Silent Neighbor (Sheila Stone #9)

CHAPTER THREE

Sheila Stone stood between two red-faced ranchers, their heated voices echoing across the dusty ranch yard. She resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose in frustration as she listened to the two men rehash their argument for what felt like the hundredth time.

"That fence line's been there for sixty years, Joel!" Bob Johnson shouted, his weathered face creased with anger. "You can't just up and move it because you feel like it!"

Joel Martinez, equally irate, jabbed a finger at his neighbor. "I ain't moving nothing, Bob! I'm putting it back where it should be. Your daddy moved it twenty feet onto my land back in '85, and I've got the surveys to prove it!"

Sheila held up her hands, trying to calm the situation. "Gentlemen, please. Let's take a step back and—"

But the ranchers weren't listening. They continued to shout over each other, each adamant that they were in the right. Sheila sighed inwardly. She'd been here for over an hour, and they seemed no closer to a resolution than when she'd arrived.

As she watched the two men argue, she tried to think of a solution. The dispute was simple enough on the surface—a disagreement over the placement of a fence line between their properties. But like most things in Coldwater, it was tangled up in decades of history and family pride.

Suddenly, an idea struck her. "Alright, that's enough!" Her voice cut through the argument, startling both men into silence. "I have a proposal for you both, and I want you to hear me out before you say anything."

The ranchers exchanged a glance, then nodded grudgingly.

"Here's what we're going to do," Sheila continued. "We'll bring in an independent surveyor—someone from outside Coldwater, with no ties to either of your families. They'll determine the correct boundary line based on the original property deeds and current law."

Bob opened his mouth to protest, but Sheila held up a hand, silencing him. "I'm not finished. Once we have that official survey, we'll compare it to where the fence is now. If it turns out the fence is on Joel's land, Bob will pay to have it moved to the correct spot. If it's where it should be, or on Bob's land, Joel will cover the cost of the survey. Does that sound fair to both of you?"

The two ranchers were quiet for a moment, considering her words. Sheila held her breath, hoping she'd found a compromise they could both live with.

Finally, Joel nodded slowly. "I reckon that's fair. I know that survey's gonna show I'm right, so I've got no problem agreeing to that."

Bob scowled but eventually gave a curt nod. "Fine. But I want it in writing that we'll both abide by whatever that surveyor says."

"Of course," Sheila said, relief washing over her. "I'll draw up the agreement right now, and you can both sign it."

As she turned to retrieve the paperwork from her cruiser, Sheila noticed a cloud of dust on the horizon. A vehicle was approaching fast down the dirt road leading to the ranch, the windshield glinting in the late morning sunlight. As it got closer, she recognized it as another police cruiser.

The car pulled up next to hers, and Finn Mercer stepped out. Sheila felt her heart skip a beat at the sight of him, just as it had been doing since they'd started dating. Finn was tall and lean, with sandy hair and hazel eyes that crinkled at the corners when he smiled. He moved with the easy confidence of a man comfortable in his own skin, a trait Sheila had always admired.

As Finn walked toward her, Sheila was struck again by how surreal it felt to be in a relationship with him. They'd been partners and friends for months now, but in the weeks since they'd admitted their feelings for each other, everything had changed. It was like a dream come true.

One that sometimes felt too good to be real.

"Deputy Mercer," Sheila said, aware of the ranchers' curious gazes. "What brings you out here?"

Finn grinned, seeing through her formal tone. "Just thought I'd check in, see how things were going." He nodded to the ranchers. "Gentlemen."

As Sheila retrieved the paperwork and had Bob and Joel sign it, Finn leaned against her cruiser, waiting patiently. Once the ranchers had driven off, each to their own property, he turned to her with a raised eyebrow.

"So, how'd the town meeting go yesterday? Sorry, I couldn't be there."

Sheila shrugged, closing her car door. "It went fine. Nothing I hadn't really thought of before."

Finn studied her for a moment, his expression softening. "You're still second-guessing yourself about applying for the sheriff position, aren't you?"

Sheila sighed, leaning back against the car next to him. "Am I that transparent?"

"Only to me," Finn said with a gentle smile.

Sheila grunted. "Well, I think you'll be happy to know I filled out the application this morning."

Finn's face lit up. "Sheila, that's great! I'm so proud of you." He pulled her into a quick hug.

