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"So, you actually saw him?" Finn asked, leaning forward, his hazel eyes intense.
Sheila nodded, running a hand through her disheveled hair. "Face to face. But he bolted before I could question him. I chased him through the nursing home, but he got away in the parking garage."
"Well, good thing you got the plates," Finn murmured.
Sheila nodded. "I've checked his usual hangouts, talked to his known associates. Nothing. I'm hoping he makes a mistake with the vehicle."
Finn ran a hand through his sandy hair. "We'll find him, Sheila. The whole department's on alert now. It's just a matter of time."
A moment of silence fell between them. Sheila could feel the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air. During their last case, Finn had told her he loved her. The confession had caught her off guard, and they hadn't really addressed it since. The memory of that moment flashed in her mind, bringing with it a mix of confusion and warmth.
They were dating, yes…but exactly how serious was this relationship? How far into the future was Finn looking?
"How's Star doing?" Finn asked, breaking the silence.
Sheila sighed, grateful for the change of subject but also reminded of another responsibility weighing on her. "She's...adjusting. It's not easy for a fourteen-year-old to suddenly have a new home, especially after what she's been through with her father."
"You're doing a good thing, taking her in," Finn said softly, his eyes reflecting admiration and something else Sheila couldn't quite define.
"I hope so," Sheila said, doubt creeping into her voice. "I just wish I knew if I was doing it right. She's just so difficult to get to know, like there's always an invisible wall between us."
Finn leaned back in his chair, suppressing a smile. "Reminds me of someone I know."
Sheila rolled her eyes at him. "I'm serious."
"So am I. And that's why you're probably the best person to help her through everything she's going through."
They both fell silent, pondering this.
Finn cleared his throat, his demeanor growing more official. "There's something else we need to discuss," he said. "The department's starting to look for a permanent replacement for Natalie. Hank doesn't want the job long-term."
Sheila felt a pang in her chest at the mention of her sister's name. Natalie had been the golden child: straight-A student, Olympic gold medalist in kickboxing, and finally, the youngest sheriff Coldwater County had ever seen.
Until the shooting that left her in a wheelchair, and the depression that ultimately led to her taking her own life.
The memory of Natalie's struggle and eventual suicide still haunted Sheila. Sheila had tried to understand what her sister was going through, but Natalie had never confided her struggles in her younger sister, never let Sheila know just how bleak her worldview had grown.
Not until Sheila found her lifeless on the floor of her cabin.
"They're big shoes to fill," Sheila murmured.
"You know, a lot of people think you'd be perfect for the job," Finn said, watching her reaction closely.
Sheila shook her head, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. "I'm not Natalie, Finn. I never have been. She was the achiever, the one everyone looked up to. I'm just...me."
"No, you're not Natalie," Finn agreed. "You're Sheila. And that's more than good enough. Look at how you've handled the Star situation, or how you've pursued your mother's investigation. Natalie would be proud of you."
Their eyes met, and suddenly the air felt charged. As she met her partner's eyes, Sheila thought about Finn's confession to her during their last investigation: 'I love you.' What had he meant by those words? Had he merely spoken in the heat of the moment…or had he been feeling it for a while before he said it?
Finn relented, throwing up his hands and leaning back. "I'm not telling you what to do. If you don't want the job, that's fine. Just thought I'd mention it."
Sheila opened her mouth to respond, but hesitated. The weight of Natalie's legacy, her own ambitions, and her complicated feelings for Finn all swirled in her mind. Before she could formulate a response, the shrill ring of Finn's desk phone cut through the tension.
Finn snatched up the receiver. "Mercer," he answered. His expression shifted from annoyance to concern as he listened. "Slow down, dispatch. What's the situation?"
Sheila leaned forward, her own troubles momentarily forgotten as she watched Finn's face grow increasingly grave.
"We're on our way," Finn said, hanging up the phone. He stood quickly, grabbing his jacket. "We've got a situation at St. Michael's Church."
