Page 21 of Silent Ritual

“You feel responsible for her.” It wasn’t a question.

Sheila nodded. She suspected that if she were speaking with a therapist, she’d hear a line of questioning that would ultimately suggest her concern for Star was really her way of purging herself of guilt for Natalie’s death. But if Finn thought the same, he didn’t bring it up, and for that Sheila was grateful.

“You know what I like about you?” she said. “You know when to be quiet.”

“Oh, is that the only thing?” His lips twisted into a wry grin.

She smiled. “No. But it’s one of the things.”

Finn’s grin widened, his fingers still gently resting atop hers. Then Sheila’s phone began to ring. Gently extricating her hand from Finn’s, she answered it, hoping to hear Star’s voice.

“Hello? Star?”

“Afraid not,” Hank Dawson, her boss, said.

Sheila’s heart sank. Please don’t let this be another murder, she thought. Please don’t let this be—

“Listen,” Dawson said, “there’s someone I need you to speak with.”

“Oh?” Sheila cast Finn—who was leaning close to hear—a puzzled look.

“UCN just picked up on the third murder, and they’ve already linked the three. Calling the killer the Mirage Murderer.”

“That was quick,” Sheila murmured. “How’d they get the news so fast? We only just found the third victim.”

"Don't know. But there's something even stranger: Someone called in, claiming to know all about the astrological symbols around the victims. A professor over at Felder University. Apparently, she's some kind of expert on this sort of thing—seems to know more about the murders than even I do."

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“I’ve been following the case closely since I saw a report about the first murder,” Cassandra Jenkins said, leaning back in her leather chair and steepling her fingers. “It’s hard to think about much else.”

Sheila nodded, unsure what to make of the woman in front of her. Jenkins, a professor in anthropology who specialized in ancient rituals and astronomy, was an intriguing character. She was sharply dressed and poised, her dark hair impeccably styled, her gaze intense but not unkind.

Finn leaned against a bookcase filled with dozens of worn textbooks and journals, his arms folded casually over his chest. Sheila could feel him assessing Jenkins, his sharp eyes taking in every detail. There was something about the academic that rang an alarm bell in Sheila's head, but she remained open to the possibility that Jenkins could provide invaluable insight into the killer's motives.

But how did she learn about the third murder so quickly? she wondered. Was she just watching the news, keeping the station’s number on speed dial so she could call in?

"The symbols aren't just random," Jenkins continued, her eyes lighting up with an interest that seemed surprisingly genuine. "They are a form of ancient celestial language. And they're not just scattered around the victims at random, either. They're arranged in a particular pattern—one that corresponds with the alignment of certain celestial bodies."

“Ms. Jenkins,” Sheila said, “I can’t help but ask: How do you know so much about the murders? You seem to know the crime scenes better than the media does.”

“Oh, that’s an exaggeration,” Jenkins said with a wave of her hand. “I just pay attention to the details, is all.” She leaned forward, fixing Sheila with her intent gaze. “I’ll tell you this much: The person you’re after isn’t your run-of-the-mill cultist. These symbols, these practices are very ancient, not exactly…in vogue, if you understand me.”

“Where would someone learn these ancient practices?” Finn asked.

Jenkins shrugged. “Textbooks. Oral tradition.” She cleared her throat and sat up. “Listen, if I’m going to give you all this information, I’m going to need something in return.”

Sheila and Finn exchanged a glance.

“What’s that?” Sheila asked.

“I want the inside track on the investigation," Jenkins said. "If more bodies are found, I want to be the first to study the symbols."

Sheila folded her arms, her gaze hardening. "That's not typical procedure, Ms. Jenkins."

"I am well aware," Jenkins said, a hint of irritation creeping into her voice. "But this isn't a typical case, is it? You need my expertise."

Sheila glanced at Finn. His face was unreadable, but she could tell from the tension in his posture that he wasn't any more comfortable with the proposition than she was.

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