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"Jeez, Finn, you scared me," she said, trying to catch her breath."I didn't hear you come in."
"Sorry about that," Finn replied with a hint of concern.He held out one of the cups to her."Thought you could use this."
"Thanks."She sipped the hot liquid gratefully, feeling it warm her insides and provide a sense of much-needed comfort.
Finn studied her face for a moment before asking again, "You sure you're alright?You've been through a lot today."
Sheila knew he was referring to the incident at Albert's farmhouse when the old man had nearly shot her for looking inside his garage.It had certainly upset her, but she wasn't about to let fear dictate her life.Not now, not ever.
"Maybe your stoicism is rubbing off on me," she said with a forced smile, attempting to lighten the mood."I'm a little shaken up, but I'll be okay.Can't let fear get in the way of solving this case, right?"
He nodded, saying nothing as his gaze turned back toward Albert.
"Thank you, by the way," she said."For saving my life."
He shrugged, as if it were of no great consequence."Just doing my job, Sheila.You would have done the same for me."
Sheila smiled again, grateful for Finn's unwavering support.That was one of the things she appreciated most about him—his dependability.She always knew he had her back.
"Well," he said, interrupting her thoughts, "I think we've left him stewing in there long enough.What do you say we go see what he has to say for himself?"
Sheila nodded and followed Finn out of the room.As they entered the interview room, Albert looked up and glared at them.Sheila could see the veins bulging in his fists, clenched tightly together like a coiled snake ready to strike.
"Where's my damn dog?"he demanded, his voice like gravel."Titus ain't used to bein' alone.Someone better be takin' care of him."
"Your dog is being taken care of, Mr.Cartwright," Sheila reassured him, her tone firm yet gentle.Despite her own fears, she understood that Albert's concern for his dog was genuine.She knew that Titus was probably the only living thing that Albert had any real connection with.
"Listen, Albert," Finn said, cutting straight to the chase."You've got more serious problems than your dog getting lonely right now."He slid a folder across the table, opening it to reveal photos of the rope and the rusty knife found in his garage."Care to explain why we found these items in your possession?"
Albert scoffed, rolling his eyes as if Finn's question was beneath him."You think I'm the first farmer in the world to have some rope and an old knife?Hell, every farmer within a hundred miles probably has similar stuff lyin' around."
"True," Finn said, leaning in closer, his eyes locked on Albert's."But not every farmer within a hundred miles has a motive for killing the Hubbard family."
Albert's jaw tightened, and Sheila could see the battle raging within him."Look," he said, his voice strained."I use that rope for all sorts of things—tying down tarps, hanging clothes to dry, you name it.And the knife?It's just an old one I use for cutting baling twine.There ain't nothin' sinister about 'em."
"If you've got nothing to hide," Finn said, unrelenting, "why'd you pull a shotgun on us?"
"Y'all were trespassing!"Albert cried, his face red and veins bulging in his neck."I got a right to protect my property from strangers snooping around."
"Protect your property?Or cover up a crime?"
"Enough!"Albert slammed his fist down on the table, rattling the metal cuffs that bound him."I'm tired of being treated like a damn criminal!My rights have been violated, and I won't stand for it!"
Sheila watched as Albert's anger boiled over, his words coming faster and more forceful."It's people like you," he said, pointing a finger at Finn, "government lackeys who think they can trample all over honest citizens' lives.That's what's wrong with this country!"
Sheila could feel the tension in the room reaching a breaking point, and she knew she had to steer the conversation away from the precipice.
"Let's shift gears," she said, speaking up before Finn had a chance to answer Albert's accusation.Finn gave her a long look, but she stared back, willing him to trust her to take the lead.After a few moments, he nodded and stepped back, sighing.
"Tell me," Sheila said to Albert, "why is it that, when we were arresting you, you said you 'wouldn't be sorry' for what happened to Roy Hubbard?"
Albert's eyes flickered to Sheila, and for a moment, his rage seemed to subside, replaced by a deep, burning pain."Roy's a monster," he growled, his voice low and heavy with sorrow."His abuse drove Lisa, my sweet daughter, to take her own life.He deserved to pay for what he did."
"Was that your plan, then?"Finn asked, as if unable to keep himself completely out of the conversation."To make him pay with his life—him and his family, too?"
"No!"Albert's eyes welled up with unshed tears."I never wanted any harm to come to them.They were innocent in all this.I just...I wanted Roy to hurt like Lisa did.Like we all did."
Sheila studied Albert's face, the lines of grief and anger etched into his features.She could see the raw emotion, the pain that tore at him, but she sensed no malice toward the rest of the Hubbard family.For an instant, Sheila imagined herself in his shoes, grappling with the weight of such a loss, and she couldn't help but feel a flicker of sympathy.
