Page 4 of Silent Night

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Sheila asked, her voice barely above a whisper. The idea of her father working alone on such a personal and painful case sent a shiver down her spine.

Gabe took a deep breath before answering, his voice tinged with regret. "I didn't want to interfere with your career, Sheila. You were so focused on kickboxing, and I didn't want you to feel guilty for pursuing your dreams." He glanced at her, a hint of sadness in his eyes. "I made a promise to myself that I wouldn't say anything unless I found something significant."

A thousand questions swirled in Sheila's mind, but she reined them in, focusing instead on the weight of her father's words. She had always known he was fiercely protective of her ambitions, but she hadn't realized just how much he had kept from her to ensure she stayed on track.

"Did you find something significant, Dad?" she asked, careful not to let her hope show.

He stared solemnly at the horses, his face etched with determination. "Yes, I did. Thanks to Natalie, I was able to get access to the police files. Though, she doesn't know what I managed to discover." He paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. "I found a lead that might help us figure out who murdered your mother."

Sheila's heart raced. "What’s the lead?"

Gabe ran a hand through his graying hair, his eyes never leaving the horses. "There was a partial license plate captured on a traffic camera outside our house on the night Henrietta was murdered. I've been investigating junkyards, combing through records for a vehicle that matches the description, and I think I've finally found it."

A mixture of excitement and fear surged through Sheila as she processed the information. Her hands clenched into fists at her side, her nails digging into her palms.

"I haven't personally laid eyes on it, though," Gabe continued, "so it's possible—"

"What are we waiting for?" Sheila asked, unable to contain her excitement. "Let's get over there!"

"Before we do anything, I need a reassurance from you, Sheila," he said, turning to face her, his eyes filled with resolve. "Look me in the eye and promise me that this isn't some revenge mission. That if we find the person responsible for killing Mom, you'll do the right thing, like she would've wanted."

As soon as she had heard the words, Sheila knew she could make no such promise. How many times had she listened to her dad or her sister tell her stories of bad guys who got away with their crimes because of a loophole or some other flaw in the justice system? As much as she wanted to believe such cases were the exception, she had to accept the fact that identifying their mother's killer and proving his guilt were two different things, and there was a very real scenario in which they might have to live with the knowledge that the murderer who had stolen Mom from them got to enjoy his freedom, safe beyond the reach of the law.

Could Sheila accept that?

"Sheila?" her father asked, studying her closely. "Do you understand what I'm asking you?"

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Of course, Dad. By the book as always, right?"

"Right." He stared at her a few seconds longer, evaluating her.

"So," she said, "are we going to get going or just keep wasting daylight?"

He rubbed at his face, and when he looked at her again, that hint of suspicion in his eyes was gone. He pushed off from the fence and headed toward the truck. "Come on—no time to waste."

“Where are we going?”

“To the junkyard to find that car—I hope. It's in gang territory, though, so we'll have to be careful, especially if I run into any of the guys I put away."

Sheila followed him, realizing now that her father had invited her along not just because she was personally invested in what they discovered, but also because he needed extra muscle, a role she was more than happy to fill.

And then, she thought, we'll get justice for Mom—with or without the approval of the justice system.

CHAPTER TWO

Sheila sat up straighter in the truck, puzzled by the detour they had taken.

What does this place have to do with Mom’s murder? she wondered.

The neighborhood they had entered was a stark contrast to the picturesque town of Coldwater, where Sheila had grown up. Abandoned buildings with boarded-up windows lined the streets, their walls covered in graffiti. Trash littered the sidewalks, and the few people who were already up at this hour wore expressions that spoke of exhaustion and hopelessness.

Sheila couldn't help but feel a mix of sadness and unease as they drove past a group of young men huddled together on a corner, their hands exchanging small plastic bags for crumpled bills. She knew that drugs and crime were rampant in this part of town, but seeing it firsthand made her heart sink.

"Dad, what are we doing here?" she asked, her eyes never leaving the desolate scene outside. "I thought we were going to the junkyard to look for that vehicle."

Gabe glanced at his daughter before turning his attention back to the road. "We are, Sheila," he replied in a steady voice. "But I need to take care of an errand first. Just wait in the truck while I'm gone, okay?"

"Errand? Here?" Her brow furrowed in confusion, but before she could press him further, Gabe pulled up beside one of the dilapidated buildings and killed the engine.

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