Page 31 of Silent Night

But how were they supposed to find him?

Sheila turned away and began pacing the room. The dim fluorescent lights cast eerie shadows across the precinct walls, echoing her mounting anxiety. She couldn't shake the paralyzing fear that the killer would strike again before they could stop him.

"Hey," Finn said, glancing up from his laptop. "We'll catch this guy, Sheila. I promise."

Sheila looked at him, meeting his gaze for a brief moment before focusing back on the evidence scattered across the table. She knew he was trying to reassure her, but his furrowed brow and tight jawline betrayed his own concern.

"When?" she asked. "And who knows if he'll attack again? We're grasping at straws at this point. This whole lead could be nothing. What if we're just wasting our time with this app? What if all I did was steer us off course?"

"This is all part of the process," Natalie said patiently. "You do your best. Sometimes your leads pan out, sometimes they don't. Regardless of where this app leads us, it's something we need to investigate—there's too much smoke not to suspect a fire."

Sheila nodded, knowing her sister was right. Still, it didn't make her feel much better. She could only imagine the guilt she would experience if it turned out that this was just a rabbit-trail, and another young woman was killed because Sheila had nudged the investigation in the wrong direction.

Suddenly her phone buzzed in her pocket, breaking her concentration. It was a text message from Star.

Hey Sheila, the message read. accidentally brought your boxing gloves home after practice. I can give them to your dad next time I see him.

A faint smile tugged at the corner of Sheila's lips. The simple, mundane nature of the text provided a brief respite from the relentless pursuit of the killer. Sheila typed a quick reply: No worries, Star. You're more than welcome to keep them.

She paused, her fingers hovering above the screen. She wanted to be a positive influence in Star's life, to provide the guidance and support that she herself had been so grateful for during her formative years. She reflected on the countless hours spent training under her father's watchful eye, the discipline and determination that had molded her into the woman she was today.

Maybe we can train together sometime, she added, pressing send before she could second-guess herself.

She sat back and waited to see if Star would reply. Seconds ticked by. No answer came.

That's alright, Sheila told herself. I'm sure she's got other things on her mind. Or maybe she just went to bed.

It was almost eleven p.m., after all, at least according to the clock on the wall. Sheila stifled a yawn and rubbed her eyes, trying to shake off the weariness that had settled in after hours spent sifting through evidence.

"Maybe we should call it a night," Natalie suggested, her voice breaking the stillness of the room. "We could all use some rest."

Sheila nodded, though she knew sleep would be elusive with her mind burdened by the weight of the case. "Yeah, you're right. Can I give you a ride home, Nat?"

"Thanks, Sheila. I'd appreciate that." Natalie began to gather her things, the soft scrape of her wheelchair against the linoleum accompanying her movements.

As they left the precinct together, the night air was crisp, stinging Sheila's cheeks as she helped her sister into the van. The silence of the drive was punctuated only by the hum of the engine and the occasional brush of tires against the damp pavement. Sheila's thoughts were a whirlwind, an unrelenting storm of fear and frustration that threatened to consume her.

Pulling up to Natalie's house, the porch light bathed the front steps in a warm glow. Natalie turned to Sheila, her dark eyes studying her sister's face with concern. "How do you think today went?" she asked.

Sheila exhaled as she stared out into the night. "I just...I wish we caught the killer, Nat. I can't help but worry that we're running out of time."

Natalie's hand found Sheila's, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "I understand, Sheila. But remember, this is a process. We have to be patient and trust that we'll find the answers we need."

The weight of her sister's experience and wisdom brought a small measure of comfort to Sheila, though the unease still gnawed at the edges of her thoughts. She watched as Natalie rolled her wheelchair up to the front door. The porch light cast a warm glow on Natalie's face as she navigated the familiar path to her front door with practiced ease. Sheila watched from the driver's seat, her heart swelling with admiration for her sister's resilience and strength. She couldn't help but feel protective, a wave of determination surging within her.

"Take care, Nat," Sheila called out softly, her voice tinged with concern.

"Thanks, Sheila. Goodnight," Natalie replied, flashing a reassuring smile before disappearing inside her house.

Sheila pulled away from the curb, her thoughts racing as the van's headlights illuminated the empty streets. With each passing moment, it became increasingly clear that sleep would be a futile pursuit tonight. Instead, an overwhelming sense of urgency gripped her—she needed to do something, anything, to bring this killer to justice.

"Damn it," she muttered under her breath, gripping the steering wheel tightly. Visions of the crime scene photos flashed through her mind, their gruesome details seared into her memory. "I can't let anyone else suffer like this."

A sudden resolve took hold, fueling her actions as she made a sharp turn back toward the precinct. The thought of heading home and attempting to rest seemed laughable now because there was simply too much at stake. Time was running out, and as the younger Stone sister, Sheila refused to let her family down—or herself.

There must be something we're missing, she thought, heading back toward the precinct. The killer is using that dating app—I just know it. And if I have to go through all the profiles on there one by one to find him…I will.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

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