Silent Smile (Sheila Stone #10)

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

Sheila stood in the narrow observation corridor of the Coldwater County Sheriff's Department, her eyes moving between the two interrogation rooms. On her left, Mick O'Donnell sat hunched over a metal table, his fingers drumming an erratic rhythm on the scratched surface. On her right, Jason Hawke leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, an air of forced nonchalance about him.

The time had come to unravel their conflicting stories. Jason had already pointed the finger at Mick, claiming his roommate was behind the murders. But something about his story didn't sit right with Sheila. Too many convenient explanations, too many gaps in the timeline.

"How do you want to play this?" Finn asked, coming up beside her. His voice was low, tired. They'd been up for over thirty hours straight, running on coffee and adrenaline.

"Let's press Hawke on the details," she said. "His story about Mick being the killer sounds good on the surface, but the timing doesn't add up. I want to see how he handles being challenged on the specifics."

Finn nodded, his face a mask of professional focus. But Sheila didn't miss the slight hesitation, the unspoken question in his eyes. She sensed he wanted to do things differently but was biting his tongue.

"Something on your mind?" she asked.

"Nothing worth getting into right now," he said.

Taking a deep breath, pushing her personal feelings aside, Sheila entered Hawke's room. The door closed behind her with a soft click, sealing them in the sterile, windowless space. Hawke's eyes followed her as she took a seat across from him, his expression carefully neutral.

"Mr. Hawke," Sheila began, "let's talk about these specific claims you've made about Mick. You said he pushed to expand your plant operation after you were fired. Tell me exactly how that happened."

Hawke shrugged, the movement too casual to be genuine. "I already told you everything."

"No, you've given us broad accusations without details," Sheila said, leaning forward. "If Mick was really running things, you must have seen evidence. Bank transactions, meetings with buyers, something concrete."

A flicker of uncertainty crossed Hawke's face. "It wasn't like that. Mick kept the business side separate. Said it was safer that way."

"Safer for whom?" Sheila pressed. "For him, or for you? Because right now it looks awfully convenient that you can accuse him of being the mastermind without providing any proof."

Hawke's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "Look, I get why you're skeptical. But think about it—if I was really behind everything, why wouldn't I have run at the first sign of you people? Why stick around to face the music?"

"Maybe because running would make you look guilty," Sheila countered.

Hawke grunted and said nothing.

"Let's talk about the night Amanda Weller died," Sheila said. "You claimed you were at the Rusty Nail until closing, but the bartender says you left around 11 PM. That's a significant gap in your timeline, Jason."

"I told you, I went to Dave's place after."

"Yes, your conveniently drunk friend who can't confirm exactly when you arrived." Sheila opened the file in front of her. "And you've already admitted that your alibi for the second murder was a lie—that you and Mick weren't actually together watching pay-per-view that night."

Hawke's confident facade cracked slightly. "But that means Mick was lying, too. Don't you get it? I made that up because I was scared, didn't want to admit I'd been alone. But I didn't have anything to hide. Mick, though…"

"He really does make a convenient scapegoat, doesn't he?"

"It's not like that," Hawke protested, running a hand through his hair. "Look, I know how this seems. But Mick... he's changed lately. Ever since we lost our jobs at the park, he's been obsessed with the dunes, talking about 'protecting them at any cost.' I should have seen the signs."

"Yet you continued working with him, harvesting protected plants," Sheila pointed out. "If you were so concerned about his behavior, why maintain the partnership?"

"Fear," Hawke said quietly. "You don't know what he's capable of when he's angry."

"And what exactly is he capable of?"

"Anything. Absolutely anything."

They both sat in silence for several moments. Then, sensing she'd learned all Hawke would tell her for now, Sheila gathered her files and rose. "Sit tight, Mr. Hawke. We're not done here."

Back in the observation corridor, she found Finn watching Mick through the one-way glass. "Your turn," she said. "Let's see how he explains these inconsistencies in their timelines."

