Silent Neighbor (Sheila Stone #9)

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

Sheila's muscles screamed in protest as she continued her grueling ascent up the cliff face. Every movement was a battle against gravity and exhaustion. Her hands, raw and bleeding from the rough stone, trembled with each new handhold. Sweat stung her eyes and plastered her clothes to her body, but she couldn't spare a moment to wipe it away.

The wind whipped around her, threatening to tear her from her precarious position. Sheila gritted her teeth, forcing herself to focus solely on the next move, the next grip. She couldn't afford to think about the dizzying height or the consequences of a single misstep.

"Keep... going," she gasped to herself, her breath coming in ragged pants. "Almost... there."

As she neared the top, the handholds became scarcer, the rock face smoother and more treacherous. Sheila's arms quivered with fatigue, her legs threatening to give out.

But the thought of Jessica, alone with a killer, spurred her on.

With a final, herculean effort, Sheila hauled herself over the edge of the cliff. She collapsed onto solid ground, her chest heaving as she gulped in air. For a moment she lay there, her body a mass of aching muscles and stinging scrapes.

But there was no time to rest. Jessica needed her.

Forcing herself to her feet, Sheila scanned her surroundings. Not far away, she spotted the dark mouth of a cave. That had to be where the killer took Jessica.

Sheila set off toward the cave entrance at an awkward jog. Her legs protested each step, but she pushed through the pain. As she approached the yawning darkness, Sheila drew both her gun and her flashlight, steeling herself for what lay ahead.

"Hold on, Jessica," she whispered. "I'm coming."

Sheila hurried through the cave, her flashlight beam cutting through the darkness. The air was cool and damp, carrying the musty scent of earth and stone. Water dripped somewhere in the distance, creating an eerie rhythm that seemed to match her pounding heart.

She hoped she was on the right trail, following Jessica and her captor, but the twisting passages of the cave made it impossible to be certain. The beam of her flashlight revealed formations of stalactites and stalagmites, creating shadowy figures that seemed to watch her progress.

Suddenly, Sheila found herself at a fork in the cave. Two dark tunnels stretched before her, each equally foreboding. She paused, her flashlight darting between the two options as she tried to decide which way to go.

Just as the weight of indecision began to settle on her shoulders, a shout echoed through the cave. It was faint, but unmistakable, and it seemed to be coming from the tunnel on her right.

Without hesitation, Sheila broke into a jog again, her footsteps echoing off the stone walls. As she ran, the tunnel began to lighten. Ahead, she could see daylight filtering in. With a final burst of speed, Sheila emerged from the cave onto a narrow ledge.

The sudden brightness momentarily blinded her, but as her eyes adjusted, she took in the scene before her. Jessica and a tall, muscular man with dark hair stood a short distance away, perilously close to the edge of the cliff. A rope bound Jessica's hands together, its other end tied to several pitons secured to the rock face. Between these two ends, several coils of slack rope lay on the ground.

But what made Sheila's heart skip a beat was the gun in Jessica's hands, pointed squarely at the man.

Sheila drew her own weapon, approaching the pair cautiously. "Jessica," she called out. "It's over. I'll take it from here."

Jessica's head snapped toward Sheila, her eyes wild with a mixture of fear and rage. Tears streaked her dust-covered face, and her hands trembled as they gripped the gun.

"He has to pay," Jessica cried, her voice raw with emotion. "For Jake, for Brad, for Ellen. Prison isn't good enough. He deserves to die!"

Sheila took another step closer, her own gun trained on the man but her attention focused on Jessica. "I understand you're angry," she said softly. "What he did was terrible. But killing him isn't justice, Jessica. It won't take away the pain."

"I don't care!" Jessica shouted, her finger tightening on the trigger. "He took everything from me. My friends, my sense of safety. I have to do this. I have to end it."

She could see the pain etched on Jessica's face, the weight of loss and trauma threatening to push her over the edge. But this wasn't the way.

"Think about what you're doing," Sheila urged. "Your friends wouldn't want this. They wouldn't want you to throw your life away for revenge."

Jessica's resolve seemed to waver for a moment, her gun hand dropping slightly. But then her eyes hardened again. "You don't know what they would want," she said. "They're dead because of him."

Sheila took another cautious step forward. She was close enough now to see the man's face, his expression a mixture of fear and defiance. He remained silent, perhaps realizing that any word from him might push Jessica to pull the trigger.

"Jessica, listen to me," Sheila said, her voice low and intense. "I know what it's like to lose someone. To feel that anger, that need for revenge. But I promise you, this isn't the answer. If you do this, you'll be haunted by it for the rest of your life."

Jessica's hands were shaking visibly now, tears flowing freely down her cheeks. "But he deserves it," she whispered, her voice breaking. "He deserves to suffer like they did."

Sheila nodded, acknowledging Jessica's pain. "You're right, he does deserve to suffer. And he will. In prison for the rest of his life. But if you kill him now, you're giving him an easy way out. And you'll be the one who suffers."

For a long moment, the ledge was silent save for the whistle of the wind and Jessica's ragged breathing. Sheila held her breath, acutely aware that the slightest wrong move could end in tragedy.

