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The path down to the valley was steep and full of loose scree that shifted treacherously under their boots. Sheila’s heart pounded as she navigated each step, constantly aware of the sheer drop beside them. The heat seemed to bounce off the rocks surrounding them, creating an oven-like atmosphere that left them both soaked with sweat.
The valley floor was a rough expanse of cracked earth and desert plants struggling for existence in the harsh environment. A gopher snake, one of the few species of snake known to live on Antelope Island, slithered away into the underbrush as they approached, its sandy scales camouflaging perfectly with the dry ground.
Pressing forward, they covered the rest of the distance to the isolated cabin in tense silence. Each step took them deeper into enemy territory, a place where their badges held no sway. Sheila could almost sense Markus' presence, a lurking danger hidden within the shell of the dilapidated building.
As they neared, Finn motioned for Sheila to hang back while he approached. She frowned, bothered by this dismissal. He was more experienced, sure, but considering how much others had been treating her with kid gloves since Natalie’s death, she didn’t like feeling as if she was being forced to take a backseat for her own protection.
Still, she wasn’t about to make a scene about it now.
Frustrated, she watched as Finn peered through the windows, then tried the door. The knob turned.
Slowly, the door creaked open. Finn disappeared inside, vanishing into darkness. Sheila moved forward to follow him inside, but something gave her pause. She had the distinct feeling she was being watched.
She turned slowly, scanning the underbrush. Her heart pounded in her chest. Silence descended over the wilderness like a cloak, the only sound the distant calling of a hawk and the rustle of wind through the scrubby desert plants. She could feel eyes on her, a prickling sensation that raised goosebumps on her skin.
Then she saw it—a wink of light.
The scope of a rifle aimed at her.
CHAPTER SIX
“No sign of Webb,” Finn said as he stepped out of the shack, closing the door behind him. “But he was here recently. Maybe he’s out hunting or—”
“I know where he is,” Sheila said, still staring at the rifle pointed at her. “And more importantly, he knows right where we are.”
Finn followed her gaze, his face tensing as he spotted the glint of metal nestled in the rocks. “Shit,” he muttered.
“No sudden movements,” Sheila said. “If he wanted to kill me, I’d be dead already.” She cleared her throat and raised her voice. “Markus Webb? We’re with the Coldwater County Sheriff’s Department! We just want to talk for a minute!”
There was no response. The rifle stayed where it was, a glint of death aimed at her chest. Sheila could feel sweat trickling down the back of her neck, a testament not only to the merciless heat but also to the high-stakes gamble she found herself in.
"You certain about that?" Finn whispered from the corner of his mouth, inching closer to her. His hand hovered over the revolver at his side.
“Don’t do anything stupid,” Sheila murmured. “He’s gotta be a hundred yards away. You really think you can make that shot on the fly?”
Before Finn could answer, a voice rang out from the rocks. “I ain’t got nothing to talk about!”
"I understand," Sheila called, thinking on her feet. "But we need your help. We’re trying to figure out who murdered Amanda Hayes, and it’s our understanding the two of you were friends.”
There was a long silence. Sheila’s unease deepened as she waited. Was it a mistake telling him they were investigating Amanda’s murder? If Webb had killed her, might he not panic and shoot Sheila now?
With a deliberate effort, she slowed her breathing. She needed to stay composed, to keep her head.
“She was a good woman,” Webb finally said, sounding less belligerent than before. “Didn’t deserve what happened to her.”
Sheila nodded. “We believe that, too,” she said. “And we want to find out who hurt her.”
Another pause, longer this time. Sheila pictured Webb hiding in the rocks, gun trained on her chest, mulling over his predicament.
“This would be a lot easier if we could talk face to face!” Finn shouted.
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” Webb said. “You’re going to take out your weapons and drop them on the ground. Then you're gonna step back and keep your hands where I can see 'em."
Sheila hesitated. Could they really drop their weapons? If they did, would he just shoot them?
She glanced at Finn, who gave a slight shake of his head.
"We have no choice," she whispered.
