AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"Can we see your license and registration, please?" he asked, his voice firm yet polite.
The woman heaved a sigh, rummaging through her purse before producing the license. Then she leaned forward to open the glove box and extract the registration, which she handed to Finn.
Finn examined the documents closely. A few moments later, he handed the documents back. "Thank you, Rhonda," he said.
"Has anyone borrowed your car recently?" Sheila asked Rhonda.
"No," Rhonda snapped, clearly irritated by the whole ordeal. "I've been here since yesterday morning. Nobody could've used it without me knowing."
"Could we see your driver data with Uber, then? We just need to confirm where you were last night." And weren't, Sheila added mentally.
Rhonda grumbled, but she eventually pulled out her phone and opened the Uber app. She handed it over to Finn, who began scrolling through the ride history.
"Looks like you had quite a busy night," Finn remarked, studying the screen.
"Yeah, well, it's a living," Rhonda replied, crossing her arms.
"Did you happen to pick up anyone suspicious?" Sheila asked, her eyes fixed on Finn's face.
Rhonda shrugged. "I don't know. Most of my fares were drunk or high, but they didn't seem dangerous or anything."
Finn pressed his lips together and shook his head at Sheila. The message was clear: Rhonda's alibi was solid. This wasn't the vehicle they were looking for.
Finn handed the phone back to Rhonda. "Thank you for your time, ma'am. Sorry for the inconvenience."
The woman huffed but offered a curt nod before disappearing back into her car. As Sheila and Finn walked away, the sun's rays glinted off the vehicle's tinted windows, casting an eerie sheen that only heightened Sheila's sense of unease. They climbed into Finn's cruiser, the scent of stale coffee and old leather filling the air as they settled into their seats.
"Damn," Finn muttered, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. "Thought we had something there." He picked up the list of names they'd compiled, his eyes scanning the information. "It'll take all day to check out everyone who owns a vehicle matching Chapman's description."
Sheila stared at the list, her mind churning. Something nagged at her—a detail just out of reach. Then it hit her. "Hey, Finn," she began, her words measured as the idea took shape. "Remember how there was no sign of forced entry at the crime scenes? The victims must have known the killer, right?"
Finn glanced at her, his brow furrowing. "Yeah, I remember. So?"
"Let's cross-reference the vehicle description with people who knew the victims," Sheila suggested, a spark of excitement igniting within her. "It might narrow down our search."
"Good thinking, Sheila," Finn said, a hint of admiration in his eyes. "I knew you were here for more than just your looks." He winked at her.
Sheila smiled and punched him playfully in the shoulder. Then she pulled out her phone and navigated to the social media profiles of the two victims. Her eyes flicked back and forth between the photos and posts of their lives, searching for any clue that could lead her to the killer's vehicle.
"Okay," she muttered, focusing on the task at hand. "Let's see if we can find anyone who knew the victims and owns a car matching Chapman's description." She scoured through the victims' friends list, making a mental note of anyone who had posted pictures with a similar car.
Finn, following suit, pulled out his own phone and began his search. The silence in the car was heavy, punctuated only by the occasional tapping and swiping of fingers on screens. Time seemed to stretch endlessly before them as they both delved deeper into the online lives of the deceased.
"Hey, Sheila," Finn said softly, breaking the silence. His voice was gentle, almost hesitant. "I know it's been a rough month."
She tensed, but said nothing. She had a feeling she knew where this was going.
"If you ever need to talk about Natalie," he continued, "I just want you to know I'm here."
Sheila briefly glanced up from her phone, offering him a small, grateful smile. "Thanks, Finn," she said quietly. Despite his kindness, however, she knew deep down that she wasn't ready to open up about her sister's death just yet. It was still too raw, too painful.
Her gaze returned to her phone, her brow furrowing as she continued her search. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, her heart skipped a beat as she stumbled across a photo of a friend posing next to a car that closely resembled Mr. Chapman's description. Her pulse quickened, adrenaline surging through her veins as she dug deeper into the connection between the victim and the car's owner.
"Got something?" Finn asked, sensing the shift in her energy.
"Maybe," Sheila replied, her voice laced with cautious optimism. "I just found someone who knew one of the victims and owns a car that matches Chapman's description. It could be a lead."
"Who is he?"
