CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

Sheila splashed water on her face and stared at her reflection in the mirror as the drops ran down her cheeks like tears.

Come on, she told herself. Stay in the game. Don't get discouraged now.

It was easier said than done, however. She was running on fumes, her body demanding sleep, her mind refusing to shut down. A few strands of dark hair stuck to her wet face, and she brushed them away irritably.

You can do this, she told herself. You can—

Her phone began to ring. Startled, she fumbled for it, nearly dropping it into the sink. The caller ID showed it was her father, Gabe.

"Hey, Dad," she said, trying to sound more enthusiastic than she felt. "What's going on?"

"Just thought I'd touch base. Hadn't heard from you in a while." Sheila could hear noise in the background—it sounded like he was driving with the window partly down. "Listen," he went on, "I've been following the investigation on the news and I heard about the fifth victim."

Sheila swallowed hard. "Yeah, it's…"

"You must be taking it hard."

"I am," Sheila admitted, turning away from the mirror. "It's not easy, Dad."

Gabe sighed, the sound crackling through the phone. "You're doing your best."

"But is it enough?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

"It has to be." Gabe's tone was firm, a pillar of support in her wavering world. "You've gone through a lot worse and come out stronger on the other side."

Sheila smiled faintly, appreciating his attempt to bolster her spirits. "Thanks, Dad. But I know you didn't call just to give me a pep talk. What's really going on?"

"I was wondering if you'd had a chance to talk with Finn about this weekend."

Sheila's mind drew a complete blank. "This weekend… "

"Natalie's cabin? Going through her old things?"

"Oh, that's right!" She'd completely forgotten—her dad had asked her to meet him there on Saturday, and he'd invited Finn to join them. Sheila had said she would pass the invitation along to Finn, but so far she'd forgotten.

Forgotten, she thought, or just avoided asking him? The truth was that she didn't want to go back to that cabin—the place where she'd discovered her sister's dead body—at all, and having Finn there wouldn't change the reality of what she'd gone through.

"We really need to do this," her dad continued, his voice softening. "It might bring some closure for both of us."

"I know," Sheila assured him, swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat. "I just…haven't gotten around to asking him."

There was a pause on the line, a quiet moment that was filled with unspoken feelings and memories. Then Gabe spoke again, his words cutting through the silence like a reminder of what she'd lost.

"Finn can be there for you, if you let him. I don't know him particularly well, but he seems like a good, honest man."

Sheila closed her eyes, holding back the tears welling up. Yes, Finn was a good man—that was part of what was frightening about being around him: She had the nagging sense that the two of them might have a real future together, a prospect that scared her more than she wanted to admit.

"I'll talk to him, Dad." The lie fell so easily from her lips that it startled her. Opening her eyes, she stared at her reflection in the mirror, brows furrowed in a mix of determination and fear.

"Good," Gabe said, his voice filled with relief. The line fell silent. Sheila could hear the wind rushing past her father's window and the faint rumble of the car's engine. She didn't want to say goodbye—there was something comforting in just knowing her father was right there, ready to listen should she need to say anything.

"So," Gabe said, "this guy you're after is a real nut, huh?"

Sheila snorted. "Yeah, that's for sure."

"What's the deal with all these astrological symbols around the victims? And did they say you actually found herbs on the bodies?"

"That's right," Sheila said, sighing. "I don't know—it's got to be some kind of ritual or something. Problem is, we don't know how he's choosing his victims. As far as we can tell, it's completely random."

A car horn honked in the background, followed by the squeal of tires. "There's got to be some kind of method to the madness," Gabe said. "All of this makes sense to him. From his perspective, it's completely logical."

"Not from ours," Sheila said with another sigh.

"Listen, I can hear how tired you are. You need a break, a chance to get away from all this."

"I can't just drop an active investigation, Dad."

"I understand. But once you've closed this case, take a few days off, get away. Remember that place we went to in Colorado when you and Natalie were little? We stayed at that ranch?"

"Right near the hot springs," Sheila said, smiling at the memory.

"We couldn't get you out of there—that was all you wanted to do was swim."

"The place stank to high heaven," Sheila said, laughing.

"It sure did. Meanwhile, all your mother wanted to do was teach you two to ride, but since she couldn't convince you, she tried to get me to—"

"Wait a minute," Sheila said suddenly, thinking back over what she'd just said. "Why did the hot springs stink like that?"

"The sulfur, I think. Why?"

Sulfur. Stark had described the creature that came up behind him as smelling like sulfur. Could it have picked up that smell from a hot spring? Were there any hot springs near the Mirage Salt Flats?

"I've got to go, Dad," she said, shoving open the restroom door.

"Okay," he said, sounding worried. "Is everything alright?"

