Page 48 of Silent Smile

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

The sun was setting over Coldwater, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple. Sheila stood at the window of her office, watching as the day's light faded. Behind her, Finn sat at her desk, surrounded by stacks of papers and open folders—the sum total of their investigation into Dr. Nora Redfeather's past, as well as the ongoing files on Jason Hawke and Mick O'Donnell.

"Nothing conclusive," Finn said with a long sigh. "A parking ticket for Redfeather from three years ago. A dispute with a neighbor over a fence line. That's it."

Sheila turned from the window. "What about her financials?"

"Clean as a whistle," Finn replied, tossing another folder onto the desk. "No unusual transactions, no hidden accounts. She lives within her means, donates to a few environmental charities. Nothing that screams 'secret murderer.'"

Sheila nodded, processing the information. They'd been at this for hours, and they were no closer to definitively linking any of their three suspects to both murders.

"I'm telling you, Sheila," Finn said, "she's not involved. We're wasting our time with her."

After their meeting with Dr. Redfeather, Finn had suggested focusing on Hawke and O'Donnell. Sheila, however, couldn't ignore Dr. Redfeather's suspicious tattoo. They had to be thorough.

"Alright," she said, "let's think this through. What are our options?"

Finn leaned back in his chair, his brow furrowed. "We could bring Redfeather in for questioning. Push harder, see if she cracks. Her tattoo and her vague story about being in the park make her our most suspicious lead right now."

"On what grounds?" Sheila countered. "A tattoo and a walk in the park? Any half-decent lawyer would have her out in an hour. And don't forget, we've got the shovel buried in the backyard of both Hawke and O'Donnell. That's far more suspicious than a tattoo, don't you think?"

Finn shrugged. "Of course. That's why I've been saying all along they're guilty. Dr. Redfeather has nothing to do with this. We should be prosecuting the other two, not wasting our time with her."

"Even if Hawke and O'Donnell are guilty," Sheila said patiently, "we need to be smart about this. If we push too hard without enough evidence, we could blow the whole case. We need to keep all our options open."

Finn stood up, pacing the small office. "And if we don't push hard enough, we could let a killer walk free—or two killers, for that matter. Is that what you want? To let another innocent person die while we tiptoe around these suspects?"

It felt as if the tension that had been building between them since the start of this investigation was now bubbling to the surface. Perhaps that shouldn't have come as a surprise. Despite how smoothly they worked together on their first case, the process of adjusting to one another's methods hadn't always been harmonious. They were both headstrong, both convinced of their own methods, which had led them to clash more often than not.

But they'd worked through those differences, found ways to channel their determination into solving cases instead of fighting each other. Their stubbornness had even become a running joke between them.

Now, that same trait was driving them apart.

Sheila wanted to blame it on her new position as Sheriff, but she knew it went deeper. Her fear of failing, of not living up to the badge, was making her grip control ever tighter. And Finn,who'd always pushed back just enough to keep her honest, was pulling away instead.

Sheila took a deep breath, trying to keep her voice level. "Finn, I think we need to talk. Not just about the case, but about... us. This situation."

Finn stopped pacing, turning to face her. "What's there to talk about? You're the boss now. You make the calls."

The bitterness in his tone stung. "Is that really how you see it?" Sheila asked. "You think I don't value your input?"

"Do you?" Finn challenged. "Because from where I'm standing, it feels like you're discarding every suggestion I make. I say Dr. Redfeather has nothing to do with this, you say we need to investigate her. I push to focus on Hawke and O'Donnell, you want to look elsewhere. What am I even here for if you're going to overrule everything I say?"

Sheila felt her own anger rising. "I'm not second-guessing you, Finn. I'm trying to look at the bigger picture. That's my job now. We can't just railroad suspects because we're frustrated. We need solid evidence."

"And my job is what? To just follow orders? To sit back and wait for you to tell me what to do next?"

"No!" Sheila exclaimed. "Your job is to be my partner, to have my back. But you also need to understand that at the end of the day, the final decision is mine. The responsibility is mine. If we make a wrong move, it's my career on the line."

Finn's jaw clenched. "So much for equality, huh? I guess all those years of partnership don't mean much now that you've got the Sheriff's star."

The words hit her like a physical blow. She remembered their first case together three years ago—how they'd stayed up all night building theory boards, finishing each other's sentences, his hand brushing hers as they reached for the same file. Thateasy synchronization had sparked their romance as much as their professional partnership.

Now, they were like ships passing in the night.

She wanted to reach across that space, remind him of how good they'd been together before her promotion had complicated everything. But fear held her back—fear of showing weakness as Sheriff, fear of losing his respect, fear of admitting how much she missed their old dynamic.

"That's not fair, Finn," she said. "You know how much I value our partnership. But things are different now. We have to adjust."

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