Page 18 of Silent Past

Before Martinez could answer, the front door opened. Sheila entered, her face tight with whatever she'd learned from the ME. Her eyes met Finn's, and he saw the subtle signal there—they needed to talk privately.

"Dr. Martinez," Sheila said. "My deputy will finish getting your statement. But I need to speak with him first."

They stepped onto the back porch, closing the door behind them. Fall sunlight filtered through yellow leaves, casting dappled shadows across Sheila's face as she described Jin's findings.

Finn felt his jaw tighten. "A professional kill. Someone with training."

"And a connection to the old missing hiker case." Sheila's voice was low. "Same method, Jin said. Which means—"

"Our killer's done this before." Finn ran a hand through his hair, processing. "But why make it painless? Why take the time to dress her body?"

"Respect," Sheila said. "Or ritual. Maybe both." She glanced through the window to where Martinez sat ramrod-straight on Mitchell's couch. "What did you get from them?"

Finn showed her the emails. "Mitchell found something in those caves. Something important enough to get herself killed over." He watched Sheila's eyes narrow as she read. "There's more. Martinez is holding something back. The way she talks about Mitchell's research—it's like she's more worried about protecting information than finding a killer."

Sheila handed the tablet back. "Keep pressing. I need to check on the search teams." She paused, studying his face. "You okay? You've got that look."

"What look?"

"The one you get when something's bothering you but you can't put your finger on it."

Finn smiled despite himself. Sometimes he forgot how well she could read him. "Just thinking about Mitchell's last email. Meeting someone who had 'special knowledge' of the site. Almost sounds like—"

"Like they were waiting for her to find it," Sheila finished. She squeezed his arm. "Be careful with Martinez. If she knows more than she's saying..."

"I know. You be careful, too."

Sheila nodded and headed for her vehicle. Finn watched her go, then turned back to the house. Through the window, he saw Martinez and Bowden in what looked like an intense whispered conversation.

Time to find out what they were hiding.

Inside, Martinez and Bowden fell silent as Finn entered. Their sudden stillness reminded him of suspects in an interrogation room, that moment when they realize they've said too much.

"Let's try this again," he said, remaining standing. His years as a pilot had taught him the value of positioning—how to establish presence without overt intimidation. "You came here looking for something specific. What?"

Martinez's fingers worried at a silver pendant around her neck. "I told you. The department—"

"Called you to secure sensitive materials. Yes. But you didn't answer my question." He held up Bowden's tablet. "These emails—Mitchell found something that 'changes everything we thought we knew.' What was it?"

"It's not that simple," Martinez said.

"Make it simple."

Bowden shifted uncomfortably. "Dr. Martinez, maybe we should—"

"Be quiet, David." Martinez's voice had an edge Finn hadn't heard before. She turned back to Finn. "Something changed after that last email from Tracy. She called me late at night. Said she needed to verify something, that she'd made a terrible mistake." She paused. "She sounded scared."

"What kind of mistake?"

Martinez shook her head. "She wouldn't say. Just that she had to make it right."

Bowden cleared his throat. "Dr. Martinez..."

She shot him a warning look, but Finn caught it. "David? Something to add?"

The assistant's leg started bouncing again. "It's just... Dr. Mitchell wasn't just researching the sites. She was mapping them. Creating a database of locations, access points. She said it was for preservation, but..."

"But what?"

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