Sheila caught movement in the corner of her eye—a figure approaching up a long slope. Finn. He'd made it. Relief washed over her, but she kept her focus on Jessica, whose finger still hovered dangerously close to the trigger.

Finally, Jessica spoke. "I don't know if I can let him live. After everything he's done..."

"You can," Sheila said gently. "You're stronger than he is. You're better than he is. Don't let him turn you into a killer, too."

Jessica's eyes met Sheila's, searching for something—reassurance, understanding, strength. The air was thick with tension, the only sound the whisper of the wind and Jessica's ragged breathing.

For a heartbeat, it seemed like Jessica was about to relent, her grip on the gun loosening ever so slightly. But in that split second of hesitation, everything changed.

The man, who had been silent and seemingly defeated, suddenly exploded into action. With a swift, violent motion, he knocked the gun from Jessica's hand. The weapon skittered across the rocky ground, coming to rest perilously close to the cliff's edge.

Before Sheila could react, he grabbed Jessica, wrapping one muscular arm around her neck in a tight chokehold. His other hand produced a glinting knife, pressing it against Jessica's throat.

"Nobody moves!" he shouted, his voice ragged and desperate. Spittle flew from his mouth, his eyes wild with a cornered animal's ferocity. "I'll kill her! I swear I'll do it!"

Sheila's heart hammered in her chest as she aimed her weapon at the man, but Jessica's body shielded him. "Let her go," Sheila said, fighting to keep her voice calm. "It's over. You have nowhere to go."

The man's eyes darted frantically between Sheila and the approaching Finn, like a trapped rat seeking escape. "It's not over," he said, tightening his grip on Jessica. A thin line of blood appeared where the knife bit into her skin. "Not until I say it is."

"Drop your weapon and release the hostage!" Finn called out as he got closer, his voice carrying on the wind.

But the man was beyond reason, consumed by desperation and rage. He began to back up, dragging Jessica with him, inching closer to the precipice. Loose pebbles skittered over the edge, a chilling reminder of the fatal drop just inches away. "Stay back!" he yelled, his voice cracking. "Or we both go over!"

Sheila's took a cautious step forward, her hands raised placatingly. "Think about what you're doing," she said. "This isn't going to end well for you."

The man laughed, a harsh, bitter sound that echoed off the cliff face. "End well? It was never going to end well. But at least I can take one more with me. One more lesson for those who disrespect the mountain."

He was at the very edge now, his heels hanging over empty space. The vast expanse of the Utah wilderness stretched out behind him, beautiful and indifferent to the drama unfolding on the clifftop. Jessica's eyes were wide with terror, her bound hands clawing desperately at the arm around her neck.

"No!" Sheila shouted, realizing with horror what was about to happen.

Time seemed to slow down, each second stretching into an eternity. The man leaned back, a grim smile twisting his features as he prepared to take his final step.

In that moment, Sheila's eyes fell on the rope attached to Jessica's bound hands, the other end of which was still secured to the pitons in the rock. There was enough slack that if Jessica fell, the rope wouldn't pull taut until Jessica had fallen a significant distance—long enough, perhaps, to hit a ledge.

And maybe that's what the killer was counting on. He'd been planning to kill Jessica and dangle her from the cliff, as he had with the other victims, but now there was no possibility of doing so. Instead, he would take Jessica over the edge with him, which would presumably end both their lives.

But if Jessica could get hold of the extra slack and arrest her own fall…

Sheila stooped, picking up the rope. On instinct she whipped it upward, sending a wave of rope toward Jessica. Jessica's hands closed over it just as she went over the edge of the cliff.

Sheila scrambled to the edge, her heart in her throat as she peered over. The drop was dizzying, the ground impossibly far below. Where was Jessica?

Then relief flooded through her as she saw Jessica dangling about ten feet down, clinging to the rope with her bound hands. Fifty or so feet down, Sheila could just make out the man's broken form on a shelf of rock.

So that's how he had intended for Jessica to die, too.

"Hold on, Jessica!" Sheila called down, willing strength into the young woman's grip. "We're going to pull you up!"

Finn was at her side in an instant, his strong hands joining hers on the rope. Together, they began to haul Jessica up, the rough fibers burning their palms as they pulled. Every inch was a battle against gravity and exhaustion.

"That's it," Sheila said, her voice strained with effort. She could see Jessica's fingers appear over the edge, scrabbling for purchase on the unforgiving rock. "You're almost there. Just a little more."

With a final Herculean heave, they pulled Jessica over the edge. She collapsed onto solid ground, gasping and shaking, her body wracked with sobs of relief and residual terror. Sheila immediately knelt beside her, checking for injuries while Finn peered over the cliff.

"You're safe now," Sheila said softly, gently untying Jessica's raw, bleeding wrists. "It's over. You're going to be okay."

As Finn radioed for backup and medical assistance, his voice a steady counterpoint to the wind's mournful keening, Sheila stayed with Jessica, offering what comfort she could. The sun was setting over the cliffs, painting the sky in brilliant shades of orange and pink, a stark contrast to the darkness they had just faced.

It was beautiful, Sheila thought, but she knew it would be a long time before any of them could look at these mountains without remembering the horrors they had witnessed here. The wilderness, in all its majesty and danger, would forever be changed in their eyes.