Page 17 of Silent Trail

Sheila considered Lila's words carefully, weighing them against her instincts and the cold, hard facts of the case. She couldn't shake the feeling that Lila might still be hiding something—but for now, there was nothing more to be gained from pushing further.

The shrill sound of the tea kettle pierced the tense atmosphere, and Lila made a move to stand up. Sheila held up her hand to stop her. "I'll take care of it," she said with a small smile.

As Sheila headed to the kitchen, she looked over Lila's shoulder and caught Finn's eye. She tapped her thumb against her four fingers, pantomiming speech. Keep her talking, she mouthed. Finn nodded.

"You must have been devastated, getting injured like that," he said to Lila.

She nodded. "I couldn't believe it. My feet just slipped out from under me, and then there was that crack..."

The conversation faded into the background of Sheila's thoughts as she focused on pouring tea into the mug sitting on the counter, a bag with some kind of herbal blend inside already waiting to be steeped. Her mind raced as she considered the possibility that Lila might be involved in Kristen's murder. She needed more information, something solid that could either confirm or dispel her suspicions.

Her gaze lingered on the slightly ajar door to Lila's bedroom, and an idea formed. With a quick glance back at Finn and Lila, she silently made her way into the room.

The interior of Lila's bedroom was neat and organized, giving off a sense of discipline that seemed to mirror its occupant. The walls were adorned with motivational posters and a few personal touches—a framed photo of Lila with her parents, a sketch of what appeared to be a childhood home. A row of textbooks lined the desk, each meticulously labeled with color-coded sticky notes.

Sheila's eyes scanned the room, searching for any indication of Lila's involvement in the murder. She knew she didn't have much time, so she focused on the most likely places for evidence: desk drawers, a small wastebasket, and finally, Lila's phone, which lay charging on the nightstand.

To her surprise, the phone was unlocked, the screen displaying a chain of text messages from around seven that morning. As Sheila skimmed through the conversation, her heart rate slowed, and her shoulders relaxed. The texts revealed a light-hearted exchange between Lila and her boyfriend, full of flirtatious banter and talk of weekend plans. The conversation had gone back and forth every minute or two for most of an hour, and it seemed highly unlikely that Lila could have been involved in Kristen's murder while carrying on this conversation.

Sheila let out a quiet breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding and slipped back out of the room, the phone left exactly as she had found it.

She picked Lila's mug and carried it to the other room. The steam swirled above the mug like a miniature tornado, and the scent of chamomile filled her nostrils. She handed the mug to Lila, who eyed her with an inquisitive expression.

"What took you so long?" she asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Couldn't find the honey," Sheila said, hiding her true intentions behind a casual smile. "Thought you might want some."

"It's in the cabinet above the sink." Lila was frowning at her, as if sensing she was missing something.

Finn sighed and rose. "Well, we won't take up any more of your time, Miss Hartlett. Thank you for talking with us."

"Of course," Lila said, setting her tea down on a nearby table. "If there's anything else I can do to help, just let me know."

Sheila and Finn exchanged glances before nodding their thanks once more and heading out of the dorm room. As soon as the door closed behind them, Finn turned to Sheila, curiosity burning in his eyes.

"Did you find anything in her room?" he said

"Nothing that points to her being involved in Kristen's murder," Sheila said, her gaze lingering on the closed door. "But something's been bothering me since we spoke to her."

"Which is?"

"Remember how Lila mentioned the security cameras on campus? I think we should look into getting footage from early this morning—maybe last night, too."

"You don't think the killer would have been careful to avoid cameras?"

"I think this was largely a crime of passion—you don't stab someone that many times unless you're really worked up about something. And when you're that emotional..." She clenched her jaw, hoping she was on to something. "The last thing you're thinking about is covering your tracks."

CHAPTER NINE

Sheila sat hunched over the computer screen, her eyes scanning the security footage from Coldwater Community College. Beside her, Deputy Finn Mercer leaned in, his brow furrowed in concentration.

"There's got to be something here," Sheila muttered. "If only we knew what we were looking for."

The sheriff's department buzzed with activity around them. The sound of ringing phones, the distant hum of a copier machine, and the muted conversations of other officers made it hard to concentrate. Sheila could smell the lingering aroma of burnt coffee mingling with the unmistakable scent of disinfectant. It took her back to the first time she'd set foot in this place, when everything had seemed so foreign and intimidating. Now, these sights, sounds, and smells were becoming familiar, almost comforting.

"Look at this," she said, pointing at the screen. "Around seven-thirty this morning, right after Rita and Claire found Kristen's body. In the background, you can just barely see the girls walking by—on their way to the restroom to clean up, by the look of it. Doesn't tell us anything new, but it does confirm their story."

"Good catch," Finn said. As he leaned closer, a small compass, attached to a paracord looped around his neck, dangled in front of him. The compass looked old and beat-up, as if it had traveled the world and seen its share of adventures.

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