Page 47 of Silent Prey

“Trust your instincts, Sheila. Look beyond the obvious. Remember your training—not just the physical, but the mental too. You've always had a knack for reading people, for seeing what isn't easily visible. Rely on that now and you just might find who you're searching for."

"I'll try," she finally said, her voice firmer than before.

"That's my girl," Gabriel said, the affection palpable even through miles of phone line. "And hey," he added, "remember, it's okay to lean on others, too. You've got a good team around you."

“Thanks, Dad.” She smiled and sniffed.

"All right, then," Gabriel said with a satisfied grunt. "You go and get 'em, Sheila. Show them what a Stone is made of."

With his words engraved in her heart, Sheila hung up the call. Her gaze hardened, her mind focused. The fear was still there, but it didn't paralyze her anymore. It was just a prickling sensation at the back of her mind, a reminder of the stakes.

She thought of Drake’s paintings and the various animals in them. It reminded her of the animal parts discovered at the crime scenes…and that gave her an idea.

She headed back inside the tattoo parlor, running into Finn on the staircase.

“What’s up?” he asked, studying her.

“Just wanted to take a look at those paintings again.”

Finn hesitated a moment, as if debating whether to suggest their time would be better spent elsewhere, then shrugged. “Looking for anything in particular?”

“I don’t know,” she murmured as she continued up the stairs. “There’s just something bothering me.”

She stepped back into the room and flipped the light on. The eyes of the various coyotes burned down at her, predatorial and hungry, but it wasn’t the coyotes themselves she was staring at.

No, she was studying the backdrops of the paintings.

“Look beyond the obvious,” she murmured.

The paintings showed some of Antelope Island’s most iconic features: the Fielding Garr Ranch, the Frary Peak, beaches covered with brine shrimp, rocky hillsides overlooking the Great Salt Lake. A walk down memory lane for any local. Yet, each painting also had a coyote, the artist's signature element.

Finn leaned against the wall, watching as Sheila moved closer to the paintings. "What are we looking at?" he asked.

"The first animal was a snake," she said, "the second a badger, the third a bighorn sheep, the fourth an antelope. Each animal is bigger than the last. If we stick with Antelope Island, what's the next biggest mammal?"

Finn turned his attention to the same painting Sheila was already studying. “Bison.”

Sheila nodded. “And if we can track down the bison, maybe—just maybe—we can find the killer.”

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

The long night had passed, and Christopher sat on his haunches at the mouth of the cave, watching the sun rise over the distant horizon. The colors splashed across the sky, melting from a deep indigo to vibrant hues of red and gold.

Red as the blood on his hands from the hunt.

Behind him, he heard Beverly stir, gasping awake. She had made an earlier attempt to escape, and he had stalked her from the shadows, barking and baying like a wild animal until he drove her back into her pen, where she'd eventually fallen into an exhausted sleep. That was when he'd gone on his hunt, knowing that if she tried to escape again, it would only be a minor inconvenience. She was too heavy to get far in a hurry, and besides, he had plenty of traps sets.

It was only a matter of time before she got caught in one.

Beverly was, in her own way, very much like the bison: a large, powerful creature driven by instinct, struggling to survive in a world ruled by predators. He found the comparison intriguing, even flattering for her. Despite her fear and weakness, she was fighting hard to live, just like his previous prey.

And just as he had with the bison, Christopher would prove that he was the apex predator.

"Rise and shine, Beverly," he called over his shoulder, his voice reverberating off the cave walls.

"What...what do you want?" she managed between ragged breaths.

Christopher turned to face her, allowing his gaze to drink in the sight of her: weak, fearful, yet resilient.

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