CHAPTER FOURTEEN

"Let's go over this again," Sheila said, folding her hands as she studied Cassandra Jenkins across the metal table of the Coldwater County Sheriff's Department's interview room. "You and your group of friends believe you summoned a creature you call ‘the Cherubim,' which then killed the three women whose bodies have been found out in the salt flats. After you heard about the first killing on the news, you went searching the salt flats for more bodies, and you came across the second and third women before the police did. Am I on track so far?"

Jenkins, whose defiance seemed to be ebbing away to exhaustion by the minute, gave a slight nod.

"Alright, then," Sheila said. "After that, you volunteered to speak with the police and share your theories on what was happening so that you could insert yourself into the investigation."

"And learn about future killings without having to search the salt flats ourselves, yes," Jenkins agreed. "It took quite a bit of effort to find those bodies, I can assure you."

"I have no doubt," Sheila murmured, recalling the hours of searching she'd put in herself. "Earlier tonight, you and your group had a meeting to…what…do some kind of ritual to protect yourselves from the Cherubim?"

"It's on the hunt," Jenkins said, her eyes burning with fervor. "And so long as it's on the hunt, none of us is safe."

The door opened, and Finn strode in. He was holding a coffee in his left hand, and he had another two cradled against his chest with his right arm. He placed two coffees on the table, then leaned back against the wall and sipped from the third one.

"Let's say I believe everything you're saying," Sheila said to Jenkins. "Why did you try to stir up this creature in the first place?"

"It wasn't our intent to awaken anything," Jenkins said, her voice wavering. "Our rituals are intended to commune with celestial energies, not to stir up creatures of myth and legend. We were…exploring the boundaries of our capabilities. But we never meant for this to happen."

Sheila leaned back, unsure what to make of Jenkins's confession. She didn't believe for a second that Jenkins and her people really had summoned a supernatural creature, but she felt absolutely certain that Jenkins believed it. What if someone in Jenkins's group was the killer? A few of her acolytes had been caught, but the rest had escaped, melting into anonymity.

Had the killer been one of them?

"Tell me about the other members of your group," Sheila said.

Jenkins smiled tightly. "You know I can't do that."

"You can," Finn said, "if you want to reduce your sentence. Right now, you're looking at the attempted murder of two police officers." He turned to Sheila. "How many years do you think she'll get for that?"

Sheila shrugged without taking her eyes off Jenkins. "Ten, twenty. Who knows? Maybe more."

Jenkins paled, the color draining from her face in a matter of seconds. But still, she shook her head.

"I can't give you names," she said, her eyes darting around the room as if looking for an escape. "They'd kill me."

"Then there's really nothing we can do to help you." Sheila sighed and started to rise.

"Wait!" Jenkins said quickly. "Okay, okay. Most of the other members are associated with the university—faculty, former faculty, a few students. We take our beliefs very seriously."

"We got that impression when you tried to kill us after we showed up," Finn said dryly.

"We're going to need details about these members," Sheila said. "Names, addresses. How many of you were out scouring the salt flats?"

"Just a few of us."

Sheila raised an eyebrow. "Then how'd you find the bodies so quickly?"

Jenkins hesitated as if she wasn't sure how much she wanted to share.

"Talk," Finn said.

Jenkins sighed. "The symbols around the first woman's body—they can mean different things, depending on who you ask about them. But there's one thing nobody else seems to have picked up on."

"What's that?" Sheila asked.

Jenkins leaned forward, her eyes twinkling. "One of the symbols is also a map."

"A map to what?" Finn asked.

"To where the next body will be. "

"A map..." Sheila echoed, feeling a jolt run through her. Was it possible?

"They're no ordinary symbols," Jenkins said. "They're celestial coordinates."

Finn frowned. "Celestial coordinates?"

"Like a star chart," Jenkins explained. "The symbols refer to specific constellations and their positions in the sky at certain times. That's how we knew where to look."

"So you're saying," Sheila began, trying to keep her skepticism at bay, "that the killer is revealing his next move in the markings around each victim?"

