Page 47 of Silent Ritual

Sheila didn’t recognize the name, though that was no surprise. It was one thing, though, to know there’d been a fourth victim and something else to see that person and learn her name. A wave of guilt crashed over Sheila.

“We should’ve watched these flats more carefully,” she said to Finn. “We knew it was just a matter of time before he came back here.”

“Hey,” Finn said, taking her shoulders and looking into her eyes. “This area is massive. There’s no way we could’ve kept surveillance on all of it.”

Sheila knew he had a point, but it didn’t make her feel any better. She felt personally responsible for every life the Mirage Murderer took. Each death was a sharp sting, a failure that resonated deep within her. She looked back at the body of Natasha Ivanov, at the life brutally cut short. This young woman had been someone's daughter, maybe a sister or a friend. And now, she was just another victim.

"Well," she said, "at least we have these symbols. We should go to Jenkins again, see if we can't get her to predict the location of the next body—assuming we haven't caught him by then."

"No can do," Finn said, pressing his lips together regretfully. "Since we last talked with her, she's hired an attorney, and her attorney isn't keen on her giving information to the police for free. She wants immunity, the DA is pushing back…" He raised his hands helplessly.

"So they're still negotiating," Sheila said, clenching her jaw. "Which means we can't rely on her help." She sighed. "It's just as well, I guess. I have a feeling the killer will have changed things up after nearly getting caught last time."

She turned back to the technician. “You still have that wallet?” she asked.

"Yes, ma'am," the technician said, retrieving a clear plastic bag from her kit. Inside was a small, tan leather wallet. She handed it over to Sheila, who pulled on a pair of latex gloves before taking it.

She opened the wallet and found Natasha's driver's license, a few credit cards, and around thirty dollars in cash. A picture fell out as she was studying the items; it was of Natasha with another woman, their arms wrapped around each other, both laughing into the camera. On the back, someone had written 'Natasha & Lisa - Summer '22'.

Finn looked over her shoulder. "Who's Lisa?" he asked.

“That’s a good question,” Sheila murmured. “I think we’d better find out.” She pulled out her phone, entered Natasha Ivanov’s name in the search engine, and soon found the woman’s social media page. The page was filled with photos of Natasha, her vibrant red hair and striking smile prevalent in every image. Scrolling through, Sheila found plenty of pictures with the same woman from the photograph in Natasha's wallet. One of the pictures showed the two women at a tech conference, their badges hanging around their necks and wide smiles on their faces. In the caption, Natasha had tagged Lisa: '@LisaJennings—Forging our path in a man's world!'

As Sheila scrolled further down, she saw posts about women's rights in the tech industry, advocating for equal pay and opportunities. Lisa was tagged in most of these posts, their shared passion evident.

"Looks like they were close. And activists too," Finn noted as he read the posts over Sheila's shoulder. "Think this Lisa could help us?"

"Only one way to find out," Sheila said, dialing the number listed on Lisa Jennings' page. The phone rang a few times before a woman answered. "Hello, this is Lisa."

"Hi Lisa, my name is Sheriff Sheila Stone. I'm calling in regard to Natasha Ivanov," Sheila said, trying to keep her voice steady.

There was a pause on the other end. "Natasha? Is she okay? What's happened?"

Sheila swallowed hard, knowing that she was about to shatter this woman's world. "I'm afraid I have some bad news," she said, her voice softening. "Natasha has been found dead."

The silence that followed was thick and suffocating. Sheila could hear Lisa's breathing hitch and then a faint sob. "No, no, that can't be true. I just spoke to her yesterday." Lisa's voice was trembling, filled with disbelief and sorrow.

"I'm so sorry," Sheila said softly, the weight of the words almost too much to bear.

Lisa took a ragged breath. “I guess I shouldn’t be entirely surprised. She warned me something like this might happen.”

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

As Sheila and Finn stepped into the apartment that Lisa Jennings shared with Natasha Ivanov, Sheila was struck by the warmth that seemed to radiate from the space. Judging by the stacks of textbooks on coding and feminism, piles of notepads filled with scribbled ideas and equations, and the two mugs of half-drunk coffee that sat on the table, it seemed more like a bustling hub of creativity and activism than a simple home.

"Thank you for letting us come here," Sheila said, trying to exude as much compassion and understanding as she could muster. "I can't imagine how tough this is for you."

“Tough doesn’t even begin to cover it,” Lisa said, her voice thick with unshed tears.

She motioned for them to take a seat on the worn-out sofa that had seen many late-night brainstorming sessions. Her gaze fell to the photo frame on the side table, a picture of her and Natasha grinning at the camera, holding up a sign that read 'Tech for All'. She picked it up gently, cradling it in her hands as she sat down opposite them.

"I can't believe she's gone," Lisa said, her brown eyes welling up with tears. "She wasn't just my best friend; she was my partner, my ally."

“How did you two meet?” Sheila asked.

"We met at the university," Lisa began, her voice shaking slightly. "We were both studying computer science, the only two women in a class of thirty. It was...daunting." She took a deep breath, steadying herself. "But we tackled it together, supported each other through every micro aggression and sleight."

Lisa paused, her gaze now distant. "She told me once that if we wanted to change the world, we'd have to do it ourselves. So that's what we set out to do."

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