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"Almost there," she whispered to herself, beads of sweat forming on her brow. With a final heave, she hoisted the bag up and over the edge of the dumpster.
As soon as the bag left her hands, a wave of relief washed over Constance. It felt as if she'd just been unshackled from a heavyweight, but she knew better than to linger.
"Get it together, Constance," she muttered under her breath, forcing herself to maintain a steady composure despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins.
She hurried back toward her house, her mind racing with thoughts of what she needed to do next. As she reached her front door, she glanced back at the dumpster one last time, as if to reassure herself that the evidence was well and truly hidden.
"Everything's going to be okay," she told herself firmly, pushing open the door and stepping inside. "No one will ever know."
Once inside, she locked the door behind her and immediately headed for the bathroom. The water hissed as she turned on the shower, adjusting the temperature until it was just right. Then she undressed.
Stepping into the steamy spray, she scrubbed her hands vigorously, watching as the remnants of her crime vanished down the drain.
"Good riddance," she murmured, exhaling deeply as she allowed the hot water to cascade over her body. She knew that she had narrowly escaped disaster.
I should have been more careful, shouldn't have gotten so much blood on myself, she thought. She was fortunate not to be in police custody at that very moment. Had Mrs. Jenkins' daughter not called at that very moment…
You're still learning, she reminded herself. She could have done better, sure, but that was okay.
There was always next time, wasn't there?
CHAPTER FIVE
As Sheila and Finn arrived at the home of Juliette Reed, the scene before Sheila stirred memories she wished to forget. The flashing lights of the cop cars and the yellow crime scene tape brought back the chilling image of the cabin where she had discovered Natalie's lifeless body a month ago.
Her stomach clenched, and she became aware of the tenseness of her posture: her teeth pressed together, her shoulders tight, her toes curled in her boots. With a deep breath, she willed herself to relax and let the memory go.
The morning sun cast long shadows across the quiet suburban street, illuminating clusters of curious neighbors huddled together on their lawns, whispering and stealing glances at the house. A few brave souls ventured closer to the edge of the police tape, craning their necks to catch a glimpse of what was happening behind the closed doors.
"Looks like the whole damn neighborhood's out here," Finn commented dryly, scanning the faces of the onlookers.
"Word travels fast in this town," Sheila replied, her eyes fixed on the house. "Especially when it's something like this."
She caught sight of a little girl clutching her mother's hand and staring wide-eyed at the police tape. The innocence in the child's eyes sent a shudder down Sheila's spine, serving as a painful reminder of all that had been lost.
"Are you okay?" Finn's voice broke through her thoughts, his concern evident.
"Sorry," she muttered, forcing a tight smile. "I was just thinking about Natalie again."
He pressed his lips tightly together, and to Sheila's relief, he didn't offer any cliches or trite words of comfort. All he said was, "We'll get through this together, okay?"
She nodded, recalling that he, too, had been close to Natalie. She wasn't the only one grieving, even if Finn didn't show it.
As Sheila and Finn got out of the vehicle, a police officer approached them. She was of average height, her dark hair pulled back into a tight bun. Her sharp eyes scanned their faces, betraying an intelligence that went beyond her years.
"Detective Stone, Deputy Mercer," she said, extending her hand. "I'm Officer Rita Gonzalez. We've secured the scene to maintain its integrity, and we're ready for you to take a look inside."
"Thank you, Officer Gonzalez," Sheila replied, shaking her hand firmly. Finn followed suit.
As they entered the house, Sheila's heart pounded in her chest, each beat echoing through the halls like a drum. The air felt heavy, as if the weight of tragedy hung in every corner, suffocating the once-happy home. She swallowed hard, fighting to keep her emotions in check.
As they stepped inside Juliette Reed's home, Sheila immediately noticed signs of a struggle. The living room was in disarray, with furniture overturned and various personal belongings scattered across the floor. A broken vase lay shattered near the fireplace, its vibrant flowers now crushed and wilting.
"Looks like she tried to get away," Finn observed quietly, gesturing toward the trail of destruction that continued from the living room into the hallway.
Sheila nodded, her heart racing as she imagined Juliette's desperate flight through her own home. She clenched her fists, trying to ward off the haunting memories that threatened to resurface.
They followed Officer Gonzalez down the hall, which was lined with family photos and memories captured in frames. It seemed that Juliette had attempted to barricade herself in one of the rooms, only for the door to be forced open by her attacker.
