Page 49 of Silent Ritual

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

Sheila splashed water on her face and stared at her reflection in the mirror as the drops ran down her cheeks like tears.

Come on, she told herself. Stay in the game. Don’t get discouraged now.

It was easier said than done, however. She was running on fumes, her body demanding sleep, her mind refusing to shut down. A few strands of dark hair stuck to her wet face, and she brushed them away irritably.

You can do this, she told herself. You can—

Her phone began to ring. Startled, she fumbled for it, nearly dropping it into the sink. The caller ID showed it was her father, Gabe.

“Hey, Dad,” she said, trying to sound more enthusiastic than she felt. “What’s going on?”

“Just thought I’d touch base. Hadn’t heard from you in a while.” Sheila could hear noise in the background—it sounded like he was driving with the window partly down. “Listen,” he went on, “I’ve been following the investigation on the news and I heard about the fifth victim.”

Sheila swallowed hard. “Yeah, it’s…”

“You must be taking it hard.”

"I am," Sheila admitted, turning away from the mirror. "It's not easy, Dad."

Gabe sighed, the sound crackling through the phone. "You're doing your best."

"But is it enough?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

"It has to be." Gabe's tone was firm, a pillar of support in her wavering world. "You've gone through a lot worse and come out stronger on the other side."

Sheila smiled faintly, appreciating his attempt to bolster her spirits. "Thanks, Dad. But I know you didn’t call just to give me a pep talk. What’s really going on?"

“I was wondering if you’d had a chance to talk with Finn about this weekend.”

Sheila’s mind drew a complete blank. “This weekend…”

“Natalie’s cabin? Going through her old things?”

“Oh, that’s right!” She’d completely forgotten—her dad had asked her to meet him there on Saturday, and he’d invited Finn to join them. Sheila had said she would pass the invitation along to Finn, but so far she’d forgotten.

Forgotten, she thought, or just avoided asking him? The truth was that she didn’t want to go back to that cabin—the place where she’d discovered her sister’s dead body—at all, and having Finn there wouldn’t change the reality of what she’d gone through.

"We really need to do this," her dad continued, his voice softening. "It might bring some closure for both of us."

"I know," Sheila assured him, swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat. "I just…haven’t gotten around to asking him."

There was a pause on the line, a quiet moment that was filled with unspoken feelings and memories. Then Gabe spoke again, his words cutting through the silence like a reminder of what she'd lost.

"Finn can be there for you, if you let him. I don’t know him particularly well, but he seems like a good, honest man.”

Sheila closed her eyes, holding back the tears welling up. Yes, Finn was a good man—that was part of what was frightening about being around him: She had the nagging sense that the two of them might have a real future together, a prospect that scared her more than she wanted to admit.

“I’ll talk to him, Dad.” The lie fell so easily from her lips that it startled her. Opening her eyes, she stared at her reflection in the mirror, brows furrowed in a mix of determination and fear.

"Good," Gabe said, his voice filled with relief. The line fell silent. Sheila could hear the wind rushing past her father's window and the faint rumble of the car's engine. She didn't want to say goodbye—there was something comforting in just knowing her father was right there, ready to listen should she need to say anything.

“So,” Gabe said, “this guy you’re after is a real nut, huh?”

Sheila snorted. “Yeah, that’s for sure.”

“What’s the deal with all these astrological symbols around the victims? And did they say you actually found herbs on the bodies?”

---