Page 60 of Silent Prayer

Megan thrashed in her chair, tears streaming down her face. "No, please! You don't have to do this! Whatever you believe, whatever you think is going to happen, this isn't the way!"

The Father approached her, candlestick raised. "I'm sorry you can't see the beauty of it, Megan. But in time, in the great beyond, you'll understand. You'll thank me for this gift."

He began to chant. The candlelight danced across the walls, casting grotesque shadows. Megan's pleas became more desperate, but to the Father, they were merely the death throes of her unenlightened self.

He raised the candlestick higher, ready to deliver the cleansing blow.

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

Sheila's knuckles were white as she gripped the steering wheel, her police cruiser cutting through the quiet streets of Coldwater. The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the road, but Sheila barely noticed the picturesque scene. Her mind was focused entirely on her destination: Dr. Calvin Reeves' house.

Her phone, on speaker mode and resting on the dashboard, crackled to life with Finn's voice. "Sheila, where the hell are you? The press conference is about to start!"

"It doesn't matter, Finn," she replied, her voice tense. "We can't go through with it. Not now."

"What are you talking about? We've got Thorne in custody. The mayor, the chief, everyone's waiting—"

"Thorne isn't our killer," Sheila said, cutting him off. "It's Reeves. Dr. Calvin Reeves."

There was a moment of stunned silence on the other end. "I've never heard of him. Sheila, just because you have a hunch—"

"I know how it sounds," she interrupted again, swerving around a slow-moving SUV. "But I've got evidence, Finn. He's connected to all the victims. He's part of Celestial Awakening. It all fits."

"Even if you're right, we can't just accuse someone without solid proof. We need to—"

"We need to find him before he kills again," Sheila snapped, no longer checking her frustration. "I'm done waiting, Finn. I'm done playing it safe while more women die. I'm going to Reeves' house, and I'm going to find the proof we need."

"Sheila, wait." Finn's voice was urgent now. "You can't go in there alone. It's not safe. If Reeves really is our killer—"

"Then I'll handle it," she said. "I need you to trust me on this, Finn. Can you do that?"

There was a long pause, filled only with the sound of Sheila's car engine and her own rapid breathing. Finally, Finn spoke. "Okay. But I'm coming, too. Don't do anything reckless before I get there, okay?"

"No promises," she said as she turned onto Reeves's street. "Just get here as quickly as you can." She ended the call before he could protest.

The house was a large Victorian, well-maintained and respectable-looking. Nothing on the outside hinted at the horrors Sheila suspected lay within. She parked across the street, her hand instinctively checking her weapon as she exited the car.

Approaching the house, Sheila's training kicked in. She observed the perfectly manicured lawn, the lights off inside, the absence of any vehicles in the driveway. It all suggested no one was home, but Sheila knew better than to trust appearances.

She rang the doorbell. "Police! Open up!"

No response. After a moment's hesitation, she tried the door handle. To her surprise, it turned easily.

"Dr. Reeves?" she called out as she entered, her voice echoing in the quiet house. "This is Deputy Stone. I need to ask you some questions."

Silence greeted her. Sheila moved cautiously through the house, her senses on high alert. The interior was immaculate, every surface polished, every item in its place. It reminded her of a showroom devoid of the lived-in feel of a real home.

In Reeves' study, Sheila found bookshelves lined with texts on psychology, religion, and astronomy. On his desk, a half-finished letter caught her eye. It was addressed to the medical board, expressing Reeves' intention to resign from his practice.

Sheila's heart raced. Was he planning to run?

As she continued her search, a nagging doubt began to creep in. What if she was wrong? What if this was just another dead end, and the real killer was still out there? The faces of the victims flashed through her mind, their eyes seeming to accuse her of failure.

Sheila shook her head, pushing the thoughts away. She couldn't afford to doubt herself now. She had to keep searching.

Finally, she came to a door she assumed led to the basement. Taking a deep breath, she opened it, revealing a set of stairs descending into darkness. Sheila flicked on her flashlight and began to descend, the old wood creaking under her feet.

The beam of her flashlight cut through the gloom, revealing a space that sent chills down her spine. Unlike the pristine rooms above, the basement was cluttered and chaotic. Tables were covered with strange symbols and diagrams. Shelves held jars of unidentifiable substances. And in the center of the room stood an altar, complete with candles and what looked disturbingly like bloodstains.

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