Page 37 of Silent Trail

Lost in her thoughts, Sheila didn't immediately register the sound of a door opening. She looked up to see a doctor stepping into the waiting area, his face grave and tired. He was a tall man, middle-aged, with salt-and-pepper hair and a pair of wire-rimmed glasses perched on his prominent nose.

"Doctor," Finn said, drawing the man's attention. "What news do you have?"

The doctor approached them, adjusting his glasses as he spoke. "Mr. Benedict's condition is stable, but he's sustained significant injuries from the car crash and his fall into the ravine. His leg is broken in two places, and he has multiple contusions and lacerations."

"Is he awake?" Sheila asked.

"Remarkably, yes," the doctor replied, a hint of amazement in his tone. "All things considered, it's a miracle he's alive, let alone conscious. He's groggy from the pain medication, but he should be able to talk."

Sheila exchanged a glance with Finn and Natalie. This was their chance to get some answers. They needed to know if Kyle was truly responsible for the murders that had shaken their small town. As she rose from her seat, determination coursed through her veins. She would not let fear or uncertainty hold her back—not when the truth was finally within reach.

They followed the doctor through the sterile hospital corridors. As they turned a corner, the faint sound of distant beeping from medical equipment reached Sheila's ears, a reminder of the frailty of life that surrounded them. She glanced at her sister, noting the determined set of Natalie's jaw as she propelled her wheelchair forward. If not for that iron determination, Natalie might still be in a hospital just like this one, instead of doing what she loved and serving her community.

That's Natalie, Sheila thought. She never stops pushing herself.

At last, they arrived at Kyle's room. The doctor pushed the door open, revealing a small room filled with the steady hum of machines monitoring the young man's vital signs. Kyle lay in bed, his scrawny frame dwarfed by the surrounding medical apparatus. His once messy brown hair was now matted with sweat, and dark circles marred the skin beneath his bloodshot eyes. A look of shame and exhaustion was etched into his pale face, making him appear even more vulnerable than before.

"Thank you, doctor," Natalie said as the physician nodded and took his leave, closing the door behind him.

"Hello, Mr. Benedict," Natalie said, striking a professional tone. "I'm Sheriff Natalie Stone. This is my sister, Sheila, and our colleague, Deputy Mercer. We're here to talk to you about what happened."

A flicker of confusion crossed Kyle's features. "Why are there three of you?" he asked, his voice weak and raspy. "Isn't that a bit much?"

"Never mind that," Natalie said, evading the question. "Are you up for talking?"

"Can't sleep anyway," Kyle muttered, wincing as he shifted his position. "Painkillers aren't doing much, so we might as well get this over with."

"Where were you driving to when you crashed?" Natalie asked.

Kyle looked away, as if avoiding their gaze would shield him from whatever judgment they might pass. "I just...I needed some fresh air," he said evasively. "Clear my head, y'know? I was listening to music, and it was loud, so I didn't realize how fast I was going." He paused, swallowing hard. "I reached to turn up the volume, and...I drove off the road. I got out of the car, and that's when I fell into the ravine."

Sheila scrutinized Kyle's face as he finished his story, her instincts flaring with doubt. She knew there was more to the situation than what he had revealed, and she couldn't shake the feeling that he was hiding something important.

"Kyle," she said slowly, carefully choosing her words, "we found a note you left for your parents. It said you were sorry for having to do 'SOMETHING TERRIBLE.' What did you mean by that?"

The question seemed to catch him off guard, and his eyes darted nervously around the room, searching for an escape. After a moment, he laughed—a brittle, hollow sound that sent a chill down Sheila's spine. "It was just a joke," he stammered, beads of sweat forming on his brow.

Sheila exchanged glances with Natalie and Finn, seeing in their expressions that they, too, were unconvinced. But before she could press further, Kyle's face paled, and he clutched at his chest. "I'm not feeling well," he gasped, his breath shallow and uneven. "Can you...can you please leave me alone?"

Finn stepped closer to the bed, his expression hardening into a steely resolve. He leaned down, his voice low and dangerous. "Don't play games with us, kid. We know about the bullying incident, how you were tied to that tree. We've seen the video."

At Finn's words, Kyle's eyes narrowed, his anger boiling to the surface as he recalled that humiliating night. "Those girls...they tricked me," he said, bitterness lacing his words. "Lured me in with promises of a good time, only to tie me up like some animal for everyone at the party to laugh at. It was...it was unbearable." He clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white from the intensity of his grip.

Sheila could see the pain in Kyle's expression, but she couldn't let her sympathy cloud her judgment. She needed to know the truth, and so did Finn and Natalie. Finn pressed further, his voice firm yet cautious. "So, what did you do to get back at them?"

For a moment, it seemed as if Kyle might confess to the murders. His eyes darted around the room, avoiding their gazes. But then, with a shaky breath, he revealed his retaliation. "I got my revenge online. I wrote posts about them on a college forum, trying to scare them, make them feel as vulnerable as they made me feel when I was tied to that tree."

"Can you show us proof of these posts?" Natalie asked.

Kyle hesitated, growing visibly wary. His gaze flickered between the three of them, uncertainty clouding his features. "What happens to me if I do?" he finally asked.

Finn's eyes narrowed, his voice taking on a hardened edge. "Kyle, you're on the hook for murder. Your best defense right now is to be completely honest with us."

Surprise flashed across Kyle's face, and he shook his head vigorously. "I didn't kill anyone," he insisted, but there was an underlying tremor in his voice that betrayed his fear.

Sheila locked her gaze onto him, unwilling to let him off the hook so easily. "Then where were you driving to in such a hurry?" she asked.

Kyle opened his mouth to speak, but hesitated as he caught the steely determination in Sheila's eyes. "Like I said before, I needed some fresh air."

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