CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

Sheila pushed the accelerator to the floor as they sped down the highway, racing toward the salt flats.

"The tunnels," Finn was saying into his phone as he warned the patrols stationed at the salt flats. "There are abandoned tunnels around the Farling Mine, and our suspect could be using one to slip right past you. Get a team underground, ASAP!"

Finn ended the call, his fingers drumming anxiously against the armrest. "They're mobilizing now," he said, looking over at Sheila. "You sure this is where he's headed?"

"It's the only place that makes sense," she replied, weaving through traffic. "If he's following the Zodiac signs as we believe, then Gemini corresponds to that location."

The sky was packed with thousands of stars as they arrived at the salt flats, painting the landscape a ghostly gray. As they parked, Sheila spotted a group of officers waiting for them. A tall man with a caterpillar mustache broke away from the group and hurried toward them.

"Detective Stone, Mercer," he said gruffly. "We've been combing the area since your call. No sign of Solberg."

Sheila nodded tersely. "What about the tunnels?"

The man hesitated. "We were going to send a team down, but one of the volunteers—a geologist—warned us that the tunnels are unstable. It's safer just to watch the entrances, see if anyone comes out."

"Safer for you, maybe," Sheila said angrily, unbuckling her seat belt. "But if Solberg's got his next victim down there, he's not going to let her live for long—assuming she's still alive."

As Sheila climbed out of the car, she noticed movement in her back seat. She yanked the door open and was stunned to see Star sitting there, crouched against the third row of seats.

"What in the world are you—"

"Don't be angry," Star said. "I just…I really enjoyed when we were all working together, and I thought I could help. "

Finn had stepped away to speak with the officer, so Sheila was on her own to deal with Star.

Sheila sighed, frustrated. "I don't have time for this. We're going after a serial killer, and you're fourteen years old. You shouldn't be anywhere near here.

Star bristled, pushing back at Sheila's words with a glare. "I'm not a child. I can help."

"Your help isn't needed right now," Sheila replied, her patience wearing thin. She looked around, searching for Finn among the swarm of officers.

Star seemed to shrink back, retreating into the shadowy depths of the car. "Please," she said quietly. "I need to do something. I just…I feel so useless."

Sheila sighed, reaching out to place a hand on Star's arm in what she hoped was a comforting gesture. "We can talk about this afterward, alright? But right now, you need to stay here where it's safe."

Before Star could argue further, Sheila briskly closed the vehicle door and hurried over to Finn, who had finished his conversation with the officer.

"I want a team down in those tunnels right away," she said, not bothering with a preamble.

Finn frowned. "They just told us it's unstable. We could be sending them into a death trap."

"Then I'll go in there myself," Sheila said, her eyes set with a determination that brooked no argument. "I'm not letting another woman die on my watch."

"Damn it, Sheila," Finn snapped, his patience fraying. "We have protocols for a reason."

"If we wait for a safer option, Solberg could get away with another murder. I can't let that happen."

Finn eyed her for a moment before finally throwing his hands up in resignation. "Alright, have it your way. But you're not going alone. I'm coming with you."

Sheila nodded. "Then let's not waste any more time. Where are the tunnels?"

"We've got someone on the way with gear," the officer with the caterpillar mustache said. "Ropes, helmets, heavy-duty flashlights…"

Sheila shook her head. "There's no time—I'm going in."

"Sheila—" Finn began, but Sheila turned on him, bristling .

"If you caution me one more time," she said, "so help me God I will kick you all the way back to the station. Now lead me to the entrance!"

The officer with the mustache pointed. "It's over that way."

Before anyone could stop her, she was off, jogging across the hard-packed salt of the flats. Finn swore under his breath and chased after her, his longer stride quickly closing the gap.

They rounded a craggy outcrop of stone and came upon the gaping black maw of the mine entrance. Sheila didn't hesitate. She plunged into the darkness with only her flashlight and pistol for company, Finn hot on her heels.

The air in the mine was stale and dry, causing their flashlights to diffuse oddly in the dim surroundings. The walls were rough and jagged, reflecting back eerie shadows that danced in their peripheral vision. Their footsteps echoed off into a seemingly infinite void.

"Sheila!" Finn called out after they'd traveled a few hundred yards underground. "We need to move slower. We could alert Solberg if he's here."

"I have no intention of sneaking around in here while he prepares to kill his next victim," she said, not slowing her pace. In the back of her head, she was thinking of Natalie—wondering what she could've done differently, wondering how she might've prevented Natalie from taking her own life.

"I won't let that happen again, Finn," she said, her words echoing off the stone walls. "I've made far too many mistakes already."

They walked in silence, the only sound being the crunch of their footsteps and the occasional drip of water somewhere out in the darkness. The air in the tunnel was musty and stale, with a hint of mildew and dampness. There was also a faint smell of something metallic, like old blood or rusted metal.

