Page 17 of Silent Past

"Possibly."

"And she had her back to the killer when it happened. No defensive wounds, no signs of struggle..."

"Suggesting she either went willingly, or was coerced," Jin finished. "But whoever did this—they wanted her death to be quick, painless."

"An odd choice for a murderer," Sheila mused. "To be so careful about causing minimal suffering, then spend time arranging her body in ceremonial dress."

"Someone who respected her, maybe," Jin suggested. "Or at least, respected what she represented."

Sheila's phone buzzed—an update from the search team. She needed to check on their progress, but first: "Full tox screen?"

"Already ordered. Results should be back within 48 hours."

"Rush them," Sheila said, already moving toward the door. "And Jin? Keep this between us for now. Especially the details about the killing method."

"Of course," he replied. "Though Sheriff—there's something else you should know."

She paused at the door.

"This type of precision kill," Jin said carefully, "it's not common. In fact, I've only seen it once before."

"When?"

"The missing hiker. The one they never found, from the last time the caves were closed."

CHAPTER SIX

Finn watched Martinez fidget with her sleeve as she described Mitchell's last department meeting. Everything about the professor's timing felt wrong—showing up at the victim's house unannounced, claiming authorization from a department head who hadn't even finished processing the news of Mitchell's death.

"So Mitchell discovered something important," he prompted. "Important enough to make her nervous."

"Tracy was always careful with her research," Martinez said. Her assistant—David Bowden, according to his ID—kept glancing at his tablet, his leg bouncing with nervous energy. "She understood the responsibility she carried."

"You keep saying that." Finn leaned forward. "But what exactly was she responsible for? What made this research so sensitive?"

Martinez smoothed her blazer, a gesture that reminded Finn of his old flight instructor's tells. "Archaeological sites are complex. Sacred spaces need protection—"

"Dr. Martinez," Finn cut in. "Someone killed your colleague. Arranged her body in ceremonial dress. Used her own research against her. So either you start giving me straight answers, or I'll have probable cause to bring you both in for obstruction."

Bowden's leg stopped bouncing. Martinez's lips tightened into a thin line.

"David," she said quietly. "Show him."

Bowden hesitated, then handed over his tablet. On the screen was an email chain between Mitchell and Martinez from two weeks ago.

Elena—Need your insight. Found references to ceremonial site matching Elder Joseph's description. If I'm right, this changes everything we thought we knew about the winter rituals. But something feels off. Signs of recent activity.—SM

Martinez's reply: Be careful, Tracy. Some doors aren't meant to be reopened.

Mitchell's response came hours later: Too late. Already found the entrance. Meeting someone there tomorrow who might have answers. Will update you after.

"That was her last email to me," Martinez said. "I tried calling her the next day, but she didn't answer."

Finn checked the date. "This was five days before she disappeared." He scrolled through more emails, noting Mitchell's increasing paranoia about being followed. "Did she tell you who she was meeting?"

"No. But she was excited. Said they had special knowledge of the site."

"Special knowledge," Finn repeated. The phrasing nagged at him. "What exactly did Mitchell find in those caves?"

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