Page 32 of Silent Home

"What do you mean, he's not here?"Sheila asked Carl Rider, who stood amid boxes of festival materials being packed away."I thought you said Paul Wilson's been your technical director for the past eight years."

"Nine," Rider corrected, adjusting his wire-rimmed glasses."And yes, it's strange.He's usually incredibly reliable—first one in, last one out.But he missed the morning staff meeting and hasn't answered his phone."He gestured at the half-dismantled festival office."With everything happening so fast, I just assumed he was helping with the shutdown."

"When's the last time anyone saw him?"Finn asked.

Rider considered this."Yesterday afternoon, I think.He was checking sound levels in Theater Three."He paused."Though Marcus Harlow mentioned seeing him later, around eight PM.Said Paul was carrying some equipment to his car."

"We'll need Paul's home address.And a list of any other places he might go—storage units, workshops, anywhere he keeps equipment."

"Of course."Rider moved to his desk, rifling through employee files."Though I should mention—Paul lives in that old converted theater on Cedar Street.The Revival Cinema?He bought it years ago, said he was going to restore it, but..."He shrugged."It's mostly storage now, I think."

Sheila and Finn exchanged looks.An old theater would be the perfect place to hide—or to stage something.

"Got it," Rider said, handing over a personnel file."Home address, emergency contacts, everything we have.Should I call around to the other venues?See if anyone's heard from him?"

"No," Sheila said quickly."If he's involved in this, we don't want to tip him off that we're looking."

"Involved?"Rider looked troubled."You don't really think…?"

"We're not making any assumptions.But right now, considering what's at stake, we can't overlook any possibilities."

Rider nodded, but Sheila thought he looked uneasy.It wasn't every day the festival you worked so hard to organize was associated with two homicides.

As they headed for their car, Sheila found herself scanning the windows of the nearby buildings, searching for a pair of eyes looking back—like the eyes of the man in the charcoal suit.

Had he really been watching her?Or was her paranoia getting to her?

It was a short drive to the Revival Cinema, and before long the building's marquee loomed before them, dark and weathered.Plywood covered most of the windows, and faded posters advertised movies that had played there decades ago.A side door stood partially open.

"Someone's here," Finn said, nodding toward a blue Subaru parked in the alley.

They approached cautiously, weapons ready.The door creaked as Sheila pushed it wider, revealing a dim corridor that smelled of dust and old popcorn.Somewhere ahead, they could hear movement—the scrape of something being dragged across the floor.

They found Paul Wilson in what had once been the main theater, surrounded by stacks of equipment.Cables snaked across the floor, connecting various pieces of sound and lighting gear.Wilson himself was on his knees, carefully wrapping gaffer's wire around a bundle of cables.

At the sight of the gaffer's wire, Sheila's hand instinctively moved toward her weapon.

"Paul Wilson?"she called out.

He startled, dropping the wire."Shit!"He scrambled to his feet, revealing himself to be a thin man in his fifties with wire-rimmed glasses and prematurely gray hair."You scared me.I didn't—I mean, the theater's closed."

"Sheriff Stone, Coldwater County.This is Deputy Mercer."Sheila studied the space, noting the careful organization of the equipment."We've been trying to reach you."

"Oh.Right.My phone..."He gestured vaguely toward a pile of gear."Battery died.I've been trying to get all this packed up now that the festival's canceled."His hands wouldn't stay still, fidgeting with a coil of wire."Terrible business, those murders.Just terrible."

"You knew Jessica Gregory?"Finn asked.

"Sure, everyone did.Sweet girl.Always helping out, learning about the technical side of things."He swallowed hard."She used to ask about lighting setups, sound equipment.Wanted to understand how everything worked."

Sheila watched him carefully."Including the equipment in Theater Seven?"

Wilson's hands stilled for just a moment."I suppose.She had keys to most places—Carl gave the concession staff access for cleaning and maintenance."

"Mind telling us where you were last night between nine and nine-thirty?"

"Here."Wilson adjusted his glasses nervously."Moving equipment.The festival ending early means I have to get everything into storage faster than planned.Some of this gear is rented, has to be back by tomorrow."

"Anyone who can verify that?"

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