Page 22 of Silent Road

"Which member of ski patrol?"Sheila pressed.

"I don't remember their name.It was at the lodge earlier—everyone was talking about the murder."He leaned forward, elbows on his knees."Look, I know how this sounds.But I truly had nothing to do with Greenwald's death."

"Where were you last night?"Tommy asked, keeping his tone conversational.

"Photographing elk in the north valley."Wells moved to his computer, pulling up a series of photos.As the images loaded, Sheila watched his face.It was clear he was proud of what he did.

"The cold brought them down from the high country," he continued."I'd been tracking this herd for days."

The photos were stunning—elk moving through moonlit snow, steam rising from their nostrils, every detail crystal clear.The composition was impeccable, capturing the raw beauty of the wilderness.

"These are remarkable," Tommy said, making no effort to hide his admiration.

Sheila studied the images thoughtfully."They are," she murmured.

"Nature cannot be rushed," Wells said, warming to his subject."These took hours of waiting in the cold, but it was well worth it."

"You said you took these last night?"Sheila asked."Is there proof?"

"Of course," Wells said, tapping away at the keyboard.He pulled up the metadata panel."Every photo I take is automatically tagged with GPS coordinates, time, and environmental data.It's all embedded in the file itself—impossible to alter without leaving digital fingerprints."

The timestamps marched across the screen in neat intervals: 9:47 PM, 10:13 PM, 10:42 PM.Sheila leaned closer, studying the progression.The light in the photos shifted subtly as the moon traced its path across the winter sky, casting ever-changing shadows across the snowfield where the elk grazed.

"See how the herd moves?"Wells gestured to the screen, his voice taking on the measured cadence of someone used to teaching."You can track their feeding pattern through the night.The way they drift with the wind, always keeping the youngest members sheltered."

He clicked through the sequence, and Sheila noticed how the snow patterns evolved in the background—wind-carved ripples that grew and changed as the hours passed, creating a natural timestamp that would be nearly impossible to fabricate.The elk's breath caught the moonlight differently in each frame, crystallizing in the subzero air like ephemeral sculptures.

"The temperature dropped eight degrees over these three hours," Wells continued, pointing to the metadata."You can see it in the way the steam from their breath changes, becomes more pronounced.Nature provides its own documentation if you know how to read it."

His pride wasn't just in the images themselves, Sheila realized, but in the meticulous record-keeping they represented.Every detail catalogued, every moment preserved with scientific precision.It was the work of someone who lived his life through a lens, turning reality into carefully archived moments.

Sheila studied the photos a few moments longer before rising."Thank you for your time," she said.It's seemed clear what Wells had—and, more importantly, had not—been doing last night.

Wells inclined his head in a gracious nod."If there's anything else I can assist with, please don't hesitate to ask."

Outside, the afternoon light had taken on the golden quality that preceded sunset.Sheila and Tommy stood by the patrol car, watching their breath cloud in the cold air.The chill had intensified, and the sky was streaked with hues of pink and orange, casting a serene glow over the snowy landscape.

"What do you think?"Tommy asked, breaking the silence.

Sheila leaned against the car, crossing her arms."I think he's an odd fellow.But not a murderer."She gazed out at the mountains, their peaks dusted with fresh snow, wondering where this left them.

"So we've got no leads," Tommy said, kicking at the snow with the toe of his boot."No suspects."

"Maybe not.But that doesn't mean there's nothing to do."

Sheila climbed into the car.Tommy sighed deeply, then joined her on the opposite side.As Sheila pulled away from the cabin, Tommy said, "Alright, then.Spill the beans.You've clearly got a plan."

"I want to comb through Greenwald's social media accounts again.Look for any interactions that stand out.Maybe someone who was angry with him or obsessed with his work."

"I can handle that," he replied, pulling out his phone.

"Good."She appreciated his diligence.Tommy was still young, but he had good instincts, and she was beginning to trust him.With Finn sidelined, she needed all the help she could get.

As they drove, the mountains loomed dark against the dying light.The stars began to emerge, tiny points of light piercing the indigo sky.

CHAPTER TEN

Sarah Winters adjusted her goggles and studied the floodlit slope before her.The artificial light cast harsh shadows across the pristine snow, creating an otherworldly landscape of bright patches and deep darkness.

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