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Holloway shook his head. "No, I didn't see anyone. Should I have?"
Finn and Sheila shared another look. Sheila nodded slightly, and Finn turned back to Holloway.
Mr. Holloway," Finn said, leaning forward, his expression grave, "we have reason to believe that someone involved with your theater may be the Coldwater Confessor. We need information on all the actors and anyone else who has access to the theater."
Holloway's face paled, his eyes widening in shock. "The Coldwater Confessor? Here? But that's...that's impossible. I know everyone who works here. They're like family."
"We understand this is difficult to hear, Mr. Holloway," Sheila said, "but we need your cooperation. Any information you can provide could be crucial to our investigation."
Holloway nodded slowly, still visibly shaken. "Of course, of course. I'll get you everything we have—employee records, schedules, access logs. Anything you need."
Just as Finn was about to respond, Sheila's phone buzzed insistently in her pocket. She pulled it out, frowning at the screen. "Excuse me, I need to take this," she said, stepping away from the group.
"Stone," she answered, his voice low.
As she listened, her expression darkened. Finn watched her intently, recognizing the shift in her demeanor. She was on the phone for only a few moments. Then she ended the call and turned back to them, her face grim.
"We have to go," she said to Finn, then addressed Holloway. "Mr. Holloway, we'll be in touch about those records. Please don't discuss this conversation with anyone for now."
Holloway nodded numbly as Finn and Sheila made their way to the door. Once outside, Finn turned to Sheila, puzzled.
"What's going on?" he asked.
Sheila's jaw was set, her voice tight as she spoke. "Another body, that's what."
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
Sheila's hands gripped the steering wheel tightly as she navigated the empty streets of Coldwater. The clock on the dashboard read 11:48 PM, but she felt wide awake, adrenaline coursing through her veins. Finn sat beside her, his face illuminated by the glow of his phone as he scrolled through the preliminary report on their latest victim.
Another young woman, another life cut short. The weight of responsibility pressed down on her shoulders, threatening to crush her.
They turned onto Maple Street, and Sheila's stomach clenched at the sight of the flashing police lights up ahead. The quiet residential area had been transformed into a bustling crime scene, with uniformed officers milling about and neighbors in bathrobes watching from their porches.
As Sheila parked the car, she took a deep breath, steeling herself for what lay ahead. She'd seen death before, more times than she cared to count, but it never got easier. Each victim was a person with dreams and loves and a future that had been brutally snatched away.
"You ready?" Finn asked softly.
Sheila nodded, her jaw set with determination. "Let's do this."
They ducked under the yellow crime scene tape, flashing their badges at the officer standing guard. The front yard of a modest two-story house was bathed in harsh floodlights, casting long shadows across the manicured lawn.
Sheriff Hank Dawson stood on the front porch, his normally jovial face drawn and pale. As Sheila and Finn approached, she could see the slight tremor in his hands as he clutched his coffee cup.
"Sheriff," Sheila said. "What have we got?"
Dawson took a shaky breath. "It's bad, Stone. Real bad. I've never seen anything like it."
His words sent a chill down Sheila's spine. Dawson was a veteran cop, not easily shaken. If this scene had rattled him...
"Mind taking us through it?" Finn asked.
Dawson nodded, visibly pulling himself together. "Victim is Emily Davis, twenty-eight years old. Neighbor called it in. Said she saw a strange figure leaving the house and went over to check on Emily. That's when she found, well…" He trailed off, his eyes haunted.
"Did the neighbor get a good look at the figure?" Finn asked.
Dawson shook his head. "Not really—it was too dark. But that was part of what made it suspicious: He didn't turn on the porch light, and when he got to his vehicle down the road, he drove away without even turning the headlights on."
He held up a hand, as if predicting Finn's next question. "And no, she didn't get a good look at the vehicle, either. She thought it could've been an SUV, but she wasn't sure."
