CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

Sheila felt a strange mixture of excitement and unease as she and Finn approached the community center. It wasn't often she went undercover, and she was keenly aware of how easily things could go wrong. If Ezra Thorne really was the killer, there was no telling how he would react to being confronted.

Nor what the other Celestial Awakening members might do if they were present when that confrontation happened.

They'd dressed casually—Sheila in jeans and a loose blouse, Finn in khakis and a polo shirt—trying to blend in with the crowd they expected at the meeting. They didn't know whether this group ever got walk-ins, but if all else failed, they could always pretend they were lost and looking for directions.

The building was an unremarkable brick structure, its windows glowing warmly in the gathering dusk. A simple sign by the entrance read "The Celestial Awakening—All Welcome." Sheila couldn't help but think of the irony: how unwelcome she and Finn would be if their true identities were discovered.

"Remember," Finn murmured as they neared the entrance, his breath visible in the cool air, "we're just a couple interested in spiritual enlightenment. Keep it low-key."

Sheila nodded, taking a deep breath to calm her nerves. She could feel the weight of her concealed weapon against her hip, a constant reminder of the danger they might be walking into. With one last shared glance, they pushed open the doors and stepped inside.

The community center's lobby was bustling with activity. People of all ages milled about, some chatting animatedly, others looking as nervous as Sheila felt. A table near the entrance was stacked with pamphlets and sign-up sheets. Sheila grabbed one, noting the elaborate celestial designs that bordered the text.

They made their way to the meeting room, Sheila's eyes constantly scanning their surroundings, taking in every detail. The room was already half-full; people gathered in small groups, their voices a low murmur that filled the space. Sheila's gaze darted from face to face, looking for Ezra Thorne, but he was nowhere to be seen.

"Welcome!" said a cheerful voice, startling Sheila. She turned to see a woman in her forties, her face wreathed in a warm smile. She had kind eyes and graying hair pulled back in a loose bun. "I'm Margaret. Is this your first time with us?"

Sheila forced a smile, hoping it looked genuine. "Yes, we're...exploring new spiritual paths. I'm Sarah, and this is my partner, Frank."

Margaret's eyes lit up, her enthusiasm almost overwhelming. "Oh, how wonderful! You've come to the right place. We believe that the universe is interconnected in ways most people can't even imagine. Our leader, Ezra—he's opened our eyes to the true nature of reality."

Sheila nodded politely, her eyes continuing to scan the room. She noted the exits, the layout of the chairs, the small stage at the front.

"So, how long have you been part of this group?" Finn asked, his voice filled with practiced curiosity.

Margaret beamed. "Oh, I've been with Ezra from the beginning. About six months now. It's been a life-changing experience. I used to feel so lost, you know? But now I understand my place in the cosmic order."

"We're hoping to find the same thing," Finn said.

"Oh, you will—I have no doubt about it. This community is more a family than anything else. We are all united by one great cause despite the many different backgrounds we come from. I firmly believe that everything happens for a reason, and there's no question you were fated to come here. This very conversation we're having now…"

As Margaret continued to drone on about the workings of fate, Sheila's attention was drawn to a man who had just entered the room. He was tall and lean, with salt-and-pepper hair and an aura of quiet authority. People seemed to gravitate toward him, their faces lighting up as he passed.

Suddenly, a hush fell over the crowd. The man had made his way to the front of the room, and Sheila realized with a jolt that this must be Ezra Thorne. In person, he was more imposing than his photo suggested. His piercing blue eyes seemed to look right through you, and there was an intensity to his presence that was almost palpable.

She tried to figure out if he was the same man she'd chased in the theater, but she couldn't be sure. She simply hadn't gotten a good look at the suspect.

"Friends," Thorne said, his rich and resonant voice carrying across the room, "let us begin."

The group moved to form a circle of chairs. Sheila and Finn found seats. As Thorne began to speak, Sheila listened intently, her cop instincts on high alert.

"We are the chosen few," Thorne said, his eyes blazing with intensity, "entrusted with knowledge that could reshape the world. But with this knowledge comes great responsibility. We must be prepared to make sacrifices for the greater good."

