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CHAPTER SEVEN

Finn watched as Sheila stepped away from Sophie's body, her face a mask of shock and grief. He'd seen that look before in the days following Natalie's suicide, and it worried him deeply.

She hasn't gotten over it, he thought. Then again, it's been less than a year…and besides, do you ever get over something like your sister's suicide?

He felt an urge to follow her, to try to help her work through whatever she was dealing with, but he couldn't just leave the body unattended. First and foremost, he needed to secure the crime scene.

As he dialed dispatch to call in the discovery, Finn found himself reflecting on how different Sheila had been since her sister's death. The vibrant, determined woman he'd grown to admire seemed to be slipping away, replaced by someone haunted and withdrawn.

Would she always be like this? And if so…what did that mean for their future? At the risk of sounding cruel, could he really build a life with someone who seemed so stuck in the past?

The call went through, and he cleared his throat. "Dispatch, this is Deputy Mercer. We've got a 187 in the alley behind Chester's Bar and Grill. Victim is Sophie Tournay. We need forensics and the M.E. here ASAP."

As he spoke, Finn began securing the crime scene, his movements automatic after years on the job. He unrolled the yellow crime scene tape, cordoning off the area with practiced efficiency. His mind, however, was elsewhere, grappling with his feelings for Sheila and his fears for their future.

He glanced over at her. She was now leaning against the alley wall, her eyes closed, taking deep breaths. The sight of her, so visibly shaken, tugged at Finn's heart, and he found himself making his way over to her.

"Sheila," he said softly, reaching out to touch her arm. "Are you okay?"

Her eyes snapped open, a mix of emotions swirling in their depths. "I'm fine," she said, straightening her shoulders.

Finn didn't buy it. "It's okay not to be fine, you know. This is a tough case, and finding Sophie like this..."

She swallowed hard, as if unsure what to say. "Let's just…just focus on the job, okay? Please?"

Finn held up his hands in surrender, recognizing there was nothing more to be done. "Okay," he said. "But I'm here if you need me."

Sheila nodded, then pushed past him and made her way to the mouth of the alley, presumably to flag down the emergency vehicles that would be here soon. Finn watched her go, worry gnawing at his gut. He wanted to help her, to be there for her, but it was clear she wasn't ready to let him in. With a sigh, he turned back to the crime scene, hoping that somehow, solving this case might help Sheila find her way back to herself.

The sound of approaching sirens cut through the night air, growing louder with each passing second. Soon, the alley would be swarming with officers and crime scene technicians. Finn steeled himself for the long night ahead.

His eyes were drawn back to Sophie's body. Now that his eyes had adjusted to the darkness of the alley, he could see her more clearly. Her blonde hair was matted with blood, splayed out around her head like a macabre halo. Her blue eyes, once vibrant with life, now stared blankly at the night sky. Her lips, slightly parted, seemed frozen in a final, silent plea for help.

Finn felt a lump forming in his throat. She looked so young, so vulnerable. He thought of the bright, religious woman Jonah had described, so unlike the broken form before him.

A wave of anger washed over him, followed quickly by a deep sadness. This woman had had her whole life ahead of her, and now she lay discarded in a dirty alley like she was nothing. Finn clenched his fists, a mix of grief and determination surging through him. He silently vowed to find the person responsible for this, to bring some measure of justice to Sophie and her family.

"It never gets easier, does it?"

Finn turned to see Dr. Zihao standing behind him. He hadn't heard the coroner approach, too lost in his examination of Sophie's body. Finn straightened, trying to compose himself.

"No," he agreed, his voice rough with emotion. "It doesn't."

Dr. Zihao nodded solemnly, his experienced eyes already assessing the scene. "Let's see what she can tell us about her final moments," he said quietly, kneeling beside Sophie's body.

Finn stepped back, allowing the coroner to work.

"Cause of death appears to be blunt force trauma to the head," Dr. Zihao said after a few moments. "Likely from a heavy object. There are multiple impact sites, suggesting repeated blows. I'll know more after the autopsy, but the injuries are consistent with those found on Laura Hastings."

Finn nodded, his suspicions confirmed. He felt a chill run down his spine at the thought of the brutality Sophie must have endured in her final moments.

"Think it could've been a candlestick?" Finn asked. They had recovered the candlestick used to kill Laura, of course, but perhaps the killer had more. It might be part of his signature.

"Could be a brick, for all I know," the coroner answered. "I'll have to get her to the lab and examine her properly."