"It is now."

***

Sheila watched the mile markers tick by one by one, her impatience growing.

"You sure we haven't passed it?" she asked Finn, who sat in the passenger seat, staring at the GPS on his phone.

"It should be around here somewhere," he murmured. "The signal is spotty, though—it keeps jumping around."

After Sheila had her revelation, she'd done some digging and discovered that there was only one hot spring within a hundred miles of the salt flats: a little-known gem called the Oasis Springs. It was a long shot, but long shots were all they had at this point.

The road curved sharply, and Sheila slowed down, gripping the steering wheel tightly. Around them, the desert landscape sprawled in every direction, flat and seemingly endless, until it met with the blue sky on the distant horizon.

"There!" Finn pointed to a dirt path off the main road. "Turn here."

Sheila swerved onto the narrow path, bumping along until they reached a small parking lot nestled amidst scrubby desert vegetation. A wooden sign creaked gently in the wind: Oasis Springs.

"I'm not trying to be a Debbie Downer here," Finn said, "but even if the ‘creature' Stark saw was real, and even if it was the killer and he did indeed come from this hot spring…it's not likely it'll do us much good now. It's not as though these places come equipped with security cameras."

"No," Sheila said, unwilling to surrender hope, "but it could tell us something significant about his identity or his habits. Who knows? There could even be a cigarette with saliva on it or a beer bottle with a fingerprint.

Finn chuckled, shaking his head. "You just don't give up, do you?"

Sheila gave him a thin smile. "Not in my nature."

A sudden breeze rustled the leaves of the sparse desert bushes around them. The afternoon air smelled pungent, filled with the unmistakable aroma of sulfur. The hot springs were close.

Navigating their way through the scrubby vegetation, they followed the narrow dirt path leading to the source of the smell. The sound of bubbling water grew louder as they approached, and soon they found themselves standing on the bank of a small, steamy pool.

The water was clear, illuminated by the late afternoon sun filtering through a gap in the rocks. A thin veil of steam hovered over the surface, dissipating into the dry desert air. The hissing and gurgling of the water filled the otherwise silent surroundings with an underlying note of unrest.

Sheila crouched by the water's edge, peering into the pool. A small ripple moved across the surface, sending a shiver along her spine despite the sweltering heat. What secrets did this place hold? Could they be looking at the murderer's hideout?

A movement from the corner of her eye caught her attention. She turned to see Finn scanning the area around them, his eyes narrowed in focus. His hand rested near the holster of his gun, ready to react at a moment's notice.

"What is it?" Sheila asked, her heart pounding with anticipation.

Finn held up a hand for silence, straining to hear. She followed his gaze to a prickly pear cactus several feet away .

"Did you hear that?" he whispered, squinting against the harsh desert sun.

Sheila strained her ears, but all she could hear was the sound of their own breathing and the distant hum of desert insects. "Hear what?"

"That rustling sound..." Finn said, moving cautiously toward the cactus, his gun now drawn. The rustling sound came again—louder this time and accompanied by a low growl.

"It's coming from behind that cactus," Finn murmured, his voice barely audible over the faint hissing of the spring.

They advanced slowly, their eyes glued on the prickly pear cactus. A sudden gust of wind whipped up sand around them, making them grimace and shield their eyes.

Then something bolted out from behind the cactus, causing both Sheila and Finn to jump back instinctively. It was a desert fox, fur matted and eyes wild with fear. It darted past them and disappeared into the desert underbrush in a flash of russet fur.

They both stood frozen for a moment, their hearts pounding in their chests. Finn holstered his gun with a shuddering sigh.

"I guess the desert isn't as deserted as we thought," he said, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Sheila didn't return the smile. She was too busy staring at what the fox had left behind.

Behind the cactus was a small, carefully concealed hole burrowed into the side of one of the rocky hills surrounding the spring. The hole was barely visible, tucked between a cluster of shrubs and obscured by loose rocks.

Sheila moved toward it, her heart hammering in her chest. She crouched down, peering into the dark recesses of the hole.

There was something in there, gleaming faintly.

"What is it?" Finn asked. "Did you find something?"

"I'm not sure," Sheila murmured, slipping on a pair of latex gloves. She twisted her body sideways to reach into the hole. She half-expected to feel the teeth of another fox sinking into her hand, but instead all she felt was stone and sand. Then her questing fingers encountered something long, cylindrical.

She grasped it and pulled. It rasped along the stones, making a jarring melody.

When she finally pulled it out, it flashed in the sunlight, momentarily blinding her. As her eyes cleared, she stared at the object for a few long seconds before she could make sense of what she was seeing.

"The knife," she said with a note of wonder. "The golden knife."