AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"Name's Jeremy Feldman."
"Tell me more about this guy," Finn said, leaning in closer to look at Sheila's phone screen.
"According to his profile, he attended an outpatient therapy group with Juliette." Sheila's brow furrowed as she pondered the implications. "You think maybe Juliette joined the group because she was afraid of her ex, Eric?"
"Could be," Finn agreed. "And if Feldman knew about her fears, it might have given him a way to play on her fears. Let's dig into his background." He pulled out his laptop and began typing away.
"Listen to this, Sheila," he said a few moments later, his voice low and serious. "I just ran a background check on Feldman. Apparently, he has a history of mental illness. He once attacked another patient while in treatment for a psychiatric disorder."
Sheila's heart clenched in her chest.
"Care to guess what he attacked this other patient with?" Finn asked.
"A knife?"
He nodded. "Bingo."
CHAPTER EIGHT
As Sheila and Finn pulled up to Jeremy Feldman's residence, the sight before them was a far cry from what Sheila had expected. The property looked like something ripped out of a haunted house tale—a large, crumbling structure with peeling paint, broken windows, and sagging gutters. The once vibrant garden was now a chaotic mess of overgrown weeds smothering the remnants of colorful flower beds. Even the sky above seemed to reflect the gloom that hung over the place.
"Are you sure anyone still lives here?" Sheila asked skeptically. She couldn't shake off the eerie feeling crawling under her skin as she surveyed the dismal scene before her.
"Positive," Finn said. "I double-checked with the hospital where Feldman was last admitted. They insisted this was his address."
Shaking her head in disbelief, Sheila climbed out of the car and walked toward the house with Finn by her side. The closer they got, the more unnerving the place became. The front door was barely hanging on its hinges, and the cracked sidewalk leading up to it seemed to groan beneath their feet.
"Hello?" she called, knocking on the door. The sound reverberated through the empty air, met only by silence. After a moment's hesitation, she moved to one of the windows, cupping her hands around her face to peer inside.
"Damn," she muttered under her breath at the sight that greeted her. It was as if a tornado had torn through the room—furniture overturned, papers strewn about, and various objects shattered across the floor. Amidst the chaos, however, there was no sign of life, human or otherwise.
"See anything?" Finn asked, his brow furrowed in concern.
"Nothing particularly helpful," Sheila replied, her frustration mounting. "It's a mess in there, but I can't tell if someone's still living here or not."
"As far as that goes," Finn said, "I should point out that there aren't any cars in the driveway. Could be one in the garage, though."
Sheila nodded, her eyes following his gaze to a detached structure just a few yards from the house. The garage was almost hidden by dense foliage, its peeling paint and cracked windows giving it an eerie, abandoned appearance.
"Good idea. Let's check it out," she said, following Finn toward the garage.
The wooden door was slightly ajar, revealing only darkness within. With a determined look, Sheila nudged the door open with her foot, taking care not to make too much noise.
As they entered the dimly lit garage, an oppressive mustiness hit them, causing Sheila to suppress a cough. She scanned her surroundings, noting the clutter of tools and old paint cans scattered about. Her heart raced when her eyes landed on a dark green sedan parked against the far wall. It matched the description George Chapman had given them.
"Is that...?" Finn began, his voice low and tense.
"Could be," Sheila whispered, cautiously approaching the vehicle. Her mind raced with thoughts of Juliette's murder and what connection this car might have to it. She studied every inch of the sedan, searching for any clue that would confirm it was the same one George had seen outside Juliette's house.
As she peered through the car's window, her eyes fell upon a pile of clothing on the back seats. Among the disarray, a black hoodie stood out, and her heart skipped a beat. George had mentioned that Juliette's killer wore a black hoodie. Was this the same one?
"Hey, Finn," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "Look at this."
Before Finn could respond, a loud bang sounded from inside the house, cutting through the air like a gunshot. Sheila's head snapped toward the sound, her eyes wide. She exchanged a glance with Finn, who was already on high alert.
"Let's move," he said, his hand instinctively reaching for his gun.
Together, they raced across the overgrown lawn, their feet pounding against the ground. Reaching the front door, Sheila knocked forcefully.
