Silent Girl, page 11
"Can we see the texts and pictures?" Natalie asked.
"Sure," Blair said. "Just grab my phone."
Finn nodded, pushing himself away from the wall where he had been leaning. "Back in a minute."
As the door closed behind Finn, Sheila felt the tension in the room shift. She was alone with Blair and her sister, but there was something vulnerable about the man now, something that tugged at her heartstrings, despite herself.
"Look," Blair said, turning to face Sheila. "I'm sorry for the way I talked to you before. I...I wasn't at my best."
She met his gaze, searching for sincerity in his eyes. "Apology accepted," she replied cautiously, not quite ready to trust him.
"Have we met before?" he asked, studying her face. "You seem familiar."
Sheila hesitated for a moment, then decided to reveal a piece of her past. "I used to be a kickboxer—competed at a high level."
"Ah," Blair said, nodding. "That would explain it. You've got that look about you—like you can handle yourself." He grunted. "Learned that firsthand, didn't I? I won't underestimate a woman again, that's for sure."
Sheila raised an eyebrow, surprised by his candor. She glanced at Natalie, who seemed just as taken aback. This new side of Blair – apologetic and respectful – didn't quite fit the image they had of him. But was it genuine or just another act?
The silence stretched out, the air in the room growing thick with unspoken thoughts. Just as it threatened to become unbearable, the door swung open and Finn strode in, holding up Blair's confiscated phone like a prized trophy. Sheila felt a flicker of hope ignite within her chest as she watched him approach the table.
"Got it," Finn said, handing the device to Blair. "Now let's see these messages."
Blair hesitated for a moment before unlocking the phone with a quick swipe of his thumb. He navigated to the incriminating texts, then passed the phone back to Finn, who held it out so that both Natalie and Sheila could get a clear view of the screen.
As they studied the images and texts, Sheila felt her stomach knot with dread. The photos were disturbingly intimate—candid shots of Irene going about her daily life, completely unaware that she was being watched. And the messages, full of cold malice, made it all too clear that her abductor wanted nothing more than to make Anthony Blair suffer.
"Damn it," Natalie cursed under her breath, her eyes darkening with anger and concern.
Enjoy your last few moments with Irene, Blair, the final message, dated three days ago, read. Every time you look at your stepdaughter, know that I'm watching too. And when I'm done with her, you're next.
Who the hell are you??? Blair had written back. Irene’s got nothing to do with this. The unknown stalker, however, hadn't deigned to reply again.
"Why didn't you tell anyone?" Finn asked.
"I tried to warn her," Blair said. "Told her not to hang out with anyone she didn't know. Hell, I even started watching her myself, but I thought she'd at least be safe at school." He cursed under his breath.
"What about the police?" Natalie asked.
Blair snorted. "Yeah, and what would you have done? Given her bodyguards around-the-clock? Put her in some safe house? The day a cop does me a favor is the day hell freezes over. Not to mention the warrant, of course."
"Is that why you fired at us?" Finn asked.
"Hell, yeah! You think I wasn't going to go down swinging?"
Sheila, still focused on the phone, scanned through the pictures of Irene, her analytical mind kicking into gear. She noticed something in one of the images that caused her breath to catch in her throat.
"Wait," she said, reaching out to tap the screen. "Look at this picture. See the window there? In the reflection, you can see—"
"The person taking the picture," Finn said, frowning intently.
In the window's reflection, Sheila could just barely make out the outline of a large man holding out a phone. His head was covered with something.
Like the hoodie the abductor was wearing, Sheila thought with a shiver.
"We might be staring right at the killer," Natalie murmured.
"I've got a buddy who can track down this number," Finn said. "He can get us an address."
"Let's go," Natalie said, already moving toward the door. She paused to turn back to Blair. "Thank you for your help, Mr. Blair. Someone will be in to speak with you shortly."
Natalie walked out, followed by Finn. As Sheila reached the door, she heard Blair say, "Wait!"
