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"Yeah, uh, the cashier at the store probably remembers me.I'm a regular there.And my cousin—he noticed when I got back with the ice."
Finn uncrossed his arms and exchanged a glance with Sheila.It sounded like a solid alibi—assuming it held up, of course.They'd have to look into it.
"Thank you for your cooperation, Dell," Sheila said, trying to keep her voice steady and calm, even as her heart raced with the implications of everything Dell had just told them.She stood up from her chair and motioned for Finn to follow her out of the interview room.
"Can we talk for a minute?"she asked him once they were alone in the hallway, the door closed behind them.She leaned against the wall.
"Seems like Dell's innocent," Finn said, his brow furrowed in thought."Assuming his alibi isn't just a load of crap.The more interesting piece is that it appears the killer may have used him to case the Hubbards' house."
Sheila could feel her stomach twisting into knots as she considered what that meant.The killer had been calculating, using someone else to gather information before launching a carefully planned attack on the family.It made her feel sick to think about it—the cold, brutal efficiency of it all.Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, her nails biting into her palms.
"Whoever did this," she said, her voice barely more than a whisper, "they knew exactly what they were doing."
"Right," Finn nodded, his face grim."I should call Natalie, fill her in on what we've learned."
"Let me do it," Sheila said, her concern for her sister rising to the surface."I need to check up on her anyway."
"Sure thing.I'll get the numbers of Dell's witnesses, see if they can substantiate his alibi.See you in a few."He re-entered the interview room, closing the door behind him.
Left alone in the dimly lit hallway, Sheila pulled out her phone and dialed Natalie's number, her fingers shaking slightly as she did so.The phone rang and rang.
"Come on, Nat," she whispered, willing her sister to answer.But the call went to voicemail, and Sheila felt a cold dread wash over her.Something was wrong—she could feel it in her bones.
"Call me back when you can, Natalie," she said into her phone before hanging up, her voice strained with worry.
She paced the hallway, her mind racing with concern for Natalie.Why hadn't she come into work today?Why wasn't she answering her phone?She knew her sister was fiercely independent, especially since the injury that had left her in a wheelchair, but this seemed out of character even for her.
"Maybe she really is just sick," Sheila muttered to herself, trying to quell the rising tide of panic within her.But something felt off, and she couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to Natalie's silence than simple illness.
Her phone buzzed in her hand, and Sheila's heart skipped a beat as she saw a text from Natalie.
Sorry, not feeling like myself right now.Talk later.
The brief, vague message did little to ease Sheila's worry—if anything, it only made her more concerned.
Hey, don't worry about it,Sheila typed back, her fingers flying across the screen.Just rest up and take care of yourself, okay?
She hesitated for a moment, then added,I'll come check on you after I'm done here.
Sheila stared at the screen, waiting for a response from Natalie.None came, however.
Something's wrong,Sheila thought.This isn't like her.Even when she's sick, she's more communicative than this.
But what, she wondered, could be wrong?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Sheila's heart raced as she pulled up to Natalie's house, her sister's vague text gnawing at her insides.
"Come on, Nat," she muttered under her breath as she got out of the car and approached the front door."Don't do this to me."
She knocked on the door, the sound loud in the otherwise quiet neighborhood.There was no response.Trying to keep her mounting worry at bay, Sheila called Natalie's phone.It rang and rang, but Natalie didn't pick up.
"Damn it, Natalie," Sheila whispered, her voice heavy with concern.She tried the door handle, but it wouldn't budge.Her eyes scanned the perimeter of the house, desperately seeking an alternative entrance.A small window caught her attention, partly ajar, as if inviting her in.
"Here goes nothing," she said, taking a deep breath before climbing the side of the house.Her years of kickboxing training had made her body strong, flexible, and capable of handling unexpected challenges.She silently thanked her past self for all those grueling hours spent in the gym.
She carefully descended from the window and into the house, her feet touching down on the cold hardwood floor.The moment she looked around, her brows furrowed in confusion.Natalie's living room was a chaotic mess.Empty takeout boxes and crumpled clothing dotted the floor, and dirty dishes towered over the sink.This wasn't like her sister at all—Natalie was known for her tidiness, almost to the point of obsession.
