Page 33 of Silent Smile

"He'd disappear for long stretches without telling a soul where he was going. Never seemed to get lost, though. Probably knew the park better than even I did."

Sheila nodded, making notes. "Thank you, Einar. You've been incredibly helpful."

As they prepared to leave, Einar caught Sheila's arm gently. "Sheriff," he said, his voice low and serious, "I hope I haven'tcaused any trouble for Jason. He's a good kid at heart, just... lost, I think. If you find him, go easy on him, will you?"

Sheila patted the old ranger's hand reassuringly. "We'll do our best, Einar. Thank you again for your help."

As they walked away, the sun was finally peeking over the horizon, bathing the dunes in golden light. But for Sheila, the new day brought not just light, but hope. They had a new lead, a new direction to pursue.

"Let's find out everything we can about Jason Hawke," she said to Finn. "Where he lives, who he associates with, everything. If he's our guy, we need to find him before he strikes again."

Finn nodded, already pulling out his phone. "I'll get the team on it. We'll need to track down this Mick guy too, see what he knows."

As they headed back to their vehicle, Sheila cast one last glance at the peaceful dunes. Somewhere out there, a killer was hiding.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Sheila felt the fatigue of a sleepless night creeping up on her as she and Finn pulled up to a modest bungalow on the outskirts of town.

Keep it together,she told herself.You've gotta stay sharp.

The first rays of sunlight were just beginning to peek over the horizon, revealing a small but well-maintained house with a neatly trimmed lawn and a few potted desert plants adorning the front porch. The neighborhood was quiet, most residents still asleep at this early hour.

"This is it," Finn said, double-checking the address on his phone. "Jason Hawke's last known residence, shared with a Malcolm 'Mick' O'Donnell."

Sheila nodded, her eyes scanning the property. "We need to be ready for anything. If he runs—"

"He won't get far," Finn said. "Trust me, he's not just gonna waltz out of here. If he wants to run, he'll have to do so over our dead bodies."

Sheila nodded. She hoped it wouldn't come to violence, but it was good to be prepared for anything.

They got out of the vehicle and approached the front door. A wind chime made of polished stones tinkled softly in the morning breeze. Sheila rapped sharply on the door, the sound echoing in the quiet neighborhood. No answer. She tried again, louder this time. Still nothing.

"Maybe they're heavy sleepers," Finn suggested, peering through a nearby window. The curtains were drawn, revealing nothing of the interior.

"Let's take a look around," Sheila said, already moving toward the side of the house. "They might have a back entrance."

The backyard was small but well-kept, with a patio area featuring a barbecue grill and a couple of weathered lawn chairs. A shed stood in one corner, its paint peeling slightly. What caught Sheila's attention, however, were the two vehicles parked in the driveway: a battered blue pickup truck and a newer-model silver sedan.

"Two vehicles," Sheila murmured to Finn. "Interesting."

Just as she was about to suggest they check the shed, a light flicked on inside the house. Moments later, the back door opened and a man stepped out onto the patio. He was in his early thirties, with tousled brown hair and the beginnings of a beard. He squinted at them in the early morning light, confusion and wariness evident on his face.

"Can I help you?" he called out, his voice rough with sleep. He was wearing sweatpants and a faded t-shirt.

Sheila held up her badge. "Sheriff Stone, and this is Deputy Mercer. We're looking for Jason Hawke. Is he here?"

The man's expression tightened almost imperceptibly. A muscle in his jaw twitched. "Haven't seen him. I'm Mick. Mick O'Donnell. This is my place."

Sheila's eyes flickered to the vehicles. "Both of these yours, Mr. O'Donnell?"

Mick nodded a bit too quickly. "Yeah, that's right. The truck's for work, the sedan's my personal ride."

"What kind of vehicle does Hawke drive?" Finn asked casually.

Mick hesitated for a split second before answering. "A motorcycle. Old Harley."

Sheila's instincts were screaming at her that Mick was lying. "Mr. O'Donnell," she said, her voice hardening slightly, "I'm going to ask you again. Is Jason Hawke here?"

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