Page 35 of Silent Night

"Over here," Heather said, her voice lowering as she led Jenson to a quiet corner of the store. "I want to smell these candles." It was as if she had unwittingly sealed her fate, drawing him away from prying eyes.

"Tell me," Jenson began, his tone shifting from polite to accusatory. "Why did you agree to go on a date with me? What were you thinking?"

Heather's eyes widened, taken aback by the sudden change in his demeanor. She glanced around uneasily, seeking refuge among the rows of trinkets and baubles. But there was nowhere to hide.

"Wh-what do you mean?" she stammered, her cheeks flushed with a mixture of confusion and fear.

"Did you even read my profile?" Jenson asked, taking a step closer to her, backing her into a corner. "Or did you just see a handsome face and decide to take your chances? You have no idea who I really am."

"Jenson, I don't understand," Heather said, her voice trembling. "I thought we were getting along well."

"Getting along well?" he scoffed, his dark eyes narrowing. "You're so naive, Heather. You've made a foolish mistake."

Just as Jenson towered over her, the store owner appeared from around the corner, sensing the tension between them. "Is everything alright over here?" she asked, her brow furrowing with concern.

Heather seized the opportunity, her voice shaky but resolute. "I was just leaving," she said, slipping past Jenson and making a beeline for the exit.

As she dashed out of the store, Jenson's resolve hardened. He couldn't let her escape so easily; she needed to pay for her mistake. With a calmness that belied his sinister intentions, he ambled after her.

She should've stood me up, he thought grimly. Instead, she just sealed her fate.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

A cold hand jolted Sheila from her slumber, shaking her shoulder with a persistent urgency. She groaned, the fog of sleep clouding her mind like a heavy mist. Blinking hard, she tried to focus on the face hovering above her.

"Sheila, you okay?" Natalie's voice was tight with concern, her eyebrows knitted together as she scrutinized her sister. "You were talking and thrashing around in your sleep. It sounded like you were having a hell of a nightmare."

Sheila rubbed her eyes, the memory of the twisted dream slipping through her fingers like sand. The lingering image of her mother, warped and unfamiliar, tugged at her consciousness. She shuddered, trying to shake it off. Her heart raced, and an unsettling feeling nestled itself in the pit of her stomach.

"Must've been some bad pizza," she mumbled, swallowing hard. But she knew it hadn't been the food.

As she sat up, memories from the previous night flooded back: the quiet precinct, her eyes scanning endless dating profiles while her fingers flew over the keyboard in search of the elusive killer. The hours she'd spent poring over messages, looking for clues, and the weight of exhaustion that had settled on her shoulders like a leaden cloak.

Her gaze shifted to the documents strewn across the table, and her heart clenched at the sight of her own handwriting—frantic notes scrawled across the pages.

"Hey," Natalie said softly, placing a gentle hand on Sheila's arm. "You don't have to put on a brave face for me. Are you sure you're alright?"

Sheila forced a smile, even though the remnants of her nightmare still clung to her like cobwebs. "I'm fine, really," she insisted, her voice slightly shaky. She didn't need Natalie worrying about her, not when there were more important things to focus on.

Finn, who had been observing the sisters with concern etched on his face, finally spoke up. "I don't know whether I should be impressed by your dedication in staying here all night, or worried about you."

"Sheila," Natalie said, her brow furrowing as she studied her sister's face more closely. "Why didn't you just go home? You look exhausted."

Taking a deep breath, Sheila tried to focus on the case, hoping it would push away the disturbing memories of her dream. "I found something last night. Something that could be significant."

Her fingers trembled as she rifled through the documents scattered across the table, searching for the page that held her discovery. When she found it, she grasped the sheet of paper tightly, her knuckles turning white. On it were handwritten notes detailing her findings from the previous night.

"Take a look at this," she said, holding the paper out to Natalie and Finn. "I think the killer may have used two different profiles to communicate with the victims. The messages they sent were...strange. Full of fire and brimstone type statements."

Natalie and Finn leaned in to study the notes, their eyes scanning the lines of text. As they read, the room seemed to grow colder, the shadows cast by the dim light creeping closer like hungry predators.

Finn raised an eyebrow, his gaze flicking from the notes to Sheila. "I don't know about you two, but I find it hard to believe that either of our victims would willingly date someone who preached fire and brimstone at them like this."

"Maybe they didn't," Natalie said, her eyes narrowing as she considered the possibility. "What if the killer just found them through the app, and then stalked them until he had a chance to strike? Using the dating app doesn't mean they actually went on a date."

Sheila's heart hammered in her chest, the room suddenly feeling too small. The thought of their unknown assailant lurking in the shadows, watching and waiting for the perfect moment to pounce, sent chills down her spine. She shook off the uneasiness and focused on the conversation.

"Either way, we can't rule out the significance of these profiles." she said. "Finn, do you think you could trace who created these accounts?"

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