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"Me neither," Sheila said."It's too quiet."
They stepped onto the creaky porch.Finn raised his fist, rapping urgently on the door.The darkness was suffocating, broken only by the pale moonlight filtering through the overhanging branches.As she waited for a response, Sheila glanced around nervously, her heart pounding in her chest.
"Come on," she whispered under her breath, willing someone to answer.
The door finally creaked open, revealing an old man squinting at them with bleary eyes.His disheveled white hair stood on end, and his wrinkled face was creased with annoyance.He was wearing a faded flannel nightshirt, making it clear he had been sleeping.
"Edward Burton?"Finn asked.
The old man nodded, still glaring at them."Whaddya want?"he grumbled, voice thick with sleep."It's the middle of the damn night."
"Apologies for the late intrusion," Sheila said, trying to inject some civility into the conversation."We need to know if your son Ben is here."
"Ben?"Edward's eyebrows furrowed with anger."What the hell business is it of yours?"
"Your son is a suspect in a murder investigation," Finn said firmly, staring Edward down."If you care about what happens to him, you'll cooperate with us."
Edward's eyes widened as he processed Finn's words.For a moment, his irritation seemed to dissipate, replaced by a flicker of fear.But his face hardened once more, and he stared at them defiantly.
"Fine," he said, stepping back to let them into the house."But you better have a damn good reason for accusing my boy of something like that."
Sheila and Finn followed Edward into the house.Sheila's eyes scanned the surroundings, taking in the cluttered living room filled with worn-out furniture and an array of family photographs.
"Ben's room is this way," Edward muttered, leading them down a narrow hallway lined with peeling wallpaper.They stopped in front of a faded blue door adorned with stickers from Ben's high school days—bands he liked, sports teams he supported, and a few crude jokes typical of a teenager's sense of humor.
"Ben!"Edward called out, banging on the door with a clenched fist."Open up!You've got visitors!"
Silence answered them.Edward turned to Sheila and Finn, his expression a mix of confusion and worry."He always was a heavy sleeper," he mumbled, trying the door handle only to find it locked.
"Step aside, Mr.Burton," Finn said, drawing his gun.Edward started to protest, but before he could get the words out, Finn had already broken open the door with one swift kick.
"What the hell?"Edward demanded."Who's going to pay for that?"
Ignoring Edward, Sheila and Finn entered the room, eyes scanning every corner for any sign of Ben.The unmade bed, scattered clothes, and posters of rock bands on the walls gave the room a chaotic feel.However, it was the open window that caught Sheila's attention.
"Damn it," she said, hurrying over to the window and peering out."He's already gone."
"What type of vehicle does Ben drive?"Finn asked Edward, who had followed them into the room, his arms crossed.
"Why should I tell you?"he asked.
"Ever heard of obstruction of justice?"Finn asked.
Sheila decided to take a gentler approach."If you want to clear your son's name, the best way to do so is to help us find him.The longer this goes on, the worse it looks for him."
Edward took a deep breath and sighed, looking suddenly worried."He drives a black pickup.Dodge, I think."
Finn nodded and stepped away, pulling out his phone."I'll have them put out an APB on the vehicle," he said to Sheila."There's also the possibility of tracking his phone."
As Finn spoke with his colleagues, Sheila began a meticulous search of the room, checking drawers, lifting up piles of clothes, and peering under the bed.She moved with purpose, methodically scanning every inch of the room.Her trained eyes picked up on small details: a stack of unpaid bills on the dresser, the worn edges of a paperback book left open on the nightstand, and a collection of empty beer bottles by the bed.Each told a story, but none brought her closer to discovering where Ben could be.
Edward continued to ramble, his voice tense with disbelief."This isn't like him, you know?He just got out of prison, trying to get his life back together.He wouldn't just disappear without saying something."
"Focus on the task at hand, Sheila," she whispered to herself, blocking out Edward's words.Time was slipping away, and she needed to concentrate.As she examined the room further, her eyes fell upon a small crack in the wall behind the dresser.Intrigued, she carefully pushed the heavy furniture aside, revealing a hidden compartment.
"Got something!"she called out, her voice catching Finn's attention.She reached into the concealed space, her fingers brushing against a cold, metal object.
"Be careful," Finn warned, his eyes never leaving her as he continued to work on his phone.