When she turned around, she saw Blair's eyes were locked onto hers, imploring her to understand the gravity of his words.
"That's why I came back to Coldwater," he said. "I had to figure out who was stalking Irene and put an end to it. I know you can't let me go, but please, I beg you—find her."
Sheila could see the raw desperation in Blair's eyes, and it stirred something within her: a fierce protectiveness, an unshakeable resolve to bring Irene home safe and sound.
"Mr. Blair," Sheila began, her voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions churning inside her. "We will do everything in our power to find Irene. That, I promise you."
"Thank you," Blair whispered, relief washing over his face as he slumped back into his chair, his shoulders sagging with the weight of his worry.
With that, Sheila hurried out and caught up with Natalie and Finn.
"Everything alright?" Natalie asked.
Sheila nodded, clenching her jaw. "Let's catch this bastard."
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
"Earl and I go way back," Finn said, his face stoic as usual as he, Sheila, and Natalie approached the front door of the off-grid cabin. "We were fighter pilots together. He was always a reckless risk-taker—that was just his way of living life to its fullest."
Listening to him, Sheila couldn't help but wonder about Finn's past. The idea of him flying through the skies, evading danger, and embracing the adrenaline rush intrigued her, and she wondered how it compared to the thrill of fighting in a ring.
"Sounds like quite a character, this Earl," Natalie said.
"Indeed he is," Finn answered, knocking on the door firmly.
Sheila frowned, wondering if she was missing something. "I'm puzzled," she said. "Don't you have someone at the station who can track down a telephone number?"
Natalie sighed, shaking her head regretfully. She held up two fingers. "Two words: budget cuts. Coldwater isn't exactly the most lucrative county in the state, so we don't have the kind of tech on hand that I'd like. Besides, with something this sensitive, you've got to make sure you get it right, and sometimes that takes a professional."
Sheila nodded, satisfied by this answer—presuming this Earl eventually came to the door, that was.
As they waited for someone to answer, Sheila studied the property. It was an odd mixture of modern technology and rustic simplicity. A sleek solar panel array sat next to a hand-built chicken coop, while an ancient-looking water wheel powered by a nearby creek contrasted with a state-of-the-art satellite dish mounted on the roof. The more she observed, the more she wondered what kind of man Earl was.
This Earl must have some fascinating stories to tell, she thought.
The sudden movement of a cleverly concealed camera caught Sheila's attention. The lens swiveled in their direction, and a disembodied voice crackled through a hidden speaker. "Who's there?"
"Earl, it's Finn," he called out, his tone confident despite the uneasy atmosphere. "This is Sheriff Natalie Stone and her sister Sheila."
A moment of uncertainty hung in the air, thick as molasses, while they waited for a response. Just as Sheila was about to break the silence with a question, the door clicked open on its own, revealing an inviting warmth emanating from within.
"Come on in," Finn said, gesturing for Sheila and Natalie to follow him. They entered the cabin cautiously, stepping into a world that defied expectations. Rustic wooden beams intersected with sleek metal fixtures, while hand-carved furniture stood alongside state-of-the-art appliances. The scent of pine mingled with the hum of technology, creating an atmosphere both comforting and disconcerting.
"Earl's got quite the eclectic taste," Finn remarked, catching Sheila's wide-eyed gaze as she took in the surroundings.
"He certainly does," she agreed, her fingers brushing against the smooth surface of a polished wooden coffee table. She glanced up at the ceiling, where an old-fashioned wood-burning stovepipe snaked its way through the rafters, only to be juxtaposed by a modern smart-home control panel mounted on the wall nearby.
As they ventured farther into the cabin, the dizzying marriage of old and new continued to unfold before their eyes. A well-worn leather armchair sat beneath a digital art display, revealing vibrant images that seemed to dance and change with every second. In the corner, an antique grandfather clock ticked steadily, its pendulum swinging in time with the flicker of LED lights embedded into the cabin's walls.
