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Finn was mouthing something to her. She nodded, then turned her attention back to the phone.
"And there's one another name," she added. "Natasha Petrova."
"You're asking for a lot," Irene said. "This could cost me my job if my supervisor finds out."
"Well, your supervisor won't find out from us. I can assure you of that."
There was a long pause, so long that Sheila began to wonder if Irene was having second thoughts. Then Irene said, in a low voice, "Okay, I'll help you. I've got a list of names here. Where do you want them?"
Sheila sat up straighter, suddenly animated. "I'll give you my email address." She did so, then said, "Thank you, Irene. This really could save lives."
"I just hope it doesn't ruin mine," Irene said.
Sheila ended the call, then used her phone to open her email account. She hit refresh and waited, biting her lip.
"Anything?" Finn asked.
"Nothing yet. I should've stayed on the line." She sighed, frustrated with herself. Then her phone buzzed. "Wait, hold on. I think this might be it." She opened the email and scanned the list of names. "Got it! There are records for both Juliette Reed and Natasha Petrova on here. And...oh my goodness, there's a psychic named Raven Nightshade. That has to be a fake name, right?"
Finn grinned. "Sounds like it. Let's compare the two lists, see which ones they might have in common." He joined her, leaning over her shoulder to study the lists. It didn't take long to make the connection.
"They saw three of the same psychics," Sheila said, finally sensing they had a solid lead.
"Yep," Finn said. "And there's a good chance one of these three names belongs to our killer."
"Now we just need to figure out how to approach them without tipping them off."
Sheila's heart raced as she considered their options. The thought of confronting the potential killer was frightening, but she knew it was the only way to get answers. Her instincts as a fighter kicked in, and she was ready to face the danger head-on.
"Let's invite them to the precinct," she said, her voice steady despite the pounding of her heart. "We'll get eyes on them before we call them."
"And if one of them tries to bolt?"
Sheila studied her partner, a small smile playing at the corner of her mouth. "Then we'll know who's guilty, won't we?"
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Sheila pushed open the door to the precinct interview room, her senses on high alert. Finn followed closely behind, his eyes sharp and focused.
Inside the small, sterile space sat a middle-aged woman, her eyes alight with curiosity. She was dressed in a flowing purple dress adorned with silver moons and stars, her dark hair streaked with gray and piled atop her head in a messy bun. Beaded bracelets jingled as she waved at Sheila and Finn, offering them a welcoming smile.
"Detective Stone, Deputy Mercer," she said, her voice smooth like velvet. "I'm so glad you invited me here today."
"Thank you for coming in, Ms. Lowe," Sheila said, trying to match Elsa's warmth. "We appreciate your cooperation."
Elsa's smile widened, revealing slightly yellowed teeth. "Of course. Anything I can do to help."
Sheila took a seat across from Elsa, her eyes never leaving the palm reader's face. Finn settled into the chair beside her, his expression guarded but not unfriendly. It wasn't every day they interviewed psychics as part of a murder investigation, but desperate times called for unconventional methods.
Elsa was the first of three local palm readers who'd agreed to come to the station. The other two were waiting their turns in separate interview rooms, each eager to share their insights into the mysterious deaths of Juliette Reed and Natasha Petrova. Sheila knew that time was of the essence, and she couldn't afford to waste any opportunity, no matter how unorthodox it might appear.
Sheila took a deep breath, composing herself before addressing the palm reader.
"Thank you for agreeing to meet with us, Elsa," she began, her tone professional yet friendly. "How long have you been a palm reader?"
"Ah, well," Elsa said, leaning back in her chair and lacing her fingers together. "I've been practicing palmistry for nearly two decades now. My grandmother taught me when I was just a girl. You could say it's a family tradition." She paused, her eyes gleaming with pride. "There are many misconceptions about what we do, of course. People think it's all about predicting the future, but there's so much more to it than that."
As Elsa continued to speak, Sheila couldn't help but notice how much she seemed to enjoy the sound of her own voice. There was something off about the woman, though Sheila couldn't quite put her finger on it. She decided to shift the focus to the victims.