Sheila was hovering a few paces away, looking on with a detached expression, her arms crossed. Finn joined her, and together they retreated a short distance from the body.

"Both killed the same way," Sheila murmured, her voice hollow. "Both religious women, both of them attacked by priests or people pretending to be priests."

It occurred to Finn that, technically speaking, they didn't know that Laura had been attacked by a priest. But, given the fact that she was killed in a confessional and there was no record of who she was supposed to meet with, it seemed the most likely explanation.

Finn nodded. "Both killed in very violent ways, as well. Think it's some kind of punishment?"

"Could be," Sheila murmured, staring thoughtfully at the ground. "Could be taking revenge, too. It's not a very intimate form of killing, though. Not like strangling."

"Maybe it's less personal, then. Maybe it wasn't about these two women in particular—maybe they represent something to the killer."

"Either way, I'd say it's pretty clear we're dealing with the same murderer."

They both fell silent, considering the possibilities.

Just then, something caught Finn's eye. There, half-hidden in the shadows of the alley, was a small, glinting object. He moved closer, crouching down to examine it.

"What is it?" Sheila asked.

"A cuff link." He frowned, holding it up to the glow of the nearby street light. "It has initials on it, too. TB. Who do you think that is?"

"The person who killed Sophie Tournay, more than likely."

***

Back at the station, the buzz of fluorescent lights and the hum of computers filled the air as Sheila and Finn hunched over their desks, deep into their investigation of the mysterious cuff link. The small, silver object sat in an evidence bag between them, its engraved initials "TB" seeming to mock their efforts.

There's gotta be a way to track these down, Finn thought. But how?

"Bingo," Sheila said, slapping her phone down on the table. She'd been talking on the phone for the past ten minutes or so, but Finn had tuned her out, focused on his own work.

Finn regarded her skeptically. "Care to share what that was about?"

"Elbridge Jewelers—well, someone who used to work there."

"How'd you get them to talk to you at two in the morning?"

"There's an ex-employee who got busted for pawning jewelry on the side. He's on parole, so all I had to do was reach out to his parole officer—Ed Buckley, he works the graveyard shift—and he was able to get through to him."

Finn nodded, impressed. "Go on. What'd you find?"

"Apparently these cuff links are high-end, custom-made. They're part of a limited edition set created by Elbridge Jewelers. Only ten were ever made."

"So our mystery man has money," Finn said.

"And has the initials TB."

"We have to narrow it down further," Finn murmured. "We can't exactly go through the phone book, looking up everyone with those initials."

The room lapsed into silence.

Finn snapped his fingers suddenly. "Wait a minute. Remember what Irene said at the bar? She thought the guy looked like a politician."

Sheila's eyes lit up. "You're right. That narrows it down considerably. Let's look into local politicians with the initials T.B."

Tapping away at his computer, Finn pulled up a list of current and former politicians in Coldwater County and the surrounding areas. The list was longer than they expected, a testament to the political engagement of their community.

"Timothy Barrow," Finn said, reading aloud. "He's on the school board."

Sheila shook her head. "Too old. Irene said the man looked to be in his forties or early fifties."

"Okay, how about Terry Benson? He's a state representative."

"No, he's been in Washington for the past month. Doesn't fit our timeline."

Finn continued scanning, unwilling to give up. "Tanner Briggs?" he suggested, stifling a yawn.

"The city comptroller? Possible, but he's not exactly known for his charisma. Doesn't seem like the type to lure women to their deaths." She paused. "What about Todd Blackwell?"

"He moved to Arizona last year. Remember the going-away party?"

She sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Maybe we're going about this the wrong way. He could be a former politician, or maybe someone who ran but didn't win. That could be part of their motive for—"

"Wait a minute," Finn said suddenly, sitting up straighter. He squinted at the screen. "Thomas Blake. How did we not think of him sooner?"

"The city councilman? What's so interesting about him?"

"Remember that campaign of his on the radio? The one about marriage?"

Sheila nodded slowly, her eyes glazing over with memory. "Vaguely."

"He's been pushing hard for stricter laws against adultery. Says it's 'destroying the fabric of our society.'"

Sheila leaned in, her excitement growing. "That fits. Both Laura and Sophie were involved in infidelity. What if Blake is targeting women he sees as threats to traditional marriage?"

"And that's not all. Guess where he regularly attends church?"

"St. Michael's?"

"St. Michael's."

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