Page 29 of Silent Smile

Finn hurried after her. The last thing they needed was reporters contaminating their scene or getting graphic photos of the victim.

In that moment of chaos, as officers scrambled to establish a perimeter against the intruding press, Sage took two careful steps backward. Then another. The darkness of the desert night wrapped around him like a familiar blanket.

The sounds of confrontation grew more intense. Someone was shouting about press credentials. Another voice demanded they stay behind the line. In the commotion, no one noticed the quiet figure melting away into the shadows between the dunes.

Sage moved silently, years of experience guiding his feet across the shifting sand. Behind him, the scene continued to pulse with activity, flashlight beams dancing like fireflies around Donovan's body. The sight filled Sage with a deep satisfaction as he disappeared into the desert night.

As he headed back out into the night, Sage felt a thrill of anticipation. The real game was just beginning.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

"And if one of them crosses that line," Sheila told the officer, "you have my permission to arrest them, got it?"

The officer, a bulky man with the face of a bulldog, nodded. Satisfied, Sheila rejoined Finn as they turned their attention back to the crime scene.

Her heart sank like a stone. There was Carl Donovan's head protruding from the sand, eyes open, lips slightly parted.

They were too late.

Another family would be devastated by murder. Sheila thought of her father Gabriel, how the loss of her mother had aged him overnight. That, in turn, caused her to remember what Star had said about the gym being closed, as well as how distant Gabriel had been lately. She'd thought that, with the arrest of Eddie Mills for her mother's murder, her father would want to be more involved in the investigation than ever, but instead the opposite had happened.

Was it the grief getting to him? Or was something else going on?

"Same symbol," Finn murmured beside her, gesturing at Donovan's forehead and bringing her back to the moment. Sheila had noticed it, too—after all, it was practically impossible to miss the crude sun symbol drawn in red pigment, despite the curtain of sandy hair that partially obscured it. The exact same as the symbol on Amanda Weller's forehead.

Sheila circled Donovan's head slowly, her flashlight beam scanning every inch of the surrounding sand.

Had he run into the killer shortly after beginning his hike, or had it been later? She imagined the killer stalking Carl, waiting for the exhaustion of the hike to weaken him before getting close enough to strike. Or maybe Carl had gotten lost and—

Strike.Sheila pictured the wound on the side of Amanda's head. Crouching down, she carefully brushed back Carl's hair. There, beneath the symbol, lay a large bruise, as if he had been struck in the face by a blunt object.

As if he'd turned around, only to be surprised by his attacker.

She tried to imagine how it all had played out. She pictured Carl walking along, observing his surroundings, perhaps whistling under his breath. Then he hears a sound behind him and turns around, only to see someone swinging something at him.

What? What had made this bruise? What kind of weapon would the killer be carrying—

"A shovel," she murmured to herself. It would make sense. If the killer was going to be carrying a shovel anyway, might as well use it to club the victim, right?

But if that was the case, where was the shovel now?

She walked around the area in a wide circle, examining the ground. Unfortunately, the sand was scuffed all over from the traffic of the search party. If any of these footprints belonged to the killer, it was impossible to tell now. Besides, the sand left only the vaguest of impressions, so it wasn't as if they'd be figuring out anyone's footwear.

"There's too much traffic," Finn said, echoing her thoughts. "Too many people coming and going already. That's the downside to organizing a search party."

Sheila sighed, studying the line of police officers keeping back the news crews who had approached along the access road.

"What are you thinking?" Finn asked.

"Killers tend to return to the scene of the crime," Sheila said. "Think he's out there watching, maybe in disguise?"

"I'd like to think we'd know him just by looking into his eyes, but we both know it doesn't work that way. People can be good actors, even the most devious ones."

"Especiallythe most devious ones." There was an idea just out of reach, a thought Sheila could sense but not put into words. What was she missing?

"One thing's for certain," Finn said. "We're dealing with a serial killer, and there's a good chance they'll strike again."

Sheila nodded. "We need to shut down this park ASAP."

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