Silent Neighbor (Sheila Stone #9)

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

The first rays of sunlight crept over the horizon, painting the sky in hues of pink and gold as Sheila and Finn arrived at the base of the cliff. A cool breeze whispered through the sparse vegetation, carrying with it the earthy scent of dust and sage.

Sheila stepped out of the car and took a deep breath, steeling herself for what she was about to see. Her eyes traced the contours of the cliff, following the jagged lines upward until they settled on a sight that made her heart sink.

There, suspended against the unforgiving rock, was Ellen Reeves. Like Jake and Brad before her, Ellen's body hung limply, a macabre marionette dangling from expertly tied ropes.

Sheila felt a wave of nausea wash over her. She quickly averted her gaze, focusing instead on the ground at her feet. The small stones and tufts of dried grass suddenly seemed incredibly interesting as she fought to regain her composure.

"You okay?" Finn's voice was soft, concern evident in his tone.

Sheila nodded, not trusting herself to speak just yet. She took another deep breath, filling her lungs with the crisp morning air. The familiar scent of the desert grounded her, helping to push back the tide of emotions threatening to overwhelm her.

As she collected herself, Sheila became aware of approaching footsteps. She looked up to see a woman striding toward them, her ranger uniform crisp and her expression grave.

"Deputies," the woman called out as she drew near. "I'm Ranger Natalie Gomez. I'm the one who found the body."

Sheila straightened, slipping into her professional demeanor like a familiar jacket. "Deputy Sheila Stone," she said, extending her hand. "This is my partner, Deputy Finn Mercer. Can you walk us through what happened?"

Ranger Gomez nodded, her ponytail bobbing with the movement. "I was doing my regular morning patrol of the area," she began, gesturing toward a well-worn path that wound its way along the base of the cliff. "As I rounded that bend over there, I spotted something unusual on the cliff face."

She pointed upward, and Sheila forced herself to look at Ellen's body once more. The sight was no less disturbing the second time.

"At first, I thought it might be some climber's gear left behind," Gomez continued. "But as I got closer, I realized..." She trailed off, swallowing hard. "Well, you can see for yourself."

Sheila nodded, her mind already racing with the implications. "Have you closed off the area?" she asked.

"Yes, ma'am," Gomez replied. "We've set up roadblocks at all access points. No one's getting in or out without us knowing about it."

"Good," Sheila said, though she couldn't shake the feeling that it was too little, too late. The killer had proven to be meticulous and swift in their previous attacks. There was no reason to think this time would be any different.

As Finn engaged Gomez in further questions about the discovery and subsequent actions taken, Sheila found her attention wandering. Her eyes roamed over the scene, taking in every detail: the weathered rock face, the sparse vegetation clinging stubbornly to life in the harsh environment, the way the morning light played across the landscape, creating a constantly shifting tapestry of light and shadow.

Almost unconsciously, Sheila began to walk, her feet carrying her in a slow circuit around the base of the cliff. She studied the ground intently, searching for any sign of disturbance. A footprint, a scuff mark, anything that might give them a clue about the killer's movements.

The ground was mostly hard-packed dirt, with patches of loose gravel here and there. It would be difficult for anyone to move through the area without leaving some trace, Sheila thought. Unless they were incredibly careful.

Or incredibly lucky.

As she completed her circuit, something caught Sheila's eye. She stopped, crouching down to get a better look. There, in a patch of softer soil, were three distinct impressions. They formed a triangle, each point about a foot apart from the others.

Sheila's brow furrowed as she studied the marks. They were too uniform, too precisely spaced to be natural. And they were fresh—the edges were still sharp, undisturbed.

"A tripod," Sheila murmured to herself, the realization hitting her like a physical blow. She straightened up, her eyes scanning the area with renewed intensity. "Finn!" she called.

Finn jogged over, Gomez close behind. "What is it?" he asked, his eyes following Sheila's gaze to the ground.

"Look at these marks," Sheila said, pointing to the impressions. "They're from a tripod. Someone set up a camera here."

Gomez leaned in for a closer look, her expression thoughtful. "We didn't find any camera equipment when we secured the scene," she said.

Sheila nodded, unsurprised. "Finn, what about Brad Blackwell's watch? The one his father asked about. Was it found on the body?"

Finn pulled out his phone, his fingers flying over the screen as he checked his notes. After a moment, he looked up, shaking his head. "No, there was no watch recovered from Brad's body."

