Page 31 of Silent Home

Sheila felt a familiar spark of intuition.Audition tapes would show everyone who tried out for these roles—not just the people who made it to callbacks, but every person who walked through that door hoping for a chance.Every person who might have felt passed over, overlooked, denied their moment.

Then again, if the killer was someone who felt they'd been overlooked for a role (or multiple roles), why would they target others who'd also been overlooked?Wouldn't it be more logical for them to target the people who'd actually secured the roles?

It was clear to Sheila that she had yet to arrive at a working theory that explained the killings.Still, she sensed she was closer now than she'd ever been before.

"Who handles the technical side of recording auditions?"she asked.

"The festival has a whole AV department.Professional setup—multiple angles, good sound quality.You want to catch every nuance of the performance."

"But who specifically?"Finn pressed."Who's in charge of documenting everything?"

Dylan thought for a moment."Paul Wilson's been the technical director for years.He handles all the recording equipment and maintains the archives."He paused."Actually, now that I think about it, he's kind of obsessive about documentation.Says he's creating a record of the creative process."

Sheila and Finn exchanged looks.Someone with technical expertise.Someone with access to all the theaters.Someone who would know about camera blind spots and how to work with specialized equipment like gaffer's wire.

"Would Wilson have access to the costume department?"Sheila asked carefully.

"Sure.He's got keys to pretty much everything.Been with the festival so long he's practically part of the building."Dylan checked his watch again."Listen, I really do need to catch that flight..."

But Sheila was already standing, her mind racing.A technical director obsessed with documentation.Who would have seen every audition, every rejected actor, every moment of potential that never made it to the stage.

"We need to talk to Carl Rider," she told Finn as they left the coffee shop."Find out everything he knows about Paul Wilson."

"You think Wilson's our killer?"

"I think someone's been studying these performances very carefully.Someone who understood exactly how to recreate specific scenes."She quickened her pace."And someone who had access to all the equipment needed to document his own twisted productions."

They headed for Rider's office, both thinking about a man who spent his life watching others perform, recording their triumphs and failures.A man who might have decided to create his own performances, using the very actors he'd watched being rejected.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Sitting in his basement workspace, surrounded by carefully organized shelves of audition tapes, he adjusted the volume on his private viewing station.The small TV cast a blue glow over his collection—hundreds of tapes, each one meticulously labeled and dated.Some went back decades, copied from the original reels before digital took over.

Sarah Martinez appeared in his third tape of the morning.Even in the harsh fluorescent lighting of the audition room, she had a presence—the kind that made you lean forward, hold your breath, and forget you were watching a recording.Her take on Elena in "Southwestern Gothic" was revelatory.Where other actresses played the character's madness big and theatrical, Sarah found the quiet horror in it.

The way she delivered the climactic monologue about her father's ghost, barely above a whisper...

He'd been eight when he first discovered the transformative power of cinema.Hiding in the basement of the local theater while his father raged upstairs in their apartment, he'd watch the same films over and over, learning how people could become someone else entirely.How they could escape.The projectionist—an older man named Ray—had let him stay, recognizing something in the quiet boy who memorized every line, every gesture.

By twelve, he was studying acting techniques.By sixteen, he was filming his own short movies with a borrowed camera.But his true talent lay in recognizing potential in others.He could watch an audition and see exactly what an actor was capable of, if only given the right direction.

Like Sarah.She understood Elena in a way the others didn't and brought layers of subtext to every line.But they'd given the role to Jessica Kent instead—a safer choice, someone with more festival credits to her name."Southwestern Gothic" was supposed to premiere tonight, though the precipitous shutdown of the festival would change that.

Still, it didn't change the mistake the casting crew had made.

He paused the tape on Sarah's face and consulted his notes.She was still in town—he'd seen her at the Mountain View Hotel bar last night, drowning her disappointment about the festival's cancellation.The role of Elena should have been hers.That scene in the bell tower, when Elena finally confronts her father's ghost...it could have been magnificent with the right staging.

He glanced at his worktable where the gaffer's wire gleamed under the basement's single bulb.Sarah deserved that role.Deserved to have her moment.

And he could give it to her.Could help her deliver the performance she was born to give.

Just like he'd helped the others.

He ejected the tape and returned it to its place in his collection, each one representing someone's dream, someone's chance at transformation.Then he began to plan how he would create Sarah's perfect scene.

After all, the show must go on.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

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