PREDATOR: AN ANDREW HALE SERIES

CEDAR CITY ARRIVAL

The flight to Cedar City was quieter than I expected. I was assigned given a partner, Sally or Sarah was it?, I couldn't even remember and thankfully she was a quiet thing and for that I was grateful.

I needed the quiet to think.

 Even in the air, my mind was spinning—going over the cases, memorizing the names, the routes, the witnesses. Abby Collins. Miranda Dillon. Lila and Laura Grayson. Faces frozen in photographs, eyes wide with fear. They weren’t just files to me—they were lives. And I had a sinking feeling that whoever had taken them wasn’t done yet.

I glanced down at Tommy, sitting obediently at my feet. The German shepherd had been my partner through more than a few tough cases. Calm, intuitive, and loyal, Tommy had a knack for sniffing out tension and danger that humans often overlooked. He lifted his head, ears perked, as if sensing my thoughts.

Landing was a relief. The late afternoon sun stretched across the town, painting the low mountains gold and long shadows across quiet streets. From the air, Cedar City looked ordinary, but I didn’t buy it. Monsters could hide behind the most peaceful facades. Tommy gave a low woof, as if agreeing with me.

Our ride was waiting—a black SUV with tinted windows. Tommy hopped into the backseat, tail wagging slightly, clearly curious but calm. The driver nodded, and we slipped through the streets silently. I watched the town pass by: small brick buildings, neat yards, a diner with a neon sign flickering lazily. The quiet was deceptive. I could feel it in my chest: Cedar City had secrets, and I was about to unearth them.

We arrived at the sheriff’s office. The building was old but solid, with a brick façade and a wooden sign that read “Sheriff’s Office – Cedar City, Utah.” Parking outside, I let Tommy hop out and stretch before following me inside. He nosed the door curiously, earning a few amused glances from the deputies.

“Agent Hale,” a deep voice called. I turned to see a tall man with a weirdly shaped moustache walking toward me, broad shoulders and calm authority in his stride. His dark hair was flecked with gray at the temples, and there was a lined seriousness to his face. This was Sheriff Jeremiah Riker.

“Sheriff Riker,” I said, shaking his hand. Tommy sat obediently by my side, tail wagging slightly.

“Welcome to Cedar City,” Riker said, eyes sharp but welcoming. “I’ll cut the pleasantries—we don’t get many federal agents up here, and when we do, it usually means trouble. And… nice dog.”

Tommy wagged, letting out a soft woof. I ruffled his ears. “He’s more than a pet. He’s trained to pick up scents, detect stress, and, most importantly, he keeps me sane.”

Riker nodded approvingly. “Good. You’re going to need all the help you can get.”

We walked past desks cluttered with files, coffee cups, and photographs of local events. Deputies moved quietly, some stealing glances at Tommy, who ignored them, nose to the floor as he sniffed out corners of the office. The sheriff led us into his office—a modest, efficient space with maps pinned to the walls, covered in colored tacks and strings.

“Please Sit,” Riker said, gesturing to the chair opposite him. Tommy curled up at my feet. My eyes wandered over the maps, red pins marking locations across the town and surrounding areas. Patterns immediately began to form.

“I assume you know why you’re here,” Riker said. His voice carried authority and exhaustion, a man who’d been carrying this case far too long.

“Yes,” I said. “I’ve reviewed the files. They're all girls. All taken in early evening, all within a few miles of each other. I want every statement, every note, every piece of evidence you have. Even rumors. Nothing is too small.”

He handed me a folder, thick with papers. Tommy’s ears perked at the rustle. I opened it carefully. Photos first: Abby’s hesitant smile, Miranda’s small grin, Lila and Laura holding hands. My stomach tightened seeing them again.

“Tell me what you noticed about this incidents”, I asked Riker.

“Nothing much, you see”.

“The girls were all taken, mysteriously missing, it's, it's so puzzling”.

“You know we even set up watchers from 5pm till dawn everyday but nothing, it's so puzzling like I said”.

Either this man was playing on my intelligence or he was outright stupid. I seriously didn't have the patience for this moving in circles.

I flipped through the notes, marking details: Abby’s corner store route, Mirandas’s volleyball court, the Grayson children’s street. All locations with quick access to main roads leading out of town. Whoever did this knew Cedar City intimately.

“Any suspects?” I asked.

“Not yet,” Riker said. “We’ve chased leads, questioned locals, tried connecting the dots ourselves. Nothing. No fingerprints, no DNA, no plate numbers. It’s like the kids vanish into thin air. That’s why you’re here. I trust your judgment.”

Tommy nudged my leg gently, sensing my focus. I patted him briefly. Small towns hid secrets under the surface, and I intended to find them.

We spent the next hour going over every detail. Detective Martinez, sharp-eyed and meticulous, walked me through witness statements again. Abby Collins, fifteen, walking home from school; Miranda Dillon, twelve, soccer tournament; Lila and Laura Grayson, seventeen, disappeared from their street.

I leaned back, connecting the dots in my head. Timing: 5:30–7:00 PM. Victims were in small groups before being left alone. Locations within five miles of each other, near roads leading out of town. Methodical. Calculated. Patience and planning were obvious.

“Anything else?” I asked, eyes on the map.

Riker pointed to the northern edge, a narrow country road. “No incidents here yet, but a dark van was spotted late at night. Could be nothing… could be something. Keep it in mind.”

I nodded, making notes. Tommy sniffed around the edge of the desk, ears twitching, sensing tension. He wasn’t just company; he was part of my team, and he knew instinctively when to alert me to danger.

I didn't know that it was already late by the time I set down the folder.

I needed to crash, I always never do well after a plane ride so after a long briefing, I stepped outside. Cedar City had a calm that almost seemed ordinary— an elderly man sweeping his porch,no kids outside—but subtle details didn’t escape me. A minivan parked too long near the outskirts, a streetlight flickering inconsistently, shadows clinging unnaturally in alleys. Patterns emerged quietly, almost invisible to everyone else. Tommy walked beside me, tail alert, sniffing the air and scanning the surroundings.

We checked into the motel Riker had arranged. The room was modest, but I spread out the files, maps, and photographs. Tommy settled on the floor beside me, head resting on his paws, eyes alert. I ran through the scenarios in my head, tracing routes, timing, and exits, imagining the kidnapper’s moves like chess pieces.

Danger didn’t scare me—it sharpened me. The adrenaline flowed through me like a current. And somewhere in Cedar City, the person responsible was likely watching, unaware that I was already piecing together the first strands of the trap.

Tomorrow, Tommy and I would start canvassing neighborhoods, walking the kids’ routes, and speaking to locals. Every small detail mattered. Each observation could make the difference between another disappearance or the first break in months of dead ends.

As night fell over Cedar City, I looked out at the quiet streets with Tommy at my side. The town seemed asleep, innocent, unaware of the predator lurking nearby. But I wasn’t going to let that happen. I would be the eyes they didn’t know they needed.

And deep down, I already knew—the first real lead was closer than anyone suspected. Tommy gave a soft whine, nudging my hand as if to say he knew it too. Together, we’d find it.