Page 43 of Silent Home

Unless they were still watching exactly what someone else wanted them to see.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

Sheila's phone buzzed with the blueprints she'd requested.The Art House Cinema's basement level was a maze of service corridors, storage rooms, and old dressing rooms from its vaudeville days.Many of the spaces weren't even used anymore, making them perfect for someone who wanted to stay hidden.

"Look at this," she said, showing Finn her phone."There's a utility tunnel that connects to the city's steam system.If Wilson's been studying these buildings as long as we think..."

"He could move between them unseen," Finn finished."Perfect for surveillance.Perfect for stalking victims."

A police cruiser rolled silently past the alley entrance, lights off as requested.Deputy Neville was coordinating with other units to establish a perimeter without drawing attention.The last thing they needed was to spook Wilson if he was inside with Anna.

"Main entrance is covered," Finn said quietly."Loading dock too.If he's in there, he's not getting out."

Sheila studied the blueprints again."Three basement access points—the main stairs near the lobby, the service elevator, and..."She traced a line with her finger."This maintenance door leading to the steam tunnels."

"Which would you choose if you were him?"

"Steam tunnels," she said without hesitation."It's what he knows.What he's comfortable with."She zoomed in on that section of the blueprints."The tunnel entrance should be right about...there."She pointed to a heavy metal door partially hidden behind a dumpster.

They approached carefully, weapons drawn.The door's padlock had been recently cut, the metal still shiny where bolt cutters had done their work.Fresh scuff marks on the concrete suggested it had been opened within the last hour.

"He's here," Sheila whispered.

The door opened with a soft groan of hydraulics.Their flashlight beams revealed a narrow corridor sloping downward, pipes running along both walls.The air was thick with humidity from the steam lines, and their footsteps echoed despite their best efforts at stealth.

They descended slowly, checking each corner, each shadow.The basement level was even more complex in person than on the blueprints—a warren of corridors branching off in multiple directions.But Sheila noticed something: small marks on the walls, almost invisible unless you were looking for them.The kind of navigational aids someone might leave to avoid getting lost.

"Wilson's breadcrumbs," she murmured.

They followed the marks deeper into the building's substructure.The humidity increased, making it hard to breathe.Pipes creaked and hissed around them.And then—so faint they almost missed it—the sound of voices.

Finn gestured toward a corridor branching left.The voices grew clearer as they approached.A woman's voice—young, probably Anna Martin's—and a man's measured response.They sounded like they were rehearsing something.

"Perfect," the man said."Now try it again, but this time really feel the character's desperation.Remember, she's losing her grip on reality.Everything she thought she knew is falling apart."

"Like this?"Anna's voice had a trembling quality that made Sheila's skin crawl.Was it acting, or genuine fear?

"Yes, exactly!You see?You understand her completely.So much better than the actress they chose."

Sheila and Finn moved closer, using the pipes for cover.The voices were coming from behind a heavy door marked "Property Storage."Light spilled from beneath it, along with the smell of dust and old costumes.

They took positions on either side of the door.Through the gap, Sheila could see part of the room—old set pieces, racks of costumes, chairs arranged like an audience.And there, in what seemed to be a carefully lit performance space, stood Anna Martin.She wore a vintage costume that must have been from the film she'd auditioned for, her face streaked with tears.Whether they were tears of genuine fear or part of a performance, however, Sheila couldn't tell.

Paul Wilson sat in a folding chair before Anna, his wire-rimmed glasses reflecting the work lights he'd set up.He held a small notebook, making occasional notes as he watched.There was no indication he'd been hurrying through the tunnels moments before.

For that matter, there were no signs that Anna had been hurrying, either.Had she been waiting here all along?

Still trying to figure out what was going on, Sheila's gaze fell on the theatrical equipment lying on the table beside Wilson—including the gaffer's wire.

"Again," he said."From the beginning.Really inhabit her madness this time."

Sheila caught Finn's eye and nodded.In one smooth movement, they burst through the door, weapons raised.

"Police!Don't move!"

Wilson's reaction was instant—but not what they expected.Instead of running or reaching for a weapon, he simply sighed and set down his notebook.

"You're interrupting a crucial moment," he said calmly."Anna was just beginning to understand the character's true depth."

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