Sheila felt a chill run down her spine. "And Jake Pearson's phone was never found," she said, more to herself than to the others. "In each case, something was taken from the victim."

"Trophies," Finn said, his voice grim. "The killer's collecting trophies."

Sheila turned to Gomez, her voice urgent. "We need to check if anyone was seen carrying a tripod in the area recently. Can you put out a call to your people?"

Gomez nodded, already reaching for her radio. "All units, this is Ranger Gomez. We need to know if anyone has seen an individual carrying a tripod in or around the Razorback Ridge area within the last twenty-four hours. Please respond."

As they waited for a response, Sheila found herself pacing, her eyes continually drawn back to the tripod marks in the dirt. Had the killer set up a tripod to document their attack? Or had it been the victim's?

The radio crackled to life, startling Sheila from her thoughts. "Gomez, this is Ranger Johnson. I saw someone with a tripod early this morning, around five am. They were on a bike, heading away from Razorback Ridge on the main access road."

Sheila's heart leapt. This could be the break they needed. "Ask for a description," she urged Gomez.

Gomez relayed the question, and they waited with bated breath for the response. When it came, Sheila couldn't help but feel a stab of disappointment.

"I'm sorry," Johnson said, his voice crackling over the radio. "The rider was wearing a full-face helmet and moving fast. All I can say for sure is that they were of average height and build, wearing dark clothing. The bike was a mountain bike, dark color. The tripod was strapped to the back."

Sheila sighed, running a hand through her hair in frustration. It wasn't much to go on, but it was more than they'd had before. "Thank you, Ranger Johnson," she said, nodding to Gomez to relay the message.

As Gomez signed off, Sheila turned to Finn. "We need to get a team out here to do a thorough sweep of the area," she said. "Every inch of this place needs to be gone over with a fine-tooth comb. And we need to check every camera in the vicinity—traffic cams, security cameras, anything that might have caught our cyclist."

Finn nodded, already pulling out his phone to make the necessary calls. As he stepped away to coordinate the search, Sheila found her gaze drawn once more to Ellen's body, still suspended high above them on the cliff face.

The sun had fully risen now, bathing the scene in harsh, unforgiving light. Sheila could see details that had been mercifully obscured in the pre-dawn gloom—the unnatural angle of Ellen's limbs, the dark stains on the rock where blood had seeped into the porous stone.

A lump formed in Sheila's throat as she thought about Ellen's final moments. Had she known what was coming? Had she fought back? Or had death come so swiftly that she'd had no time to be afraid?

Sheila shook her head, pushing the morbid thoughts aside. She couldn't afford to get lost in speculation and emotion. Not now, when they finally had a tangible lead to follow.

She turned back to Gomez, who was watching her with a mixture of concern and curiosity. "Ranger, I need you to coordinate with your team to set up a perimeter around this entire area," Sheila said. "No one comes in or out without being thoroughly checked and logged. And I want every inch of this place photographed and documented before we even think about moving the body."

Gomez nodded, her expression grave. "Understood, Deputy. We'll get right on it."

"It's also high time we shut the park down," Sheila added. "We need to keep the community safe."

Gomez took a hesitant breath. "I'm not sure that's gonna work."

"Why not?"

"Remember the wildfires last year? The ones that nearly reached the park's borders?"

Sheila nodded, not sure where he was going with this. "Of course, but what does that have to do with this?"

"The park is a designated emergency evacuation zone for the entire county," Gomez said. "After those fires, the state mandated that it must remain accessible at all times."

Sheila's heart sank. Hearing it said aloud, she suddenly remembered this was in fact correct.

"The surrounding towns don't have the infrastructure to house everyone if another natural disaster hits," Gomez continued, as if trying to convince her. "This park is the only place within a hundred miles that can accommodate that many people on short notice. Closing it would violate state safety regulations and leave thousands vulnerable in case of an emergency."

"I understand," Sheila said, disappointed. "Thank you, Ranger Gomez."

As Gomez moved away to begin organizing her team, Finn rejoined Sheila. "Search team's on their way," he said. "And I've put out an APB on our mystery cyclist. It's not much to go on, but maybe we'll get lucky."

Sheila nodded, her eyes fixed on the cliff face. "We need more than luck, Finn," she said softly. "We need a break. Something, anything that will help us get ahead of this bastard before they strike again."

Finn placed a hand on her shoulder. "They'll mess up, believe me. It's just a matter of time."

"Maybe so," she murmured. "The question is, how many more will die before they do?"