CHAPTER TWELVE

Sheila, seated in the back of the cafeteria, checked her phone. No messages. She cursed under her breath.

"No word from Star?" Finn asked.

Sheila shook her head. "No hits on the APB, either. She's just vanished, apparently." She shook her head, unable to believe why Star would steal her car like that. Where had she gone? Not back to her abusive father, Sheila hoped. Sheila had gotten into a physical altercation with the man and given him a few souvenirs to remember her by, possibly even a broken nose. Though the man deserved it, Sheila didn't really want Star seeing her father like that. She might feel bad for him, despite everything he'd done to her. Family bonds could be complicated that way.

At six in the evening, the university cafeteria was buzzing with activity as students grabbed quick meals before heading back to their evening classes or study sessions. A rowdy group of frat boys at another table caught Sheila's eye, their laughter echoing around the room.

Would Star ever come to a place like this? Would she even make it through high school?

Not if she goes back to her father, Sheila thought. He'll make me out to be the enemy, act like he's the victim, and if she listens to him…

"So," Finn said, pushing aside a plate from which a cheeseburger had disappeared as suddenly as the card in a magician's hand. "We've got a professor specializing in astronomy and the occult who calls into a news station and seems to know far more about the killings than she has any right to know. Then we learn she's part of a group meeting after-hours here on campus in one of the study halls, and it sounds like these meetings are more like seances—candles, incense, astrological signs.

"That's one way to put it," Sheila admitted, leaning back in her chair. "But we have no solid evidence that links her to the murders. Everything is just hearsay at this point."

Finn nodded, chewing on his lower lip in thought. "Yes, but the coincidence is too big to ignore. "

"Agreed," Sheila said. "We need to get inside one of these meetings—without spooking them. They can't know there are two police officers among them."

Finn's eyes twinkled with interest. "You talking about going undercover?"

"Actually, no. We don't know if that's how this meeting works. We show up, they start asking questions about who we are and how we learned about the meeting, and we're screwed."

Finn sighed, visibly disappointed.

"I am suggesting, however," Sheila continued, "that we do some old-fashioned detective work. We stake out the building, see who's going in and out at odd hours. Maybe we can catch them in the act."

Finn's disappointed expression transformed into a sly grin. "Now that sounds like my kind of night."

***

In a sparsely populated parking lot of the university, Sheila and Finn sat in an unmarked car. The campus was quiet save for the occasional student hurrying past their car to get out of the chill. The clock on the dashboard read 9:37 PM. In the distance, the bulky silhouette of the study hall was dimly lit by sparse outdoor lights.

They had looked up Jenkins' plates and discovered she had a silver sedan registered in her name. That sedan wasn't here at the moment, but it wasn't at home, either. Sheila's guess was that Jenkins was on her way here.

"Alright," Sheila said. "Give me your best stakeout story."

Finn chuckled. "Best stakeout story, huh? Well, I've got one from a buddy of mine that should make you laugh."

Sheila leaned back in her seat, smiling despite herself. She looked forward to hearing his story—it would distract her from worrying about Star.

"When I was flying F-16s," he began, "I had a friend who transitioned to piloting observation drones. He told me about this one mission in the Middle East. They got a tip that their target was going to be at a particular location. It was supposed to be a high-value meeting, so they set up a drone to observe the area for a couple of days."

Sheila nodded, interested. "Sounds intense. "

"Oh, it was," Finn said. "My buddy was on watch during the second day. He said it was dead quiet, just watching the feed for hours. Suddenly, he saw movement at the site."

Sheila found herself leaning forward in anticipation. "And then what happened?" she asked, her eyes wide with curiosity.

"A big, shaggy goat comes trotting out into the site," Finn continued, grinning. "Starts nibbling at some of the trash they'd left behind. He said he had to stifle his laughter. But here's where it gets interesting."

Raising an eyebrow, Sheila asked, "The goat was the high-value target?"

"I wish," Finn said, laughter playing on his lips. "But no. The movement of the goat must have alerted the guard on duty because next thing he sees, this guy comes running out of one of the buildings with a rifle in his hands. He's yelling, waving his arms and chasing the goat."

"Did they engage?" Sheila asked, already guessing the answer.

"No," Finn shook his head. "They were under strict orders not to engage unless they spotted their actual target. But my buddy said watching that guy chase after that goat for the better part of an hour was the best entertainment he'd had in weeks."

Sheila laughed, her weariness momentarily forgotten. Her delight was short-lived, however, as she spotted movement in the darkened study hall building across the street.

"Movement," she said, sitting up straighter and pointing to the lit windows of the study hall.

Finn followed her gaze and saw it too. The light in the window of an upper floor flickered on, silhouetting a figure as it moved around in the room. They watched as more lights came on and more figures began to flit about behind the windows. A silver sedan pulled into the parking lot, its headlights briefly illuminating the study hall's brick fa?ade before sliding into an empty spot.

"Sheila." Finn pointed toward the entrance. "Isn't that Cassandra Jenkins?"

Sheila squinted at the figure that had just stepped out of the car, clutching what looked like a large bag. "Yes," she said, her voice low. "It's her."

She felt a cold chill wash over her as Cassandra Jenkins moved toward the study hall entrance. The woman glanced around furtively before disappearing inside the building.

"What are you doing, Jenkins?" Sheila murmured .

"All this time," Finn said, "we've been talking about ‘the killer,' singular. But what if it's a group—maybe even this group?"

Sheila opened her door. "Only one way to find out. Let's take a closer look."

Easing the door shut behind her, Sheila crept across the parking lot, shadowed by Finn. They moved with the quiet precision of hunters, making their way toward the hulking study hall building.

As they approached the entrance, Sheila motioned for Finn to stay back while she peered through a narrow window at the side of the door. The coast was clear.

"Come on," she whispered, easing the door open.

The meeting was taking place on the third floor, so the first order of business was to find a staircase that wouldn't echo their footsteps loudly through the building. Sheila led the way, her brain whirling with anxiety and questions. They crept up a set of back stairs, the worn carpet muffling their steps. Finn followed behind her, his sharp eyes scanning the hallways for any sign of movement.

Upon reaching the third floor, they paused. The muffled hum of voices was coming from a closed door down the hallway.

Sheila gestured to Finn, pointing at the door and then at her ear to signal that she wanted to listen in. He nodded his understanding, his gaze not leaving the door. Slowly, they crept toward it, keeping low and close to the wall.

Finally they reached it. Sheila bent down and gently pressed her ear against the cool wood of the door, straining to make out the conversation inside. Finn stood guard beside her, glancing around every few seconds to make sure no one was coming.

Inside, voices murmured indistinctly, punctuated by the occasional burst of laughter. Suddenly, a woman's voice rose above the rest. "The cleansing is near, brethren. The stars are aligned, and our time is at hand."

Sheila recoiled, her heart hammering in her chest. Her eyes met Finn's, and he gave an almost imperceptible nod. The implications were clear—this wasn't just a study group. Sheila felt something cold settle in her gut as she realized Cassandra Jenkins was part of something much bigger.

"We can't let them leave the building," she whispered to Finn. "We have to stop them."

"You and what army?" a voice behind her said.