Page 23 of Silent Grave (Sheila Stone #12)

A long night of waiting had left its mark on the interview room's cheap government furniture. Coffee rings stained the laminate table. Crumpled papers filled the trash can. The wall clock's steady ticking seemed to mock Sheila's impatience.

The door opened and Katherine Weston strode in, her silver hair swept into an immaculate French twist, her charcoal suit worth more than Sheila's monthly salary. Everything about the attorney suggested old money and older connections—from her pearl earrings to her butter-soft leather briefcase.

"Sheriff Stone." Weston's voice carried the precise diction of someone who'd attended the right schools. "I apologize for the delay. Traffic from Salt Lake was horrible." She settled into the chair across from Sheila, setting her briefcase on the table with practiced grace.

Sheila had done her research on Katherine Weston.

Twenty-five years as a defense attorney specializing in high-profile cases.

The kind of lawyer who rarely lost and never took on clients unless she was certain she could win.

The fact that she'd agreed to represent Tommy suggested he had something valuable to offer.

"How's Tommy?" Sheila asked.

"Nervous." Weston pulled out a leather-bound notebook. "Your deputies—Roberts and Baxter—they're doing an excellent job. Very professional. But my client remains concerned about his safety."

"We've taken every precaution—"

"Yes, yes." Weston waved this away with manicured fingers. "The protective custody, the trusted guards, the secure facility. But we both know that won't be enough if certain people really want to get to him."

The implication hung in the air: The corruption in the department went deep. Deep enough that nowhere was truly safe.

"Tommy has information we need," Sheila said. "About my mother's murder. About who ordered him to kill me. About the corruption that's been poisoning this department for decades."

Weston made a note in her book, her Mont Blanc pen flowing smoothly across the page. "The question is, what are you willing to offer?"

"We've discussed witness protection—"

"Not enough." Weston looked up, her gray eyes sharp. "My client needs guaranteed immunity from all charges related to his alleged activities in Coldwater."

Sheila felt her jaw tighten. "He tried to kill me."

"Allegedly." Weston's tone remained perfectly pleasant.

Nobody spoke for a few moments.

"Full immunity is a lot to ask," Sheila said carefully.

"What he's offering is worth more." Weston closed her notebook. "Is putting my client behind bars worth more to you than the truth?"

Sheila tapped her fingers on the table. "I'll need to discuss this with the DA."

"Of course." Weston stood, smoothing her already-perfect suit. "But don't take too long. My client's information has an expiration date. The longer we wait, the more likely certain parties are to... ensure his silence."

After Weston left, Sheila remained at the table, staring at the coffee rings. Did Tommy really know as much as he and his attorney were implying? And if so, could he convince the DA to play ball?

A knock at the door broke her reverie. Finn entered, looking more like himself than he had in days. The color had returned to his face, and he moved with only a slight stiffness that hinted at his healing wound.

"That bad, huh?" he asked, taking in her expression.

"Tommy wants full immunity." Sheila ran a hand through her hair. "For everything. Including trying to kill me."

Finn leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "Think he's worth it?"

"I don't know. Difficult to tell whether the information is as good as his attorney seems to think, or if she's just trying everything she can to improve her client's position." She looked up at him. "Any word from the mines?"

"MSHA's ground-penetrating radar showed some promising cavities, but they all turned out to be natural formations." He shook his head. "Still no sign of Diana. Or our killer."

"We can't give up," Sheila said quietly.

"No one's giving up." Finn pushed off from the wall, wincing slightly. "But Sheila... you need to be prepared. The chances of finding her alive..."

"I know. They're not getting any better." She stood, needing to move. "But she's smart. She had supplies. And she was armed."

" Was being the key word. She's fired at least five shots that we heard. Maybe more we didn't hear. She has to be running low on ammunition by now."

If she was still alive to need ammunition.

The door opened again, and Gabriel entered, looking worn.

He'd spent most of the night coordinating with MSHA, trying to find ways around their restrictions, calling in favors from his years in law enforcement.

His silver hair was disheveled, his clothes wrinkled from too many hours in too many meetings.

"Thought I'd find you two here," he said, giving Finn a brief nod. The relationship between the two men remained careful, measured—Finn still wary of Gabriel's past deceptions, Gabriel aware of Finn's protective instincts toward Sheila.

"How'd it go with MSHA?" Sheila asked.

"About as well as everything else." Gabriel sank into a chair. "They're talking about expanding the closure zone. Something about potential structural instability extending beyond the original perimeter." He glanced at the empty chair where Katherine Weston had sat. "Tommy's attorney was here?"

"Just left." Sheila studied her father's face. "He wants full immunity."

"For trying to kill you?" Gabriel's voice hardened. "That's a hell of a big ask."

"His attorney seems to think he has enough evidence to justify it." Sheila hesitated, then added, "Speaking of Tommy... we need to talk about Hank Dawson."

Finn straightened slightly. Everyone knew Hank Dawson—the cheerful, well-liked interim sheriff who'd stepped in after Natalie's death, who'd supported Sheila taking over, who'd claimed he was ready to retire.

Who'd also gotten his nephew Tommy a job in Sheila's department.

Sheila hadn't seen Dawson or spoken with him since Tommy's arrival and subsequent decision to leave her for dead, and she didn't know how culpable Dawson might be in Tommy's actions.

"Dad," Sheila said quietly. "Did Dawson know? When he brought Tommy in?"

Gabriel was silent for a long moment. "Walk with me," he said finally.

Sheila exchanged looks with Finn before following her father into the hallway. They walked until they reached a quiet corner near the water cooler.

"Hank and I go way back," Gabriel said, his voice low. "Worked together when I was in Internal Affairs. He was one of the good ones—or I thought he was."

"But?"

"But he knew things, Sheila. About the corruption I was investigating. About what happened to your mother."

"So you're saying he's involved?"

Gabriel ran a hand through his silver hair. "I'm saying I need to talk to him. Find out if he brought Tommy in knowing what they planned, or if they used him too."

"I'll come with you."

"No." Gabriel's response was quick, definitive. "Hank won't talk if you're there. He's got too much pride, too much history with this department. But me?" A ghost of a smile crossed his face. "I'm just another retired cop who's seen too much."

Sheila felt that familiar twinge of suspicion. Her father asked to handle something alone, claiming it was for the best. Was he being honest or doing damage control—maybe even trying to protect Dawson?

"Dad—"

"I know what you're thinking," he said softly. "And I get why you might be suspicious. But this isn't about keeping secrets. This is about getting the truth from a man who might not give it if he feels cornered."

Sheila studied his face, looking for any sign of deception. "And you'll tell me everything he says?"

"Every word." He met her eyes steadily. "No more secrets, remember? But Hank... he was my friend once. Let me talk to him first. Give him a chance to explain himself."

The water cooler gurgled quietly. Down the hall, phones rang and voices murmured—the normal sounds of a sheriff's department at work. But nothing felt normal anymore. Not with Diana still missing, not with Tommy demanding immunity, not with decades of corruption finally starting to unravel.

"Okay," Sheila said finally. "Talk to him. But Dad?" She waited until he looked at her. "If he was involved in what happened to Mom..."

"Then he'll answer for it," Gabriel finished. "Just like everyone else who was part of this."