As they broke apart, Sheila cleared her throat. "Hold your horses there. I haven't made a decision yet—I'm still keeping my options open. They might not take me, and even if they do… well, I guess I'll cross that bridge when I get there."

Finn nodded, growing serious. "It's your choice, of course. Just know that I'm confident you can do it."

"I appreciate that." She cleared her throat, slipping back into work mode. "So, what's on the agenda today?"

Finn ticked off items on his fingers. "We've got to follow up on that string of mailbox vandalisms on Hyatt Street, check in with Mrs. Hernandez about the townhouse fire, and stop by the high school. Principal Watkins called about some graffiti in the boys' locker room."

Sheila considered for a moment. "Let's start with the school. If we catch the kids responsible quickly, it might discourage any copycats."

"Sounds good to me," Finn agreed. "I'll follow you back to town."

Just as they were about to get in their respective vehicles, the radio in Sheila's cruiser crackled to life. "Dispatch to all units. We have a 10-54 in the Valley of the Gods. Any available units please respond."

Sheila and Finn exchanged a grim look. A 10-54 meant a possible dead body.

"Well," Finn said, his earlier lightheartedness gone, "looks like our plans have changed."

Sheila nodded, already moving to respond to the call. "The Valley of the Gods," she murmured. "What the hell happened out there?"

***

The Valley of the Gods lives up to its name, Sheila thought as she and Finn picked their way across the rugged terrain. Massive sandstone buttes and towering rock formations stretched as far as the eye could see, their red-orange hues vibrant under the late morning sun. It was a place of stark beauty, but today, that beauty was marred by the grim reality of their purpose here.

They approached a group of people gathered near the base of one of the larger buttes. Sheila had been expecting to find a body on the ground, the victim of a climbing accident or a fall. What she saw instead made her stop in her tracks.

"Oh, my God," she breathed.

About fifty feet up the sheer rock face, a body hung suspended by climbing ropes. It swayed slightly in the breeze, a macabre marionette against the impassive stone backdrop.

"What the hell?" Finn muttered beside her, equally shocked.

As they neared the group, a tall, lean man with neatly combed black hair streaked with silver turned to greet them. Dr. Jin Zihao, the county coroner, looked as impeccable as always in his crisp white shirt and dark slacks, seemingly unaffected by the harsh desert environment.

"Deputies," he said, his voice carrying a hint of his Chinese heritage. "I'm glad you're here. We have quite the unusual situation on our hands."

Sheila nodded, her eyes still drawn to the suspended body. "I can see that, Dr. Zihao. What can you tell us?"

The coroner's sharp, intelligent eyes studied her for a moment before he spoke. "The victim is male, late twenties to early thirties. Preliminary cause of death appears to be consistent with a fall from a significant height. Multiple fractures, internal injuries."

"So how'd he get up there?" Finn asked.

Dr. Zihao's lips thinned. "Someone must have pulled him up."

Sheila frowned, trying to make sense of it. "After he died, you mean?"

"Precisely," Dr. Zihao said. "Someone went to a great deal of trouble to place the victim in this position postmortem. The rope work is quite elaborate, clearly done by someone with climbing experience."

Sheila exchanged a troubled look with Finn. "But why?" she asked, more to herself than anyone else. "Why go to all that effort? Why not just leave the body where it fell?"

Finn shook his head, his expression grim. "Maybe they wanted it to be found. Hanging a body like this, it's almost like... like they're putting on a show."

A chill ran down Sheila's spine at Finn's words. He was right—this felt performative, deliberately shocking. But to what end?

"Do we have an ID on the victim?" she asked, turning back to Dr. Zihao.

The coroner shook his head. "Not yet. There was no identification on the body. We'll need to run fingerprints and check dental records."

Sheila nodded, her mind already racing with the implications of this bizarre crime scene. "Alright. Let's get a team up there to bring the body down. We need to process the scene thoroughly, both up on the cliff face and down here on the ground. And we need to canvass the area. In a place this remote, someone might have seen something without realizing its significance."

As the team sprang into action around them, Sheila pulled Finn aside. "What are you thinking?" she asked quietly.

Finn ran a hand through his hair, a gesture she knew meant he was troubled. "I'm thinking that whoever did this wanted to send a message. The question is, what's the message? And who is the message intended for?"