"Earl sure knows how to blend the past and the present," Natalie said with a hint of admiration. "I've never seen anything quite like this."
"Neither have I," Sheila said, still trying to process the unlikely combination of rustic charm and technological innovation.
Finn arched an eyebrow, a glimmer of pride lighting up his eyes. "You think this is impressive? Wait till you meet the man himself."
The sound of the back door creaking open drew their attention, and a man appeared in the doorway. He was tall, with broad shoulders and a strong build that spoke of physical labor. Sweat glistened on his brow, and he held a maul casually over one shoulder as if it weighed nothing. It was clear that he had been splitting wood outside, but even this hard work couldn't dampen the glimmer of excitement in his eyes when they fell upon Finn.
"Hey there, you old dog!" Earl boomed, crossing the room in just a few strides. He enveloped Finn in a bear hug, lifting him off the ground for a moment before setting him back down.
"Earl, you haven't changed a bit." Finn smiled, patting his friend on the back. Sheila tried to think of whether she'd seen Finn smile before. She wasn't sure. He seemed suddenly natural in Earl's presence, less guarded.
Finn turned to Sheila and Natalie, gesturing toward Earl. "Ladies, I'd like you to meet Earl Baxter."
"Nice to meet you," Sheila said, extending her hand. Natalie followed suit, and Earl shook both their hands with a strength that belied his friendly demeanor.
"Come on in, make yourselves at home!" Earl said, waving them farther into the cabin. As they walked, he noticed Finn's curious gaze lingering on the various technological gadgets scattered throughout the space. "You're wondering about all the tech, huh?"
"Hard not to," Finn said, raising an eyebrow. "Never thought I'd see the day when you'd embrace all this modern stuff."
"Ah, well," Earl replied with a grin, running a hand through his sandy hair. "I've always had a soft spot for innovation. And with all the time on my hands, I figured why not combine the best of both worlds?"
Sheila watched the exchange between Finn and Earl, a hint of curiosity and admiration mingling behind her eyes. She could tell that there was a deep bond between the two men, one that went beyond simple camaraderie.
"Speaking of innovation," Earl continued, his eyes lighting up with excitement. "I've been working on a little project that I think you'll find fascinating, Finn."
"What's that?" Finn asked.
"Come see for yourself!" Earl beckoned them to follow him into another room, where he had a small workbench set up. On it lay a curious-looking device, an intricate combination of wires, gears, and circuitry. Sheila couldn't help but lean in for a closer look.
"It's a solar-powered water purifier," Earl explained, his voice animated and passionate. "I've designed it to be fully self-sufficient. The solar panels collect energy during the day, which is then used to power a small pump that draws water from a nearby stream. As the water passes through the device, it's purified using ultraviolet light, making it safe to drink. And the best part? It doesn't require any batteries or external power sources."
"That's fascinating," Natalie said, but Sheila could see from the tightness in her sister's smile that she was impatient to move along. As charming as this little device might be, it wasn't the purpose for their visit.
Earl, however, didn't seem to notice Natalie's impatience. "Thanks," he said, a proud smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Still got some kinks to work out, but I think it'll be a game changer when it's finished. Something like this could be useful in all kinds of situations: disaster-stricken areas, developing countries where clean water is scarce, and so on."
Sheila nodded. She, too, was beginning to grow restless, ready to focus on the case again.
"Earl, I wish we had more time to discuss your invention," Finn said, his tone apologetic. "But we're on a tight schedule. We need your help tracking down the owner of a phone number. Do you think you can do that?"
Earl's eyes sparkled as he straightened up, clearly excited by the challenge. "Of course! You've come to the right place. Follow me."
He led them out of the workshop and down a narrow hallway lined with framed photographs of vintage aircraft and other memorabilia. Sheila couldn't help but notice the stark contrast between the rustic wooden walls and the high-tech surveillance cameras discreetly mounted in the corners.
