Page 18 of Silent Road

"Yeah."He straightened up, meeting her eyes."But I didn't.I worked my way through the academy just like everyone else.Did my time in patrol in Salt Lake.When this position opened up, Uncle Hank actually tried to talk me out of applying.Said I should stay in the city, build my career there."

"But you came anyway."

"I wanted to work somewhere I could make a difference.Not just respond to calls, but really be part of a community."He shrugged."Uncle Hank being interim sheriff after your sister...it almost made me change my mind.But this is where I wanted to be."

Sheila studied him with new eyes.She'd assumed he was fresh out of the academy, eager but green.But there was more depth there than she'd given him credit for.More experience.More thought behind his choices.

"Alright," Tommy said, stepping back from their handiwork."That should do it.Want me to drive?"

"Cool your jets, rookie."Sheila climbed back behind the wheel, then eased the car forward.The branches creaked under the tires, but held.With a final push, they broke free of the drift.

"Nice work, Officer Forster," she said, genuinely impressed.

Tommy grinned as he brushed snow from his uniform."Like I said, sometimes the simple solution is the right one."

As they pulled back onto more solid ground, Sheila couldn't help noticing how much she enjoyed Tommy's company.Being around him was easy, without any of the complexities of a romantic relationship.There were no deep emotions that needed to be explored, no life-changing choices to be made.

And it didn't hurt that was easy on the eyes.

Just then, while she was thinking about this, her phone buzzed.A message from Finn:How's the investigation going?Could use some company if you're free later.

Flooded with guilt, Sheila set the phone aside without responding.She'd fill him in later, after they talked to Wells.She needed to process what she was feeling before talking with him.

The cabin appeared ahead, a modern structure of glass and cedar that seemed to grow right out of the mountainside.Smoke rose from the chimney, but no vehicles were visible in the snow-covered driveway.

They trudged through pristine snow to the cabin's front door.No footprints marred the surface—if Wells was home, he hadn't left recently.The smoke curling from the chimney looked thin, suggesting a fire burning low.

Sheila knocked firmly.The sound seemed muffled by the surrounding snow, absorbed into the winter stillness.No response.

She tried again, louder this time.Still nothing.

"Sheriff," Tommy called softly from the side of the house.He stood at a large window, one hand cupped against the glass."You need to see this."

Sheila joined him, their shoulders brushing as she leaned in to look.The cabin's interior was spartanly furnished—a few pieces of handcrafted furniture, walls covered in framed nature photographs.But it was what sat on the kitchen table that made her breath catch.

A camera.High-end, professional grade.

"Think it's Greenwald's?"Tommy asked.

"I don't know," Sheila murmured."But it sure looks a lot like the one Greenwald was wearing in the picture Amanda showed us."

CHAPTER EIGHT

Sheila kept her hand close to the holster of her sidearm as she and Tommy circled toward the back of the cabin.

Don't let him get the drop on you,she thought.If that is Greenwald's camera and Wells is the killer, he could be waiting to ambush you, just like he ambushed Greenwald.

As they reached the back of the cabin, they discovered two things: a weathered, sunken shed whose roof looked ready to collapse beneath the weight of accumulated snow and snowmobile tracks leading off from the shed and into the wilderness.

Sheila's eyes followed the trail as it disappeared into the dense forest.She tried to get an idea of how frequently those tracks had been made, but it was difficult to tell, given the lack of recent snowfall.Judging by how sharp the edges of the tracks were, however, she judged the tracks had been made recently.There hadn't been time for the sun to blur the edges.

"We should go back," Tommy suggested, glancing at the tracks."Get some four-wheelers in here."

Sheila weighed his words.Protocol dictated they should request additional support, but something inside her resisted.Perhaps it was the nagging feeling that time was slipping away, or maybe it was her stubborn streak refusing to admit they might need help.

"By the time we go back and return, he could be long gone," she replied."We're better off moving now."

Tommy grunted."How?You really want to follow these tracks on foot?"

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