Page 34 of Silent Prayer

Sheila nodded, relief washing over her. "Of course. We appreciate your cooperation, Mr. Rodriguez. If you'd be willing to come down to the station now, we can get this taken care of quickly."

As they led Rodriguez out to their car, Sheila caught Finn's eye. They both knew this was a gamble. If Francine identified Rodriguez, it would strengthen their case against him. But if she didn't...

They'd be back to square one, with a killer still on the loose and time running out.

***

Sheila stood behind the one-way glass, watching as Francine Albright squinted at the lineup. Juan Rodriguez stood among five other men of similar build and age, all dressed identically. Ms. Albright had been studying them for what felt like an eternity.

"Take your time, Ms. Albright," Sheila said into the intercom, trying to keep the impatience out of her voice. "There's no rush."

Francine nodded, her eyes moving from one man to the next. "I...I'm not sure," she said, her voice wavering. "It was weeks ago, you know. My memory isn't what it used to be."

Sheila exchanged a glance with Finn. This wasn't going as smoothly as they'd hoped.

"It's okay, Ms. Albright," Sheila said, stepping into the room. "Let's talk through it. What do you remember about the man you saw at the church?"

Francine's brow furrowed in concentration. "He was tall...well-dressed. He had kind eyes, I remember that."

Sheila nodded encouragingly. "That's good. Anything else? Maybe something unique about his appearance?"

Francine shook her head, frustration evident on her face. "I'm sorry, I just can't be certain. They all look similar from here."

Sheila felt her heart sink. Without a positive identification, they had nothing concrete to tie Rodriguez to the crimes—or to exonerate him. She took a deep breath, reminding herself to remain patient.

"It's alright, Ms. Albright. Let's try something else. Close your eyes for a moment."

Francine did as instructed.

"Now, think back to that day at the church. You're standing there, and this man approaches you. What's the first thing you notice about him?"

Francine's eyes remained closed, her face scrunched in concentration. "His smile," she said slowly. "He had a warm smile. And...and there was something about his face..."

Sheila leaned in, sensing they were on the verge of a breakthrough. "What about his face, Ms. Albright?"

"It was…strange, like he was wearing a lot of makeup. Odd for a priest."

Finn scribbled in his notebook, taking down these details.

"Do you notice anything else about him?" Sheila asked.

Suddenly, Francine's eyes snapped open. "Oh! I remember now! He had a small scar, just above his right eyebrow. It was faint, but I noticed it when he got close."

Sheila's heart raced as she turned to look at the lineup. Juan Rodriguez's face was unblemished.

"Are you sure about the scar, Ms. Albright?" she asked.

Francine nodded emphatically. "Yes, yes, I'm certain now. None of these men have that scar. The man I saw at the church isn't here."

Sheila's heart sank—they hadn't found their killer. Still, at least they had eliminated a suspect. It was progress, even if it meant they were back to square one.

Just then, Finn's phone rang. He stepped aside to answer it, his expression growing serious as he listened. When he hung up, he turned to Sheila with a grim look.

"We've got a situation," he said quietly as he led Sheila out of Francine's hearing. "Someone left a message in the town square…and the chief thinks it's from the Coldwater Confessor."

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Sheila and Finn arrived at Coldwater's central plaza as the late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the brick-paved square. A crowd had gathered around the statue of the town's founder, where a pristine white envelope had been taped to the bronze plaque. The air was thick with tension and the murmur of speculation from onlookers.

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