Page 47 of Silent Home

"You work for them, don't you?"she asked."The same people who killed my mother.Who sent Tommy to infiltrate the department."

"Turn left at the next crossroads."

The truck's tires crunched on gravel as she made the turn.They were deep in the country now, surrounded by fallow fields stretching away into darkness.Perfect place to make someone disappear.

"You should know," she said, "that killing a sheriff won't go unnoticed.Every law enforcement agency in the state will investigate."

"You assume too much."Was there amusement in his voice?"About my intentions.About what happened to your mother.About many things."A pause."Pull over here."

'Here' was a stretch of road bordered by bare trees on one side and an empty field on the other.No houses visible, no passing traffic.Just darkness and the sound of wind in the branches.

Sheila put the truck in park, her hands still at ten and two.This is it,she thought.This was where it would end.All her investigation, all her search for justice—stopped by a man whose face she hadn't even seen.

The wind rustled through the bare trees, making branches creak.In the darkness beyond her headlights, something small—probably a rabbit—darted across the empty field.Sheila's hands remained locked on the steering wheel, her mind racing through last-ditch scenarios, each more desperate than the last.

"You've been asking questions," the man said.His voice remained pleasant, unhurried."About departmental corruption.About your mother's murder.About Tommy's role in all of this."

She caught a slight movement in her peripheral vision—him shifting position, maybe reaching for something.Her muscles tensed.

"If you're going to kill me," she said, "at least have the courage to show me your face."

"Kill you?"Now, there was definitely amusement in his voice."Sheriff Stone, if I wanted you dead, I wouldn't have gone to all this trouble.A car bomb would have done the trick quite nicely.No, this is something else entirely."

Another movement behind her.She braced herself, but nothing happened.

"What do you want?"she asked.

"To deliver a message.A warning, if you will.There are certain investigations that shouldn't be pursued.Certain questions better left unasked."

Sheila thought about the laptop she'd taken from Tommy's apartment, the one in her car right this moment.Was it still there, or had the man behind her already found it?Had they been watching Tommy's apartment?

"Here's what's going to happen," he continued."You're going to stop looking into your mother's case.Stop investigating departmental politics.Focus on solving your festival murders—that's what a good sheriff would do, isn't it?Leave the past where it belongs."

"And if I don't?"

There was a long, pregnant pause."I think I've already made myself clear on that score, haven't I?"

Star.Her father.Yes, he had made himself clear.Terribly clear.

A semi truck roared past on the distant highway, its running lights briefly visible through the trees.So close, and yet so very far away.

"I've watched you since you were a child," the man said, that Irish lilt becoming stronger now."Watched you grow up, train for the Olympics, join the department.You're very much like your mother—same determination, same sense of justice."A pause."Same inability to leave well enough alone."

"You sent Eddie Mills to kill my mother, didn't you?"Sheila asked.

"Your mother made choices.Asked questions she shouldn't have asked—like the one you just posed to me."Another slight movement behind her."Don't make her mistakes."

Silence filled the truck.Through the windshield, Sheila watched a cluster of dead leaves skitter across the empty field, carried by the October wind.Her mind raced through scenarios—she could slam the truck into reverse, ram something, force him off balance.She just needed the right moment, needed to catch him slightly distracted.

"Take out your weapon," he said, interrupting her thoughts."Slowly.Place it on the passenger seat."

Sheila didn't move.

Something pressed against the back of her seat, right where her spine met the headrest."I won't kill you," he said."But a bullet here—" the pressure increased slightly "—would leave you paralyzed.Like your sister Natalie.And we both know how that ended, don't we?"

The veiled reference to Natalie's suicide hit Sheila like a physical blow.Her hands tightened on the steering wheel as rage coursed through her, but she forced herself to stay still, stay quiet.

"The weapon," he repeated."Now."

---