Page 36 of Silent Prey

"Can you enhance the footage?" she asked, her gaze never leaving the screen. "Maybe we can get a clear look at his face."

Ed grunted. "Baby, you ain't seen nothing yet." He began tapping keys rapidly, inputting various commands on his computer. The grainy image started to glitch as it was being digitally manipulated. After several moments, the man's features became slightly clearer.

"Wait, pause it there," Sheila said, leaning even closer to the monitor. She squinted at the screen, her heart pounding in anticipation.

"See something?" Ed asked, pausing the footage and turning his attention to Sheila.

Sheila didn't respond at first, her eyes glued to the grainy figure on the screen. "Zoom in on his left wrist," she finally ordered, sitting up straighter in her chair, her pulse quickening.

Ed complied, manipulating the controls until the man's left wrist filled most of the screen. The image was fuzzy but clear enough to make out a small, distinctive marking on his wrist.

"That looks like some kind of tattoo," Sheila whispered, leaning closer to the screen. It appeared to be a dog of some kind with snarling teeth.

A coyote, perhaps?

“There’s a tattoo artist on Grandview Street,” Ed said. “Does tattoos just like that. I know because my sister’s really into them.”

“Does this tattoo artist have a name?”

“Vincent Drake. Odd fellow, but he knows his stuff.”

Sheila checked the time. It was past eleven pm, so she wouldn’t be able to find Drake at his shop. She wondered how Finn was doing on Antelope Island, and whether he’d had any success talking with the missing woman’s research team.

"Thank you, Ed," she said, straightening. "You've been a big help."

"Least I could do," Ed replied, shaking his head sadly. "With everything that's been happening lately...it's a damn shame, you know? All those murders?"

Sheila nodded before leaving the hospital security room, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts. Once outside, she leaned against the wall and pulled out her phone, dialing Finn's number. It rang several times before he picked up.

"Stone," he answered, his voice strained.

"Finn," she said, her tone softening at the sound of his exhaustion. "Any updates from the research team?"

There was a pause on the other end of the line, followed by a deep sigh. "Nothing yet," Finn said. "It's like Beverly just...vanished."

A chill ran down Sheila's spine. She would’ve liked to say she was surprised, but the truth was she wasn’t.

"Listen, Finn," she said, "there's something else. I've found another lead."

"Oh?" He perked up on the other end, his fatigue momentarily pushed aside by the prospect of new information. "What is it?"

“I just finished looking over security footage at the hospital. Apparently, a man showed up about a week back and demanded to talk with Diana. She didn’t want to. He got angry, ranting and raving about how she might be as fast as an antelope, but he was as fast as a cheetah.”

“Shit.”

“Exactly. He’s got a dog tattoo on his left hand—maybe a coyote—and it looks to be the work of a local tattoo artist named Vincent Drake. If it weren’t so late, I'd pay Drake a visit right now.”

“Don’t even think about it. If he is the killer, the last thing you need to do is visit him at night. Alone, no less.”

“But what if he has Beverly King? What if he’s with her now? I can’t go to sleep knowing she might be out there, scared and alone—assuming she’s even still alive." There was a note of desperation in her voice.

"Stone," Finn's voice was stern, but there was an undeniable hint of concern lacing his words. "Listen to me. You're doing all you can. But you need to take care of yourself, too. If you don't rest, you won't be able to help anyone."

“I’m fine, Finn. You really think I’ll be able to sleep right now?”

She closed her eyes…and suddenly, she had an intense longing for a beer to take the edge off. Just one beer. That might be the only thing right now that could help her relax.

What would be the harm in having one beer?

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