Page 19 of Silent Ritual

“It would be a lot easier to get her there alive,” Finn said. “Dragging her body down those stairs in broad daylight—too great a chance someone would notice.”

Sheila nodded, already thinking the same thing. She rose to her feet. “We’ve got to coordinate another search, and we have to do it fast. Out there in the hot sun, losing this much blood—” She shook her head. “Fiona’s not going to last long even if she gets away from her captor.”

CHAPTER TEN

The sun was high in the sky as Sheila and Finn gathered their search party at the edge of the Mirage Salt Flats. The vast, barren expanse stretched out before them, bleached and glistening. The silence was punctuated only by the occasional lonesome breeze and the distant cries of unseen desert creatures.

"I've divided the area into quadrants," Finn said, gesturing to a map spread out on the hood of his patrol car. "We'll spread out, cover as much ground as possible, but keep within shouting distance. If you find anything, anything at all, call it in."

Sheila looked around at the volunteers assembled: local residents, off-duty firefighters—even Star had shown up, a grim determination in her young eyes. Sheila had been surprised by Star’s decision, and she felt a stirring of pride for the young woman.

"This is not a game," she said, locking eyes with each of them. "We're looking for Fiona Blake. She's in danger, and we need to find her fast. But if we do find her, there's a good chance that the person who attacked her will be nearby, so be careful."

She handed out radios, and they formed groups before fanning out. Sheila’s stomach churned with worry and anticipation as she watched volunteers march into the desolate landscape.

“So,” a few behind her said, “you think she’s really still alive?”

Sheila turned around to see Star standing there, dressed in her classic hoodie and jeans, despite the heat. Her jet-black hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and her face was stern under the desert sun. "I think we have to hope," Sheila said, meeting Star's gaze. "And if there's one thing I've learned from doing this kind of work, it's that hope can make a lot of difference."

Star said nothing, just frowned toward the horizon with undisguised skepticism. Sheila was learning that hope was a concept Star wasn’t particularly familiar with.

“Come on,” Sheila said. “You can join Finn and me. We’ll look together.”

The three of them moved off together, scanning the terrain as they went. Finn had that set, focused look he wore when he was locked in. Star walked silently behind them, her dark eyes taking in everything. The afternoon sun made the flat pan of the desert shimmer with heat, and the crunch of their shoes on the parched earth was the only sound in the heavy silence.

“I don’t get it,” Finn said softly. “The blood back at the apartment—it’s so unusual, so different from the other two. He hardly touched the others, almost like he didn’t want to get his hands dirty. Then he does that with his third victim?”

“Maybe it had something to do with her being an artist,” Sheila said, speaking in a low voice in the hope that perhaps Star wouldn’t overhear her. She thought it was good for Star to be out of the apartment, but she didn’t want to expose the girl to too much of the harsh reality of her investigation.

“Or maybe,” Star said, “he got surprised. Tried to threaten her, but she put up a fight.”

Sheila and Finn both turned to look at Star. Finn raised his eyebrows. “That’s not a bad theory,” he said. “But how does he get into the apartment in the first place? There were no signs of forced entry.”

“Maybe he knew her,” Sheila said. “Maybe he knew all the victims—it would explain how he managed to sneak up on the other two victims, too.”

“He?” Star asked. “Are you sure it’s a man?”

Finn shrugged. “Not certain, but the vast majority of serial killers are men. Statistically speaking—”

He was interrupted by a shout. "Over here!" The call came from over a small rise in the desert. Sheila, Finn, and Star exchanged glances before sprinting toward the source of the yell.

As Sheila crested the rise, she spotted a trio of searchers clustered around an object on the ground. She squinted against the desert glare, her heart pounding as she caught sight of a woman lying prone, her arms and legs pointed in an X pattern.

“Don’t look,” she said, stepping in front of Star and shielding her from the sight. Finn rushed past them to join the circle of huddled officers.

“It’s Fiona Blake, alright,” one of the officers said. “Damn it.”

Star tried to get past Sheila, but Sheila moved to block her.

“I want to see,” Star said.

“Absolutely not,” Sheila answered. “This isn’t some show on TV—this is real, and even seasoned officers have nightmares about things like this. I can’t let you see her—I wouldn’t want you to have to live with the memory.”

“I can handle it,” Star insisted, trying to peek around Sheila.

"Sheila's right," Finn said, walking up to them. His face was pale and solemn as he stared down at the young girl. "This isn’t for someone your age to see."

“Someone my age,” Star repeated bitterly. “I’ve been through a lot of things that weren’t appropriate for ‘someone my age.’”

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