Page 16 of Silent Home

Sheila checked her weapon, more from habit than expectation of using it."Ready."

Whatever Jessica had discovered, whatever had gotten her killed—they were about to face someone who might have answers.

How far would that person go to keep their secrets?

CHAPTER SEVEN

Theater Three hummed with anticipation as Sheila and Finn slipped in through the side entrance, every seat filled with festival attendees eager to hear from the acclaimed Bradley Greenwald.The aisles were crowded with people sitting cross-legged on the floor, their passes dangling from lanyards.A festival volunteer with a clipboard hovered near the stage, looking anxious.A man stood at the back of the room, his tall frame partially hidden by the professional camera rig.Silver hair caught the theater lights as he made minute adjustments to his equipment, his wire-rimmed glasses reflecting the glow of the viewfinder display.

Sheila and Finn positioned themselves where they could observe both the stage and the audience.The room felt too warm, though Sheila couldn't tell if it was the crowd or her own tension raising the temperature.

"There," Finn murmured, nodding toward the front row.

Bradley Greenwald sat with his production team, his silver hair carefully styled, his casual blazer probably worth more than Sheila's monthly salary.He looked exactly like his festival headshot—handsome in that weathered way that made middle-aged male directors seem "distinguished" rather than just older.

Carl Rider appeared at the podium, tapping the microphone."Ladies and gentlemen, we're honored to present a conversation with one of independent cinema's most compelling voices.His new documentary, 'Echoes of Silence,' premieres tonight, but you may know him from his previous works, including last year's haunting period drama, 'The Winter Palace.'"

The audience applauded as Greenwald took the stage, moving with the easy confidence of someone used to commanding attention.He settled into the interviewer's chair, accepting a bottle of water from the hovering volunteer.

Sheila studied Greenwald.Though he affected a casual pose, his height was evident in his long limbs, and his hands were large, almost delicate in how they gestured as he spoke.His silver hair caught the stage lights, giving him the distinguished look that seemed mandatory for successful directors.

"Tell us about your process," the moderator began."How do you choose your subjects?"

"I look for the untold stories," Greenwald said, his voice carrying easily through the theater."The moments between moments, the truths people try to hide."He leaned forward, warming to his topic."Take my new documentary—'Echoes of Silence.'It's about the spaces we create between what we say and what we mean.The lies we tell ourselves to get through the day."

"And what drew you to that theme?"

"Experience."Greenwald smiled."Years of watching people present one face to the world while hiding another.The festival circuit is particularly rich in those contrasts."

The moderator nodded thoughtfully."Your previous film, 'The Winter Palace,' dealt with similar themes of deception and hidden truths.Was that a conscious progression?"

"Everything's conscious in filmmaking," Greenwald said."Every choice, every frame, every performance—it all serves the larger truth we're trying to reveal."

Sheila watched his hands as he spoke, noting how they seemed to conduct an invisible orchestra, emphasizing certain words, brushing others aside.When the moderator finally opened the floor for questions, she waited while others asked about technique, about inspiration, about his new documentary.Then she raised her hand.

"Sheriff Stone, Coldwater County," she said when called upon, keeping her tone professional."I was particularly moved by 'The Winter Palace.'Could you talk about your casting process?How do you find new talent?"

Something flickered behind Greenwald's eyes, but his smile remained steady."Casting is one of my great passions.I believe in nurturing new talent, giving opportunities to undiscovered actors who might otherwise be overlooked."

"Like Jessica Gregory?"

The name landed softly in the room.Greenwald's pause was almost imperceptible."Yes, Jessica auditioned.Very talented young woman."

"Did you continue mentoring her after production wrapped?"

His expression shifted—subtle, but Sheila caught it."I try to stay in touch with promising talent when I can.This industry can be challenging for young actors."

"How recently had you been in touch with her?"

Now, Greenwald studied her more carefully, seemingly recognizing the careful construction of her questions."Sheriff, is there something specific you'd like to ask me?"

"I'm just trying to understand the relationships within our film community," Sheila said."Especially given recent events."

Murmurs rippled through the audience.It was possible that not everyone here was aware of why Theater Seven had been closed, but no doubt some of them were.Greenwald's professional facade cracked slightly.

"If you'd like to discuss anything specific," he said, his voice cooler now, "perhaps we could do so privately."

"I'd appreciate that," Sheila said."Perhaps after this session?"

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