Page 7 of Silent Trail

He frowned, leaning in for a closer look. "That's definitely blood. What do you think it means?"

Sheila straightened up, her mind racing through possible scenarios. "I think someone tried to move the body and then came in here to wash up," she said slowly, carefully weighing each word.

"The killer, maybe?"

"It's possible…but it's equally possible Rita and Claire came in here to wash up after moving the body. Just because they called in the body doesn't mean they're innocent."

"You think they're lying," Finn said.

Sheila said nothing. Following her instincts, she headed to the trash receptacle in the corner of the room. She pawed through a pile of discarded paper towels before finding what she was looking for.

Pulling it out of the trash, she held the sweatshirt up for Finn to see. It was a woman's sweatshirt.

And, more importantly, there was a large bloodstain on the front and the sleeves.

CHAPTER FOUR

Sheila tried to imitate Finn's stoicism as she approached the classroom where Rita Cohen and Claire Hutchinson were waiting, but she found it difficult to hide how she truly felt. She believed the two girls had tried to move Kristen Lee's body, then lied about it to the police, and she wanted to know why.

She just hoped they wouldn't see the suspicion in her eyes when she met them.

As they entered the room, Sheila took in the scene before her. The classroom was typically used for psychology lectures, as evidenced by the large whiteboard filled with notes about human behavior and the rows of desks facing the front. However, today, it serves as a very different sort of forum for human behavior.

The air hung heavy with tension, and the somber expressions on both Rita's and Claire's faces spoke volumes. They sat at a pair of desks pushed together, their hands clasped tightly in their laps. Behind them stood a man with his arms crossed, looking on with an expression of thinly-veiled impatience.

There was a fourth individual in the room: a slim police officer with nut-brown eyes and a mustache as thin as a whisper. He was speaking to the other man in a low voice, but when he saw Sheila and Finn enter the room, he broke away and approached them.

"Deputy Mercer," he said with a curt nod. "Good to see you again."

"Likewise, Garner," Finn replied, his tone equally reserved. "This is Sheila Stone. She's working with us on this case."

"Nice to meet you, Ms. Stone," Garner said, extending a hand that Sheila shook hesitantly, feeling a bit out of place. It felt strange, working with the police without actually being one of them, almost as if she were an impostor.

"Likewise," she said with a polite nod.

Garner leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low whisper. "They were pretty shaken up when we first brought them in, but they've calmed down some. You might be able to get more information from them now."

"Thanks for the update," Finn said, exchanging a quick glance with Sheila before they turned their attention to the two girls huddled together at the desk. "Which one is which?"

"The one on the left is Miss Cohen," Garner said. "The one on the right is Miss Hutchinson."

Rita Cohen was petite, with curly brown hair and an almost childlike innocence about her. Her friend, Claire Hutchinson, was taller, with long blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail. There was something haughty about Claire's gaze, as if she were continually assessing where she belonged in the pecking order—and usually judging herself to be higher than those she met.

Claire, Sheila noticed, was wearing a zip-up hoodie, while Rita wore a short-sleeved shirt.

"And the man standing behind them?" Sheila asked.

Garner hesitated just a moment. "That's Roger Hutchinson, Claire's dad. He's...very upset about all this. I've had to tell him twice now why he can't take Claire home just yet."

Sheila nodded, studying the man who was in turn staring back, his gaze imperious.

He sure doesn't look very happy to see us, Sheila thought.

Finn introduced himself and Sheila as they approached the two girls. "You must be Miss Cohen and Miss Hutchinson, is that right?" he asked.

Before either girl could answer, Roger Hutchinson spoke up. "What's she doing here?" he asked gruffly, pointing at Sheila. "She's not police. So what is she, a reporter?"

Sheila felt a surge of annoyance but kept her emotions in check. He was undoubtedly referring to the fact that she, unlike the other two officers, was not in uniform.

---