Page 44 of Silent Home

"Paul Wilson, you're under arrest for the murders of Jessica Gregory, Thomas Rivera, and Sarah Martinez."Sheila kept her weapon trained on him as Finn moved to secure Anna.

"No, you don't understand," Wilson said, still unnaturally calm."I'm helping them.Helping them achieve what they were denied.Their real potential."

"By killing them?"

"Killing them?"For the first time, Wilson's composure cracked slightly."I haven't killed anyone.I've been documenting performances.Preserving them.That's what I do—I observe, I record, I protect the art form."He gestured at the surveillance photos and notes spread across a nearby table."Why would I destroy what I've spent years trying to save?"

"Get up," Sheila said."Slowly.Hands where I can see them."

Wilson complied, though his expression suggested mild annoyance rather than fear."You're making a mistake.I was going to help Anna achieve something extraordinary.Something pure."

"By strangling her with gaffer's wire?"Finn asked, nodding toward the coiled wire on the table.

"That's for cable management," Wilson said, as if explaining something obvious."I'm a technical director.I work with equipment.I document performances.I don't...I would never..."

But Sheila had heard enough.As she secured the handcuffs around Wilson's wrists, she recited his rights.He didn't resist, didn't try to run.He just kept insisting they were making a mistake that he was only trying to help, that they didn't understand what he was trying to preserve.

"Get him out of here," she told Finn."I'll make sure Anna's okay."

As Finn led Wilson away, Sheila turned to Anna Martin, who stood trembling in her costume, tears still streaking her face.

"Are you alright?"Sheila asked gently."Did he hurt you?"

"No, he...he just wanted me to perform.Said he could help me understand the role better than anyone else."Anna wrapped her arms around herself."He seemed so sincere.So passionate about the craft.I never thought..."

"It's over now," Sheila assured her, though something about Wilson's reaction still bothered her.He'd been too calm, too insistent about his innocence.Almost like…

But she pushed the thought aside.They had their killer.The evidence was clear—the surveillance, the gaffer's wire, the costume, the staged performance.Everything pointed to Wilson.

So why did it feel like they were still missing something?

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

The interrogation room at the Coldwater County Sheriff's Department was deliberately stark—bare white walls, a metal table bolted to the floor, three chairs, and a two-way mirror that reflected Paul Wilson's calm demeanor back at him.He sat perfectly straight, hands folded on the table as if attending a production meeting rather than a murder interrogation.

Sheila had positioned herself in the chair across from him, while Finn leaned against the wall behind her, arms crossed.They'd done this dance countless times before—she would lead the questioning while Finn observed, ready to pick up on any subtle tells she might miss.After years of working together, they could practically read each other's thoughts.

"Let's go through this again," Sheila said, keeping her voice neutral.A paper cup of water sat untouched before Wilson—they'd offered it twenty minutes ago, but he hadn't so much as glanced at it."You claim you were documenting performances?"

"I don't claim anything," Wilson replied.His voice carried the same measured tone he'd used in the Art House basement."I state facts.I am a documentarian.I record performances, study them, preserve them.That's what the equipment in my projection booth was for.That's what all my work has been about."

"And the surveillance cameras?"Finn asked, tapping his foot—a consequence of the several cups of coffee he'd drunk since starting the interrogation."The hidden rooms?"

"Necessary tools."Wilson adjusted his glasses—not nervously, Sheila noted, but precisely, like an actor hitting his mark.He seemed much calmer now than when they'd first confronted him at the theater.

"Do you have any idea how many brilliant performances are lost?"he asked."How many moments of genuine artistry vanish because no one thought to preserve them?"

"Like Jessica Gregory's performance?"Sheila watched his face carefully."Or Sarah Martinez's?"

"Exactly!"For the first time, real emotion crept into Wilson's voice."Jessica brought something raw and vulnerable to that role.Sarah understood Elena in ways the writer never did.I had to document that.Had to preserve it."

"By killing them?"

"No."Wilson's denial was immediate and firm."I told you—I document.I observe.I record.The murder of these performers...it goes against everything I believe in.Everything I've worked for."

Sheila opened the case file before her, spreading out crime scene photos."We found gaffer's wire in your possession.The same type used in all three murders."

"I'm a technical director.I work with theatrical equipment.That wire was for cable management—you can check my receipts, my work orders.I buy it in bulk every festival season."

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