Page 4 of Silent Grave (Sheila Stone #12)

Coldwater County Sheriff's Department looked different in the predawn light. Sheila sat at her desk, watching through the window as two deputies she trusted implicitly led Tommy Forster to booking.

"Walks like a man condemned to die," Gabriel said from the doorway.

Sheila turned to look at her father. "Did he say anything while I was sleeping?

Anything at all?" She and her father had taken shifts driving the seven hours from New Mexico back to Utah.

She would've liked to stay awake the entire time, but considering how little sleep she'd been getting lately, she'd dozed off.

She just hoped she hadn't missed anything important.

Gabriel shook his head. "Quiet as a church mouse."

"And I can trust that?"

He lowered his eyes and sighed, looking ashamed. "I'm sure that's not easy now, not after everything, but I have no reason to lie to you again. It won't protect you."

He stepped into the office and closed the door behind him. "As far as his safety here," he continued, sounding eager to change the subject, "you made a good choice asking Roberts and Baxter to watch him. They're solid, dependable. They won't let anyone close to Tommy without your say-so."

Sheila said nothing. Her mind was wandering.

"What do you think he's waiting for?" she asked. "Tommy, I mean. He seemed so eager to talk when I caught up with him. Then… nothing."

"Probably figuring out what lawyer he should hire. Or..." Gabriel sank into the chair across from her desk. "More likely, he's weighing his options. Trying to decide if we can really protect him."

Sheila thought of those fake federal agents, how smoothly professional they'd been. How ready to make Tommy disappear. "Can we?"

"As long as he's in our custody? Yes." Gabriel ran a hand through his silver hair. "But he can't stay in that cell forever."

"He wants a deal." Sheila drummed her fingers on her desk. "He'd be crazy not to. Protection in exchange for what he knows."

"The question is, who can we trust to make that deal?" Gabriel's eyes were tired. "The state? The feds? After what we saw in New Mexico..."

Sheila's phone buzzed. A text from Finn: You home yet?

Home. After everything that had happened, the word felt strange. Like something from another life.

She would've liked to involve Finn on this trip to New Mexico, but given that he was still recovering from a gunshot wound received during a previous investigation, she'd convinced him to stay back and look after Star. He had to be chomping at the bit to learn what was going on, though.

"I don't know," she said, getting back to her father's question. "We'll just have to wait and see what Tommy says. And in the meantime, I guess I go back to work and you—well, you can do whatever you want, can't you? The joys of retirement."

Her phone rang. Angela Matthews. A tight knot formed in Sheila's stomach—Angela had been one of her mother's closest friends, had brought casseroles for weeks after the funeral. These days, she runs the community outreach program at the department. She answered, noting the time—not quite 6 AM.

"Angela? Everything okay?"

"Sheila, I'm sorry to call so early." Angela's voice trembled. "It's Tyler. He's missing."

The fatigue weighing on Sheila's shoulders suddenly felt heavier. "Tell me what happened."

"He was supposed to meet some friends at the Copper Queen Mine two nights ago. His truck's still there, but he's gone. I know I should have called sooner, but I just kept hoping there was some reasonable explanation. But with every hour I don't hear from him…" She trailed off.

"How long ago did you last see him?" Sheila asked, already standing.

"Two days ago. Not long before he went to meet his friends."

"And you're sure about the meeting spot?" Sheila grabbed her jacket from the back of her chair.

"Yes, he was quite clear about it. Is it possible I'm just overreacting, Sheila? Maybe he's staying with other friends, and his phone's dead—I don't know."

"No, you did the right thing calling. I'll be right there." She ended the call and checked her gun, then her badge.

Sheila felt her father's questioning gaze.

Despite her exhaustion, despite everything happening with Tommy, she couldn't pass this one off.

Not Angela's boy. Not when she remembered Tyler growing up, remembered him bringing Angela flowers every Mother's Day, just like Sheila used to do for her own mom.

"Tyler Matthews," she explained to her father. "Angela's son. He's home from college, was supposed to meet some friends by the old Copper Queen Mine two nights ago. Never came home."

"And the friends?"

"Say they never saw him. Changed their plans, texted him, but he didn't respond. His truck's at the mine, but there's no sign of him. I'm going to head to Angela's first, talk with her face-to-face."

Gabriel stood. "Who's going with you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Finn's still recovering. Baxter and Roberts are watching Tommy." He ticked them off on his fingers. "The only deputies you trust completely."

Sheila paused, one arm in her jacket. "What are you suggesting?"

"I'm suggesting," Gabriel said carefully, "that you might need backup you can trust."

She stared at him. "You're retired."

"You can deputize me." The corner of his mouth twitched. "I think I remember how to do the job. Was sheriff myself for a few years, if I recall."

Sheila studied her father's face. After everything that had happened—the secrets, the lies, Tommy's betrayal—working together would be... different. But he was right. She needed someone she could trust.

"Okay," she said finally. "But we do this by the book. No cowboy stuff, no lone wolf decisions. We're partners, or we're nothing."

