Page 37 of Silent Prayer

Sheila approached the counter, subtly flashing her badge. "Good evening. I'm Deputy Stone, and this is Deputy Mercer. We'd like to ask you a few questions about a product you sell here."

The woman's serene expression faltered for a moment before she regained her composure. "Of course, Deputies. I'm Celeste, the owner. What would you like to know?"

Finn produced a photo of the seal from the killer's letter. "We're interested in this custom seal. Our sources tell us it was purchased here."

Celeste's eyes widened as she looked at the photo. "Yes, I remember this design. It's quite unique. But I'm afraid I can't disclose information about our customers without a warrant."

Sheila leaned in, her voice low and urgent. "Celeste, this is part of an ongoing murder investigation. Any information you provide could save lives."

Celeste's eyes darted nervously around. "I...I'm sorry, but I really don't know anything about who bought that seal. We have many customers, and I can't remember them all."

Sheila was about to press further when she heard a muffled noise from the back of the store. Her eyes narrowed. "Is someone else here?"

Celeste's posture stiffened, her hands fidgeting with the crystals around her neck. "Oh, that's just…someone I hired for part-time help. To organize the stockroom."

There was no mistaking the hesitation in Celeste's voice. Sheila exchanged a quick glance with Finn, seeing her own suspicion mirrored in his eyes.

"Mind if we talk to this helper?" Sheila asked, her tone making it clear it wasn't really a question.

"I...I don't think that's necessary," Celeste stammered. "He's very shy, you see, and—"

Sheila cut her off. "Celeste, I get the feeling you're not being entirely truthful with us. Who's really back there?"

Before Celeste could answer, the beaded curtain separating the main shop from the back room parted. A young man stepped out, freezing when he saw the deputies.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still. Then Celeste's voice shattered the silence.

"Run, Jasper!" she shouted.

The young man's eyes widened in panic. Without hesitation, he turned and bolted for the door.

"Stop! Police!" Sheila yelled, already in pursuit. As she raced after the fleeing suspect, Sheila could hear Finn behind her, calling for backup.

Sheila rushed through a dark room, then shouldered open a door swinging shut behind the fleeing Jasper. She burst out onto the street, nearly colliding with a group of tourists.

"Stop!" she yelled as the suspect darted down an alley.

She followed Jasper through a maze of narrow passages between old buildings. Her heart pounded as she vaulted over a stack of crates, her eyes never leaving the fleeing figure ahead.

Jasper emerged onto a busy street, weaving through startled pedestrians. Sheila followed, her lungs burning as she pushed herself to keep up. She could no longer hear Finn behind her. Had he fallen behind or taken a different route?

As they approached a construction site, Jasper scaled a chain-link fence with surprising agility. Sheila gritted her teeth and followed, ignoring the bite of metal on her palms.

The chase continued through the half-built structure, a dangerous obstacle course of exposed beams and scattered tools. Sheila's foot caught on a coil of wire, sending her stumbling. She recovered quickly, but the momentary delay allowed Jasper to increase his lead.

Emerging from the construction site, she found herself in a small park. Jasper headed for a dense copse of trees, clearly hoping to lose his pursuers in the gathering darkness.

Sheila pushed herself harder, closing the gap. Just as Jasper reached the treeline, she made a desperate lunge, tackling him to the ground.

They rolled across the damp grass, grappling for control. Despite his initial panic, Jasper fought with unexpected strength. Sheila managed to pin him down, her voice harsh as she gasped for breath.

"Stop resisting! You're under arrest!"

Finn arrived moments later, quickly cuffing the still-struggling suspect. As they hauled him to his feet, Sheila got her first good look at his face. He was younger than she'd expected, probably in his early twenties, with wide, frightened eyes.

"Why'd you run?" she demanded.

"I'll never talk to you," he said, his face hardening. "You can't stop what's already been set in motion."

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