Page 48 of Silent Ritual

Finn cleared his throat. “You said on the phone that Natasha warned you something might happen to her. What did you mean by that?”

“She received these threats via email,” Lisa continued, her voice faltering slightly. “At first, they were just nasty messages—calling her names, telling her she was wasting her time. But then they got more specific, more...scary.”

Sheila leaned forward, her brow furrowing. “Do you still have these emails? We need to see them.”

Lisa nodded. “I saved them. I have them on my laptop.” She stood up and walked over to a cluttered desk in the corner, pulling out a sleek, silver laptop buried under a pile of papers and notebooks. She opened it and started it up, her fingers trembling slightly as she typed in her password.

Finn stood and joined her at the desk. “Did Natasha ever say who she thought might be behind the threats?”

Lisa shook her head. “No, she didn’t. But I could see it was wearing her down. She became more paranoid, started looking over her shoulder all the time. She even talked about hiring a security consultant, but she never got around to it.”

As the laptop booted up, Sheila took the opportunity to look around the apartment more closely. She noted the mix of personal and professional items, the way their lives seemed to blend seamlessly between work and home. She imagined Natasha sitting at this very desk, perhaps reading one of those threatening emails, feeling her sense of safety erode bit by bit.

“There,” Lisa said, her voice breaking through Sheila’s thoughts. She pointed at the screen, where a series of emails were open. The subject lines alone were chilling: “You’ll Regret This,” “Stop Now or Else,” “This Is Your Last Warning.”

Sheila and Finn read through the emails quickly, noting the escalating tone and the increasing specificity of the threats. “These look serious,” Finn said, his jaw tightening. “Did Natasha report any of this to the police?”

Lisa shook her head again. “No, she didn’t want to. She said she didn’t trust the police to take it seriously, especially after some of the cases she’d heard about.” She glanced at Sheila, a hint of defiance in her eyes. “No offense.”

Sheila nodded, understanding. “None taken. But we’re taking it seriously now. We need to know everything Natasha was working on, anything that could have made someone feel threatened enough to do this.”

Lisa sighed and closed the laptop. “She wasn’t working on anything particularly eye-catching—just small projects for local businesses. She was developing an app for the bookstore down the street, working on an inventory system for a flower shop, nothing major."

That didn’t sound particularly promising to Sheila. “Who do you think would have threatened her, then? And why?”

Lisa shrugged helplessly. "I wish I knew. Natasha didn't have any enemies that I know of. She was...passionate, yes, but she believed in our work. She wanted to use technology to make people's lives better."

Sheila and Finn exchanged a glance. Judging from Finn’s expression, he didn’t have much more optimism than she did.

Sheila gave Lisa a sympathetic smile. “Thank you for your time. I promise we’re doing everything we can to find out what happened to Natasha. We'll be in touch if we have any more questions."

As they left the apartment, a cold wind whipped around them. The sky had darkened, thick clouds dousing the sunlight.

"She knew she was in danger," Finn said, pulling his coat tighter around him against the biting chill. His voice held an undercurrent of anger.

"Yes, she did," Sheila replied. "And she didn't feel safe enough to turn to us for help."

They stood there together on the sidewalk, staring out at the gloomy cityscape. The city had taken on an eerie silence, the usual hum of traffic and pedestrians subdued. A few leaves rustled along the pavement, discarded remnants of a forgotten autumn. The tension hung heavy between them, unspoken words filled with frustration, regret, and a growing sense of urgency.

"Where do we start?" Finn asked, his voice almost lost in the wind.

"With the emails," Sheila said, determination hardening her voice. "We need to trace them back to the sender."

"I know a guy," Finn said. "I'll reach out to him, see what he can do."

A light rain began to patter on the pavement around them. Finn pulled up his collar, and Sheila followed suit. She felt a deep chill, not just from the weather but from the magnitude of the task ahead.

As they walked back to their car, Sheila could feel the gravity of their mission settling into her bones, marking her with its urgency. It was an all too familiar sensation.

While Finn started the car, Sheila texted Star. Be careful, she wrote, we're dealing with something serious. She hit send and watched the message disappear into the digital ether, hoping it would find the teenager safe and aware.

“What if we can’t find the sender?" Finn asked. "What if there is no connection between the victims, other than the fact that they’re young women?”

“There has to be a connection,” Sheila said softly.

“Why? How do you know?”

“Because if there isn’t…we don’t stand a chance of catching this guy.”

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