Page 24 of Silent Ritual

After a moment of internal struggle, Whitaker sighed. "Very well. But not here. Meet me at the coffee shop across the street in ten minutes."

As they left the building, Sheila kept a watchful eye on their surroundings. The campus was busy with students rushing to classes, but she couldn't shake the feeling of being watched.

"You think he'll show?" Finn asked as they waited at a crosswalk.

Sheila nodded. "He's scared, but he wants to talk. Whatever he knows, it's eating at him."

They crossed the street, the aroma of fresh coffee growing stronger. Just as they reached the shop's door, Sheila spotted Whitaker hurrying across the campus lawn, constantly looking over his shoulder.

Inside the coffee shop, they chose a quiet corner booth. Whitaker arrived moments later, out of breath and visibly nervous.

"I'll have a chamomile tea, please," he told the waitress, his voice barely above a whisper.

Once the tea arrived and Whitaker had taken a few sips, he seemed to calm slightly. "What do you want to know about Cassandra Jenkins?" he asked, his eyes darting between Sheila and Finn.

"We've heard there might be some...unusual activities she's involved in," Sheila said carefully. "Can you tell us anything about that?"

Whitaker's hands tightened around his mug. "There's a group of them that meet every now and then. They use one of the study halls after hours."

"What are the meetings about?" Sheila asked.

"I don't know," Whitaker murmured, glancing around nervously. "But whatever it is...it involves candles, incense, and some strange drawings they make on the floor in chalk. I've seen them because they don't always clean the chalk up properly—sometimes you can still see the faint outline."

"Outline of what?" Finn asked.

Whitaker hesitated, then leaned in closer. "If I had to guess? They look a lot like constellations."

CHAPTER TWELVE

Sheila, seated in the back of the cafeteria, checked her phone. No messages. She cursed under her breath.

“No word from Star?” Finn asked.

Sheila shook her head. “No hits on the APB, either. She’s just vanished, apparently.” She shook her head, unable to believe why Star would steal her car like that. Where had she gone? Not back to her abusive father, Sheila hoped. Sheila had gotten into a physical altercation with the man and given him a few souvenirs to remember her by, possibly even a broken nose. Though the man deserved it, Sheila didn’t really want Star seeing her father like that. She might feel bad for him, despite everything he’d done to her. Family bonds could be complicated that way.

At six in the evening, the university cafeteria was buzzing with activity as students grabbed quick meals before heading back to their evening classes or study sessions. A rowdy group of frat boys at another table caught Sheila's eye, their laughter echoing around the room.

Would Star ever come to a place like this? Would she even make it through high school?

Not if she goes back to her father, Sheila thought. He’ll make me out to be the enemy, act like he’s the victim, and if she listens to him…

"So," Finn said, pushing aside a plate from which a cheeseburger had disappeared as suddenly as the card in a magician's hand. "We've got a professor specializing in astronomy and the occult who calls into a news station and seems to know far more about the killings than she has any right to know. Then we learn she's part of a group meeting after-hours here on campus in one of the study halls, and it sounds like these meetings are more like seances—candles, incense, astrological signs.

"That's one way to put it," Sheila admitted, leaning back in her chair. "But we have no solid evidence that links her to the murders. Everything is just hearsay at this point."

Finn nodded, chewing on his lower lip in thought. "Yes, but the coincidence is too big to ignore."

"Agreed," Sheila said. "We need to get inside one of these meetings—without spooking them. They can’t know there are two police officers among them.”

Finn’s eyes twinkled with interest. “You talking about going undercover?”

“Actually, no. We don’t know if that’s how this meeting works. We show up, they start asking questions about who we are and how we learned about the meeting, and we’re screwed.”

Finn sighed, visibly disappointed.

“I am suggesting, however,” Sheila continued, "that we do some old-fashioned detective work. We stake out the building, see who's going in and out at odd hours. Maybe we can catch them in the act."

Finn’s disappointed expression transformed into a sly grin. “Now that sounds like my kind of night.”

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