CHAPTER NINE
"Ms. Ryder, we appreciate you taking the time to speak with us," Sheila said, her voice calm and reassuring as she settled into a worn chair in the small break room of the Coral Sands Motel.
Debbi Ryder, a petite woman with mousy brown hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, nodded nervously, her eyes darting between Sheila and Finn. "Of course. But I'm not sure how much help I can be. Is Eric in some kind of trouble?"
Finn, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, spoke up before Sheila could respond. "That depends on what you can tell us about his whereabouts last night."
Sheila shot Finn a quick, warning glance. His direct approach, while often effective, wasn't what she had in mind for this particular interview. She turned back to Debbi with a softer expression. "We're just trying to establish some facts, Ms. Ryder. How long have you known Eric?"
"About a year, I guess," Debbi replied, her brow furrowed in concentration. "We met at a community cleanup event in the park. Eric was organizing it."
Sheila nodded encouragingly. "And what can you tell us about Eric? What kind of person is he?"
Debbi's expression softened, a small smile playing at her lips. "Eric is... passionate. Especially when it comes to the dunes. He cares so deeply about preserving them, protecting them from harm. Sometimes I think he loves those sand dunes more than anything else in the world."
Sheila had the impression there was a lot more than Debbi was sharing. She seemed… uneasy. Like she was afraid of saying the wrong thing.
"Do you think he would ever break any laws to protect them?" Finn interjected, his tone casual but his eyes sharp.
Sheila suppressed a sigh. This was exactly the kind of abrupt question she'd been hoping to avoid. She watched as Debbi's smile faltered, her fingers twisting the hem of her uniform.
"I... I don't know. Maybe. It's complicated," Debbi admitted, her voice small.
Sensing Debbi's discomfort, Sheila decided to steer the conversation in a different direction. "Ms. Ryder, can you tell us about Eric's work at the park? What does he enjoy most about being a tour guide?"
As Debbi began to speak about Eric's love for educating visitors about the dunes' ecosystem, Sheila noticed Finn shifting impatiently. She knew he wanted to cut to the chase, to ask about the night of the murder directly. But Sheila believed that building rapport with Debbi first would lead to more honest, detailed answers later.
"...and then Eric showed them this tiny desert flower," Debbi was saying, her eyes lighting up. "You should have seen how excited the kids got when he explained how it survives in such harsh conditions."
Finn cleared his throat. "That's fascinating, Ms. Ryder, but—"
"And how often does Eric lead these educational tours?" Sheila asked quickly, shooting Finn a warning glance.
Debbi opened her mouth to respond, but Finn interjected, his voice tight with barely contained impatience. "Sheriff, don't you think we should—"
"Just a moment, Deputy," Sheila said, turning back to Debbi with a reassuring smile. "Please, go on."
Finn exhaled sharply and crossed his arms, leaning back against the wall. His foot tapped a rapid, irritated rhythm on the linoleum floor.
Debbi glanced uncertainly between them before continuing. "Well, he tries to do at least one educational tour a week, especially during school field trip season. He says it's the best part of his job, inspiring the next generation of conservationists."
Sheila nodded, noting how Debbi relaxed as she spoke about Eric's passion for his work. She let the conversation flow for a few more minutes, watching as Debbi's earlier nervousness faded.
Finally, sensing the time was right, Sheila leaned forward. "Ms. Ryder, we need to ask you about last night. Were you with Eric?"
Debbi's shoulders tensed immediately. "Yes. We had dinner, watched a movie. I spent the night."
"The entire night?" Sheila asked, noting how Debbi's fingers twisted anxiously in her lap.
"I... I fell asleep around ten or eleven. When I woke up early this morning, Eric was already up, making coffee. Said he'd been up for a while."
Sheila exchanged a look with Finn. That was a significant window of unaccounted time.
"Ms. Ryder," Sheila said gently, "you seem nervous. Is there something you're worried about telling us?"
Debbi's eyes darted to the door, then back. "It's just... Eric gets upset when I talk to people about him. He likes to know where I am, who I'm talking to. He says it's because he cares, but..."
"But it feels controlling?" Finn suggested.
Debbi nodded, blinking back tears. "A few weeks ago, some teenagers were messing around in a restricted area. The way Eric went after them... I'd never seen him like that. He was so angry, so aggressive. When I tried to calm him down, he turned on me, said I was undermining him."
"Has he ever threatened you?" Sheila asked.
"Not exactly. But sometimes, the way he looks at me when I disagree with him..." Debbi shuddered. "He gets this expression, like he's barely containing himself. And lately, with all the social media influencers in the park... he's been obsessed, ranting about how they're destroying everything he's trying to protect."
"Did he ever mention Amanda Weller specifically?" Sheila asked.
"I… I'm not sure," Debbi whispered. She looked up at Sheila, fear evident in her eyes. "Please don't tell him I talked to you. I don't want him to—"
"You don't have to worry about that," Sheila assured her, reaching for her card. "Here's my direct number. If Eric contacts you, if you feel unsafe at all, call me immediately. Day or night."
Debbi swallowed hard and took the card.
Sheila sensed they had pushed Debbi as far as they could for now. "Thank you for your time, Ms. Ryder. You've been very helpful. We may need to speak with you again as our investigation continues. I'd appreciate it if you'd make yourself available."
Debbi nodded, looking worried. "Of course."
Both Sheila and Finn were silent as they left the motel. As they pulled away, Finn cleared his throat.
"So," he said, "what do you want to do about Blackwell?"
"We need to keep an eye on him," Sheila said. "We don't have any hard evidence, and if we approach him again, he'll probably just lawyer up."
"I'll have someone tail him," Finn said.
Sheila nodded, her mind racing with the implications of everything they'd learned. "Good. But make sure they're discreet. If Blackwood is our guy, we can't risk spooking him."
Finn grunted in agreement. He looked ready to say something more, but he was interrupted by the sudden ring of Sheila's cell phone. She glanced at the screen: Ranger Hollister. A knot formed in her stomach as she answered.
"Hollister? What's going on?"
"Sheriff, we've got a situation," Hollister said, sounding troubled. "A hiker's been reported missing. Name's Carl Donovan."
Sheila felt her pulse quicken. "And you think this might be connected to Amanda Weller's death?"
Hollister hesitated. "Maybe it's nothing. People get lost now and then—it's not uncommon. I just thought you should know."
Sheila stared at the road for a few seconds. She sensed Finn's eyes on her.
"When was Mr. Donovan last seen?" she asked Hollister.
"His wife says he left for a day hike this morning, supposed to be back by 2 PM. It's not like him to be late, apparently."
Sheila glanced at her watch. Nearly 5 PM now. "You did the right thing. We'll head your way now."
"Ask about Blackwood," Finn whispered.
Sheila cleared her throat. "One more thing. Have you happened to see Eric Blackwood recently? Any idea where he might be?"
Another pause, longer this time. Sheila could almost feel Hollister's discomfort through the phone.
"That's the other thing, Sheriff. He was supposed to give another tour this afternoon, but he never showed. Just left everyone standing around. He's gone completely AWOL."