Page 3 of Silent Prey

The referee signaled them to continue, and Bella charged again. This time, however, Jules was ready. She ducked under Bella's swinging glove and landed a jab on Bella's exposed side. A gasp of surprise emerged from Bella's mouth as she doubled over, her eyes wide with shock. Sheila couldn’t help but break into a proud grin.

“Good, Jules! Keep going!” she yelled, banging her fist into the side of the ring.

Jules, energized by her successful hit, bobbed and weaved around Bella, landing a few more jabs and evading Bella's uncoordinated counterattacks. It was clear Bella had underestimated her opponent and was now paying the price.

As the final bell rang, concluding the sparring match, Jules raised her arms in victory before falling into a heap on the floor, exhausted but grinning from ear to ear. Sheila noticed a teenage girl with long, unkempt hair standing at the edge of the room. As soon as their eyes met, the girl hurried toward the exit.

Star? Sheila thought.

Star was a young girl from a troubled home whom her father, Gabriel, had taken under his wing. He had put Sheila and Star in contact with one another, and since then Sheila had been trying to get through to the girl, inviting her to the gym to train or just hang out, but Star had never taken her up on the offer.

Until now, apparently.

Sheila hurried toward the door, shoving it open and scanning the parking lot. She saw no sign of Star anywhere, however. It shouldn't have come as a surprise, though—Star had a knack for disappearing.

Sheila stepped out of the sunlight and into the relative darkness of the gym again. As the door closed behind her, a familiar voice spoke from beside her.

“You trained her well."

Sheila turned to see Finn, her partner in the sheriff’s department, leaning against the wall. His sandy hair was tousled, eyes twinkling in admiration as he watched Jules, who was now being congratulated by several friends.

“Just needed direction,” she replied, the corner of her mouth tugging upward in a small yet genuine smile. The kind of smile that had been scarce since Natalie's death.

Seeing this change in Sheila, Finn pushed himself off the wall, concern softening his features. "How are you holding up?" he asked.

"Keeping busy," she said, her eyes drifting back to Jules and Bella as they shook hands, their previous animosity temporarily forgotten. It made her uncomfortable, the way others had been treating her with kid gloves since Natalie’s death. The event had been traumatic, yes, but she couldn't allow herself to succumb to the same despair that had consumed her sister.

Besides, Finn's attentiveness seemed to go a bit beyond that of a worried coworker. Whether he felt partly responsible for Natalie's death or he had a different reason entirely, she sensed that he would not have shown quite the same level of concern to just anyone.

If he's looking for us to be something more than coworkers, she thought, he's going to be disappointed. Work was her spouse, and she didn't foresee that changing any time soon.

“So,” she said, clearing her throat, “what’s the occasion? You’re a little old to sign up for classes.”

Finn grunted and ran a distracted hand through his hair as he studied a photograph on the wall, this one showing Sheila, Natalie, and their father, Gabe, all wearing their kickboxing gear and medals. "Just came to check up on you, see how you were doing," he said.

Sheila glanced at him, her eyebrows furrowing slightly. "Really? You sure my dad isn’t paying you to keep me under surveillance?” She knew her father meant well, but his constant hovering since Natalie's death was suffocating.

Finn chuckled, shaking his head. “I came on my own, I promise. Actually, I wanted to ask about that case you’re investigating and whether you’ve had a chance to head over to Blackridge Penitentiary.”

That case, Sheila thought. He was referring to her mother’s murder. Ten years ago, she had been killed in her own home, a crime without witnesses or leads—except for the car that, as Sheila had recently learned, had been spotted leaving the house that night. Sheila had linked this car to a man named Rayland Bax, an inmate in Blackridge Penitentiary.

The only problem? Rayland was an FBI informant and therefore unavailable to her. Until she broke into his handler’s office and forged her name on the list of approved visitors, that was.

Sheila had not yet worked up the courage to go see Bax. The truth was she was just as much terrified of discovering the truth as she was excited about it.

After all, what secrets might she discover about her own family?

She cleared her throat and looked away. “No, I haven't had a chance to go yet," she admitted, trying to keep her voice steady.

Finn nodded, studying her intently. "I can go with you if you want."

Sheila's heart skipped a beat. She hadn't anticipated that. "No, it's okay. I can handle it," she said quickly, maybe too quickly.

He raised an eyebrow but didn't press the matter. "If you say so."

The silence between them hung heavy in the air, filled with things unsaid and secrets still kept close to the chest. Sheila was suddenly very aware of the proximity between them, of Finn’s steady breathing. His words, spoken at the end of their last investigation, echoed in her mind: I know we haven't known each other long, Sheila, but I can't help but think how devastated I'd be if something happened to you.

Had he really come here just to ask her about the investigation? He could have texted, if he was so curious, but instead he had chosen to show up in person. That was significant, wasn't it? Or was she reading too much into it? Was it possible he simply felt bad for her and was trying to make sure she didn’t do anything reckless?

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