Page 21 of Silent Prey

"We were hoping you could answer a few questions about some past tours you've conducted," Finn said, maintaining his stern demeanor.

"Of course," Lindell said, his hand absentmindedly reaching for the binoculars around his neck. "What would you like to know?”

"We were wondering if you remember any tours with a Miss Amanda Hayes or a Miss Kaylee Jensen?"

Sheila watched Trevor's face closely, looking for any hint of recognition or deceit. She didn't need to look long. The names pricked at him like a needle; his eyebrows twitched slightly and his grip tightened on the binoculars. He then shook his head dismissively, but the damage was done. Sheila had caught the flicker of recognition in his eyes.

"I've conducted hundreds of tours throughout my career," he said, attempting to shrug off the question with nonchalance. "I'm afraid I can't recall every single customer."

Finn, however, was not deterred. “Miss Hayes and Miss Jensen were both murdered,” he said, watching Lindell closely for any sign of a reaction.

"Murdered?" Lindell echoed. His attempt at surprise felt plastic and rehearsed to Sheila. "That's...that's dreadful. I had no idea."

"They both attended your tours before their deaths. In fact, we think they may have met their murderer during their tours.”

A bead of sweat trickled down Trevor's temple as he awkwardly laughed off the insinuation. "That's preposterous," he said. "I simply provide information about the wildlife and the natural beauty of the lake. I'm not responsible for what happens to these people after they leave Antelope Island."

"Nobody is accusing you of wrongdoing," Sheila said, playing the good cop to Finn’s bad cop. “But we have to go where the evidence takes us. Are you sure you don’t remember either of those women?”

Lindell was silent for a long moment, his eyes darting between Sheila and Finn. His lips were pressed into a thin line of frustration. "Look, I told you, I've had hundreds of tourists on my tours. They come and go.”

Finn's face was impassive as he stared down at Lindell. He reached into his pocket and pulled out two photographs, one of Amanda Hayes and the other of Kaylee Jensen. Both women were vibrant and full of life in the pictures. He unfolded them and held them out toward Lindell.

"Take a good look," Finn said. "Does this jog your memory?"

Lindell glanced at the photographs, and the easy-going tour guide facade faltered. His gaze lingered on Kaylee's picture, a softness briefly crossing his face before it shifted back into the well-practiced mask of nonchalance.

"I might remember them," he admitted reluctantly. "The redhead looks somewhat familiar: bright, bubbly type, always asking questions about the local flora. The blonde...she took photos, many photos."

Sheila saw his fingers clench around the binoculars at his chest. She didn't miss the note of defensiveness in his voice, nor the way his gaze darted anxiously toward his departing group.

“Look,” he said, “I’m on a schedule here. If you need more information, I suggest you come by our office in town. But right now, I need to get back to my customers.”

He turned away.

“Were you and Kaylee dating?” Sheila asked.

Lindell froze. “Who told you that?”

Sheila didn’t answer. Lindell turned around, looking both angry and frightened at the same time. "I don't know what the hell you're talking about."

"You sure about that? Because we spoke with someone who spotted you and Kaylee taking a stroll together, just the two of you. It sounded rather…intimate."

Lindell's face colored. Sheila had the impression he was desperately trying to come up with something to say but finding nothing.

"Be careful what you say," Finn warned. "The quickest way to get rid of us is by telling the truth."

Lindell stared at them for a few seconds. Then he sighed, rubbing at his face in resignation. "This is all getting blown way out of proportion," he said. "Sure, I knew Kaylee, but hardly at all. We had a few conversations, but it wasn't like we were best friends. It was casual, okay? Friendly, not friends."

“So why did you lie about knowing her?” Finn asked.

"I got nervous,” Lindell said defensively. “The two of you showing up like this, pointing fingers and making insinuations—how was I not to think you were out to get me?"

"They were both on your tours, weren't they?" Sheila asked.

Lindell blinked at her a few times. "Yes," he said. "But that doesn't make me guilty of murder."

"You're right," Sheila interjected before Finn could reply. "It doesn't. But not being honest about your relationships with the victims does make us wonder what else you might be hiding."

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