Page 34 of Silent Trail

The woman stared at it, looking more troubled by the second. "I have no idea. None of this is like him at all."

"What kind of vehicle does your son drive?" Finn asked.

"It's a red 2009 Honda Civic," she said, her voice shaking.

"Thank you," Sheila said, already heading back upstairs with Finn right behind her. Their search for Kyle had become far more urgent, and they couldn't afford to waste any more time.

At the top of the stairs, Sheila paused, looking for Natalie.

"Come on," Finn said, crossing the room in long strides. "We need to check the garage, see if his car's still here."

"Where's Natalie?"

"Probably back in the van." He waved a hand impatiently. "She'll be fine."

Sheila was not entirely satisfied by this hypothesis. Finn's sense of urgency, however, was contagious, and she hurried after him, heading outside and following the wall of the house to the garage, the door of which was closed.

Finn paused, drawing his weapon and looking back at Sheila. Then he counted on his hand: One, two, three.

On three, he threw the door open and stepped inside, Sheila right behind him. A silver SUV took up most of the room, the air of which smelled of oil and sawdust. Tools lay scattered on a workbench, and an array of old paint cans lined the shelves.

There was no red Honda Civic, however.

"Damn it," Sheila muttered under her breath.

"Must've already been gone when we arrived," Natalie said.

Sheila turned to see her sister in the corner of the room, rolling toward them.

"I figured I'd make myself useful," Natalie said, "and see if his vehicle was here."

"We need to put out an APB," Finn said, pulling out his phone.

"Already did," Natalie answered.

"How?" Sheila asked, surprised. "How did you know what he drove?"

Natalie gestured to a framed photo hanging on the wall. In it, a younger, shy-looking Kyle proudly leaned against his shiny, red car. His eyes locked onto the camera, as if silently pleading for approval.

One step ahead of me, even in a wheelchair, Sheila thought. Still, she supposed she ought to be grateful that her sister wasn't useless.

Just then, the radio at Natalie's side crackled to life. "Attention all units," a voice boomed, "suspect vehicle spotted heading westbound on Highway 89 at a high rate of speed."

For a moment, the three of them all looked at one another, frozen.

"Go!" Natalie shouted. "I'll stay here with Kyle's parents, see if they have any idea where he might be going."

Sheila hesitated, reluctant to leave her sister behind. "Are you sure?"

"I'll be fine, Sheila!" Natalie insisted. "I might be in a wheelchair, but that doesn't mean I can't kick your ass if you don't get moving."

That was all the encouragement Sheila needed. She rushed out of the garage, followed closely by Finn, and sprinted to the van, desperately hoping they wouldn't be too late to prevent another tragedy.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

The van's headlights sliced through the inky night as Sheila gripped the steering wheel, her eyes scanning the dark highway for any sign of Kyle Benedict's vehicle.

"Take the next right," Finn said, holding up his phone as he studied the GPS.

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