Page 23 of Silent Prayer

"The Coldwater Confessor," another reporter said. "That's what people are calling the killer. Is it true he's targeting sinners? Is this a religiously motivated series of murders?"

Finn cleared his throat. "We're in the midst of an ongoing investigation and can't comment on specifics. We urge the public to remain calm and report any suspicious activity to the police."

"But Deputy," a third reporter pressed, "sources say you found religious artifacts at the latest crime scene. Can you confirm this?"

Sheila felt a surge of frustration. How had that information leaked? "As my partner said, we can't comment on an active investigation. Now, if you'll excuse us..."

They pushed their way through the crowd, reporters still shouting questions at their backs. When they finally reached their vehicle, Sheila slumped against the door, exhaling heavily.

"'Coldwater Confessor'?" she muttered. "Great. Just what we need: a catchy name to whip everyone into a frenzy."

Finn nodded grimly as he unlocked the car. "You know how it goes: The press loves a good serial killer story. We'd better solve this fast, because if we don't…this town is going to eat itself alive."

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Rachel Kim burst through the front door of her Coldwater mansion, her stilettos clicking angrily against the polished marble floor of her foyer.

"Mochi?" she called out, her voice tinged with frustration. "Where are you, you little furball?"

No answering yap came in response, which was unusual. Mochi, her beloved Shih Tzu, always greeted her at the door with excited barks and wagging tail. But today, the house remained oddly quiet.

Rachel sighed, dropping her designer handbag on the antique side table by the door. This day was turning into a complete disaster. First, her dog-sitter had called out at the last minute, forcing her to rush home in the middle of the workday to let Mochi out. Now, she was going to miss the most important meeting of her career so far.

As the youngest executive at Elbridge Tech, Rachel had worked tirelessly to prove herself. At twenty-six, she'd already climbed the corporate ladder faster than anyone else in the company's history. But she knew that in the cutthroat world of tech startups, you were only as good as your last success.

Today's meeting was with a group of potential investors from Silicon Valley. If she could secure their funding, it would catapult Elbridge Tech into the big leagues. More importantly, it would cement her position as a rising star in the industry.

But now, because of her irresponsible dog-sitter and her own soft spot for her furry companion, she was going to miss it.

Why didn't I just let him pee on the rug?She thought.It wouldn't be the first time he's done it.

But she knew the reason. Mochi didn't like peeing in the house, and so he would hold it as long as he could—which washow he'd developed a UTI and then a near-fatal kidney infection just last year. Rachel cared too much for the little furball to risk that happening again.

Her thoughts drifted to the day she'd gotten Mochi. It had been just after her grandmother's funeral three years ago. She'd been devastated by her grandmother's death, feeling alone in a world that suddenly seemed much colder. Her parents, ever practical, had suggested she focus on her career to distract herself from the grief. But Rachel had needed something more.

She'd found Mochi at a local shelter, a tiny ball of fluff with soulful eyes that seemed to see right through her carefully constructed façade of strength. In that moment, she'd known she needed this little dog as much as he needed her.

Since then, Mochi had been her constant companion, her confidant, and her anchor in the stormy seas of her high-pressure life. He was the one being she could be completely herself around, without fear of judgment or expectations.

"Mochi?" Rachel called again, a note of worry creeping into her voice. She moved further into the house, her heels now sinking into the plush carpet of the living room. "Come on, boy. Where are you hiding?"

She checked all of Mochi's favorite spots: under the coffee table, behind the couch, in the laundry room where he liked to curl up in warm piles of clothes. But there was no sign of him anywhere.

A cold knot of fear began to form in Rachel's stomach. Had Mochi somehow gotten out? But how? The house was secure, with top-of-the-line locks and an expensive security system. She'd made sure of that after reading about a series of break-ins in the neighborhood last year.

Just as she was about to call the local animal control, a knock at the door startled her. Rachel hesitated, her hand hovering over her phone. Who could that be? She wasn't expectinganyone, and solicitors rarely made it past the gated community's security.

If it's one of those nutjobs handing out pamphlets again…

Another knock, more insistent this time. Rachel smoothed her skirt and made her way back to the foyer. Through the frosted glass panels flanking the door, she could make out the silhouette of a man.

What was that in his arms?

Taking a deep breath, Rachel opened the door. There, on her doorstep, stood a middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair and kind eyes. In his arms was a familiar ball of fluff.

"Mochi!" Rachel exclaimed, relief flooding through her.

The man smiled, holding out the squirming dog. "I believe this little fellow belongs to you?"

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