Page 50 of Silent Smile

She pressed call.

One ring. Two. Three. Voicemail.

"Damn it, Finn," she muttered, ending the call. The absence of his steady presence hit her harder than she'd expected. How many crime scenes had they processed together? How many times had his insight been the key to cracking a case? Now, when she needed him most, he was gone.

Just like her father. Why did it seem that the closer Sheila came to proving Eddie Mills' guilt in the murder of her mother, the further away her father seemed to drift?

Pushing aside these thoughts, Sheila refocused on the task at hand. She dialed Nora's number, more out of hope than expectation.

A muffled ringtone emanated from the purse on the passenger seat.

Sheila's heart sank as she reached for the bag. Nora's phone was there, along with her wallet, keys, and a small canister of pepper spray. It was hard to imagine Nora would've gone for a stroll in the park without taking even her phone—in the dark, no less. If there had been car trouble—and there were no signs of it, as far as she could tell—Nora would surely have stuck around for a tow truck. And if, for some reason, she'd instead opted for someone to pick her up, electing to deal with the vehicle later, surely she'd have brought her purse.

No, something wasn't adding up.

It seemed to her there were two possibilities: Either Nora Redfeather was their killer, staging her own disappearance tothrow off the investigation, or she had become the latest victim of the true murderer.

Sheila's gut twisted at the thought. She'd seen the fear in Nora's eyes during their last conversation, the genuine shock when confronted about her tattoo. Could that all have been an act? Or was Nora out there somewhere, terrified, possibly injured, at the mercy of a killer who had already claimed two lives?

The wind picked up, carrying with it the faint scent of sage and the whisper of windblown sand. Somewhere out in that vast, moonlit expanse, the answer awaited. But the dunes guarded their secrets jealously, and time was not on Sheila's side.

She turned back to her vehicle, her decision made. They needed search parties, and they needed them now. If Nora was out there, injured or lost, every minute counted. And if she was the killer, trying to slip away…

Well, Sheila wasn't about to let that happen either.

One way or another, she was going to find Dr. Redfeather.

***

The desert night pulsed with activity. What had been silent dunes just hours ago now echoed with the sounds of engines, radios crackling, and voices calling out into the darkness.

Sheila stood atop a dune, surveying the organized chaos below. The full moon hung low in the sky, casting a pale glow over the landscape and creating deep shadows that seemed to shift and move of their own accord.

It had taken less than an hour to mobilize the search parties. Sheila had started making calls the moment she'd discovered Dr. Redfeather's abandoned vehicle. Local law enforcement had been her first call, followed by the park rangers. Then came thevolunteers—a mix of concerned citizens and seasoned outdoors enthusiasts who knew the dunes like the backs of their hands.

Even a few university students, led by one of Dr. Redfeather's colleagues, had joined the effort, bringing their knowledge of the local terrain and geology.

Sheila had divided the search area into a grid, assigning each team a section. They moved in a methodical pattern, sweeping their flashlights across the sand, calling out Dr. Redfeather's name at regular intervals. Drones buzzed overhead, their infrared cameras scanning for any sign of heat in the cool desert night.

As she watched the search unfold, Sheila couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in her community. They had come together in a time of crisis, setting aside their differences to help find a missing woman. It was moments like these that reminded her why she had become Sheriff in the first place.

Her eyes were drawn to a group on the far side of the grid. Even from this distance, she recognized Finn's silhouette. His voice carried on the wind as he gave instructions, calm and assured.

A pang of regret shot through her. They hadn't spoken since their argument, and his presence here was a stark reminder of the rift between them. She wanted to go to him, to bridge the gap, to tell him how much she valued his input and support. But now wasn't the time. Dr. Redfeather needed to be found, and personal feelings had to be set aside.

Still, as she watched Finn work, Sheila couldn't help but wonder if she had made a mistake. Had her pride cost her not just a valuable partner, but something more?

Shaking off her doubts, Sheila rejoined her own search group. They trudged through the sand, the beams of their flashlights cutting through the darkness. The dunes seemed tostretch endlessly, each one looking frustratingly similar to the last, the cool night air laden with the scent of sage and creosote.

As they crested another dune, a gust of wind whipped up, sending a cloud of sand into the air. Sheila raised her arm to shield her eyes, momentarily blinded. The wind howled around her, drowning out all other sounds. When it finally died down and she lowered her arm, she realized with a start that she could no longer see the rest of her group.

"Hello?" she called out, her voice swallowed by the vastness of the desert. No response came. Only the distant hum of the search vehicles broke the eerie silence.

Sheila felt a moment of panic. Getting lost in the dunes could be fatal, even for someone with her experience. The desert was unforgiving, and its vastness could disorient even the most seasoned explorer. She reached for her radio, ready to call for help when something caught her eye.

There, illuminated by her flashlight beam, were two distinct sets of footprints in the sand.

She knelt down, examining them closely. The cool grains of sand shifted under her fingers as she traced the outline of the prints. One set was clearly from a standard hiking boot, the tread pattern easily recognizable. But the other...

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