Page 4 of Silent Prey

It doesn't matter. You don't have time to date, so even if he's interested in you, it's a nonstarter. Not going to happen.

Just when it seemed the moment couldn’t get any more awkward, her phone rang. Relieved, she pulled it out.

“Stone,” she said.

The voice of Hank Dawson, Coldwater’s interim sheriff while the department looked for a replacement for Natalie, filled her ear. “Sorry to interrupt your morning, but I’ve got something I need you to look into.”

Sheila glanced at Finn, who was watching her closely. “New case?” she asked.

“Looks that way,” Dawson said. “Young woman found dead over at Antelope Island State Park. Drowned.” He paused, and something in his tone told Sheila there was more.

“What is it, sheriff?”

“Are you a superstitious person, Sheila? Do you believe in the supernatural?”

Sheila frowned, puzzled by the question. “Not really. I trust what my eyes tell me. Why?”

“Well, you might change your mind after seeing this, because it sure don’t look like the work of just a human being.”

CHAPTER TWO

As Sheila and Finn drove onto the island, Sheila peered out at the vastness of the Great Salt Lake, thinking of the last time she had been to this island.

Her whole family—her parents, her sister Natalie, and her brother Jason—had come here for a picnic one sunny afternoon. They'd spread blankets on the ground, eaten homemade sandwiches, and laughed together as they watched the sunset over the crystalline waters. The memory seemed both recent and distant, as if it belonged to another life.

"Beautiful, isn’t it?" Finn asked, pulling her out of her reverie.

She nodded. “Came here on a family trip when I was a kid. We had a picnic right over there.” She pointed toward a cluster of trees with a perfect view of the lake. It was a snapshot in time, perfectly preserved in her memory.

Finn glanced toward the spot she had indicated. "Must have been nice." There was a note of sadness in his voice.

A knot formed in her throat as the warmth of the memory clashed with the harsh reality of their present situation. "Yes, it was," she said. Talking about happier times only made her think of Natalie, however, so she decided to change the subject.

Clearing her throat, she opened her phone and brought up the file Dawson had sent. “Let’s get up to speed, shall we? It looks like the victim’s name is Bethany Cole. She was a thirty-two-year-old yoga instructor. According to Amber Kroll, one of her several roommates, Bethany got up around six yesterday morning and headed off for the island so she could meditate. She had a class at eight, but she never showed.”

“Who found the body?” Finn asked.

“A group of bird-watchers,” Sheila said, scrolling down the police report on her phone. “They came across her around five yesterday evening.”

“Body’s been removed then?”

Sheila nodded. “I’ll touch base with the ME later, let them know to keep us in the loop.”

There wasn't much else of interest in the report, so Sheila lowered her phone and studied her surroundings. Even though it had been years since she had last been to Antelope Island, she had no trouble recognizing its rugged beauty. The tall grass waved in the dusty wind, and the occasional antelope bounded along the rocky slopes. It was not difficult to understand why a young woman would come here looking for peace of mind.

Finn parked the car in a small gravel lot, and they stepped out into the sharp morning air. Ahead of them, the rolling hills of the island stretched out, dotted with clusters of trees and scrubby bushes.

They followed a footpath until they reached the edge of the lake, where several officers were already on scene, their uniforms dark against the bright landscape. The area was cordoned off with yellow tape fluttering in the breeze.

Dawson was waiting for them, his stout, formal figure incongruous against the wild beauty of their surroundings. He held a disposable coffee cup in one hand, looking grave. Beside him, a sinewy man in a sunhat was peering across the water through a pair of binoculars.

"Morning, Stone. Mercer." Dawson inclined his head toward each of them, then sipped from his cup.

Sheila couldn’t hold back her surprise. “Didn’t expect to see you here, chief.”

“What can I say? It was an excuse to get out, see some of what makes our state so beautiful.” He smiled, but Sheila sensed he was holding something back.

He’s here to keep an eye on me, she thought. He’s worried I might not be able to keep my act together after what happened to Natalie. When will everyone stop treating me like a basket case?

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