Silent Neighbor (Sheila Stone #9)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Sheila stared at Star, her mind struggling to process the teenager's words. "You... don't want to go?" she repeated, confused. "I don't understand. I thought you'd be happy to have a more permanent living situation."

Star's face flushed, her eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape. "It's not that," she mumbled, her fingers twisting the hem of her shirt. "I just... I don't..."

Sheila watched as the normally self-assured teenager seemed to shrink into herself, struggling to articulate her feelings. It was a reminder of just how young Star really was, despite her usual air of independence.

"Hey, it's okay," Sheila said softly, trying to put the girl at ease. "Is it about starting over somewhere new? I know that can be scary."

Star's head snapped up, her eyes flashing with a mixture of frustration and hurt. "No! That's not…" She sighed, shaking her head. "Forget it."

Before Sheila could respond, Star was on her feet, storming out of the room. The slam of her bedroom door echoed through the house, leaving Sheila sitting alone on the couch, bewildered by the sudden turn of events.

Sheila sighed heavily, running a hand through her hair. What had just happened? She'd thought she was starting to understand Star, to build a connection with her. But clearly, she'd misread the situation entirely.

She rose and approached Star's bedroom door. She raised her hand to knock, then hesitated. Maybe this was the wrong approach. Star probably needed time to cool down—Sheila remembered how emotional she herself had been as a teenager.

As she turned away from the door, a familiar urge tugged at her, the desire for a drink to take the edge off her confusion and frustration. The memory of her last case flashed through her mind—how she'd nearly jeopardized everything with her sudden drinking binge. No, she couldn't go down that road again.

Instead, Sheila found herself grabbing her keys and heading outside. The cool night air hit her face in a wave, clearing her head slightly. Without really thinking about it, she found herself driving toward her father's gym.

The streets were nearly empty at this hour, the occasional streetlight casting pools of yellow light on the deserted sidewalks. As she drove, Sheila's mind wandered back to her childhood, to countless evenings spent at the gym with her father and Natalie. It had been their second home, a place of sweat and determination and family.

She pulled up in front of the familiar building, its weathered brick facade a comforting sight. The gym was dark and locked up for the night, but Sheila knew where her father kept the spare key. She retrieved it from its hiding place and let herself in, the door creaking softly as it opened.

The interior of the gym was shadowy and quiet, a pleasant reprieve from the bustling energy of Sheila's day. Sheila flicked on a single light, casting a soft glow over the space. The scent of leather and sweat lingered in the air, a smell that instantly transported her back in time.

She walked slowly around the perimeter of the main room, her fingers trailing along the ropes of the boxing ring. Heavy bags hung silently from the ceiling, waiting for the next day's workouts. In one corner, a rack of weights gleamed dully in the low light.

Sheila paused in front of a wall covered in photos—a visual history of the gym and its fighters. Her eyes were drawn to a picture of herself and Natalie as teenagers, both grinning widely after a successful tournament. Natalie's arm was slung around Sheila's shoulders, her smile radiating pride in her younger sister.

A lump formed in Sheila's throat as she gazed at the photo. She felt closer to Natalie here, surrounded by the memories they'd shared. What would her sister say if she could see her now? How would she handle the weight of responsibility that seemed to be crushing Sheila?

She thought about Star, about the people of Coldwater who were depending on her to solve this case and keep them safe. Even Finn wanted something from her—a commitment she wasn't sure she was ready to give. It all felt overwhelming, like too much for one person to bear.

Sheila found herself wishing desperately that she could talk to Natalie now, learn from her experience as sheriff. How had she balanced it all? How had she found the strength to carry the weight of an entire community on her shoulders?

But Natalie was gone, and Sheila was left to figure it out on her own. It was unfair, yes, but nothing she did could change that.

"Would you be proud of the person I've become?" she murmured. "Proud of who I'm trying to become, what I'm trying to do?"

She was pulled from her thoughts by the sudden ringing of her phone. Startled, she fumbled to answer it, her voice slightly breathless as she spoke. "Stone here."

"Deputy Stone? It's Dwayne," came the excited voice of the IT specialist. "I've got something for you. I was able to track down that IP address."