Jenkins nodded. "He, or she, is showing us where to look, but nobody's been paying attention."

A chill ran down Sheila's spine as she considered the implications of Jenkins' claim. If it were true, not only were they dealing with a killer who was strategically executing his victims according to celestial patterns, but they also had a way of predicting his next move—not who his next victim would be, but where they could find the body. And if they could get to that location first, set up some kind of surveillance so they could wait for the killer…

Finn looked at Jenkins skeptically. "And you can read these coordinates?"

Jenkins nodded. "Each one of us was taught. It's part of our rituals."

Sheila got up from her chair and began pacing, a habit she'd picked up from Natalie. She felt Finn's eyes on her, waiting for her to make the call.

Finally, she broke the silence.

"Alright," she said. "Show us how to read these symbols."

Jenkins hesitated, then seemed to gather herself and nodded. "I'll need a chalkboard or...something similar."

Finn fetched a whiteboard and a marker from the corner of the room while Sheila watched Jenkins carefully. There was an uncanny calmness about her, as if she were merely teaching a class of curious students, not divulging a murderer's secret language. As Finn set up the whiteboard, Jenkins rose from her seat and walked over to it. Her handcuffed hands shook slightly as she uncapped the marker.

She drew the first symbol, a complex interlacing of lines that vaguely resembled an ancient rune or sigil. "This," she began, pointing to the symbol, "represents the constellation Cassiopeia. "

"And that," Jenkins continued, drawing another symbol, "stands for Perseus." Her hand moved across the board, filling it with strange symbols that looked like cryptic codes from another world. "You see the patterns now?"

Sheila squinted at the board, trying to make sense of symbols and constellations. She recognized a few constellations—Orion, Taurus—but there were others she'd never heard of before—Draco, Cepheus. She only knew the names of the latter because Jenkins wrote the names beneath the constellations.

Finn was leaning forward in his chair, eyes fixed on the board; he appeared to be deep in thought. His fingers drummed on the table in a rhythm that was oddly soothing. Sheila found herself caught between wanting to decode the cryptic symbols and watching him.

"Okay, so we've got the constellations down," Finn said, breaking the silence that had settled in the room. "But how does this translate into a location? How do you make a map out of it?"

Jenkins took a step back from the board, running her fingers through her dark hair. "That's where things get tricky," she confessed, looking over at Sheila and Finn. "Each constellation represents a different geographic area in Coldwater County."

Finn frowned at that, obviously skeptical. "And how exactly does that work?"

Jenkins sighed, seeming only slightly frustrated with their doubt. "It's a bit complicated to explain, but the locations are selected based on certain features that are reminiscent of the constellations. For instance, Cassiopeia's symbol corresponds to the north end of Mirage Lake—the 'W' shape of the constellation mirrors the curve of the coastline there."

Sheila looked at Finn, who met her gaze with a distinct look of apprehension. It was clear he wasn't entirely sold on this concept. But then again, neither was she.

"And Perseus?" Finn asked, gesturing to another symbol.

"Perseus aligns with the eastern boundary of the Whispering Woods," Jenkins replied, pointing to the area on an imaginary map in front of her. "The constellation's form resembles the unusual tree formations found there."

A heavy silence filled the room as Sheila and Finn absorbed this information. The whole theory seemed surreal, like something out of a movie or a novel. But if it was true…

"What's the next constellation?" Sheila asked .

Jenkins looked at the board again, studying the symbols she had drawn. She stayed silent for a while, then finally pointed to one symbol near the bottom. "Draco," she said. "The dragon. The tail, the serpentine shape… It corresponds to the Slick River curving through the valley."

As Jenkins spoke, Sheila felt her stomach tighten. The Slick River was a popular camping and hiking spot. Any number of innocent people could be there right now, oblivious to the killer's designs.

"Is that...is that the next location, then?" Finn asked.

Jenkins nodded, her face pale. "If my calculations are correct, yes."

"And when will the killer strike next?" Sheila asked. "Can you tell?"

Jenkins shook her head. "The Cherubim may strike any time. It's possible the creature is there at the river right now…already drawing the next symbols."