AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Just then, Finn joined her, his brow furrowed with concern. "You alright, Sheila?"
"Actually, I just had a thought," she said, looking him directly in the eye. "It's about Sage. I don't think she's the murderer."
Finn raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. "What makes you say that?"
"Think about it," Sheila insisted, her voice rising with conviction. "The victims let the killer into their homes willingly. But Sage? She's not the type to win people over. She's too...doom and gloom."
"I get where you're coming from, but that's not exactly solid evidence, is it?" Finn said, crossing his arms. "We need more than just a gut feeling."
"Then help me prove it," Sheila said, her eyes pleading with him. "I know we can find the truth if we dig deeper."
"What do you want to do? Start over?"
"Let's go through the list of names again," Sheila suggested. "There has to be someone we missed."
Finn shook his head, his brow furrowed. "We've been over that list a hundred times already. The other suspects are even less promising than Sage."
"Okay, then maybe we need to go back to Sage's office, poke around a bit more. There might be something incriminating hidden there."
Finn sighed, rubbing his compass necklace between his fingers. "You go ahead. I'm going to stay here and continue questioning Sage. I've got a few more tactics up my sleeve that might help us get some more information."
"Alright," Sheila agreed reluctantly. "Good luck with that. Just...let me know how it goes, okay?"
"Will do," Finn replied, offering her a small smile. "And let me know if you find anything at Sage's office."
"I promise." With that, she pushed herself off the wall and headed toward her car.
As she walked, she couldn't help but replay their conversation with Sage in her mind. There had to be something they were missing, some clue that would exonerate Sage and lead them to the real killer. And she was determined to find it, no matter what it took.
After killing Natasha Petrova, she thought, the killer waited a month before killing Juliette Reed. But there's no guarantee he – or she – won't attack again for another month. He's gotten a taste for killing…
And he won't stop until we make him.
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
As the elevator doors opened, Sheila hesitated for a moment before stepping out, her uneasiness taking over her body like an unwelcome guest. The door to Sage's studio was slightly ajar, emitting an eerie silence that seemed to whisper dark secrets.
It's even creepier being here by myself, she thought, shuddering.
As she entered the studio, the quietness enveloped her, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Shadows played tricks on her eyes as she glanced around at the ominous objects scattered throughout the space: ceremonial masks with twisted expressions hung on the walls, and grotesque statues leered at her from every corner. She couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, as if these lifeless artifacts had eyes that followed her every move.
"Get it together, Sheila," she muttered under her breath, steeling herself. "You're here for a reason."
That reason was to learn for certain whether Sage Walker had indeed met with Juliette Reed and Natasha Petrova. Sheila was coming to believe Sage was innocent of the murders, but Sheila didn't have to prove that Sage hadn't committed the crimes.
All she had to do was to see if there was solid evidence indicating Sage had.
Taking a deep breath, she began to search the room methodically, scanning shelves and cabinets for any documents or records that might hold the answers she sought. Her fingers danced over the spines of ancient books, inlaid with dust and mystery, but none held the information she needed. Frustration gnawed at her as time ticked away; she knew she couldn't stay there forever.
"Where the hell would she keep her records?" Sheila whispered, her eyes darting around the room, searching for anything that might give her a clue.
Her eyes fell upon a sleek black computer sitting on a desk cluttered with papers and trinkets. A glimmer of hope filled her chest as she approached it, her fingers hovering over the power button. The computer hummed to life, bathing the room in a cold blue light. But her hope quickly faded when she was met with a password request on the screen.
"Damn it," she muttered under her breath. She tried typing in a few guesses, but each one was met with a harsh denial. Frustration bubbled within her as she glanced around the room, searching for any hints or clues that could lead her to the right password.
"Think, Sheila, think," she told herself, rubbing the back of her neck. A few more guesses yielded no success, and the computer shut her out entirely after too many failed attempts. Panic threatened to take hold, but she forced herself to focus. Confiscating the computer and waiting for a technician wasn't an option—she needed answers now.
Taking a deep breath, Sheila decided to change her approach. She began examining every inch of the room with renewed determination, moving aside books and sifting through drawers. She paid close attention to every detail, looking for anything that might store the information she desperately sought.
