Page 23 of Silent Smile

"That's the other thing, Sheriff. He was supposed to give another tour this afternoon, but he never showed. Just left everyone standing around. He's gone completely AWOL."

CHAPTER TEN

Carl Donovan squinted against the glare of the setting sun, searching for any familiar landmark among the endless sea of sand. The towering dunes, once a majestic sight, now seemed to mock him with their uniformity. He wiped the sweat from his brow with a trembling hand, trying to quell the rising panic in his chest.

"Get it together, Carl," he muttered to himself, his voice sounding thin and reedy in the vast emptiness surrounding him. "You can figure this out. You have to."

But as the shadows lengthened and the temperature began to drop, Carl's confidence waned. He'd set out this morning full of determination, eager to prove to himself—and to Melissa—that he could handle this solo hike. After months of feeling inadequate at work and disconnected in his marriage, he'd thought this adventure would reinvigorate him, give him back the sense of purpose and competence he'd lost somewhere along the way.

Now, lost in the Coral Pink Sand Dunes, Carl wondered if he'd made a terrible mistake. One that might cost him everything.

He cast his mind back to the argument he'd had with Melissa this morning. Her words echoed in his head, sharp with frustration and worry.

"A solo hike? Carl, you've never even been camping before. This is crazy!"

"I need this, Melissa," he'd insisted, shoving supplies into his backpack with more force than necessary. "I need to prove that I can do something, anything, on my own."

Melissa's expression had softened then, concern replacing anger. "You have nothing to prove, Carl. Not to me, not to anyone."

But she was wrong. He had everything to prove. To her, to his boss who'd passed him over for promotion last month, to his father who still treated him like a helpless child at 35. Most of all, to himself.

Carl shook his head, trying to dispel the memory. Dwelling on it wouldn't help him now. He needed to focus to find a way out of this mess.

He pulled out his phone again, more out of habit than hope. No service, and the battery was down to its last 5%. Melissa would be worried sick by now. He'd promised to be back by 2 PM, in time for dinner with her parents. Another disappointment to add to the growing list.

Carl took a swig from his water bottle. As he drained the last few drops, the reality of his situation hit him hard. How long before dehydration became a serious threat? He was already feeling lightheaded, his thoughts becoming fuzzy around the edges.

He looked around, trying to focus on his surroundings. Delicate desert flowers peeked out from between the sand ripples, and claret cup cacti dotted the area, their brilliant red blooms a splash of color against the pale sand. A small lizard—a zebra-tailed lizard, he remembered from the guidebook he'd studied—scurried across his path, disappearing into the shadow of a nearby dune.

In the distance, he could make out the spindly forms of Utah juniper trees, their twisted branches reaching toward the sky. Under different circumstances, Carl would have been awed by the beauty of this harsh, unforgiving landscape.

Now, it only served to remind him of how out of his depth he truly was.

A cool breeze picked up, carrying with it the earthy scent of sage. Carl shivered, suddenly aware of how quickly the temperature was dropping. Desert nights could be surprisingly cold, he remembered. Another problem to add to his growing list of concerns.

He closed his eyes, taking deep breaths. Panic wouldn't help him now. He needed a plan. Opening his eyes, he scanned the horizon once more. The sun was sinking fast, painting the sky in brilliant shades of orange and pink. He'd have to find shelter soon.

Carl tried to recall the survival tips he'd read about in preparation for this hike. Stay put, they'd said. If you're lost, don't wander. Make yourself visible to search parties.

But how long would it take for anyone to realize he was missing? How long before they started looking?

He thought of Melissa again, imagining her pacing their living room, phone in hand. Would she call for help? Or would she assume he'd changed his mind, decided to stay out longer? They'd been so distant lately, each caught up in their own struggles. When had they stopped understanding each other?

A sudden sound made Carl's head snap up: a low, mournful howl that echoed across the dunes. Coyotes. He'd read about them, knew they were generally more afraid of humans than humans were of them. But in his current state—exhausted, dehydrated, alone—he felt vulnerable.

He felt like prey.

He trudged forward, trying to distract himself from his own thoughts through physical exertion. As he crested a dune, something caught his eye: footprints in the sand, their edges still sharp and clear despite the wind.

Hope surged through him. Fresh tracks meant people—maybe other hikers, or even park rangers. His legs protested as he hurried to follow the tracks, sand shifting treacherouslybeneath his feet. The prints led toward a natural alcove formed by towering rock formations, the kind of spot where hikers might rest in the shade.

Maybe whoever had left these tracks was still there, someone who could help him find his way back.

"Hello?" Carl called out, his voice hoarse from thirst. "Is anyone there? I need help!" No answer came. The silence of the desert seemed to swallow his words, leaving only the whistling of the wind and the distant call of coyotes.

The tracks led into the shadows between the rocks. Carl followed, his heart pounding with both hope and apprehension. But as he entered the shadowy space, he saw something that made him pause: a strange symbol drawn in the sand. It appeared to be a crude sun, with wavy lines emanating from it.

Carl stared at it, transfixed. What did it mean?

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