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As her father walked away, Sheila glanced across the room and spotted Finn standing in the doorway. His eyes were locked on hers, and he subtly gestured for her to join him. Curiosity piqued, she excused herself and weaved through the crowd of well-wishers, making her way toward him.
"Hey, Finn," she said as she approached, immediately noticing the furrowed brow and tense expression on his face. "What's up?"
"Sorry to interrupt your celebration," he said in a low voice, glancing around as if worried someone might overhear. "But something's come up. We've got a situation."
"A situation?" Sheila felt her pulse quicken, her muscles tensing with anticipation. This was it—her first real test as a member of the force. She couldn't help but wonder if she was truly ready.
"A woman was found stabbed to death in her home," he said, "and Dawson wants the two of us on it. I know it's a lot for your first day, but the department's stretched thin right now and—"
"It's okay," she said, grateful for the chance to get to work. "I can handle it."
He nodded. "Okay. Then follow me—I'll brief you on the way there."
Sheila followed Finn out of the office. As the sounds of celebration died down behind her, she found herself grateful for the break. She could only pretend to be happy for so long. She was genuinely glad to be joining the force, but at the same time, it was impossible to step inside that building without thinking of her lost sister.
"So," she said as they approached the parking lot, "what kind of a murder are we talking about? Breaking and entering? Domestic?"
He paused, turning to look at her with an enigmatic expression. "What do you know about tarot cards?" he asked.
CHAPTER THREE
The morning sun cast long shadows across the dashboard as Sheila studied the image of the "Hanged Man" tarot card on Finn's phone. The card depicted a man suspended upside-down from a tree, his arms folded behind his back and one leg crossed over the other. His face held an eerie serenity despite his predicament.
Sheila glanced up at Finn, curiosity flashing in her eyes. "Where was this found?" she asked as they sped down the highway.
Outside, the Utah landscape stretched out before them—a vast expanse of red rocks, sagebrush, and dust devils dancing in the distance. The flatness of the terrain made it feel like they were driving into infinity.
"Resting on the victim's body," Finn replied, his grip on the steering wheel tightening slightly. "Like a calling card."
Sheila furrowed her brow, studying the card more intently. "Do you have any idea what it means?"
Finn shook his head. "Not really. I never paid much attention to stuff like tarot cards." His voice carried a hint of derision, but he couldn't conceal the unease lurking beneath the surface.
"Me neither," Sheila admitted, her fingers absently tracing the edge of the phone. But she couldn't help feeling that there was something significant about the card, something that could help them understand the motives of the killer who had left it behind. A shiver ran down her spine despite the warmth of the vehicle.
"Here, scroll to the next picture," Finn said as he glanced over at Sheila.
She swiped her finger across the screen and gasped when she saw the image that appeared. It was another tarot card, this one featuring a skeletal figure in black armor astride a white horse. The figure held a flag emblazoned with a mysterious symbol, and beneath the horse's hooves lay a fallen king, his golden crown now meaningless in the face of death.
"Another tarot card?" Sheila asked, feeling a chill run down her spine despite the sun beating down on the car.
"Yep," Finn said. "That's the Death card. It was found on the body of another woman about a month ago. That's how we know we're not just dealing with one isolated killing."
"Who were the victims?" Sheila asked, her heart pounding as she stared at the eerie imagery of the Death card.
"The woman who was killed a month ago was Natasha Petrova," Finn explained, his voice somber. "Stay-at-home mom, three kids. She helped her husband manage the books for their small bakery. From what we gathered, she had a good life. Fortunately, the children were out of the house when she was attacked. There were no signs of forced entry, nothing stolen."
Sheila felt a pang of sympathy for the woman and her family, imagining the terror that must have gripped Natasha in her final moments. Her thoughts raced, trying to make sense of the two seemingly random murders and the ominous cards left behind.
"Was there any progress in Natasha's case?" Sheila asked, her voice a low murmur as she stared out the window. Utah's rugged landscape swept by, the morning sun casting long shadows across the barren terrain.
"Unfortunately, no," Finn said, his jaw clenching in frustration. "The investigators hit one dead end after another. No witnesses, no solid leads, and no physical evidence at the scene. It was like the killer vanished without a trace."
"Except for the tarot card," Sheila mused, her brow furrowing as she considered the implications. She knew that killers who left such tokens were often taunting the police, daring them to catch up.
"Right," Finn said, his eyes briefly flicking to Sheila before returning to the road. "And speaking of messages from our killer, last night's victim was Juliette Reed. She had been calling the police repeatedly over the past few weeks, saying she feared for her life."
"Can I listen to those calls?" Sheila asked, her instincts telling her they might hold a vital clue.