Sheila felt a chill run down her spine. She glanced at Finn, seeing her own suspicion mirrored in his eyes. What kind of sacrifices was Thorne talking about? Personal sacrifices…

Or the sacrifice of others?

Thorne's voice rose and fell like a tide, washing over the rapt audience. Sheila found her gaze drawn to his eyes, which seemed to glitter with an inner fire as he spoke.

"The universe whispers its secrets to those who listen," Thorne said, his hands moving in graceful arcs as if conducting an invisible orchestra. "Can you hear it, my friends? The cosmic symphony that plays just beyond the veil of our mundane reality?"

A woman in the front row let out a soft gasp, her eyes wide with wonder. Beside her, a middle-aged man nodded fervently, his lips moving in silent repetition of Thorne's words.

"We are the chosen few," Thorne continued, his voice dropping to a near-whisper that somehow carried to every corner of the room. "Entrusted with knowledge that could reshape the world." He paused, his gaze sweeping across the audience, seeming to make eye contact with each person in turn. When his eyes met Sheila's, she felt a jolt of electricity run down her spine.

"But with this knowledge comes great responsibility," Thorne said, his voice hardening. "We must be prepared to make sacrifices for the greater good."

A murmur rippled through the crowd. Sheila glanced at Finn, noting the slight furrow of his brow. She felt her own unease growing, the word 'sacrifices' echoing ominously in her mind.

Thorne raised his hands, palms up, as if offering something to the heavens. "The cosmic order demands balance," he said. "And those who reject the truth, they are lost to the darkness." His voice grew louder, more intense. "It is our duty to show them the light by any means necessary."

"Yes," breathed the woman in the front row, her eyes shining with unshed tears. Others nodded, their faces masks of determination.

There was something magnetic about Thorne, a charisma that made his words seem profound even when they verged on nonsensical. She could see how people might fall under his spell, might be willing to do anything he asked.

It would explain how he got close to his victims, she thought.

Just then, a commotion near the door caught her attention. A latecomer had arrived, apologizing profusely for his tardiness. As he made his way into the room, Sheila's blood ran cold.

It was a police officer Sheila knew, Officer Michael Johnson. His eyes widened as he spotted Sheila and Finn. His mouth opened in surprise, and before Sheila could signal him to be quiet, he blurted out, "Deputy Stone? Deputy Mercer? What are you—"

The room fell silent. All eyes turned to Sheila and Finn. Sheila could feel the mood shift instantly, curiosity turning to suspicion and then to anger.

So much for no one recognizing us, she thought.

"Police?" someone gasped, the word rippling through the crowd like a shockwave.

Thorne's face darkened, his charismatic mask slipping to reveal something harder, more dangerous beneath. "You dare to infiltrate our sacred gathering?"

Sheila raised her hands in a placating gesture. "Please, everyone, remain calm. We're not here to cause any trouble."

Finn nodded, adding, "We're just here to observe. We have no intention of disrupting your meeting."

But their words fell on deaf ears. The crowd's anger was palpable, a living thing that seemed to fill the room.

Margaret, who had been so welcoming earlier, now looked at them with cold eyes. "You lied to us," she said. "You're not seekers. You're spies!"

"Unbelievers!" someone else shouted from the back of the room.

Sheila tried again to defuse the situation. "We're just doing our job. There's no need for—"

Her words were cut off as a chair came flying through the air, narrowly missing Finn's head. Then a bald man grabbed Finn's jacket from behind, and Finn threw his elbow back, striking the man hard in the face.

The bald man stumbled, pressing a hand to his bloody nose. There was a moment of stunned silence as the group realized what had just happened. Then a floorboard at the back of the room creaked—Thorne was using the commotion as a distraction so he could escape through a back door.

"Go after him!" Finn said to Sheila as he raised his fists. "I'll buy you some time."

"Finn—" she began, not wanting to leave him behind, but he cut her off.

"Go!" he shouted. "He's getting away!"

With a deep breath, Sheila turned and started running.