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CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

The office was already bustling with activity when Sheila and Fin arrived, officers and detectives working overtime on the Coldwater Confessor case. The air was thick with tension and the smell of stale coffee.

Sheila made her way to her desk, ignoring the curious glances from her colleagues. She knew she looked rough, but their opinions were the least of her concerns right now.

Finn was right behind her. The only hint of his long night was his five o'clock shadow.

"Oh," he said with a sigh. "I forgot to mention I did some research last night, looked into the Masquerade Theater—actors, employees, and so on."

"Find anything?"

He shook his head. "Couldn't come up with a promising suspect. If that really was the killer there, he's kept his interest in theater low-key."

Sheila sat down heavily in her chair, pulling the nearest stack of files toward her. "Then we're back to the basics," she said. "Let's review everything. There's gotta be something we missed."

Finn grunted. "This is the fun stuff they don't tell you about in the academy. You go in thinking it's all about drug busts and foot chases. Turns out, most bad guys are caught on paper."

"Just so long as he's caught," Sheila murmured.

It didn't take long for Sheila's eyes to begin to burn as she pored over witness statements, autopsy reports, and crime scene photos. The faces of the victims stared back at her from their files: Laura, Sophie, Rachel, Emily. Four women whose lives had been cut short, four families left devastated. Sheila felt the weight of their expectations, their need for justice, pressing down on her.

As she reviewed her notes from their interview with Lisa Pritchard, Emily Davis's friend, something Lisa had said jumped out at her: 'Emily had some… interesting conversations with visitors at the gallery.'

Sheila sat up straight, her sudden movement catching Finn's attention. "What is it?" he asked.

"Something Lisa said about Emily having religious conversations at the art gallery," Sheila murmured. "It goes along with what Sophie's roommate said—how Sophie had talked with someone about unusual religious ideas before she died."

Finn frowned, leaning in to look at the file. "You think there's a connection?"

"Maybe," Sheila said, pursing her lips in thought. She stood up, moved to the whiteboard, and began creating a timeline. "What if our killer isn't just targeting random women? What if he's choosing victims based on their reaction to his beliefs?"

Finn leaned back, picking up an old baseball off his desk and tossing it in the air. "So you think he's approaching these women, trying to convert them to his...what, his personal religion? And when they reject him—"

"He kills them," Sheila finished grimly. "It fits with the religious overtones we've seen in his letter and the crime scenes."

"What about Laura Hastings and Rachel Kim? Where are the connections with them?"

"I don't know. It's not like we can figure out every single person they spoke with in the days leading up to their deaths. But it fits, Finn. It explains so much."

Finn said nothing. Sheila had the impression he was keeping silent for fear of discouraging her. He had his doubts, but he didn't want to pour cold water on her enthusiasm.

"Assuming you're on the right track," Finn said, "where does this lead? Do we head over to the art gallery, try to figure out who Emily spoke with?"

"That's one option."

He arched an eyebrow. "Which is your way of saying it's not what you'd choose to do, right?"

"I think we should look into any new or unusual religious groups in Coldwater," Sheila said, pacing the room. "Anything that's popped up in the last year or so."

Finn nodded, staring off into space for a few seconds as if mentally shifting gears. Then he cleared his throat and sat up straighter. "Alright," he said as he reached for his phone. "I'll check with the local churches, see if they've noticed any new faces or strange behavior."

As Finn made his calls, Sheila dove into online research. She scrolled through local forums, social media groups, and community bulletin boards, looking for any mention of new spiritual movements or unusual religious gatherings. The more she searched, the more convinced she became that they were on the right track.

"Reverend Adams says they've had a few new faces at Sunday services," Finn said, hanging up the phone. "But nothing that stands out as suspicious. No one pushing strange ideologies or cornering people after the service."

Sheila nodded, only half-listening as she continued her online search. She was about to move on to another forum when a small ad caught her eye. It was for a group called 'The Celestial Awakening,' promising enlightenment and spiritual transcendence. The language used was eerily similar to some of the phrases in the Coldwater Confessor's letters.

"Finn," she called out, "I think I've got something."

As Finn came over, Sheila pulled up more information about the group. It was small, only a dozen or so members, and had been meeting for about six months.

"Any names jump out at you?" Finn asked, leaning in to look at the screen.

Sheila pointed to a few names. "David Larson, he's a local real estate agent. No criminal record, but he's been through two messy divorces. Could be harboring resentment toward women."

Finn shook his head. "Nah, I know Dave. He's a bit of a jerk, but he doesn't fit our profile. Who else?"

"Meredith Hale," Sheila continued. "She's new in town, moved here about eight months ago. Not much background on her."

"A woman?" Finn raised an eyebrow. "Possible, but doesn't fit with the descriptions of the killer. I know he wears disguises, but he'd have to be one hell of an actor for that."

Sheila nodded, scrolling further down the list. Suddenly, her finger stopped on a name. "Wait a minute. Ezra Thorne. That name rings a bell."

Finn's brow furrowed as he thought. "Ezra Thorne...didn't we see his name at that prop store?"

"Spotlight Costumes? Yeah, he was on that poster. The one for the theater." Her heart rate kicked up a notch as she looked up more information about Ezra Thorne on her laptop. It wasn't difficult to find articles from the Masquerade Theater group, one of which described Thorne as a 'set designer.'

"I've got his social media here," Finn said, scrolling through his phone. "Forty-two moved to Coldwater about a year ago. Big into acting. He could be the one that was staying in that hidden room in the theater."

Sheila nodded, a surge of adrenaline coursing through her. "And look at this—he's listed as the group leader for tonight's meeting of the Celestial Awakening."

Finn leaned back in his chair, processing the information. "It fits, Sheila. The theater connection, the timing of his arrival in Coldwater, his position in this new religious group. This could be our guy."

"We need to get to that meeting," Sheila said, already reaching for her jacket. "If Thorne is our killer, this might be our best chance to catch him in the act."

"Hold on," Finn cautioned, grabbing her arm. "We can't just barge in there. If we're wrong, we could blow the whole investigation. And if we're right, we could be walking into a room full of his followers."

Sheila paused, considering. "You're right. We need to be smart about this. We'll go undercover, pose as interested newcomers. We can observe Thorne, see how he interacts with the group, maybe even get him talking about his beliefs."

"This is a small town, Sheila. There's a decent chance someone might recognize us. We're not exactly strangers around here."

Sheila considered this for a moment, then shook her head. "I'm not too worried about that. Think about it—most of the people who'd recognize us are upstanding citizens who wouldn't be mixed up in something like this. Plus, the group's only been around for six months. Chances are, the members are mostly newcomers to town or people who keep to themselves."

"Maybe," Finn said, though he still looked uncertain.

"It's a risk we have to take," Sheila said. "Besides, people see what they expect to see. No one's going to be looking for two cops at a spiritual meeting. As long as we play our parts well, we should be fine."

Finn's expression cleared, and he nodded. "So what's our cover story?"

"We'll be a couple interested in spiritual enlightenment," Sheila said, a grim smile forming on her face. "New to town, looking for meaning in our lives."

"And if we confirm thorne's our guy..." Finn said.

"We take him down," Sheila finished. "Quietly, without tipping off the rest of the group if possible."

Their eyes met, and Sheila could see the same mixture of excitement and determination she felt reflected in Finn's gaze.

"It's time we rip off his mask," she said.

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