Page 41 of Silent Trail

I'm glad I found someone else who sees things the way I do, she wrote. Your actions have left a significant impact on our community, and I can't help but admire your dedication to justice. I'd love to hear more about how you did it.

She held her breath, waiting for his answer. Instead of the confirmation she sought, however, his reply was more cryptic: Why don't we meet up? You can pick my brain all you want when we're face to face.

Maybe this was as close to an admission of guilt as she was likely to get. Despite the lack of a clear confession, she felt in her bones that this was indeed the killer.

Her fingers hovered above her phone screen, uncertainty gnawing at her insides. Meeting this person alone was a dangerous gamble, but she couldn't shake her conviction that this was the only way to bring him to justice. She glanced around the shadowy roadside, the darkness punctuated by the occasional headlight from passing cars, and clenched her jaw.

"Think, Sheila," she muttered under her breath, feeling the weight of responsibility pressing down on her shoulders. She considered calling Natalie and Finn, but the memory of her sister's wheelchair-bound form flashed through her mind, guilt bubbling up inside her. No, she couldn't risk putting her in harm's way again.

She took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. Her thumb tapped out her response before she could second-guess herself any further.

Sounds like a plan. Where and when?

She hit send, then immediately regretted it. What if she had just signed her own death warrant? The seconds stretched into minutes as she waited for his reply, her pulse throbbing in her ears. She tried to focus on the cool night air against her skin, the distant hum of engines on the highway, but her thoughts were consumed by the potential consequences of her actions.

"Damn it, Sheila," she whispered, gripping the steering wheel tightly. "You better know what you're doing."

Finally, the response came: Meet me by the old Coldwater steel mill. Parking lot.

When? Sheila typed back, holding her breath.

As soon as you can get there, the stranger wrote back.

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

Reagan sat hunched on a cold bench at the edge of the college campus, his fingers tapping an erratic beat against the metal armrest. The night air was thick with tension and anticipation as he stared at the glowing screen of his phone.

How had Sandra known about the murders? Her sudden contact had aroused both curiosity and confusion within him, leaving him feeling like a marionette on strings he couldn't see. He glanced around the deserted courtyard, shadows twisting into monstrous shapes under the dim streetlights.

"Who are you, really?" he muttered to himself, hoping for some kind of clarity in the darkness that enveloped him.

The sound of laughter shattered Reagan's thoughts. It drifted from a nearby girls' dorm, its windows spilling light onto the cobblestone path below. His eyes narrowed as he listened to their carefree voices, a sickening disgust curdling in his gut. Did they not realize what happened just this morning? Were they truly so wrapped up in their own shallow lives that murder meant nothing to them?

"Unbelievable," he said under his breath, his hands clenching into fists. The contrast between their obliviousness and the grisly reality of the crime scene made his blood boil. They laughed and chatted without a care while someone's life had been snuffed out like a candle in the wind.

In that moment, Reagan's anger consumed him. With each peal of laughter that reached his ears, the heat of his fury intensified. These girls were ignorant to the world around them, blind to the horrors lurking in the shadows. But soon, that would all change.

Navigating to the pictures on his phone, he examined the collection of photos he'd downloaded either from Deirdre's profile or from the profiles of her roommates, piecing them all together to get an idea of the inside of her dorm hall. He knew the size of the hall, knew how many rooms were there, knew which room was Deirdre's. The only thing he hadn't figured out yet was how to get in, but he was sure he could find a way.

He felt a twisted thrill at the thought of Deirdre becoming his next target. The craving for revenge swirled inside him like a venomous serpent, consuming every other thought in its path.

"Deirdre," he whispered to himself, feeling the name roll off his tongue like a dark promise. "I'll be seeing you soon."

It was only a matter of time before someone connected the dots, realizing what all the victims had in common, and then he would get the respect he deserved. Then, all those others who had tormented him would realize that none of them were safe.

Restless energy coursed through Reagan as he rose from the bench and approached the girls' dorm. His footsteps were deliberate and quiet, each step calculated to avoid making any noise that might alert someone to his presence. Shadows clung to him like a cloak, concealing him from any prying eyes.

Reagan's heart hammered in his chest as he stood by the dormitory, the cold night air pricking at his skin with a near-silent whisper. He had barely begun to form a plan for entering the building when the glaring lights of a police car sliced through the darkness, casting eerie streaks across the brick facade.

"Hey!" a man called, his voice cutting through the night like a blade. "What are you doing here?"

Reagan's pulse spiked, and his mouth went dry. He forced himself to swallow, pushing down the fear that threatened to choke him. "I, uh, was just taking a walk," he stammered, trying to sound nonchalant. "Couldn't sleep."

The officer leaned out the window of his patrol car, and Reagan realized with a shock that he recognized the man. It was Officer Daniels, whom he'd met that morning close to the locker where he'd left Kristen Lee's body. A thrill of fear went through Reagan.

Daniels narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing Reagan like a hawk eyeing its prey. "You know there's a curfew in place, right?"

"Of course," Reagan lied smoothly, struggling to keep his composure. "I didn't think it applied to me since I'm not a student." His mind raced, searching for anything that might convince Daniels of his innocence. "I'm visiting my cousin—she lives in the next building over. I just got lost, I guess."

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