Page 39 of Silent Ritual

“Of course,” Finn said, smiling politely. “We’ll get out of your hair.”

As they left the morgue, the chill of the stone building seemed to cling to them, haunting their steps with the spectral presence of Adaline Preston. They walked in silence, their minds turning over the details Lila had shared.

"Gold dust," Sheila said, breaking the silence. "It's strange."

"It's a lead," Finn answered. His face was hard as he gazed into the distance. Something about this particular case seemed to be getting under his skin. For a moment, Sheila considered reaching out to him again, but thought better of it. This was how they worked: separately, together. Whatever emotional processing Finn needed to do, he would do on his own. Sheila respected that about him.

She looked back at the morgue building, suddenly reminded of her sister—Natalie. Natalie had once been amidst such cold slabs, lifeless like Adaline Preston. A shiver ran down her spine, not from the chilly morning air but from the memories that resurfaced uninvited.

Then, facing forward again, she searched the parking lot and was relieved to see Star leaning against their car. So she hadn't run away after all.

“So,” Finn said as they headed toward the vehicle, “I figure we go back to the station, see if we can dig up any other cases were traces of gold were found inside the victims. Seems unlikely, but you never know.”

“You must have caffeine running in your veins.”

Finn grunted. “The killer doesn’t seem to be taking breaks. So how can we?”

***

The tennis ball thumped against the wall with an annoying regularity, Sheila’s patience finally snapped.

“Do you really have to do that?” she asked, turning to Star, who was sitting back so far in one of the office chairs that it was a wonder it didn’t fall over.

Star flinched at the anger in Sheila's voice, her blue eyes flashing with defiance. "Shouldn't you be out catching killers instead of bugging me about a stupid ball?"

Sheila sighed, pushing back from the conference table. It wasn't right to take out her frustration on Star. If she treated her this way, the girl really would disappear.

She glanced at Finn, who was hunched over the computer screen, scouring old case files for similarities. He didn't look up; he knew better than to get involved when Sheila and Star were at odds.

"Star," Sheila said, forcing herself to soften her tone, "I'm sorry for snapping, but we're trying to concentrate."

"Yeah, well, I'm bored," Star retorted, hurling the tennis ball against the wall with even more force.

"Then maybe you could use this time to study," Sheila suggested, pointedly glancing at the bag of school supplies in the corner of the room.

Star snorted. "Right. Because math equations are really going to help me out on the streets."

"Since when does my apartment count as ‘the streets’?" Sheila said.

Star shrugged. “It’s not like I’ll be living with you forever. I don’t need a babysitter.” The ball bounced back into her hand, and for a moment Sheila was reminded of the young girl beneath the hardened exterior—a girl who had already seen too much of the world's darkness.

"Alright," Sheila said, standing up. "If you're so bored, why don't you help us? Maybe a fresh pair of eyes could help."

Star froze, staring at Sheila with wide eyes. Her hand, still holding the tennis ball, hung in mid-air. "You want me to help? With a murder case?"

Sheila held her gaze steadily. She knew she was taking a risk bringing Star into this, but something in her gut told her it was the right move. If nothing else, it would help keep Star engaged, which would in turn help keep them engaged.

"Why not?" Sheila asked, crossing her arms over her chest. "You're smart. You notice things. We could use that."

Finn finally looked up from the computer, his gaze shifting between Sheila and Star, uncertainty flickering in his eyes. But he said nothing, leaving Sheila to figure it out.

Star chewed on her lower lip, a hint of vulnerability showing through her usual tough exterior. After a moment's hesitation, she tossed the tennis ball onto the table and stood up. "Okay," she said, her voice unsure but determined. "What do you need me to do?"

Sheila couldn't help the small smile that tugged at her lips. "Good," she said, turning her laptop toward Star. “I need you to look through these cases, try to find any similarities with the ones we’re investigating.”

“But you haven’t told me about—”

“I know, I know. There’s a window here with some notes on the current cases. If you come across anything similar in the older case files, let us know.”

---