Page 14 of Silent Prey

"If we drop those weapons, we'll be completely at his mercy."

"We're already at his mercy."

"Enough talk!" Webb shouted. "You've got three seconds! One…two…"

With a deep breath, Sheila unholstered her own weapon and held it up by the barrel. She bent down slowly and placed it on the ground, then stepped back with her hands up.

Finn, sighing with resignation, followed suit. "Alright," he called out. "We've done what you asked. Now can we talk?"

Sheila held her breath as the silence stretched out again. Her mind raced, trying to anticipate every possible scenario. Her father had trained her for this, trained her to keep a level head in the face of danger. But this was different. This wasn't a boxing ring with regulations and referees; this was a deadly game of survival played by someone who didn't seem to care much about the rules.

Finally, the silence was broken. "Alright," Webb said. "But one wrong move and I'll shoot."

Sheila and Finn stood still, maintaining their raised hands as Webb made his slow way toward them. He disappeared for several long seconds, and then the underbrush rustled and he stepped out.

Markus Webb was a tall, lean man with skin tanned by years of exposure to sun and wind. His hair was a mess of unkempt curls that fell into his wary eyes. He carried a hunting rifle casually over one shoulder, but his gaze never strayed from Finn and Sheila.

“Alright,” he said, his voice as rough as gravel. “We can talk.”

The three of them stood in an awkward triangle, the Utah sun casting long shadows on the sand.

Webb's gaze flitted from Finn to Sheila, assessing them. His face was hard, weathered by years of outdoor living and lined with distrust.

"I didn't kill her," he said abruptly, as though reading their thoughts. His voice was gruff and matter-of-fact, but there was a tremor in it that hadn't been there before.

“We didn’t say you did,” Finn said. “But you did know her, correct?”

Webb nodded. “She came out here a lot, taking pictures of the wildlife. Sometimes I ran into her while tracking a deer or scouting for wildlife of my own.”

“Did that happen a lot?” Finn asked. “You two just happened to run into each other?"

Webb’s eyes narrowed at the insinuation. “What are you implying? That I was stalking her or something?”

"No, Mr. Webb," Sheila interjected quickly, not wishing for the conversation to spiral. "We are merely trying to understand Amanda's interactions before her untimely death. You being a part of them makes your input important."

Webb grumbled something under his breath, but the hostility in his demeanor lessened somewhat.

“What did you two talk about?” Sheila asked.

"Mostly small talk," Webb said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "I didn't know her too well. She'd ask about my hunting spots, curious about the wildlife I'd seen."

Sheila and Finn exchanged a glance. Webb’s answer wasn't surprising, but it was also far from helpful. They needed more.

"What kind of animals do you like to hunt?" Finn asked abruptly.

Webb shrugged. “Just about anything with meat on it. Pronghorn, mostly.”

“You ever kill badgers or snakes?”

Careful, Sheila thought, recalling the dead badger found near Bethany’s body and the dead snake draped around Amanda’s throat. If Webb was the killer, such a question might just be enough to push him over the edge.

Webb, however, seemed more puzzled than angered by the question. “Badgers? No, not really. And I don’t kill snakes ‘less I have to. Why?”

“Just being thorough,” Finn said.

Sheila cleared her throat and shot Finn a warning look. “Did Amanda ever seem frightened?” she asked. “Like maybe she was having trouble with someone?”

Webb shrugged. “She wouldn’t have told me if she was.”

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