Page 57 of Silent Neighbor

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

Sheila watched helplessly as the man dragged Jessica out of view, her heart pounding in her chest. The sudden silence that fell over the cliff face was deafening, broken only by the whisper of the wind and the distant cry of a hawk.

She glanced around, searching for any sign of Finn, but her partner was nowhere to be seen. Had he found another way up? Or had he run into trouble of his own? Sheila pushed the worrying thoughts aside.

She couldn't wait for someone else to step in and make the decision. She had to act.

Taking a deep breath, Sheila made her decision. She would have to climb.

She approached the base of the cliff, her eyes tracing possible routes upward. The rock face was daunting, a vertical maze of cracks, ledges, and smooth surfaces. Sheila had basic climbing training, but this was far beyond anything she'd ever attempted.

"No choice," she muttered to herself, reaching for the first handhold. "Here goes nothing."

Sheila began to climb, her movements slow and deliberate. The rough stone bit into her palms, and her muscles quickly began to protest the unfamiliar exertion.

As she ascended, Sheila made the mistake of glancing down. Vertigo hit her like a physical blow, the ground seeming to spin beneath her. She pressed herself against the rock, closing her eyes and taking deep, steadying breaths.

If I fall now, she thought, I could end up in a wheelchair. Like Natalie.

The thought of her sister sent a pang through Sheila's heart. Natalie had faced her own challenges with such bravery, refusing to let her injury define her. Even in her darkest moments, she had shown incredible strength.

"I have that same courage," Sheila whispered to herself, opening her eyes. "I can do this. I have to do this."

With renewed determination, Sheila continued her ascent. The ache in her muscles intensified, but she pushed through the pain, focusing on each movement, each small progress upward.

As she neared what she estimated to be the halfway point, Sheila encountered a particularly challenging section. The handholds became scarce, the rock face smoother and more treacherous. She paused, assessing her options.

To her left, about six feet away, was a sturdy-looking ledge. It would provide a much-needed rest and a safer route upward. But reaching it would require a leap of faith—literally. The gap was wide, and a miss would mean a devastating—and probably fatal—fall.

Sheila considered her options. She could try to find another way up, perhaps backtrack and look for an easier route. But that would mean losing precious time, time that Jessica might not have. Besides, her muscles were already tired and could only take so much punishment.

The alternative was to take the risk. To trust in her own abilities and make the jump.

Sheila closed her eyes, drawing in a deep breath. She thought of Jessica, terrified and alone with a killer. She thought of Natalie, who had so often leapt into the unknown in her own life with such courage. She thought of all the people counting on her, all the lives that hung in the balance.

This was what she did—no, it was who she was. And she couldn't run from danger now.

Sheila began to swing her body, building momentum. Her heart raced, adrenaline flooding her system. Every instinct screamed at her to stop, to play it safe. But she pushed past the fear, focusing on the ledge, visualizing her landing.

"Now or never," she whispered.

With a final swing, Sheila launched herself toward the ledge. For a heart-stopping moment, she was airborne, suspended between solid rock and empty space. Time seemed to slow, each second stretching into eternity.

Then her hands slammed into the ledge, fingers scrabbling for purchase on the rough stone. For a terrifying instant, she thought she might slip, her legs dangling in open air. But with a surge of strength born of desperation, Sheila pulled herself up, rolling onto the relative safety of the ledge.

She lay there for a moment, gasping for breath, her heart pounding so hard she thought it might burst from her chest. But she had made it. Against all odds, she had made the jump.

As the rush of adrenaline began to subside, Sheila pushed herself to her feet. She was closer now to where she had last seen Jessica and the killer.

Close enough, she hoped, to make a difference.

***

Jessica's heart pounded in her chest as she walked through the dimly lit cave.

Think, think, think! she told herself.

Raven—that was how he referred to himself—loomed behind her, his breath audible in the confined space. Her hands, bound tightly with coarse rope, ached from the strain, but she forced herself to remain calm. The weight of the gun, hidden in her chalk bag, pressed against her hip—a secret advantage she desperately hoped to use.

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