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Sheila's heart sank, but she wasn't about to give up so easily. "Mr. Collins, this is important. My mother's killer is still out there, and Bax might be the key to finding them. He might even be the killer himself. Please, just let me talk to him."
Collins frowned, clearly torn. For a moment, it seemed as though he might relent. But then he shook his head, a weary smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Look, I understand how much this means to you, but my hands are tied. And besides, I really need to get home. If I don't make it back soon, my wife will have my head."
The casual joke stung, and Sheila bit back a retort. It was clear that she wasn't going to win this battle—at least, not tonight.
Sheila watched, feeling a mixture of anger and helplessness, as Collins climbed into his car and drove away. She had come so close, only to be shut down again. A dull ache filled her chest, and she clenched her fists, fighting back tears.
As she was about to turn away, something caught her eye. A small flier lay on the ground, discarded in Collins's haste. She picked it up, noting that it was an advertisement for a local charity 5K run—nothing of real significance. Still, she held onto it, her mind racing with new possibilities.
Gazing back at the office building, she felt a spark of determination ignite within her. If she couldn't get permission from Collins, maybe there was another way. She strode back toward the entrance, her resolve strengthening with each step.
Inside, she encountered a security guard seated behind a desk. He was a stocky man with graying hair, and his eyes flicked between her and the monitors displaying various feeds from around the premises. Sheila approached him, her badge and the flier in hand.
"Excuse me," she said, a hint of familiarity in her voice. "I'm Officer Stone. I was just speaking with Agent Collins outside, and he dropped this." She flashed the flier, waving it at a distance so he couldn't get a good look at it. "Thought it might be important, so I was going to slip it under his office door."
The guard studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable.
"I'm a police officer, by the way," Sheila said, showing him her badge.
That sold it. The guard nodded slowly. "Make it quick, alright? I'll be locking up soon."
"Thanks," Sheila said, giving the guard a grateful smile as she hurried down the hallway.
As Sheila passed by various doors, each one seemed identical, offering no indication as to which belonged to Collins. She frowned, wondering how she would be able to identify his office quickly. It was then that she noticed a bulletin board on the opposite wall adorned with memos and notices. Among them, she spotted a floor plan of the offices.
Agent Mitchell Collins' name was clearly marked next to one of the rooms.
Feeling a surge of relief, Sheila approached the door indicated on the floor plan, pausing for a moment to ensure she wasn't being watched. When she was certain no one was around, she tried the door.
Locked. No surprise there.
Pulling two bobby pins from her hair, she used one to push the lock's pins upward while maneuvering the other to turn the cylinder. It was a skill she had learned during her time at the police academy, intended for emergencies, but now it served a different purpose.
She held her breath as she worked, her fingers nimble and precise. After a few tense moments, she felt the lock give way and the door opened slightly with a soft click.
With a quick glance over her shoulder, Sheila pushed the door open, her heart pounding in her chest as she stepped into Collins' office. She took a moment to scan the room, noting the tidy desk and meticulously arranged bookshelves lining the walls. Diplomas and commendations adorned the space, showcasing Collins' accomplishments and dedication to his career.
Taking a deep breath, Sheila began her search for information on Rayland Bax. She started with the file cabinets, rifling through folders with a sense of urgency. Her eyes flicked over each document, searching for any mention of Bax's name or connection to her mother's case. As she searched, she couldn't help but feel guilty for betraying Collins' trust, but she quickly reminded herself that this was about justice for her mother—something she couldn't ignore.
She turned on the computer, but it was logged out and she had no way of getting in. She considered guessing the password, but she hadn't found anything in the room that might indicate the correct answer. There had to be a better solution than blind guessing.
Just then she spotted a small notebook on the desk, the page cluttered with a number of to-dos, including even date night ideas, recipes, and other non-work-related information. When she turned the page, however, she saw a list of names beneath a title that read, "B. P. AUTH. VIS."
She stared at it for a few seconds before it finally clicked. "Blackridge Penitentiary Authorized Visitors," she murmured, her throat going dry. This was it, the very list she'd been looking for.
Now, all she had to do was forge her name.
Sheila took a deep breath and steadied her hand as she picked up a pen from Collins' desk. She scanned the list, looking for any familiar names, but there were none. She knew she had to be careful—this was a federal prison, after all. But she also knew that time was running out, and she couldn't let this opportunity slip away.
With a sense of determination, Sheila wrote in a name: "Agent S. Stone." She hesitated for a moment before adding the date and time, making it seem as though she had been granted access earlier that day. She knew it was risky, but it was the only way she could think of to get to Bax.
She quickly tucked the notebook back into place and left the office, glancing around to make sure no one had seen her. As she walked down the hallway, her pulse raced with anticipation and fear. She knew she was taking a huge risk, but she couldn't let her mother's killer go unpunished.
As she left the building, determination burned within her; she now had permission to visit Rayland Bax, and she would do everything in her power to solve the mystery of her mother's death.
