Page 18 of Silent Trail

Finn caught Sheila looking at the compass, and he hurriedly straightened, scooping the compass up and slipping it back into his shirt. He cleared his throat.

"You know," he said suddenly, "you're getting pretty good at this detective stuff, Sheila."

Ordinarily, such praise would have meant a great deal to Sheila. Just now, however, it seemed clear to her that Finn was simply trying to deflect from something else. But what? Was there something about the compass he didn't want her to know? Was it too personal to him to talk about?

"Thanks," she said, smiling but feeling utterly fake.

Should I just ask him about it? she wondered. No, he clearly doesn't want to talk about it. If I push him, he'll just change the subject—and perhaps be even more resistant from talking about it in the future. Better to let him tell me in his own time.

She didn't know whether that time would ever come, but if she became a full-time police officer, and if she and Finn ended up working together, she hoped that he would eventually learn to trust her.

Even with his secrets.

Her eyes narrowed as she scanned the video feed, her fingers tapping a rhythm against the keyboard. The thumb drive contained the last forty-eight hours of footage, and considering the fact that there were more than thirty cameras sprinkled across Coldwater Community College's campus, wading through the sea of information was a daunting task.

"So how does this compare to your kickboxing days?" Finn asked, breaking the silence between them. "Your sister never talked much about the ring."

Sheila paused the video and looked over at Finn, considering his question. She tried to take her mind off the necklace, focusing instead on his question. "They're different, but there are similarities, too," she said. "Both require determination, focus, and adaptability. With kickboxing, you need to read your opponent's movements and find their weaknesses. In a way, that's what we're doing now—analyzing the footage to find any cracks in the case."

Finn leaned back in his chair, an intrigued expression crossing his face. "That's an interesting way to look at it. So, do you miss competing?"

"Sometimes," she said. "But solving cases like this one gives me a different kind of fulfillment. It's not just about winning; it's about bringing justice and closure to people who need it most."

Finn nodded thoughtfully, and Sheila found herself wanting to know more about him in return. "So, how long have you been a deputy?" she asked.

"Eight years," he said, his gaze fixed on the screen. "Feels like a lifetime, sometimes."

"Do you like it? Your job, I mean."

He shrugged. "It pays the bills. But more importantly, it's a chance to make a difference, you know? Help people when they need it most."

Sheila couldn't help but be impressed by his dedication. "But why haven't you tried to climb the ranks? With your experience, I'd think you would've advanced by now."

"Never cared for the politics," Finn admitted with a wry smile. "I just want to do my job and go home at the end of the day, knowing I helped serve the cause of justice. Climbing the ladder often means playing games I have no interest in."

Despite Finn's smile, Sheila sensed there was more to this than he was saying. She found herself curious to know what he was hiding, and she sensed he was a man who had grown accustomed to his own secrets, comfortable keeping counsel with himself. She admired that independence, and she found herself trying to come up with a tactful way to ask if there was more he wasn't saying.

"Besides," he continued before she could think of what to say, "I get a gun and a badge. Tough to complain about that."

Sheila snorted. "Meanwhile, I don't even have a pair of handcuffs. What happens if I'm alone with a suspect and need to detain them?"

Finn raised an eyebrow at her. "Isn't that what an arm lock is for?"

"Yeah, so I can get sued for dislocating someone's shoulder? No thanks."

Finn chuckled and pulled a pair of handcuffs from his belt. "You want them so bad? Here you go. I'll pick up another pair for myself later."

Sheila held the handcuffs in the air for a moment, thinking how surreal the moment felt. It was one thing to work with the police, study crime scenes, and interview witnesses and suspects. It was something else entirely to carry around a symbol of authority like a pair of handcuffs.

"You'll get used to them," Finn said, as if reading her mind. "Just another accessory to carry around."

As Sheila was pondering Finn's words, wondering if she would indeed one day become as familiar with the tools of the police officer's trade as he was, something from the footage caught her eye. She paused the video and rewound it slightly.

"Look at this," she said, pointing to a female student lingering near the lockers where Kristen Lee's body had been found. The girl seemed nervous, glancing around furtively as if expecting someone to catch her in the act.

"And who might you be, miss?" Finn murmured, leaning closer to the screen.

Sheila let the video play, and the nervous student walked off. quickly disappearing from view. She tried to find the girl on another camera but was unable to do so.

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