PREDATOR: AN ANDREW HALE SERIES

SMILES AND SECRETS

The morning air in Cedar City was crisp, carrying the faint smell of dew and the earthy aroma of the mountains surrounding the town. Tommy padded beside me, ears perked, tail flicking as we walked down Main Street. Yesterday had been a whirlwind—interviewing families, tracing routes, and seeing the grief etched into every parent’s face. But one detail gnawed at me overnight: four girls were missing, sure, but another twelve hadn’t even been reported.

Twelve girls. Not a word in the local papers, no emergency broadcasts, nothing. The thought that the sheriff might be aware of this and had chosen to keep quiet made my stomach tighten. Either he was protecting someone—or something—or he was complicit in hiding the truth.

Tommy stopped mid-step, sniffing a lamp post, tail wagging slightly. “Yeah, buddy,” I said, bending down to ruffle his ears, “we’re about to ask some very pointed questions.”

Our first stop was Cedar Community Church, perched on a small rise overlooking a tidy lawn. The white building gleamed in the early sunlight, a picture of calm and serenity. But the monsters hiding behind these facades always loved to smile.

Inside, the scent of wax polish mixed with old hymnals greeted me.I was directed into his office by a sad-looking woman who was looking for anyone to explain the meaning of life to her.

 Reverend Paul Goodchild was seated on his chair, hands folded, ever-smiling as if he knew some cosmic joke no one else did.

“Agent Hale,” he said smoothly, voice carrying calm certainty. “God’s will guides every step. How may I serve you?”

I raised an eyebrow. Yeah,sure, whatever works for you, man.

 “Reverend, I’ll be direct. Yesterday, I spoke to several families. Four girls are missing—already terrible. But twelve more, just as young, just as intelligent, have vanished without public notice. Why hasn’t this been reported?”

The Reverend smiled wider, tilting his head slightly. “Ah, but everything unfolds according to God’s plan. Patience, faith, and trust… these are the keys to understanding His will. Even suffering is part of His design.”

I let out a low, sarcastic laugh. “So, let me see if I understand this correctly: twelve girls vanish, and we’re supposed to shrug because… God’s plan? That’s comforting. Really. Makes me feel all warm inside.”

He remained unfazed. “The Lord works in ways mysterious to men. Trials, tribulations… all are instruments of learning. Even darkness serves the light.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. Tommy nudged my leg, sensing my irritation. “Yeah, Tommy, enlightened advice. Just pray they return safely while we wait for divine intervention. Makes total sense.”

Reverend Goodchild clasped his hands tighter, eyes glinting with quiet amusement. “Faith is not measured by answers, but by acceptance. Seek not the world’s clarity, but the Lord’s wisdom.”

I took a deep breath, pacing the aisle slightly. “Reverend, I deal in clarity. Facts, evidence, patterns. Twelve girls are gone. Families terrified. God’s wisdom doesn’t solve kidnappings. Your sermons won’t bring them home.”

He chuckled softly. “But understanding comes in time, my son. You will see.”

I crouched slightly, lowering my voice. “Listen, Paul—call me Andy—I’m not here for parables. Tell me what you know. Names, schedules, friendships, routines. Anything. Don’t give me poetic nonsense. Give me facts.”

The Reverend’s smile didn’t falter. “Everything is as it should be. Trust in His timing. Even suffering has meaning. All unfolds by His design.”

I exhaled, frustrated. “Brilliant. Twelve girls vanish, everyone smiles, and I get… divine design. Thanks. Really helpful.” Tommy let out a small whine, nudging my hand, clearly agreeing that sermons were useless in this case.

I stood, giving him one last look. “Look, Reverend, I’ll be back if necessary. But next time, maybe trade parables for specifics. Maybe even a hint of cooperation would be nice.”

I left the church with Tommy padding behind me, tail high, head swiveling like he was already sniffing out secrets. The small town radiated calm, but I knew better. I could feel tension in the streets, in the air, in the way neighbors glanced at each other.

Our next stop was the sheriff’s office. Tommy walked at my heels, occasionally sniffing the doorframe and lampposts as we approached. I pushed the heavy front door open, the faint smell of paper, coffee, and bureaucracy hitting me immediately.

“Sheriff Riker,” I said at the front desk, keeping my tone polite but firm. “I need to speak with you about—”

The deputy behind the counter, a young man with dark circles under his eyes, raised a hand. “Sheriff’s… out. Very important meeting. He didn’t say where.”

I raised an eyebrow. “A meeting no one knows about? How convenient. A ‘very important meeting’ to dodge questions about twelve missing girls. Charming.”

The deputy shuffled nervously. “He said not to worry… just wait here until he returns.”

I crossed my arms, eyes narrowing. “Oh, I’ll wait. Don’t get me wrong. I love waiting. Sitting here, twiddling thumbs while the sheriff hides behind secrecy. Fantastic use of federal time.”

Tommy let out a soft woof, leaning against my leg, clearly agreeing.

I sat in the small waiting area, flipping through my notes, scribbling, trying not to fidget. Every second stretched into eternity. The office felt heavy, charged, like everyone inside knew secrets they weren’t willing to share.

After twenty minutes, I noticed the subtle signs: a file left slightly open, shadows shifting on the walls, deputies exchanging uneasy glances. Everyone was uncomfortable, as they should be.

I muttered to Tommy, “Well, buddy, looks like we’re the only sane ones here. Twelve girls missing, and the sheriff’s MIA. Just another day in paradise, huh?”

Tommy gave a quiet whine, nuzzling my knee. I smiled faintly, scratching behind his ears. “Yeah, I know. But we’re not going anywhere. Not until someone tells us the truth.”

Hours passed. Deputies drifted out for lunch, returned, then left again. Each time, I made eye contact with whoever passed, letting them know I wasn’t leaving. Tommy curled at my feet, alert and patient.

Finally, as the sun dipped lower, painting the office in long shadows, I stood and stretched. I didn’t need to sit back down. Waiting was now a statement—a declaration. Whoever knew what was going on in Cedar City, they were about to realize that Andy Hale didn’t leave until he got answers.

I paced slowly, voice low but sharp. “Twelve girls missing, and the sheriff’s conveniently gone. Let me guess—he’s at a secret location, making deals, covering tracks, or just enjoying a long lunch.” Tommy barked softly, and I chuckled. “Yeah, you think so too, huh? Maybe he’s at the church again, having a chat with Reverend Smiles over coffee and parables.”

I walked to the window, looking out at Cedar Street. The shadows stretched across the quiet town, and I felt that tingle—the one that told me danger was close, and the predator had been clever. The pattern was becoming clearer: girls intelligent, observant, attending the same church, unreported cases. Someone in Cedar City knew far more than they were letting on.

I returned to my seat, scribbling furiously in my notebook. I listed every girl, every route, every connection, every church event I could find. Tommy leaned over, sniffing the pages, tail flicking. He was my partner in this, and he knew what I needed even before I did.

Finally, I muttered, voice low, more to myself than anyone else, “Riker… wherever you are, I’ll wait. And when you walk through that door, you better have answers. Because twelve girls are missing. And I don’t care how inconvenient it is for you to tell me the truth.”

Tommy nudged my hand again, a reminder that we were ready. Waiting was just a prelude. Investigation, confrontation, uncovering secrets—this town had no idea what was coming.

The office hummed quietly around us. Fluorescent lights flickered overhead. Shadows stretched long and dark. And I sat, determined, scribbling, planning, observing, and waiting. Because Cedar City had secrets. And I intended to uncover every one.