Gabriel nodded, his expression serious. "Partners."

As they headed for her vehicle, Sheila wondered what she was getting herself into. Working with her father—the man who'd trained her, inspired her, and sometimes infuriated her—was something she'd never expected.

She just hoped they were both ready for whatever this partnership might bring.

***

Angela Matthews' hands trembled as she set down three mugs of coffee. None of them had asked for coffee, but Sheila recognized the need to keep busy, to do something normal while discussing things that were anything but.

"I know I should have called sooner," Angela said, sinking into her armchair.

Dark circles shadowed her eyes—she clearly hadn't slept.

"But all yesterday, I just figured he was off enjoying himself, maybe reconnecting with some old sweetheart I didn't know about.

But to be gone two nights without a word—and leaving his truck at the mine like that… "

Sheila caught her father shifting in his seat, wondered if he was fighting his old habit of taking control of an interview. It had to be difficult to take a backseat to someone else—his own daughter, no less. But he stayed quiet, letting her lead.

"Tell me about his plans two nights ago," Sheila said. "Everything you remember."

"He was meeting Kyle and Marcus—they've been friends since elementary school."

"Their last names are…?"

"Sorry. Kyle Mackley and Marcus Tredway. They were supposed to..." Angela's voice caught. She took a breath. "They always hang out at that old mine entrance when they're home from college. I hate it, but Tyler says it's tradition."

Gabriel leaned forward. "Mrs. Matthews—"

"Angela," she corrected automatically.

"Angela." His voice was gentle, practiced. "Has Tyler seemed different lately? Worried about anything?"

Sheila watched her father work, noting how he'd softened his tone, how he'd mirrored Angela's posture. Same techniques he'd taught her years ago.

"No, he was..." Angela twisted her coffee mug in her hands. "He was excited, actually. Loving his time in Seattle. Sometimes he'd drop hints that it missed it here, but otherwise it seemed like things were good with him."

"Have you talked to Kyle and Marcus?" Sheila asked.

"They say they changed plans, decided to meet at the Copper Kettle instead—it was too cold out for them. Texted Tyler, but he never responded." Angela's hands tightened around her mug. "Tyler's truck is at the mine, so he went there… but then what happened?"

"Is there any chance he went into the mine?" Sheila asked. "Maybe got lost?"

Angela shook her head. "He knew better than to go in there. Besides, he got claustrophobic easily." She rose quickly, coffee sloshing over the rim of her mug. "I'm sorry—I just need a minute."

When she left the room, Sheila and her dad exchanged a glance. Sheila could see that her father felt the same sympathy for Angela that she herself felt. It had to be agonizing not knowing where her son was or what might have happened to him.

Angela returned a few minutes later, her eyes red but her composure restored. She sat back down, wrapping her hands around her mug as if seeking warmth.

"I'm sorry," she said. "It's just... not knowing..."

"Tell us more about Tyler," Sheila said gently. "What kind of person is he?"

A ghost of a smile touched Angela's face. "Smart. Determined. When he sets his mind to something..." She trailed off, then rallied. "He's studying biochemistry. Wants to do research on new cancer treatments."

"Sounds ambitious," Gabriel said.

"He is. Was." Angela caught herself, shook her head. "Is. He works so hard. Even when he's home, he's always studying." She gestured toward a family photo on the wall—Tyler in a cap and gown, his arm around his mother. "We used to be so close, but lately..."

"Lately?" Sheila asked.

"We've been... disagreeing. About faith, mostly.

" Angela's fingers worried at a cross pendant around her neck.

"I raised him in the church, but after he started going to college.

.. He says he needs proof for everything now.

That faith isn't enough." She gave a wan smile.

"Just one more thing for us to argue about, I suppose. "

Sheila glanced at her father, saw him making mental notes just as she was.

"Mrs. Matthews," Gabriel said, "we'd like to talk to Kyle and Marcus. Do you have their contact information?"

"Of course." Angela reached for her phone with trembling hands. "They're good boys. They've known Tyler forever."

As Angela scrolled through her contacts, Sheila studied the family photo again. Tyler's smile was bright, confident. A young man with his whole future ahead of him.

Where had he gone? Had someone else shown up outside that mine, or had Tyler gone in? And if so, why?

"Here," Angela said, showing them the numbers on her phone. "Kyle's parents still live on Cedar Street. Marcus is staying with his sister while he's home from college."

Sheila copied down the information. "We'll talk to them right away. And Angela?" She waited until the other woman met her eyes. "We'll find him. I promise."

Outside, walking to their vehicle, Gabriel spoke quietly: "You shouldn't make promises like that.

"I know." Sheila unlocked the doors. "But right now, hope is all she has, even if she'll be heartbroken by bad news."

Gabriel opened his door, then stopped. "I wasn't thinking about how she'll be affected if you can't keep that promise. I was thinking about you. You break enough promises in this line of work—good promises, made with the best of intentions—and they start adding up like stones in your backpack."

Sheila climbed into the driver's seat. "Then let's make sure we don't have to break that promise."