Page 35 of Silent Grave (Sheila Stone #12)

The press conference room was packed, reporters jostling for position as Diana Martinez, still using a cane but standing tall, approached the podium.

Sheila watched from the back, Finn at her side, as Diana laid out the evidence they'd recovered from her pack—proof of illegal mining operations spanning decades, documentation of safety violations, and evidence of corporate corruption that had led to multiple deaths.

"The copper deposits were never depleted," Diana said, her voice strong despite her recent ordeal.

"Cooper Mining deliberately misled federal regulators, claiming the veins had played out while continuing to extract ore illegally.

Without safety protocols, without proper oversight, without regard for human life. "

Sarah Riggs stood nearby, tears streaming down her face as years of activism were finally vindicated. The EPA had already announced a full investigation, and the state attorney general was preparing criminal charges against Cooper Mining's board of directors.

After the conference, Michelle Waring approached Sheila. She looked better than she had in the hospital—some color had returned to her face, though shadows still haunted her eyes.

"The mines are being sealed," Michelle said. "For real this time. They're using the geological data from Diana's survey to identify all access points, even the unofficial ones."

"And how are you holding up?" Sheila asked.

Michelle managed a small smile. "Better. The counseling helps. And knowing he can't hurt anyone else..." She trailed off, then squared her shoulders. "I'm testifying at his sentencing next week. I want him to see me. To know he didn't break me."

Sheila squeezed her arm, proud of the young woman's courage. As Michelle walked away, Finn caught Sheila's eye from across the room and gestured for her to join him.

"Got something?" she asked as she approached.

"Finally got access to all of Whitman's financial records." He held up a thick folder. "Think I found the money trail."

They headed to his office, where stacks of bank statements and property records covered his desk. Finn had been digging into Peter's background since his arrest, trying to understand how he'd funded his elaborate underground operation.

"Military pension," Finn said, pointing to bank statements. "Plus a successful career as a private military contractor. He made a fortune in Iraq and Afghanistan, training special forces units in advanced combat techniques."

"Then came home and used those skills to hunt people in his private killing ground," Sheila said.

"The cabin renovations were paid for in cash, spread across multiple contractors to avoid suspicion. But the real money went into the tunnel modifications." Finn shuffled through more papers. "The equipment alone—ventilation systems, reinforced doors, custom security features—cost millions."

"When did the killings start?"

"First confirmed victim was in 2018. Jacob Chen, a geology student. Body was never found." Finn met her eyes. "But something changed last year. The frequency increased. The victims got younger."

"Why the escalation?"

"Terminal diagnosis." Finn held up a medical report. "Aggressive brain cancer. Doctors gave him six months. He must have decided to complete his 'work' while he still could."

"Teaching his twisted gospel of darkness until the end."

Finn was quiet for a moment. Then: "You could have died in those tunnels. Going back in like that..."

"I had to." She touched his hand. "He would have disappeared, found new hunting grounds. More people would have died."

"I know." His fingers intertwined with hers. "Doesn't mean I have to like it." He paused. "I have to admit, I'm grateful your father went in after you. When he heard you were still down there…" He shook his head. "I've never seen him move so fast, bad knee and all."

"He saved my life," Sheila said quietly.

"Maybe it's time you two talked about that." Finn nodded toward her office. "He's been waiting to speak with you."

Sheila followed his gaze. Through the glass, she could see her father sitting in one of her office chairs. Even from here, she could read the exhaustion in his posture.

"About what?" she asked.

"Hank, I think. He said the two of them spoke, but he didn't want to spill the beans to me. It was for your ears only."

Sheila chewed her lip, wondering what her father had learned. Then, eager to find out, she squeezed Finn's hand once more and headed to her office.

"Finn said you wanted to see me?" she said as she entered.

Her father looked up. His eyes, troubled a moment before, cleared at the sight of her. "How are you holding up, honey?"

"Good. Thanks to you. If you hadn't come into those tunnels…"

Gabriel waved his hand as if to say it wasn't worth mentioning.

"I talked with Hank," he said.

"And?" Sheila watched him, trying to gauge how this conversation would go. She had no idea.

"He claims he knew nothing about what Tommy was planning. Says he was completely blindsided by all of it."

"And you believe him?"

"I want to. You should have seen him, Sheila. When I laid it all out—Tommy's real purpose here, the attempt on your life—Hank looked physically ill. Said bringing Tommy into the department was just helping family. That his nephew needed a fresh start after some trouble."

"What kind of trouble?"

"Nothing violent. Some disciplinary issues in his last department. Insubordination, mainly. According to Hank, Tommy claimed he'd learned his lesson, wanted to prove himself. And Hank thought, what better place than here? Under family supervision?"

Sheila studied her father's face, looking for any hint of what he really thought. "And you're sure he's telling the truth?"

"I've known Hank since the academy." Gabriel's voice grew distant, remembering. "We worked patrol together, had each other's backs more times than I can count. He was the first person I called when..." He stopped, swallowing hard. "When your mother was killed."

"That doesn't mean he's innocent."

"No. But it means I want to believe him." Gabriel pulled out another page of notes. "He broke down during our talk, Sheila. Actually broke down. Said he keeps thinking about all the signs he missed, all the times Tommy's behavior should have raised red flags."

"Like what?"

"The questions Tommy asked about old cases.

His interest in Internal Affairs files. The way he'd steer conversations toward certain topics.

" Gabriel shook his head. "Hank says he thought Tommy was just being thorough, trying to learn department history.

Now he wonders if he was gathering intelligence all along. "

"Or that's what Hank wants us to think." Sheila leaned back in her chair, considering. "He's been in law enforcement over thirty years, Dad. That's plenty of time to learn how to sell a story."

"You think he's lying?"

"I think someone in this department wanted me dead. Someone helped Tommy get close to me, gave him access, covered his tracks." She met her father's eyes. "And Hank's either part of it, or he's the most conveniently oblivious former sheriff in county history."

Gabriel was quiet for a long moment. "When your mother died," he said finally, "Hank was the one who pushed hardest to keep the investigation going. Even after the higher-ups wanted it classified as a random burglary gone wrong."

"Maybe because he knew it would never lead anywhere. That the evidence would be too corrupted, the trails too cold."

"Or maybe because he truly wasn't involved. People can surprise you, Sheila. Sometimes they're exactly what they appear to be."

"And sometimes they're wearing masks so convincing even their closest friends can't see through them. What else did he say? About Tommy's activities, his contacts?"

"Claims total ignorance. Says Tommy kept his private life private.

Lived alone, didn't socialize much with other deputies.

" Gabriel paused. "Though he did mention something odd.

Said Tommy would sometimes disappear for hours, claim he was following up leads.

But there'd be no record of the calls in dispatch, no notes in any case files. "

"Meeting his real employers?"

"That's what I thought. But Hank says—"

Her phone buzzed, interrupting him. A text from Roberts. Sheila had to read it several times to absorb what it was saying. As she did so, her blood ran cold.

Medical emergency in Tommy's cell. Not breathing. Possible cardiac arrest.

She jumped to her feet.

"What is it?" Gabriel asked, alarmed. "Something happen?"

"Tommy," she said as she hurried to the door. "Someone doesn't want him talking, and it sounds like they might've just found a way to silence him."