AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"Constance Gerring!" Sheila called out, rapping her knuckles against the wooden surface. "This is Detective Stone with the Coldwater County Sheriff's Department. Open up!"
Silence greeted her words. Frustration and fear bubbled inside her like a boiling cauldron. There wasn't time for this—there never seemed to be enough time when it came to stopping a killer.
Determined, Sheila drew her weapon and took a step back. With a swift, powerful kick, she sent the door flying open.
"Police!" she shouted, sweeping the room with her gun at the ready.
The apartment was clean and organized, almost eerily so. A minimalist living room boasted a single couch and a small coffee table, while a tidy kitchenette peeked around the corner. There was nothing that might indicate a murderer lived here.
"Where are you, Constance?" Sheila whispered under her breath, her eyes scanning every inch of the space before her. The calm facade of the apartment only intensified her anxiety—it felt like a ticking bomb waiting to explode.
She moved cautiously through the apartment, her gun at the ready. The air was thick with anticipation, as if she could feel Constance Gerring's presence lurking behind each door. But as she methodically cleared the rooms – the sterile bathroom, the bedroom with its neatly made bed and empty closet – it became painfully clear that Constance wasn't there.
"Damn it," she muttered under her breath, disappointment settling like a heavy weight in her chest. She stood in the center of the apartment, feeling lost and uncertain about what to do next. She needed to find Constance before it was too late, but every lead seemed to be a dead end.
Where had Constance gone? Was she already on her way to her next victim's home? And if so, who was that victim?
"Think, Stone. Think!" she scolded herself, digging deep for any clue that might lead her in the right direction. The silence of the apartment was suffocating, taunting her with the secrets it refused to reveal.
Remembering the journal, she hurried out of the building and back to her car. Her gut churned with a mixture of dread and determination as she opened the journal, scanning its contents.
"There's gotta be something in here," she muttered to herself. She leafed through page after page of notes on the fears and wishes of different clients, as well as reminders about financial transfers, tax forms, and even grocery items.
She was about to toss the journal aside in frustration when something about the most recent entry caught her eye. Just that morning, Sage had met with someone named Bailey Jessop and had, in typical fashion, predicted a gruesome end to her life. According to the notes, Constance had shown a great deal of distress about this and had even mentioned that it would be a 'mercy' if something happened to 'put the poor woman out of her misery.'
Just then, her phone rang. It was Finn.
"Constance isn't here," she said, her throat dry as she continued to stare at the journal entry.
"I know. I tracked her phone to a hotel nearby—the Riverside Hotel. Not sure what she's doing there, but—"
"I do," Sheila said quietly. "She's targeting her next victim, Bailey Jessop. That hotel must be where Bailey is staying."
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
Sheila's tires screeched as she brought her car to a sudden halt in the hotel parking lot. She barely finished shifting into the park before throwing the door open and leaping out.
Please don't let me be too late, she thought.
As she ran, a picture of Natalie's body surfaced in her mind, appearing before she had a chance to block it out. She'd been too late for Natalie, too late to stop her from making a decision that couldn't be reversed.
Would she be too late for Bailey Jessop as well?
Sheila was so focused on reaching the hotel as quickly as possible that she didn't at first register the sight of the blue hatchback parked nearby. Then, all of a sudden, she came to a stop. It was the same vehicle she'd seen tailing her yesterday.
Had Constance been tailing her? If so, why?
There was no time to speculate. Pushing the thought aside, Sheila sprinted across the parking lot and burst into the hotel lobby.
Her eyes darted around frantically, unsure where to go. Then, she spotted a concierge behind a nearby counter and made a beeline for her.
"Which room is Bailey Jessop staying in?" Sheila asked, barely containing her urgency. She flashed her badge. The concierge looked surprised and hesitated before answering.
"Another woman came in less than fifteen minutes ago asking for the same person," she said, her voice wavering slightly. Fear gripped Sheila's heart like a vice. If Constance had gotten to Bailey first…
"Please, just tell me which room!" Sheila said, desperation creeping into her voice.
The concierge hesitated for only a moment longer before revealing the information. "Room 217," she said, clearly puzzled. "Now would you please explain to me what this is all about?"
