Page 26 of Silent Grave

"Since when are you having private conversations with my father?" Her tone was light, but inwardly she felt uneasy at this development, though she couldn't have put her finger on the reason why.

Finn leaned against his truck. "He called me, actually. Wanted to know how you'd been sleeping, what with the developments with Tommy and that kind of thing. Said you sometimes get nightmares after traumatic cases." He studied her face. "Do you?"

She felt her face flush. It wasn't her father's place to speak about her like she was a child.

"He had no right to—"

"He's trying, Sheila." Finn's voice was gentle. "We talked about that too. About how he kept secrets thinking it would protect you, and how badly that backfired." He paused. "He also asked about us living together. Whether I was taking good care of you."

"And what did you tell him?"

"That you take care of yourself just fine, but that I have your back anyway." A small smile played on his lips. "He seemed to approve, though he tried not to show it. Said something about how at least I was honest with you, unlike him."

"You sound like you've changed your mind about it."

Finn took a deep breath and let it out slowly, his nostrils flaring. "It's more complicated than I realized. Him being your father… Yes, he's broken your trust. But if anyone deserves the chance to repair that trust…" He trailed off.

Sheila studied Finn, unsure what to make of this reversal. "Do you trust him now?"

"I trust that he loves you. That he regrets lying." Finn chose his words carefully. "But do I trust him completely? No. And I don't think you should either. Not yet."

Sheila nodded but said nothing. It was difficult to know what to say, especially with how exhausted she was.

"Come on," Finn said, taking her hand. "Food." He led her to the cooler, then handed her half a roast beef sandwich.

"How's it been working with him?" he asked.

Sheila turned the slice of sandwich left and right in her hand, trying to muster an appetite. "Better than expected," she said finally. "He knows these mountains, knows the people. And he's not holding back information anymore."

"So do you trust him, then?"

"I trust that he wants to make things right." She took a bite of the sandwich, suddenly ravenous. "And right now, that's enough."

"And Tommy? Any progress?"

She shook her head. "Still not talking—I told the deputies looking after him to call me the second that changes. It's like he's waiting for something, but I can't figure out what."

A commotion near the parking area drew their attention. A group had gathered, carrying signs illuminated by news cameras' lights. CORPORATE GREED KILLS read one. SEAL THE MINES NOW demanded another.

Sarah Riggs, an environmental activist whose rallies Sheila had policed on more than one occasion when the protesting spilled over into violence, stood at the center, her steel-gray hair catching the camera lights as she spoke passionately to reporters. She had the weathered face of someone who spent most of their time outdoors, and her eyes blazed with conviction.

"These deaths are on the mining company's hands," Riggs was saying. "They abandoned these mines without proper securing, left them to become death traps—"

"Ms. Riggs." Sheila approached the group, still holding her half-eaten sandwich. "Can I speak privately with you for a minute?"

"Anything you have to say can be said right here in the open."

Sheila sighed. Why couldn't she catch a break?

"This protest?" she said, gesturing vaguely. "It isn't helping. We need people to stay away from these mines while we conduct our investigation. This only sensationalizes the situation, makes more people curious."

Riggs studied her, and Sheila was struck by the intensity in her eyes. This wasn't just some activist looking for attention—this was someone who truly believed in their cause.

"And how's that investigation going, Sheriff?" Riggs asked, her voice carrying across the parking lot. "Two dead already. How many more before you admit these mines need to be sealed?"

"There are other ways to help," Sheila said, lowering her voice to encourage a more private conversation. "Work with the county on safety measures, advocate for proper securing—"

"We've tried working with the system for years." Riggs matched Sheila's quieter tone but maintained her intensity. "I've spent the last decade documenting safety violations, filing reports, trying to get someone to listen. Did you know there was another death in these mines two years ago?"

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