Page 23 of Silent Night

"Those bruises look nasty," Natalie said from her wheelchair nearby, her brow furrowed with sisterly concern. "You're lucky you didn't hit your head on the concrete when he threw you, or who knows what might have happened."

Sheila sighed and met her sister's gaze. "I know, Nat. I'm okay, really." She recalled the adrenaline coursing through her veins during the altercation, how it almost felt like her old kickboxing days. But this was different—this was real life, not sport, and the stakes were infinitely higher.

The break room door swung open, and a handful of officers strolled in, their uniforms crisp and clean. Their laughter rang through the small space, momentarily drowning out the hum of the vending machine and the ticking of the wall clock. Sheila couldn't help but feel a twinge of excitement at the thought of officially joining their ranks soon. How would it feel to wear the badge, to truly belong here among these men and women dedicated to justice?

"Hey, what happened to your hands?" one of the older officers asked, nodding toward Sheila's wrapped knuckles.

"Simon West happened," Natalie replied before Sheila could speak, her voice tight with annoyance.

"That big fella in Room Three?"

"That's the one."

The officer shook his head, clearly impressed. "Hats off to you for taking down a giant like that."

Sheila smiled, grateful for the comment.

Natalie glanced at the clock. "Speaking of West, I think he's had enough time to cool down. We should talk to him before he comes up with a story for why he had Clara chained in his basement."

Sheila frowned, concern etching lines across her forehead. "How is she doing? I can't imagine what she must be going through right now."

"She's receiving medical attention and will be set up with a trauma counselor," Natalie reassured her sister. "She's safe now, and we'll make sure she has the support she needs to heal from this nightmare."

Sheila nodded, grateful to know there was a plan in place for Clara's recovery.

As they ventured deeper into the sheriff's station, heading toward the interview room, the familiar sounds of small-town police work filled the air: the low hum of conversation punctuated by bursts of laughter, the rhythmic tapping of fingers on keyboards, the distant murmur of a radio dispatch. Sheila listened intently to the snippets of conversation that drifted by, each one painting a vivid picture of life in Coldwater.

"Another fender bender at the intersection of Elm and Oak," a middle-aged officer said with a resigned sigh. "When are they gonna fix those stoplights?"

"Think we can convince the chief to let us play softball against the fire department next Sunday?" asked another.

As they walked, Natalie shared more about Clara's harrowing experience. "She told us that West had promised to drive her home after their date. Instead, he brought her back to his place, luring her into the basement under the guise of showing her his 'prized movie collection.' That's when he trapped her."

Sheila's hands clenched into fists at her sides, the bandages biting into her skin. She couldn't help but feel a growing fury toward West for the terror he'd put Clara through. She wanted nothing more than to see him pay for his crimes.

"Let's make sure he doesn't get away with this," she said, her voice filled with determination.

Natalie glanced at her, looking momentarily surprised. "He will," she said. "Don't worry about that. Just focus on proving it. Neither your anger nor mine counts for anything in a court of law."

They reached the interview room. Sheila's heart thundered in her chest as she reached for the cold metal handle of the door. The faint scent of stale coffee and disinfectant clung to the air, and the low hum of fluorescent lights overhead filled her ears. With a nod from Natalie, she pushed open the door, revealing the stark space that awaited them.

The interview room was small and claustrophobic, with cinder block walls painted a dull gray. A single table sat in the center, flanked by two chairs on either side. To their left, a large one-way mirror dominated the wall, allowing unseen observers to watch the proceedings within. It was in this bleak setting that Simon West awaited them, his bulk hunched over the table like a malevolent shadow.

West was a mountain of a man, with shoulders broad enough to fill the doorway and a barrel chest that strained against the fabric of his shirt. His dark hair hung unkempt around his face, and a thick beard obscured most of his features, save for a pair of eyes that glittered with malice.

As Natalie wheeled herself into the room, West's gaze flicked to her, and his lips twisted into a sneer. "Well, well," he drawled, eyeing the wheelchair with disdain. "If it isn't the crippled sheriff. Tell me, are you the one they send to chase down senior citizens? Maybe see whose wheelchair is faster?"

Sheila's blood boiled at his taunts, but before she could snap back a retort, Natalie spoke up, her voice steady and unwavering. "My ability to serve has nothing to do with my legs, Mr. West. Now, let's focus on why you're here, shall we?"

Natalie's calm response seemed to infuriate West even more, but Sheila admired her sister's composure. She swallowed her own anger, focusing on the task at hand. West had to pay for what he'd done to Clara and any other victims they didn't yet know about. Their priority was to build a solid case against him, not reiterate to him what a despicable person he was.

"Let's start with the basics," Natalie said. "Please confirm your full name for us."

"Simon West," he replied flatly, his eyes never leaving Natalie's face. His disdain was palpable, making Sheila's fingers twitch with the urge to punch him again.

Ignoring her irritation, Sheila pulled out her phone to take notes. As she typed, she listened intently to the interview, resolved to catch any inconsistencies in West's story.

"Simon West, huh?" Natalie asked. "That's funny, because we heard you're an ex-con, but we couldn't find you in the database. You wouldn't happen to have been born with a different name, would you?"

---