Finn's shoulders relaxed slightly, and Sheila realized how much she'd missed seeing him confident, in his element. She'd fallen for him partly because of his quiet competence, the way he could read a suspect's body language or spot a hidden clue.

When had she started doubting those very qualities? Her need for control was pushing away the very man who'd stood beside her through her pursuit of Eddie Mills and all the other ups and downs of her mother's murder case, through Star's custody battle, through every challenge of the past three years. The man whose touch still made her heart race, even if she'd been holding him at arm's length lately.

He noticed her watching him and raised an eyebrow. "Something on your mind?"

She shook her head and cleared her throat. "Just spacing out. You'd better get in there."

Finn watched her curiously for a few more seconds, then nodded and headed into Mick's room. Sheila turned her attention to the nervous man, fidgeting in his chair. Through the speakers, she could hear Finn's voice, calm and steady.

"Mr. O'Donnell," Finn began, "let's talk about these protected plants you and Jason were selling. The ones we found hidden in his closet—was that your entire inventory?"

Mick's eyes darted around the room, never settling on one spot for long. "Most of it. Look, I know Jason's trying to pin everything on me, but that operation was his idea from the start. He was the one who knew which species were valuable."

"Then explain something to me," Finn said, laying out photos of the terrariums they'd found. "These setups are pretty sophisticated. Special grow lights, humidity controls. That's not amateur work. Where'd you learn to do all this?"

Mick shifted in his chair. "I took some botany classes in college. Never finished my degree, but I learned enough. Jason knew what to collect, I knew how to keep them alive."

"And the buyers?" Finn pressed. "Who handled that side of things?"

"We both did. Jason's lying if he says otherwise. He dealt with the local collectors, I handled the online sales." Mick leaned forward. "But that's got nothing to do with these murders. I wouldn't kill someone over plants."

"Yet you were out in the dunes both nights of the murders," Finn said. "Convenient timing for someone who claims to be innocent."

"I told you—I was scouting new locations. The park closure was coming, we needed to harvest what we could before—" Mick stopped abruptly, realizing what he'd revealed.

"Before what?" Finn asked. "Before you lost access? Or before someone started asking questions about two dead bodies in your hunting grounds?"

Mick's face drained of color. "I want a lawyer."

As Finn continued to observe Mick's reactions, Sheila's mind wandered. The shovel was still their strongest link to the murders, but neither Mick nor Jason could prove they hadn't buried it. The symbol found on the victims remained a mystery, its significance unclear. And the timing of the murders still didn't quite add up with what they knew about either suspect's movements.

Finn wrapped up the interrogation and joined Sheila in the hallway.

"Well, what do you think?" he asked.

"Did you catch what Mick let slip?" Sheila asked. "He knew about the park closure before we announced it. The only way he could have known that was if he had inside information—or if he knew we'd have to close the park after the murders."

"Or if someone told him," Finn said. "We should check which park employees he's still in contact with. And that botany background he mentioned—that's new information. Worth looking into."

Sheila sighed, her mind racing through their options. "For now, we dig deeper. We need to verify every aspect of their stories, no matter how small. Check and double-check their alibis, even if they seem impossible to confirm. Go back through every piece of evidence we've collected, see if we've missed anything."

Finn nodded, a determined look in his eyes despite his obvious fatigue. "What about the plant selling operation? Should we bring in the DEA?"

Sheila considered this for a moment. "Not yet. Let's keep that as leverage for now. If one of them is our killer, the threat of additional federal charges might be what we need to break them."

"And if neither of them is the killer?" Finn asked quietly.

The question hung in the air between them, giving voice to the doubt that had been nagging at Sheila. What if they were on the wrong track entirely? What if the real killer was still out there, watching and waiting?

She straightened up, squaring her shoulders. "Then we keep looking. We follow every lead, chase down every possibility until we find the truth. These victims deserve justice, Finn. And we're going to get it for them, no matter what it takes."

As they hurried down the hallway, however, Mick's words echoed in Sheila's head: You really think I'd be stupid enough to hide that shovel in my own backyard?