Page 23 of Silent Past

Sheila felt the familiar burn of anger in her chest—the same feeling she'd had when her mother's case was dismissed. The system protecting itself, closing ranks.

"No," she said quietly.

Walsh's eyebrows rose. "Excuse me?"

"I said no." Sheila straightened to her full height. "You want to take over the Mitchell case? Fine. Get a court order. But Kane's murder happened in my county, under my jurisdiction. Until I have proof these cases are connected, his file stays here."

"Sheriff Stone—" Walsh began, but Sheila cut her off.

"And while you're getting that court order," she continued, "you can explain why the FBI is so interested in a five-year-old missing person’s case. One that, according to these records, your office never investigated."

The silence that followed was absolute. Walsh's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. Behind her, Agents Reeves and Highland exchanged glances.

"You're making a mistake," Walsh said finally. "These cases are more complex than you realize."

"Then help me understand," Sheila pressed. "What did Kane find? What was Mitchell looking for? Why are you really here?"

Instead of answering, Walsh reached into her jacket and withdrew a business card. She placed it deliberately on the desk.

"When you're ready to cooperate," she said, "call me. Until then, remember—anything you find related to sacred sites or ceremonial objects falls under our jurisdiction. Anything."

She turned to leave, her agents falling in behind her. At the door, she paused.

"And Sheriff? Be careful what you go looking for in those caves. Some questions are better left unasked."

The door closed behind them. Their footsteps echoed down the corridor, fading into silence.

Finn let out a breath. "Well, that was subtle."

Sheila picked up Walsh's card, studying the embossed FBI seal. "They knew we'd make the connection to Kane. They were waiting for it."

"Question is, why?" Finn moved to the window, watching the agents cross the parking lot to their vehicles. "And what are they trying to keep us from finding?"

Sheila looked down at the scattered files, at the photographs of Kane's empty campsite. The same questions that had driven him into those caves had led Mitchell to her death. And now the FBI wanted to bury both cases.

"They're protecting something," she said. "Something in those caves that both Kane and Mitchell discovered." She began gathering the files. "And we need to find it before they shut us out completely."

"Where do you want to start?"

Sheila held up a photograph of Kane's last known campsite, the entrance to a cave system visible in the background. But not the main entrance where Mitchell's body was found. This was different, smaller. Hidden.

"We start here," she said. "If Kane found another way into those caves..."

"The FBI might not know about it," Finn finished.

"Exactly." Sheila studied the photo more carefully. "And whatever's down there, whatever got both Kane and Mitchell killed—maybe that's how we find it."

The sun had dipped lower, casting long shadows across the scattered papers. Somewhere in this mass of documents was the truth—about Kane, about Mitchell, about whatever secret was worth killing to protect.

They just had to find it before the FBI stopped them.

Or before whoever was watching from the caves decided they'd learned too much.

CHAPTER TEN

Sheila's phone buzzed as she and Finn loaded the last of the files into her truck. The sun had slipped behind the mountains, painting the sky in deep purples and oranges. Her father's name lit up the screen.

"What's up, Dad?" she asked, leaning against the truck's door.

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