Silent Smile (Sheila Stone #10)

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The desert night enveloped Sheila Stone like a thick, dark blanket as she swept the ground with her flashlight. All around, similar beams danced across the dunes as the search party combed the area for any sign of Carl Donovan.

They'd been searching for hours now, ever since Ranger Hollister's call. The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, leaving them to navigate the treacherous terrain by artificial light and the faint glow of the rising moon. The dunes, so picturesque during the day, had transformed into an alien landscape under the cover of darkness.

It had been nearly twelve hours now since Donovan was last seen. Even if he wasn't being stalked by a killer, his chances of survival weren't great. Dehydration, exposure, injury—any number of factors could turn a simple hike into a life-threatening situation.

She thought of Donovan's wife, waiting anxiously at the command post. Sheila had promised her they'd find Carl. It was a promise she intended to keep.

She glanced around at the search party. It was an eclectic mix—park rangers in their khaki uniforms, local volunteers in hiking gear, and a few of her own deputies. They had all responded quickly to the call for help, a testament to the tight-knit nature of their small community. Some people she recognized, but others were complete strangers.

"Sheriff!" A voice called out from nearby. Sheila recognized Sarah Chen, one of the newer park rangers. The young woman jogged up, slightly out of breath. "We found his car. It's parked at the Juniper Trailhead, about two miles east of here."

Sheila nodded, processing the information. The Juniper Trail was a popular day hike known for its scenic views of the dunes. But it was also dangerously easy to stray from, especially for an inexperienced hiker like Donovan. The trail wound through a series of smaller dunes before opening up to a vast expanse of sand. One wrong turn, and a hiker could find himself hopelessly lost in a matter of minutes.

"Any signs of disturbance around the car?" Sheila asked, her detective instincts kicking in. "Anything to indicate he might have returned to it at some point?"

Sarah shook her head. "Nothing obvious. The car was locked, and there were no fresh tracks around it. It looks like he parked, set out on his hike, and... never came back."

Sheila felt a knot form in her stomach. This wasn't looking good.

"Alright," she called out to the group, raising her voice to be heard over the whistle of the wind. "Let's concentrate our efforts in that area. Remember, he might be injured or disoriented. Keep your eyes peeled for any sign of disturbance in the sand—footprints, discarded items, anything out of the ordinary."

As the search party regrouped and began to move toward the Juniper Trailhead, Sheila's thoughts turned to Finn. He was out there somewhere, too, but his quarry was of a different nature. Eric Blackwood, their primary suspect, had vanished just as mysteriously as Carl Donovan. The coincidence was too glaring to ignore, which was why Finn was looking for him.

Could Blackwood be responsible for Donovan's disappearance? Or were they dealing with two separate incidents?

Sheila shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. She couldn't afford to jump to conclusions. Right now, finding Donovan was the priority. But she couldn't shake the feeling that the two cases were connected somehow, pieces of a larger puzzle she couldn't quite see yet.

A figure to her right caught Sheila's attention. Even in the darkness, she recognized the graceful movements and distinctive profile of Dr. Nora Redfeather. Her long black hair was tied back in a neat braid, and she moved with a sureness that spoke of years spent navigating this terrain.

Sheila made her way over to the geologist. "Dr. Redfeather," she called softly. "I didn't expect to see you out here."

Redfeather looked up, her dark eyes reflecting the moonlight. "Sheriff Stone. When I heard about the missing hiker, I couldn't just sit at home. I know these dunes better than most. I thought I might be able to help."

Sheila nodded appreciatively. "We're grateful for any assistance. Your expertise could be invaluable." She paused, considering her next words carefully. "Actually, I was hoping I might be able to ask you a few questions while we search."

"Of course," Redfeather replied, falling into step beside Sheila as they continued to scan the area. "What would you like to know?"

"You're familiar with most of the park staff, aren't you?" Sheila began, trying to keep her tone casual.

"I suppose so," Redfeather answered, her flashlight beam sweeping across the sand in a practiced arc. "I work closely with many of them on various research projects and conservation efforts. The park is like a second home to me."

Sheila took a deep breath. "What about Eric Blackwood? Do you know him well?"

Redfeather's steps faltered slightly, and Sheila noticed a flicker of something—surprise? concern?—cross her face. "Eric? Yes, I know him. We've worked together on several environmental initiatives. Why do you ask?"

"He's become a person of interest in our investigation," Sheila said carefully, watching Redfeather's reaction. "And now he seems to have disappeared."

Redfeather's brow furrowed, creating deep lines of concern on her forehead. "Disappeared? That doesn't sound like Eric at all. He's always been so reliable, so dedicated to his work here at the park. Are you sure?"

Sheila nodded grimly. "I'm afraid so. As of this afternoon, no one's been able to reach him. Given the circumstances, we're naturally concerned."

"The circumstances?" Redfeather echoed. "You mean the missing hiker? Surely you don't think Eric had anything to do with that?"

"At this point, we're not ruling anything out," Sheila replied diplomatically. "What can you tell me about him? What kind of person is he?"

Redfeather was silent for a moment, considering her words. The only sound was the crunch of sand beneath their feet and the distant calls of the other searchers. Finally, she spoke, her voice thoughtful. "Eric is... passionate. Fiercely so, especially when it comes to protecting the dunes. He's been known to clash with park visitors who disregard the rules, but…"

"Has he ever mentioned Amanda Weller to you? Or expressed strong feelings about social media influencers in the park?"

Redfeather shook her head, her braid swinging with the motion. "Not specifically, no. But he has spoken out against what he calls 'irresponsible tourism'—people who come here for the perfect photo op without any regard for the damage they might be doing. It's a sentiment many of us in the conservation community share, to be honest."

Sheila nodded, filing away this information. "And you've never seen him exhibit any violent tendencies? Never heard him threaten anyone?"

Redfeather was silent for several paces. "Eric can be intense, even abrasive at times. Does he go too far? Maybe so. But it's all with the best of intentions. He's dedicated his life to preserving this place, to educating people about its importance."

This wasn't exactly a ringing endorsement of Eric's character. Sheila wanted to ask more, but just then her phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out, noticing Finn's name on the screen. Her heart rate quickened—could he have found something?

"Excuse me," she said to Redfeather. "I need to take this."

Stepping a few paces away, Sheila answered the call. "Finn? What have you got?"

"No sign of Blackwood," Finn said. "I've checked his apartment, his usual haunts, even called some of his known associates. It's like he's vanished into thin air."

Sheila felt her hopes deflate slightly. "Nothing at all?"

"Well, not nothing," Finn continued, his tone shifting. "I did find something interesting. I've been digging into his recent activities, and guess what his last few online purchases were?"

"I'm all ears," Sheila replied.

"Digging equipment."

"Digging equipment?"

"Shovel, pickaxe, prybar. Ordered just a week ago, rush delivery."

Sheila felt a chill that had nothing to do with the desert night. "How did you find this out?"

"Got a warrant for his financial records," Finn explained. "Figured if he was planning to run, there might be a paper trail. Didn't expect to find this, though."

Sheila's mind raced with the implications. The image of Amanda Weller, buried up to her neck in sand, flashed before her eyes.

Could this be the smoking gun they'd been looking for?

"Good work, Finn," she said, her voice tight with suppressed excitement. "I think it's time we got a warrant to search Blackwood's home."

"Think he's hiding out there?"

"If he is, great. If he isn't…" She paused. "Then let's find some hard evidence so we can nail this guy."