At last, they reached a heavy metal door, which Earl unlocked with a fingerprint scanner. The door swung open, revealing a room that seemed to be pulled straight from a science fiction movie. Sleek computer monitors covered every inch of the walls, displaying maps, charts, and live feeds from security cameras. A massive L-shaped desk occupied the center of the room, housing an impressive array of keyboards, computer mice, and other input devices.
"Wow," Sheila said, momentarily forgetting her mission. "You must have spent thousands on all this equipment."
"Try tens of thousands," Earl replied with a wink, clearly proud of his technological haven. He gestured toward a plush leather chair in front of one of the computers. "Please, have a seat."
As she settled into the chair, Sheila marveled at the sheer amount of information available at Earl's fingertips. She'd never encountered anyone so devoted to the pursuit of knowledge and innovation, and she found it both inspiring and slightly intimidating.
"Alright," Finn began, pulling her attention back to their task. "Here's the number we need you to trace." He gave it to Earl.
"Got it," Earl said, tapping away at the keys with a fervor Sheila found both mesmerizing and unnerving. As he worked, he casually mentioned, "I've got a few AI assistants on my side here. Each one specializes in different aspects of data retrieval and analysis. I've even given them names—meet Ada, Turing, and Hopper."
Sheila smiled at the blend of childlike creativity and technological prowess that defined Earl's world. She imagined the AI assistants as invisible helpers, tirelessly sifting through mountains of data in search of the elusive information they sought.
"Okay, here's what I've got," Earl said, breaking into her reverie. "This number is registered to a burner phone, which means it's not tied to any specific individual. However," he continued, his eyes flicking across the various screens in front of him, "I may be able to track down its current location for you."
"Please do," Finn said, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the back of Earl's chair. Natalie stood close by, her brow furrowed in concern.
Earl's fingers flew across the keys. Then all at once he stopped and leaned back, shaking his head sadly.
"What?" Natalie asked, concerned.
"Nothing," he said.
"How's that?" Finn asked.
Earl shrugged. "The phone was probably destroyed. That's what you do with burners, isn't it? Don't want someone like me tracking you down." He chuckled, then realized it was no time for humor. His face grew serious again. "Sorry, Finn."
"It's not your fault," Finn said, his face growing thoughtful. "It was worth a shot, anyway."
"We appreciate your time," Natalie said. She smiled, but Sheila could see the disappointment in her eyes.
A sudden spark of inspiration flickered in Sheila's mind as they prepared to leave Earl's high-tech lair. Her fingers instinctively reached into her pocket, brushing against the familiar texture of Irene Summers's organ donor card. In the whirlwind of their investigation, she'd forgotten to return it to the evidence room at the police station.
"Wait," she said as Finn and Natalie moved toward the door. "Before we go, can you track down another number for us?"
Earl raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Sure, what's the number?"
Sheila unfolded the card and read the digits printed on its worn surface. As Earl typed the number into his system, she explained, "This is Irene Summers's personal phone number. We never found her phone, and it might have important information on it."
"Interesting," Earl mused, his fingers dancing across the keyboard. "Give me a moment, and I'll see what I can find."
As he worked, Sheila's thoughts raced with the possibilities that could unfold if they recovered Irene's phone. Clues, messages, or even a connection to the killer—anything was possible.
"Got it," Earl announced triumphantly. "Looks like the phone's at..." He leaned close to read the screen. "Barron University. Ever been there?"
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Sheila's brow furrowed as she carefully scanned the tall grass beside the road, the GPS coordinates from Earl Baxter burning a hole in her mind. Her fingers brushed against the rough blades, the sensation prickling her skin and heightening her sense of urgency. She couldn't shake the nagging feeling that they were wasting their time, searching for Irene Summers's phone when they ought to have been pursuing other leads. It was already early evening, the shadows getting longer and longer by the minute, and they couldn't afford to lose what little daylight they had left.
"Anything?" Natalie called, stalking along the road a short distance away.
"Nothing yet," Sheila called back, frustration seeping into her tone. Finn, who had been examining the ground farther down the road, shook his head as well.
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