’s possible that something in there could lead us to the person who killed your daughter. Could we maybe go through them with you?”

"Go through them with me?" Mrs. Hayes echoed, her voice trembling with uncertainty. "I...I don't know if I can do that."

Sheila saw the hesitation in the older woman's eyes, not just fear but a desperate desire to shield herself from the harsh reality of her daughter's death. She had to tread carefully here. She turned towards Finn, who nodded slightly, a silent vote of confidence.

"We're doing everything we can to find whoever did this,” he said to the grieving mother, “but we need your help."

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