Page 42 of Silent Home

They followed the sound of Wilson's footsteps, but the echoes made it impossible to tell which direction they were really traveling.Every few seconds they'd catch a glimpse of him—his gray hair, his wire-rimmed glasses reflecting their flashlights—but he always seemed to vanish just as they got close.

They emerged into another large room, this one filled with ancient boilers and electrical equipment.Their flashlights revealed multiple exits—maintenance doors, ventilation shafts, utility access points.

And no sign of Wilson.

They stood in silence, listening.The steam pipes creaked.Water dripped somewhere in the darkness.And then—so faint they almost missed it—the sound of breathing from behind one of the boilers.

Sheila moved silently around one side while Finn took the other.They had him cornered.

But when they reached the other side, they found only Wilson's jacket draped over a pipe, positioned to cast a human-shaped shadow.

And on the floor beneath it, a note written in Wilson's careful handwriting:

She wanted to understand method acting.Now she'll get her chance.

The sound of a door closing echoed from somewhere far above them, followed by silence.

Wilson was gone.

And they still didn't know where he'd taken Anna Martin.

Sheila stood in the damp tunnel, studying Wilson's note.The handwriting was precise, controlled—just like the murders, just like the crime scenes.Everything about the man spoke of careful planning, of attention to detail.

"Method acting," she said quietly."Anna Martin told her roommate that Wilson understood her artistic vision."

"He was grooming her," Finn said, examining the jacket Wilson had left behind."Getting her to trust him, just like he did with the others."

They did one final sweep of the boiler room, but found nothing else useful.The tunnels branched out in too many directions to search without backup.And somewhere above them, Paul Wilson might already be with his next victim.

"We need to think this through," Sheila said, fighting down her frustration."Wilson's been planning this for years.These tunnels, the hidden rooms, the surveillance system—none of this was improvised."

"And he knows we're onto him now," Finn added."He won't go back to the Revival Cinema."

Sheila paced the small space, her flashlight beam catching cobwebs and rust-stained pipes."What was in his notes about Anna?About her auditions?"

Finn pulled out his phone and navigated to the photographs he'd taken of some of Wilson's files."She was up for the lead in 'Glass Heart'—some psychological thriller about a young actress losing her grip on reality.Wilson wrote that her interpretation was 'transcendent' but the director went with someone more experienced."

"Where was it supposed to be filmed?"

"Most of it at the Art House Cinema.They were going to use the old dressing rooms in the basement for the psychological breakdown scenes."Finn looked up."You think that's where he took her?"

"I think it's our best shot at finding her right now."Sheila started toward the nearest exit.

They made their way back through the utility tunnels, eventually emerging through a maintenance door into the alley behind the Revival Cinema.The October afternoon had turned gray and cold, matching Sheila's mood.

"How do we play this?"Finn asked as they hurried to their car."If we go in with sirens and lights, Wilson might panic."

"We do it quiet," Sheila said, starting the engine."But first we need blueprints of the Art House.If there are tunnels under the Revival, there might be connections to other buildings.Wilson could have a whole network we don't know about."

"I'll call it in."Finn was already on his phone."But Sheila...we might already be too late."

She gripped the steering wheel harder."No.Wilson's different with this one.He left us that note, led us through those tunnels—it's like he's putting on a show.And the show isn't over yet."

But as they drove toward the Art House Cinema, Sheila couldn't shake the feeling that they were still missing something.Wilson's surveillance system, his detailed notes, the hidden rooms—it all suggested someone who preferred to watch rather than participate.

So why suddenly become a performer himself?

Unless this wasn't his performance at all.

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