As they ventured deeper into the mine, the air grew thicker and more oppressive. Suddenly, their flashlights illuminated a group of figures blocking their path. Sheila and Finn instinctively raised their weapons.

"Stop right there!" Sheila commanded.

As they drew closer, Sheila could make out five individuals dressed in dark robes, their faces partially obscured by hoods. One of them stepped forward, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and excitement.

"You cannot interfere!" he shouted. "The Cherubim must complete its work! "

Finn glanced at Sheila, confusion evident in his eyes. "This again?"

"The demon we summoned," another robed figure, a woman, chimed in. "It's a divine being, carrying out a celestial mission!"

Sheila lowered her gun slightly, realization dawning on her. "You're the occultists from the university, aren't you?"

"We are the Chosen Ones," the lead figure said, sounding a bit offended. "And we cannot allow you to stop the Cherubim's work."

"Listen," Sheila said, "there's no demon. The killer you think you summoned is actually Professor Erik Solberg."

A murmur of disbelief rippled through the group. The leader shook his head vehemently. "No, you're lying! We performed the ritual correctly. The Cherubim is real!"

"Nothing supernatural has happened," Finn said. "You've just been interpreting ordinary events as miraculous."

The occultists exchanged uncertain glances. Sheila pressed on, "Solberg is just a man—a disturbed and dangerous one, but still just a man. Now step aside and let us do our jobs."

The occultists looked at each other, bewildered. A few of them whispered Solberg's name as if trying to make sense of what they'd just been told.

"But we were so sure," one of them murmured as they slowly parted, allowing Sheila and Finn to walk through.

As Sheila and Finn moved past them, the leader spoke up once more. "We're...we're sorry. We thought we were part of something greater, something…cosmic."

Sheila paused, turning back to the deflated group. "The desire to be part of something greater isn't wrong. But next time, maybe channel it into something that doesn't involve summoning demons, okay?"

With that, Sheila and Finn continued deeper into the mine, leaving the disillusioned occultists behind.

The tunnel narrowed as they moved deeper underground, forcing them to duck their heads. Shallow pools of water reflected the beams of their flashlights. The smell of damp earth was stronger now, the metallic tang more pronounced.

They rounded a corner and found themselves staring at a pair of tunnels branching in separate directions like nostrils. Sheila listened intently, but she couldn't tell which tunnel the sounds had come from.

"We'll take one tunnel," Finn said, "then loop back if necessary."

"No," Sheila said. "We don't have time for that. We should split up. "

"Look at me." Finn placed a hand on Sheila's shoulder and stared earnestly into her eyes. "Do you have any idea what it would do to me if you went into that tunnel and never came back? Any idea how much guilt I'd feel?"

It occurred to Sheila that maybe she did have an idea—she felt guilty every day for Natalie's death, after all.

"There's no time," she said.

"I love you, Sheila."

The words stopped Sheila in her tracks. "You can't say that just to—"

"I'm not saying it to manipulate you. I'm saying it because I mean it. And if I were to lose you now…"

Sheila looked around helplessly, unsure what to do. This was the time and place he chose to declare his feelings for her. She knew he cared about her, but love …

She took a deep breath and looked directly into his eyes. "Listen, Finn. I care about you, too, and if something happened to you, I'd be devastated as well. But right now, it's not about either of us. It's about a crazy serial killer and all the women he's going to harm if we don't stop him right now. So if we have to put our lives in harm's way to stop him…" She shrugged. "That's what we signed up for when we put on the uniform. And it's what we signed up for when we started dating."

Finn held her gaze for a moment more before sighing. "Alright, Sheila," he said, his voice heavy. "You take the right, I'll take the left." There was no mistaking the disappointment in his voice, the worry.

Sheila held her partner's gaze a few seconds longer just to let him know she realized how difficult this was for him. Then she turned on her heel and disappeared into the left tunnel, leaving Finn alone to grapple with his misgivings.

As she ventured deeper into the darkness, every sound was amplified—a drip of water from stalactites overhead, the crunch of salt under her boots, her own breathing echoing off the stone walls. Her heart pounded in rhythm with each step, the silence pressing in around her like a tangible weight.

Suddenly, she stopped. From up ahead came a dry shuffling sound coupled with soft muttering. She squinted into the darkness. Her flashlight beam darted over gnarled rock formations and glistening mineral streaks but found no human figure.

Sheila breathed through clenched teeth as she moved forward. Every instinct screamed at her to call for Finn, but there wasn't time. Any second now, Solberg could disappear and another woman could die.

Just as she stepped past another rocky outcrop, her flashlight beam landed on something other than rock—something distinctly human-shaped and moving.

"Freeze!" Sheila shouted, leveling her gun toward the figure.

To her surprise, however, it wasn't Solberg. It was a tall woman with long black hair.

A woman whose hands were bound behind her back.