Page 13 of Silent Prayer

Sheila and Finn exchanged a significant look. "Thank you, Irene," Sheila said. "You've been very helpful."

Irene nodded, her face pale. "Is she okay? The woman in the photo?"

Sheila paused, choosing her words carefully. "We're doing everything we can to find her. We appreciate your cooperation."

With that, Sheila and Finn hurried away, returning to the main room of the bar before taking the side door Irene had mentioned. They emerged in a narrow alley. Sheila's eyes scanned the area, looking for anything out of place. The alley was dark, lit only by a single flickering streetlight at the far end. Dumpsters lined one wall, their pungent odor mixing with the lingering smell of fried food from the kitchen.

"Sheila," Finn said suddenly, pointing upward.

Sheila followed his gaze and felt a surge of excitement. There, mounted on the corner of the building, was a security camera.

***

Sheila and Finn made their way back into the bar, where they found a stocky man with a neatly trimmed beard locking the cash register. The jukebox had fallen silent, and the last few patrons were shuffling out the door, leaving behind a silence broken only by the soft clink of glasses being cleaned.

"Excuse me," Sheila said, approaching the stocky man. "Are you the manager?"

The man looked up, his eyes narrowing. "Yeah, that's me. Tom Grayson. What can I do for you?" His tone suggested he'd much rather be left alone.

"I'm Deputy Stone, and this is Deputy Mercer. We're trying to track down someone who was here three nights ago. Can you access the footage from the security camera above the back door?"

Tom shook his head, his expression a mix of annoyance and wariness. "Sorry, but we're closing up. Come back tomorrow during business hours."

"This is an urgent matter, Mr. Grayson," Finn said. "It's very important we find this woman."

Tom's expression hardened. "Look, I sympathize, but I can't just hand over our security footage to anyone who asks. There are protocols, privacy concerns. Unless you have a warrant—"

"We don't have time for a warrant," Sheila said, frustration edging into her voice. "The woman we're looking for could be in danger."

Tom lowered his voice to a more confidential tone. "Is this about what happened at St. Michael's? The whole town's shaken up about that. If there's a killer on the loose..."

Sheila exchanged a glance with Finn. They needed Tom's cooperation, but how much should they reveal? The delicate balance between informing the public and protecting the integrity of the investigation weighed heavily on her mind.

"It's possible there's a connection," she said carefully. "We can't say for certain yet."

"You think this woman you're looking for is dead, too?"

Sheila took a deep breath, acutely aware of the ticking clock in her mind. "We can't disclose all the details of an ongoing investigation, but I can tell you that we're trying to prevent another tragedy. The footage from your camera could be the key to stopping a dangerous individual."

Tom studied them for a long moment, his gaze moving from Sheila to Finn and back again. The silence stretched, broken only by the distant hum of the refrigerators behind the bar. Finally, he sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly. "Alright. Follow me."

He led them through a door marked 'Employees Only' and down a narrow hallway lined with faded posters of long-past events. The smell of stale beer and cleaning products grew stronger as they approached a small office at the end of the corridor.

Inside, a computer was set up with multiple monitors, the screens casting a blue glow over the cluttered desk. Tom sat down in a worn office chair and began typing, navigating through folders to pull up the security footage from three nights earlier.

Sheila and Finn leaned in, their eyes fixed on the screens. The grainy black-and-white footage showed the side entrance of the bar, the timestamp in the corner reading 9:42 PM.

"There," Sheila said, pointing to the screen as two figures appeared in the frame. "That's Sophie."

They watched intently as Sophie left the bar with a man. Just as Irene had described, the man had one hand on Sophie's back, guiding her. But what caught Sheila's attention was his other hand.

"Look," she said to Finn, her voice tight with tension. "He's covering his face."

Sure enough, the man's free hand was held up to his face, as if rubbing his forehead—and effectively obscuring the camera's view.

"He knew about the camera," Finn muttered, his brow furrowing. "Must have scoped out the place beforehand."

Sheila nodded grimly. "This wasn't a spontaneous act. He planned this."

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