Page 50 of Silent Night

In a last-ditch effort, Jenson picked up a can of WD-40 and sprayed it at her face. She ducked, raising an arm to protect her eyes, and Jenson darted past her. He would have escaped, too, if Heather hadn't chosen that moment to stick out her leg. Jenson stumbled, his arms flailing as he tried to regain his footing.

Sheila seized the opportunity, moving in swiftly to subdue him. She grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back. His body thrashed wildly as he clawed at her, his desperation palpable.

"Stop," she hissed through gritted teeth, tightening her hold. "It's over."

As Jenson's struggles grew weaker, Sheila glanced over at Heather, who stood trembling by the wall. Despite her terror, she'd found the courage to help when it counted. Sheila felt a surge of gratitude toward the young woman, mixed with a fierce determination to protect her from further harm.

"Are you okay, Heather?" she asked, her concern evident in her voice.

"Y-yes," Heather stammered, still shaking but looking relieved. "I am now."

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

The sterile scent of antiseptic swirled around Sheila as the medic carefully cleaned and dressed the cut on her arm. She winced, but held still.

"Good thing the knife was relatively clean," the medic, a trim man with a five o'clock shadow, said. "Could've been a lot worse."

Sheila nodded, but her mind wasn't really on the possibility of infection. She was feeling a little spacey, a little overwhelmed by everything that had transpired in the last hour. She'd probably need a good night's rest before she could really make sense of what had happened.

Her gaze flicked up as she heard the subtle hum of Natalie's wheelchair approaching. The basement of the parking garage was now awash in clean, brilliant light, a stark contrast to the darkness that had enveloped it earlier.

"Looks nasty," Natalie observed, her voice tinged with concern. "How bad is it?"

Sheila shrugged nonchalantly, trying to mask her discomfort. "It's just a scratch. I've had worse." She forced a smile, attempting to reassure her sister.

The medic applied a final piece of tape to secure the bandage before nodding at them both. "Take care of that," he advised before walking away to attend to other matters.

As Sheila flexed her fingers experimentally, she surveyed the scene unfolding around her. Police officers huddled together in small groups, their voices low and urgent, sharing information and planning their next steps. Several squad cars were parked haphazardly, their red and blue lights casting eerie shadows on the concrete walls. An ambulance idled nearby, its back doors open and ready to receive any injured parties.

Looking farther, she spotted Jenson, handcuffed and seated in one of the squad cars. His head hung low, weighed down by shame and defeat. A bitter satisfaction crept through her veins as she focused on his pitiful form, knowing that justice would be served.

Just a few feet away from him, Heather Landow clung to her brother, tears streaming down her face as he whispered comforting words into her ear. It warmed Sheila's heart to see her safe in the arms of a loved one. Her determination and ambition had led her here, to this moment, where Heather could finally begin to heal.

Through the cacophony of the bustling crime scene, Sheila's thoughts raced with adrenaline-fueled intensity. She had played a pivotal role in saving Heather and bringing Jenson to justice. And yet, as she shared a brief glance with Natalie, she couldn't help but feel a sense of camaraderie between them.

Sheila knew that it was only through their combined efforts and the support of their colleagues that they'd been able to put an end to this nightmare. The satisfaction she felt now wasn't just for herself but for everyone who had fought alongside her.

"How did you find him?" Natalie asked, her voice cutting through Sheila's reverie.

"Tracked his number," Sheila replied, keeping her eyes on the scene before them. "Led us right here." She hesitated for a moment, then added, "Heather said that Russel – Jenson, I mean – planned to lay low for a bit before taking her to the Great Salt Lake."

"Did she say why he wanted to go there in the first place?"

"No…but Jenson told me."

Natalie stared at Sheila, puzzled. "What'd he say?"

"It's…a bit complicated. Suffice to say that he was, in his own way, trying to get revenge on his abusive father."

Natalie gave her a long look. "You'll have to explain it all to me at some point, okay? For now, you need some rest." She stared off for a few seconds, then snorted and shook her head.

"What?" Sheila asked.

"You guys really don't need me anymore, do you?" Natalie joked a hint of sadness behind her eyes. Just then, Finn appeared at Sheila's side, his face flushed with exertion.

"Seems like you don't need my help either," he said, giving Sheila a half-smile. She looked between her sister and Finn, feeling a swell of gratitude for their unwavering support.

"Couldn't have done it without you both," she insisted, her voice firm. "I just happened to be the one who found him in the end." As she spoke, she couldn't help but notice the wistful expression on Natalie's face, her sister's unspoken longing to step back into the shoes she'd once worn so confidently.

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