Page 8 of Silent Trail

"Sheila is a consultant working with our department, not an official officer," Finn said.

"Consultant?" Mr. Hutchinson snorted derisively. "What, does the sheriff's department not have the funding to train real police officers?"

Sheila felt her cheeks redden and her fists clench at her sides, but she forced herself to remain calm. She knew her background as a kickboxer and her sister's position as the sheriff would make some people doubt her qualifications, but she refused to let that stop her from helping Finn.

"Deputy Mercer has plenty of experience handling cases like this," she said, meeting Mr. Hutchinson's gaze. "I'm just here to assist him. Besides, my sister, Sheriff Natalie Stone, wouldn't have put me in this position if she didn't trust me to uphold the law competently."

The moment the words left her lips, Sheila realized her mistake. A look of surprise crossed Mr. Hutchinson's face, his eyes glinting with newfound ammunition.

"Ah, so that's it—nepotism," he said. "What gives you the right to question my daughter?"

Before Sheila could respond, Officer Garner stepped forward, holding up a calming hand. "Come on, Roger," he said. "We're all here to find out what happened to Kristen and get justice for her, but we can't do that with you interrupting. The more you do that, the longer this process is going to take."

Roger snorted again and said nothing, watching to see what would happen next. Sheila hated the thought of conducting this interview under his disdainful gaze, but she had little choice.

She shifted her focus to Rita and Claire, trying to push away the lingering tension that Mr. Hutchinson's outburst had caused. She glanced at Finn, who gave a subtle nod, encouraging her to take the lead in questioning the girls. Surprised by his confidence in her, she felt both grateful and determined not to let him down.

"Can you please tell us, as simply as you can, what happened?" she asked the girls.

Rita remained quiet, her eyes downcast, but Claire stared straight into Sheila's eyes. "We were setting up for an event for our Psychology Club," she said. "We needed a box of masquerade masks for a game we were planning, but we couldn't find them, so I asked Rita to check the supply closet, just in case they were there."

As Claire recounted their story, Sheila observed the girls closely, noting Rita's fingers twisting nervously in her lap. She looked like she was reliving the memories in her mind, trapped there by the trauma of what she'd experienced.

Or is guilt part of it, too? Did she play some part in Lee's death?

"Rita went to check the supply closet, and when she came back, we noticed she'd tracked blood on the floor," Claire continued, sounding strangely matter-of-fact. "So, we followed the trail back to this dark hallway, and that's when we saw it—the blood dripping from a locker."

A shudder ran through Sheila as she pictured the horrific scene, imagining the fear and confusion the girls must have felt upon discovering Kristen's body. Despite her own discomfort, though, she knew she needed to keep probing to uncover any clues that might help solve the murder.

Sheila studied the faces of the two girls, trying to read their emotions as she asked her next question. "What did you do when you found the locker?"

Claire hesitated for a moment, her eyes glazing over as she relived the memory. "Rita opened it," she said finally, swallowing hard. "The body...it fell on her."

A chill ran down Sheila's spine at the image of Kristen's lifeless form collapsing onto the unsuspecting girl. She couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for Rita, who now seemed even more withdrawn and distraught than before.

"And what did you do next?" Sheila asked, hoping to keep the girls focused on recounting their experience.

"We ran and got help," Claire said. "That was all."

Not a word about moving the body. They must be lying, but why? What are they hiding?

"Rita," she began cautiously, "did you get blood on you when the body fell on you?"

Claire's eyes narrowed, and she spoke up again, seemingly intent on shielding her friend from further questioning. "Yes, she got blood on her. That's why we went to the restroom to clean up."

"And is that why you threw your sweatshirt into the trash?" Sheila asked, directing her question at Rita. Rita's eyes darted at hers in alarm, but the girl didn't answer.

"She wasn't trying to hide it, okay?" Claire said, sounding defensive. "She was just grossed out, wearing something with all that blood on it. I honestly didn't even remember that happened until you just mentioned it."

Sheila didn't buy this explanation for a second. Claire was hiding something—she could sense it in her bones.

"Did you go to the restroom before or after you told someone about the body?" Finn asked.

"Before," Claire replied, her voice tight.

Sheila studied Claire's face, noting the faint flush in her cheeks as she seemed to grow increasingly defensive. "Claire," she asked, trying to keep her voice steady and non-confrontational, "did you get near the body at all?"

"No," Claire answered quickly, a little too quickly for Sheila's liking.

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