Page 44 of Silent Neighbor

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

The first rays of sunlight crept over the horizon, painting the sky in hues of pink and gold as Sheila and Finn arrived at the base of the cliff. A cool breeze whispered through the sparse vegetation, carrying with it the earthy scent of dust and sage.

Sheila stepped out of the car and took a deep breath, steeling herself for what she was about to see. Her eyes traced the contours of the cliff, following the jagged lines upward until they settled on a sight that made her heart sink.

There, suspended against the unforgiving rock, was Ellen Reeves. Like Jake and Brad before her, Ellen's body hung limply, a macabre marionette dangling from expertly tied ropes.

Sheila felt a wave of nausea wash over her. She quickly averted her gaze, focusing instead on the ground at her feet. The small stones and tufts of dried grass suddenly seemed incredibly interesting as she fought to regain her composure.

"You okay?" Finn's voice was soft, concern evident in his tone.

Sheila nodded, not trusting herself to speak just yet. She took another deep breath, filling her lungs with the crisp morning air. The familiar scent of the desert grounded her, helping to push back the tide of emotions threatening to overwhelm her.

As she collected herself, Sheila became aware of approaching footsteps. She looked up to see a woman striding toward them, her ranger uniform crisp and her expression grave.

"Deputies," the woman called out as she drew near. "I'm Ranger Natalie Gomez. I'm the one who found the body."

Sheila straightened, slipping into her professional demeanor like a familiar jacket. "Deputy Sheila Stone," she said, extending her hand. "This is my partner, Deputy Finn Mercer. Can you walk us through what happened?"

Ranger Gomez nodded, her ponytail bobbing with the movement. "I was doing my regular morning patrol of the area," she began, gesturing toward a well-worn path that wound its way along the base of the cliff. "As I rounded that bend over there, I spotted something unusual on the cliff face."

She pointed upward, and Sheila forced herself to look at Ellen's body once more. The sight was no less disturbing the second time.

"At first, I thought it might be some climber's gear left behind," Gomez continued. "But as I got closer, I realized..." She trailed off, swallowing hard. "Well, you can see for yourself."

Sheila nodded, her mind already racing with the implications. "Have you closed off the area?" she asked.

"Yes, ma'am," Gomez replied. "We've set up roadblocks at all access points. No one's getting in or out without us knowing about it."

"Good," Sheila said, though she couldn't shake the feeling that it was too little, too late. The killer had proven to be meticulous and swift in their previous attacks. There was no reason to think this time would be any different.

As Finn engaged Gomez in further questions about the discovery and subsequent actions taken, Sheila found her attention wandering. Her eyes roamed over the scene, taking in every detail: the weathered rock face, the sparse vegetation clinging stubbornly to life in the harsh environment, the way the morning light played across the landscape, creating a constantly shifting tapestry of light and shadow.

Almost unconsciously, Sheila began to walk, her feet carrying her in a slow circuit around the base of the cliff. She studied the ground intently, searching for any sign of disturbance. A footprint, a scuff mark, anything that might give them a clue about the killer's movements.

The ground was mostly hard-packed dirt, with patches of loose gravel here and there. It would be difficult for anyone to move through the area without leaving some trace, Sheila thought. Unless they were incredibly careful.

Or incredibly lucky.

As she completed her circuit, something caught Sheila's eye. She stopped, crouching down to get a better look. There, in a patch of softer soil, were three distinct impressions. They formed a triangle, each point about a foot apart from the others.

Sheila's brow furrowed as she studied the marks. They were too uniform, too precisely spaced to be natural. And they were fresh—the edges were still sharp, undisturbed.

"A tripod," Sheila murmured to herself, the realization hitting her like a physical blow. She straightened up, her eyes scanning the area with renewed intensity. "Finn!" she called.

Finn jogged over, Gomez close behind. "What is it?" he asked, his eyes following Sheila's gaze to the ground.

"Look at these marks," Sheila said, pointing to the impressions. "They're from a tripod. Someone set up a camera here."

Gomez leaned in for a closer look, her expression thoughtful. "We didn't find any camera equipment when we secured the scene," she said.

Sheila nodded, unsurprised. "Finn, what about Brad Blackwell's watch? The one his father asked about. Was it found on the body?"

Finn pulled out his phone, his fingers flying over the screen as he checked his notes. After a moment, he looked up, shaking his head. "No, there was no watch recovered from Brad's body."

Sheila felt a chill run down her spine. "And Jake Pearson's phone was never found," she said, more to herself than to the others. "In each case, something was taken from the victim."

"Trophies," Finn said, his voice grim. "The killer's collecting trophies."

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