CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

Darkness had settled by the time Sheila and Finn arrived at Erik Solberg's home, a weathered two-story house secluded in the dense woods a few miles from the university. The flicker of a lone light filtered through the half-open blinds on the second floor, painting long, distorted shadows on the dew-soaked grass. As they approached, they noticed Solberg's car parked outside, its windows gleaming under the silver light of the moon.

Sheila felt a chill rush down her spine. She exchanged a glance with Finn, his face etched with grim determination. They approached the house, their boots crunching the gravel beneath them. In the stillness of the night, each sound felt magnified - the far-off hoot of an owl, the rustle of leaves, their own steady breathing.

Sheila knocked on the front door, her heart pounding in her chest. No response. She knocked again, harder this time. Still nothing. She exchanged a worried glance with Finn.

"Solberg!" Finn called out, pressing his ear to the door. "We need to talk!"

The silence that followed was deafening, punctuated only by the distant screech of a night creature. Finn frowned, his eyes scanning the front yard before settling back on the house. He turned to Sheila, his expression grim.

"We need to get in," Finn said, looking for an entrance. "Maybe if we talk with the judge, he'll expedite a warrant."

"Let's check around back first," Sheila said. "There's no telling what we might find."

Finn nodded, and together they circled the house, keeping close to the shadows. The backyard was an unkempt wilderness of overgrown shrubs and gnarled trees, their twisted branches reaching out like skeletal hands against the backdrop of the starlit sky.

One of the back windows was slightly ajar, a sliver of light streaming through the gap. Finn gestured for Sheila to stay put as he moved closer, peering into the gloom within. His eyes widened as he took in the sight.

"Shit..." he whispered under his breath .

"What is it?" Sheila asked in hushed tones, stepping closer to him.

There, on a table inside the room, was an open book, its pages filled with symbols of the Zodiac. Alongside it were piles of photographs spread out. As Sheila stepped closer, she could make out faces within those pictures—faces of Cassandra Jenkins, other members from her group, and chillingly, a photograph of Natasha Ivanov—the latest victim.

There was a map pinned to the wall, as well, annotated with cryptic notations and marked locations, each corresponding to the places where victims were found.

Sheila brought her hand over her mouth in horror as she saw what lay inside. "He's been watching them—all of them."

"I'd say that's reasonable cause for entering," Finn said.

Sheila grabbed the window and pushed it upward. Then she scrambled through the opening and landed inside the dim room, the scent of must and old books filling her nostrils. The adrenaline coursing through her veins made her feel lighter, sharper.

Sheila moved cautiously toward the table cluttered with photographs and the open book. A moment later, Finn landed behind her. She didn't have to turn to know he was scanning the room, his hand never straying far from his gun.

"Look at this," she whispered, stepping aside to let Finn take in the sight of Solberg's twisted obsession.

Finn's gaze moved over the photographs laid out on the table, each face marked by an astrological symbol. His eyes hardened as he reached for his phone.

"I'll call this in," he said, dialing a number and holding it close to his ear.

Sheila gave a curt nod, but her eyes were drawn to the large map on the wall. It was marked with strange symbols—astrological signs she recognized—and each one corresponded with a murder site. Her hands clenched into fists as she examined it closely.

"Look," she said, pointing to the map. "He's planned everything according to the Zodiac signs. Each sign corresponds to a victim."

Finn ended his call and moved closer. His brow furrowed as he took in the disturbing pattern. "The bastard's been turning it into some sick game," he murmured, his voice filled with disgust.

They turned as they heard a shuffle from upstairs, followed by a low, muffled sound. Their eyes met for a moment before Sheila motioned for silence, her other hand reaching for her gun .

They moved stealthily, making their way to the staircase. As they climbed the wooden steps, the house creaked and groaned beneath their weight. They paused at the landing before Sheila took the lead, Finn right behind her.

They approached a closed door at the end of the corridor. Sheila slowly pushed it open and peered inside. The room was sparsely furnished with a solitary desk, a chair, and numerous bookshelves lining the walls—each packed with astrological texts.

There was no one inside.

Sheila's gaze turned to an open door leading to what appeared to be a bathroom. The light was on; she could see faint shadows playing on the tiles and hear running water.

She motioned for Finn to follow her as she moved noiselessly across the room. Reaching the bathroom door, she pushed it open slowly, her gun held at the ready. The room inside was empty, save for the tub overflowing with water and creating a puddle that seeped into the hallway carpet.

"He's gone," she muttered under her breath. Finn pushed past her into the room. He turned off the faucet and looked around, his eyes falling on an open window at the far side of the room—their suspect's most likely route of escape.

"This just got a hell of a lot more complicated," he said, meeting Sheila's gaze.

***

Back in Solberg's study, Sheila moved toward the desk, shuffling through papers scattered about. She picked up a notebook filled with scribbled notes and diagrams that corresponded to astrological constellations. A small piece of folded paper fell out from between its pages.

Unfolding it, she found words scrawled in a rushed handwriting: "Alignment is near. Gemini must be cleansed." The phrase made her skin prickle with dread.

She looked up at Finn and passed him the note. "He's not finished yet. He's going to kill again, if he hasn't already."

"The problem is," Finn said, "we have no idea who it could be. If we're right and he's targeting people who mock his beliefs, that could include anybody. Astrology isn't exactly a mainstream science. "

"Then maybe it's about the location," Sheila said. "He's left all the bodies in the salt flats except for Fiona Blake, and he probably only left her in the campground because we were policing the salt flats. Then, with Natasha, we let our guard down and he got through, but he's not going to catch us by surprise like that again."

"So if he does have another victim, where will he take her?"

Sheila shook her head and glanced around the study. There had to be some indication here as to his plans for the next kill. The room was filled with notes, maps, and books - each one a dark testament to Solberg's obsession. She took a step back, taking in the eerie sight before her. It was a jigsaw puzzle of madness; all the pieces were there, but they just needed to be put together.

"Think...think..." she muttered under her breath, her eyes scanning the room, looking for something—anything—that might hint at where Solberg would strike next. Her gaze landed on the Zodiac map again; her eyes narrowed as she took a closer look.

The locations were marked meticulously, corresponding to each sign of the Zodiac and then to every victim. If Solberg was indeed following this pattern, his next kill would correspond with Gemini—the Twins. Her heart pounded in her chest as she traced the constellation on the map, her mind racing. If they were right about Solberg following the Zodiac signs for his kills, then Gemini would be the next victim... and according to the map, there was only one place calculated under this sign: The abandoned Farling Mine on the outskirts of the Mirage Salt Flats.

"Don't worry," Finn said, following her gaze. "We've got that whole area covered, so if Solberg goes there, he'll just be walking into a trap."

Then Sheila's gaze caught on an old brochure explaining some of the attractions in the area. Curious, she picked it up and leafed through it until she found the Farling Mine. According to the brochure, there were a number of abandoned tunnels in the flats.

Her heart seemed to stop. "No, he won't walk into the trap," she said, swallowing hard. "He'll walk right under it."