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"Brace yourselves," Officer Gonzalez warned them, pausing outside the room where Juliette Reed had met her untimely end. "The body is still inside."
Sheila hesitated at the threshold, her breath catching in her throat. A familiar sense of unease washed over her, paralyzing her in place. She felt as if an invisible force was holding her back, preventing her from crossing that line and facing another gruesome scene. In her mind's eye, she saw her sister's lifeless body instead of Juliette's, and it took all her strength not to crumble under the weight of the memory.
"Hey," Finn said quietly, his voice only audible to Sheila. "I know you're thinking about Natalie. But remember, we're here for Juliette now. We need to find the person who did this." His eyes locked onto hers, offering her his unwavering support.
Sheila took a deep breath and nodded. "You're right," she whispered, steeling herself with determination. "Let's do it."
With Finn by her side, Sheila stepped into the room where Juliette had been murdered. The air was heavy with tension and the bitter scent of blood. The room appeared to have once been a cozy sanctuary, but now it was marred by the signs of a violent struggle.
A broken lamp lay shattered on the floor, its pieces scattered like jagged teeth. The curtains hung in tatters, slashed as they tried to protect their owner from the intruder. And there, in the middle of the chaos, was Juliette's body—a lifeless form on the hardwood floor, her arms splayed out at unnatural angles.
"Damn," Finn muttered under his breath, his eyes narrowing as he studied the scene. He crouched down beside the body, careful not to disturb any potential evidence.
Sheila forced herself to look at Juliette, trying to focus on the task at hand. She took note of the multiple stab wounds, the defensive cuts on the victim's hands, and the way her hair was matted with blood. It was clear that Juliette had fought back but ultimately succumbed to her injuries.
"It appears the killer's right-handed," Sheila said.
Finn raised an eyebrow. "How can you tell?"
"The majority of the stab wounds are on the left side of the body," Sheila explained, pointing to the wounds. "It's likely that the killer was holding the knife in their right hand and attacking from that angle."
Finn nodded thoughtfully. "Makes sense. It's also worth noting that the victim's phone is still clutched in her hand." He gestured toward the device. "Looks like she tried to call for help."
As Sheila processed the information, she felt a renewed sense of purpose. This wasn't just about her sister anymore; it was about Juliette Reed and Natasha Petrova, two women whose lives had been brutally cut short by a vicious killer. And it was up to her and Finn to bring that person to justice.
Her gaze lingered on Juliette's body, her heart hammering in her chest. She swallowed hard and took a deep breath, reminding herself that she had a job to do. She forced her attention back to the room as she and Finn began to piece together what had happened.
"Looks like she tried to barricade herself in here," Finn said, nodding toward the toppled bookcase near the door.
"Didn't help much, did it?" Sheila said, bitterness lacing her voice. She studied the bloodied carpet and disarray of objects strewn across the floor.
Sheila's thoughts raced as she considered the similarities between the two murders. Natasha Petrova had also been stabbed multiple times, leaving a gruesome scene behind.
"Both victims were alone in their homes and attacked at night," she said. "In both cases, there are no signs of forced entry."
That thought sparked a new thought. "Let's go back to the front door," she said. "I want to check something."
Finn said nothing, following along as they returned to the front of the house. Sheila crouched down, running her fingers along the edge of the front door, feeling for any irregularities. "Just like I thought," she said contemplatively. "No sign of forced entry."
A cold chill swept through Sheila as she realized the extent of the murderer's manipulation. He had exploited his victims' vulnerability, gaining their trust only to betray them in the most brutal way.
"Look at this," Finn said, motioning toward a tangle of wires above and to the right of the doorframe. "It looks like there was a security camera here, but it's been ripped out."
Sheila's eyes widened as she studied the wires. She hadn't noticed them on her way in because they were tucked beneath the overhang, hidden in the shadows. She was surprised Finn had seen them at all.
"The killer must have taken it with him, hoping to avoid detection," Finn said. "Must be a very careful person to have noticed it. He's covering his tracks well.
"Too well," Sheila said, frustrated. "If we had that footage, we might already know who he is." She felt a burning desire to bring the killer to justice, not only for Juliette and Natasha but also for herself—and the memory of her sister.
"Let's not get discouraged," Finn said, noticing her frustration. "We'll find something that'll lead us to him. We just need to keep looking."
As Sheila scanned the area for any other clues, she couldn't shake the nagging feeling that they were missing something crucial. The stolen camera weighed heavily on her mind, and she knew it could have been the key to solving this case quickly.
"Hey," a quiet voice interrupted her thoughts. It was Finn, nodding toward the street. "Check out that guy over there."
Sheila followed his gaze and saw a small, balding man standing on the opposite sidewalk. He appeared to be in his early sixties, with a wispy comb-over that did little to conceal his shiny scalp. His round glasses magnified his beady eyes as he stared intently at their crime scene.
"Think he might've seen something?" Sheila asked, squinting against the harsh morning sunlight.
