Page 28 of Silent Prey

“That’s right,” Finn said, sticking out his hand. “Officer Mercer. This is Officer Stone.”

The ranger shook Finn's hand firmly, his gaze flicking between the two of them. "Ranger Peterson," he said, then gestured to the two girls sitting on a bench nearby. "They've told me everything they could remember. It ain't much, I'm afraid."

Haley and Lena were huddled together, their faces pale as they clutched steaming mugs of tea. Both women were young—college age—and wearing hiking gear smeared with dirt. They appeared shaken but composed.

“In fact,” Peterson went on, “you might as well just read what I’ve got typed up, let the two of them get on home. Don’t you think?”

Sheila smiled tightly. “We’d like to speak with them directly, if you don’t mind.”

Peterson gave her a long look, as if deciding whether to take offense at this. Then he shrugged. "Fair enough. They're all yours."

Sheila and Finn moved past Peterson’s desk and approached the two young women.

"I'm Officer Stone," Sheila said. "This is Officer Mercer. I was told your names are Haley and Lena, but truth be told, I don’t know who’s who.”

The brunette, her eyes red-rimmed and her cheeks streaked with tear tracks, gave a small smile. "I'm Haley," she said in a voice that barely rose above a whisper. The blonde beside her, slightly more composed but still visibly shaken, simply nodded and said, "Lena."

"We know this is a tough time for you both,” Finn said. “We'll try to make this as quick as possible."

Sheila pulled up a chair and studied both girls. Their faces were similar—hollow cheeks, thin lips, large hazel eyes—but each told a different story. Haley's eyes held a hint of defiance, a spark that belied her tear-streaked face, while Lena's were wide and hollow, as though she had yet to fully process the horror that had overshadowed them just a few hours ago.

Sheila decided to approach Haley first.

“Haley,” she said, “can you tell us what happened today?”

Haley took a deep breath, clutching her tea cup tighter. "We...we were just hiking," she said. "Like we've done so many times before. Diana said she needed some time to decompress...she was always saying that." A hint of a sad smile crossed her face at the memory.

"And then?" Finn asked.

Haley shrugged. “She saw something along the trail—flowers and something—and went back to take a picture. When she didn’t come back, we called her name, but there was no answer. She was just…gone.”

Sheila glanced at Lena, trying to read her face, but Lena’s face was hollow and expressionless, revealing nothing.

“You didn’t see anyone else?” Finn asked.

Haley shook her head. “It was just the three of us out there—well, that’s what I thought…” She trailed off, swallowing hard.

“And then you called the police?” Sheila asked.

Haley sighed, clearly growing frustrated. “Look, we just went over all this with Ranger Peterson. Do we really have to go through it all again?" She avoided Sheila's gaze, her knuckles white around the tea mug.

"I know it's difficult, Haley," Sheila said, her voice low and soothing. "But we need every detail we can get. It might make the difference in catching Diana's killer."

“Yeah, right,” Haley muttered.

“What’s that?” Finn asked.

Haley looked up. “If you could catch this guy, you would’ve done so already. I follow the news, you know—I know it’s the Antelope Island Killer.”

So the media’s already given him a name, Sheila thought. It wasn’t a particularly inventive name, but it was memorable. Memorable enough to ensure that every detail of their investigation would be scrutinized by the public.

Haley shook her head in disgust. "I can't believe we weren't warned about going out there. I didn't learn about the killings until after Diana went missing, and by then it was obviously too late. We should've just stayed home."

“I can assure you, Haley,” Finn said, his grip tightening on his notepad, “we’re doing everything we can to catch this guy.”

Haley muttered something under her breath, looking away.

Sheila turned her attention to Lena, who up till now had remained silent, staring into her teacup. “Lena,” she began gently. “Did you see anything unusual? Anything at all?”

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