Page 18 of Silent Ritual

"She's tough," Sheila replied. "She's coping, but she needs stability. A safe place."

“She still going to school?”

“Remotely, for now. I’ve been helping her with her homework at night. But I worry about her—being alone there all the time.”

“You should take her to the gym,” her dad said.

“I’ve been meaning to,” Sheila said. “She wants me to train her. Could be a good way to get some pent-up frustration out.”

“For both of you.”

Sheila thought about that. She decided not to comment on it.

“Anyway,” she said, “I should get going.”

"Back to the grind. I know how it is." He sighed. "Well, I'll let you know if I think of a way to help Star out. Ordinarily, I'd say the best thing would be for her to be back at home with her folks, but in this case…"

Sheila heard the door behind her open, and she turned to see Finn standing there, a troubled expression on his face. He gestured that he needed to speak with her.

“Sounds good,” Sheila said into the phone. “Talk to you later, Dad.” She hung up, then took a deep breath, preparing herself for whatever Finn had to say. “Were you able to make a connection between the victims?”

Finn shook his head, looking grim. “No. But we’ve got a different lead: Another woman has gone missing.”

Sheila cursed under her breath. “How do we know it’s the same killer?”

“Because they left a few astrological symbols in the woman’s apartment. In blood.”

***

Sheila paused on the staircase leading up to Fiona Blake’s apartment, everything within her telling her to go back. She closed her eyes, gripping the rail as she reminded herself that this wasn’t Natalie’s cabin. Her sister wouldn’t be in there, lying dead on the floor.

Finn marched past her before realizing she’d stopped. He studied her, sighing. “Look, if you need to hang back—”

“No,” she cut him off, pushing past her own fears. "I'm fine."

They continued up the stairs, Sheila fighting back the memories that threatened to overtake her.

The door to Fiona's apartment was slightly ajar, the yellow crime scene tape fluttering in the mild breeze. The neighborhood was eerily quiet, all eyes courting the disrupted sanctuary.

Sheila steeled herself, pushing open the door, the creak of aged hinges echoing too-loud in her ears. The apartment was an artist's paradise, finished canvases lining the walls, each one a testament to Fiona’s talent. A spatter of red paint on the wall almost made Sheila jump until she realized what it was.

In the heart of the living area, patches of dried blood marred the hardwood floor, an unholy constellation connected by police chalk. A framed picture showing Fiona, surrounded by a number of paintings and smiling beneath a sign that read 'WELCOME TO FELDER UNIVERSITY, WHERE DREAMS COME TRUE,' was speckled with fine droplets of blood.

Whoever had done this had taken their time, arranging Fiona's abode into a grotesque constellation of violence and terror. The symbols were similar to those found on Vanessa Hart's body: intricate and abstract, fashioned with a disturbing precision that only heightened Sheila's unease.

Finn was already crouched down, studying one of the symbols drawn in blood. He had traded his uniform for a black suit, which rendered him almost ghost-like in the dim light filtering through the apartment windows.

"Anything you recognize?" Sheila asked, pulling herself from her thoughts. She stooped next to him, trying to make sense of the cryptic sigils before them.

"Not right off," Finn admitted, "but there are similarities to what we found at the other two scenes—with the obvious exception that there’s no body, of course.”

Sheila studied the symbols and tried to estimate how much blood it had taken. Assuming it was Fiona’s blood, was there any chance she was still alive?

She tried to play out the situation in her head. “So he attacks her in here, maybe catches her by surprise when she comes home. But does he kill her?”

“If he did,” Finn said, “I’d expect to find a pool of blood somewhere. But there doesn’t seem to be one, which suggests—”

“She was alive while he was drawing these.” Sheila rubbed wearily at her face. “If he wants to follow the pattern, he needs to take her out to the salt flats. That’s where the other two were.”

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