CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The predawn darkness cloaked Sage's car, which was parked discreetly down the street from Hawke's house. His eyes, adjusted to the gloom, watched intently as Sheriff Stone's SUV pulled away. The taillights faded into the distance, leaving the street in silence once more.
Sage's fingers drummed softly on the steering wheel, a steady rhythm matching his heartbeat. He waited, patient as the desert itself. Minutes ticked by, and finally, the lights in Hawke's house winked out.
A smile played at the corners of Sage's mouth. Hawke and his roommate had likely retreated to their beds, drained from their earlier confrontation with the police.
The sky was beginning to lighten, the stars fading as a pale blue crept across the horizon. Sage knew his window of opportunity was narrow. He opened the car door, stepping out into the cool morning air. His boots made no sound on the pavement as he surveyed the quiet street.
Houses were just beginning to stir. A woman in a bathrobe shuffled to her mailbox, yawning widely. An elderly man walked a small, yappy dog, the animal's nails clicking on the sidewalk. Sage stood motionless, blending into the shadows, waiting for the moment to act.
When he was sure nobody was looking in his direction, he moved to the trunk of his car. The lid opened silently, well-oiled hinges doing their job. Inside, partially wrapped in an old blanket, lay a shovel. Sage's hand closed around the familiar wooden handle, lifting it carefully. In the growing light, he could just make out a dark stain on the blade—dried blood, a memento of his sacred work.
The weight of the shovel in his hands filled Sage with a sense of purpose. This was his calling, his duty to the ancient spirits of the dunes. And now, it was time to ensure that duty remained undetected.
Sage made his way to Hawke's backyard, keeping to the shadows. He had just reached the fence when the back door opened. Sage froze, pressing himself against the wooden slats.
Mick stepped out, a cigarette already between his lips. The flame of his lighter briefly illuminated his face. He took a long drag, exhaling a plume of smoke into the morning air.
"You gonna whine about it all morning, or what?" Mick called softly toward the house.
A moment later, Hawke appeared, his hair disheveled, his movements agitated. "I just can't believe this," he muttered, pacing on the small patio. "Why would they suspect me?"
Mick shrugged, taking another drag. "Maybe they're just covering all their bases. You said yourself, your alibi is solid. So what's there to worry about?"
"Yeah, but..." Hawke ran a hand through his hair. "What if they start looking deeper? What if they find out about..."
"They won't," Mick interrupted firmly. "We were careful. There's no connection."
Sage listened intently, amused. He knew very well what they were hiding, and he suspected the police would soon know as well. But just in case the police were too obtuse, he'd bury a little present for them.
Something to nudge them in the right direction.
Mick finished his cigarette and crushed it under his heel. "Come on, man. Let's get some sleep. I've got a shift this afternoon."
Hawke nodded reluctantly and followed Mick back inside. The door closed with a soft click, leaving the backyard in silence once more.
Sage waited a few moments, ensuring the coast was clear, before moving from his hiding spot. He scanned the yard, searching for the perfect place. There—behind the shed, partially obscured by an overgrown bush.
The earth here was soft, yielding easily to the blade. Sage dug quickly but carefully, creating a hole just deep enough to conceal the shovel. As he worked, he whispered a quiet prayer to the spirits of the dunes, asking for their continued protection.
With the shovel safely buried, Sage smoothed the dirt back into place. He didn't scatter any dried leaves over the spot, however. A casual observer might not realize the area had been disturbed at all. A trained observer such as Sheriff Stone, however…
As Sage made his way back to his car, the first rays of sunlight were beginning to peek over the horizon. A new day was dawning, full of possibilities. He slipped behind the wheel and started the engine, which purred softly.
Sage pulled away from the curb, just another early morning commuter to any watching eyes. But inside, he felt the thrill of his secret. The police were sniffing around Hawke, and soon they would find a piece of very incriminating evidence. If Hawke wasn't already at the top of their list of suspects, he'd shoot there the moment they discovered that shovel.
Leaving Sage free to do his sacred work in peace.
One body at a time.