Page 19 of Silent Trail

"I wonder where she went," she murmured.

"Maybe we're doing it backwards," Finn said. "Maybe instead of looking for her, we should look for Kristen Lee. If this girl killed her, I have a feeling we might see her around Kristen, maybe lurking in the background or watching from a distance."

Sheila nodded, liking the plan. She quickly scanned through the footage, rewinding and fast-forwarding until she found a clip of Kristen Lee from the previous evening. She watched as Kristen walked down the hallway, her backpack slung over one shoulder and her headphones in her ears, completely unaware of the fate she would soon face.

Kristen soon reached her dorm hall and slipped inside. Sheila was about to switch feeds. Then, on instinct, she decided to stay where she was and accelerate the playback speed. About fifteen minutes after Kristen had gone into her room, the nervous-looking girl they'd seen earlier showed up, pacing in front of the door, her fists clenching and unclenching in an unmistakable display of anger.

"Sure looks like she's got a bone to pick with somebody," Finn said in a low voice.

"Let's get a better look," Sheila said, her heart racing with anticipation. She paused the video, zooming in on the girl's face as much as the low-quality footage allowed. Although the image was clearer than before, the face remained frustratingly indistinct.

"Damn," Sheila muttered under her breath, her gaze fixed on the blurred features of the potential suspect.

Finn's fingers drummed on the desk, a steady rhythm that filled the small room. He glanced at Sheila, his eyes narrowed in thought. "So we can't see her face," he said slowly, "but maybe there's another way to identify her."

"Like what?" Sheila asked, her focus still on the blurred image of the girl on the screen.

"Maybe we should go back to the college and show this picture to the faculty," Finn suggested. "Someone there might recognize her."

The idea made sense, but Sheila couldn't shake the feeling that there had to be a faster way to figure out who the girl was.

"Wait," she said suddenly, her voice hushed as if speaking louder might break the fragile thread of the idea forming in her mind. She leaned closer to the screen, studying the girl's movements again. "There's something about the way she moves...it reminds me of someone I used to train with."

"Another kickboxer, you mean?"

"No," Sheila shook her head. "A wrestler." Her memories of the countless hours spent training in the gym played out like a film reel in her mind, her wrestler friend's distinct style etched into her mind. Whoever this girl on the security footage was, her movements were unmistakably those of a wrestler, purposeful and fluid, despite the grainy footage.

"It would make sense," Finn said, rubbing his chin.

"What do you mean?" Sheila asked.

"To get Kristen's body into that locker—it would take someone who can throw another's weight around. And who can do that better than a wrestler?"

CHAPTER TEN

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the nearly deserted campus, creating an eerie quiet that belied the anticipation hanging in the air. A gentle breeze rustled through the trees, scattering leaves onto the pathways as if nature itself were trying to conceal the true intentions of a predator.

Reagan leaned against a wall at the edge of the parking lot, waiting for Ami with the intensity of a hawk stalking its prey. The corners of Reagan's mouth curled into a sinister smile, baring teeth like a wolf in anticipation of the hunt. Obsession and determination burned in those cold eyes, fueled by a desire to punish Ami.

This was no mere whim or passing fancy; it was the culmination of countless hours spent brooding over Ami's transgressions. It was time for Ami to pay the price, and nothing would stand in the way of that singular goal.

Anticipation gnawed at Reagan, a tightening sensation in the chest that demanded resolution. Reagan wouldn't be denied any longer, not when vengeance was so close within reach.

"Where are you?" Reagan muttered, tension mounting with each passing second. And then, just like that, there she was—Ami's familiar blue sedan pulling into a parking space near the campus entrance.

"Gotcha," Reagan whispered.

As Ami stepped out of her car and locked the doors, Reagan waited a few moments, not wishing to ruin the plan by being too eager. Then, with calculated casualness, Reagan fell into step a few paces behind Ami, blending seamlessly into the sparse foot traffic.

Ami moved through the campus with an air of self-absorption, her attention glued to her phone screen. It seemed as though nothing else existed in her world, least of all the consequences of her actions.

"Typical," Reagan seethed internally, watching as Ami continued on her path without a care.

As if to prove the point, Ami collided with a young man who'd been walking in her direction. He stumbled slightly, looking up from his own phone in surprise.

"Hey, watch where you're going!" he said, irritation flashing across his face.

"Whatever," Ami muttered dismissively, not even bothering to look up from her screen as she brushed past him.

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