Page 37 of Silent Smile

"Call me boss. Or bring me coffee, for that matter."

Finn shrugged. "It was a slip of the tongue, that's all. If you'd prefer I didn't call you boss, I'll make sure it doesn't happen again."

She cocked her head at him. "Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Treat every comment I make like an order."

Finn's expression tightened slightly. He set his own coffee down and leaned against the desk. "Look, Sheila, I'm just trying to navigate this new situation. We both are. It's not easy, you know?"

Sheila sighed. "I know. I'm sorry. I don't want things to be awkward between us. I just... I miss how we used to be. Partners."

"We're still partners," Finn said. "It's just... different now."

Yeah,Sheila thought.So different that I can't even recognize us.

She cleared her throat and decided to get back to the case. "So, want to tell me what've you got there?" she asked, nodding at the file under Finn's arm.

Finn seemed to relax a bit, moving back into familiar professional territory. "Right, about that. I've been digging into Hawke's alibi, and things aren't adding up."

He opened the file, spreading out several papers on Sheila's desk. "I spoke with Jake, the bartender at the Rusty Nail. He confirms Hawke was there two nights ago but says he left around 11 PM, not at closing."

Sheila leaned forward, her earlier frustration forgotten in the face of new information. "That's a significant discrepancy. Did Jake seem sure about the time?"

Finn nodded. "Pretty sure. Said Hawke was a regular, always paid cash. He remembered because Hawke seemed agitated that night, kept checking his phone."

"Interesting," Sheila mused, her detective instincts kicking in. "And what about the friend he supposedly stayed with?"

"Dave Murdoch," Finn said, pulling out his phone and bringing up a photo of a scruffy-looking man in his thirties. "Says Hawke crashed on his couch, but can't say exactly when he arrived. He was pretty wasted himself that night."

"Did you get a sense of their relationship? How well does Murdoch know Hawke?"

Finn shrugged. "Seems they're drinking buddies more than close friends. Murdoch said Hawke crashes at his place occasionally when he's had too much. Didn't seem to know much about Hawke's personal life."

Sheila's mind raced, connecting the dots. "So there's a window of time unaccounted for. Plenty of time to drive out to the dunes, murder Amanda Weller, and get back."

"It's possible," Finn agreed. "Not proof, but definitely suspicious. Oh, and get this—I checked Hawke's cell phone records. There's a gap in activity last night from about 11:30 PM to just after 3 AM. No calls, no texts, no data usage."

Sheila raised an eyebrow. "As if his phone was turned off. Or in an area with no service."

"Like the dunes," Finn said.

"And last night? What about that alibi?"

Finn shrugged. "I tracked down the pizza guy—he confirmed delivering a pizza to the residence around 6:30 and seeing a man matching Hawke's description. The pay-per-view checks out, too. But that obviously leaves a lot of blank space. He could've done anything last night. No cameras nearby, no neighbors who saw anything one way or the other. Mick vouched for him, but it's hard to know whether we can trust his word."

Sheila stood up, pacing the small office. "Okay, let's think this through. We have Hawke, a former ranger with extensive knowledge of the park, including restricted areas. He has a history of rule enforcement bordering on obsession, but was fired for stealing rare plants. Now we find out his alibi for two nights ago—the night of Amanda's murder—is shaky at best, and his alibi for last night—the night of Carl Donovan's murder—has holes."

Finn nodded, following her train of thought. "And don't forget the interest in Native American culture. That could explain the symbols found on the victims."

"Right," Sheila agreed. "It's circumstantial, but..."

"But enough for a warrant," Finn said.

Sheila nodded decisively. "Let's go see Judge Martinez. We need to search Hawke's place, and we need to do it now."

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