Silent Neighbor (Sheila Stone #9)

EPILOGUE

Sheila gazed out the window of the Coldwater County Sheriff's Department, her mind half-lost in memory as she listened to Finn read off details about the killer whom she and Finn had confronted just two days ago. She shuddered at the memory: the vertigo-inducing height, the desperation in Jessica's eyes, the cold determination of the man they now knew to be Cameron Foster.

Here, in the safety of this office, that confrontation felt almost surreal.

"Forty-two years old, former search-and-rescue climber," Finn said, scanning the file in his hands. "Well-respected in the climbing community for years."

Sheila nodded, recalling the skill Foster had displayed on the cliff. "What changed?" she asked, taking a sip of her coffee. The bitter liquid helped ground her, a reminder that this was real, that they had indeed solved the case that had terrified their community.

Finn sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Tragedy struck about fifteen years ago. Foster was on a climbing expedition with his partner, Linda. They were attempting a notoriously difficult route, aiming to be the youngest team to complete it."

Sheila listened intently as Finn recounted the story that had shaped Foster's twisted worldview. A sudden storm, a moment of inattention, and Linda had fallen to her death. Foster had been left clinging to the cliff face, traumatized and forever changed by the experience.

"After that," Finn continued, "Foster became obsessed with the idea of respecting nature's power. He saw modern climbers, especially those who shared their exploits on social media, as disrespectful to the wilderness."

Sheila shook her head, thinking of the lives lost to Foster's warped sense of justice. "And that's why he targeted his victims?"

Finn nodded grimly. "Exactly. In his mind, he was protecting the sanctity of the wilderness."

They had found the victims' belongings in Foster's trailer—Jake Pearson's phone, Brad Blackwell's watch, and Ellen Reeves' tripod and camera. There was no question Cameron Foster was the killer and that he had acted alone.

Sheila leaned back in her chair, processing the information. "It's hard to imagine someone becoming so twisted by tragedy," she mused. "To go from saving lives to taking them..."

"Grief can do strange things to a person," Finn replied softly. "Foster's experiences shaped his worldview in a way that most of us can't comprehend. He saw himself as a protector, not a murderer."

They sat in silence for a moment, both contemplating the fine line between justice and vengeance, between protection and destruction. Sheila couldn't help but think of her own quest for justice—her mother's unsolved murder, the recent arrest of Eddie Mills. How close had she come to crossing that line herself? What if she were alone in a room with him, and she knew she could get away with anything?

Would she still put her trust in the justice system?

While she was still pondering this hypothetical situation, the door to their office opened. Hank Dawson, the interim sheriff, stepped in, a proud smile on his face. "Great work, you two," he said, his eyes twinkling with barely contained excitement. "Why don't you come out to the main room for a moment?"

Sheila glanced at Finn. He looked puzzled… or was that a smile hiding beneath his frown? Did he know what was going on?

Unsure what to think, Sheila followed Dawson out of the office, while Finn trailed behind her. As she stepped into the main room of the sheriff's department, she was greeted by a burst of applause. The space had been transformed with balloons, streamers, and a large "Congratulations" banner hung across the far wall. The familiar scent of stale coffee was overtaken by the aroma of fresh pastries and the tang of fruit punch.

"You sneaky bastards," Sheila said, shaking her head. She shot Finn an accusing look. "That's why you wanted to go over the case again—keep me trapped in there."

Finn shrugged innocently. "What can I say? I'm a team player."

Dawson grinned, clapping Sheila on the shoulder. "To be fair, this isn't entirely about your excellent work on this case. It's also a bit of a farewell party for me. With the new sheriff election coming up soon, I'll be stepping down."

Sheila felt a pang of sadness at the thought of Dawson leaving, but she could see the relief in his eyes. The interim position had been a heavy burden, one he had never sought.

"Looking forward to more fishing?" she asked with a smile.

Dawson chuckled, his weathered face creasing with genuine joy. "You bet. My old boat's been out of commission for too long. But don't worry," he added, his tone turning serious, "I'll be doing everything I can to support your election. With your family's standing in the community and your recent success, I have very little doubt you'll get the job."

Sheila said nothing. Instead, she took a moment to survey the room, all the smiling faces. These people supported her, believed in her. Who was she to turn them down? She wouldn't make a perfect sheriff, no, but then again neither had Natalie. Neither had her father. She would make mistakes, yes, but she could also learn from them.

Wasn't that really what counted?

I guess I'm doing it, then, she thought, feeling a strange thrill of excitement. Sheriff Sheila Stone.

Feeling lighter than she had in months, Sheila began to mingle with her colleagues. The room buzzed with conversation and laughter, a welcome change from the tension of the past few weeks. As she moved through the crowd, accepting congratulations and sharing stories, she was struck by the sense of community in the department. These people had become more than coworkers; they were a family, united by their shared commitment to protecting Coldwater.

Sheila felt a growing sense of responsibility. If she did become sheriff, these people would be looking to her for leadership.

As she pondered this, a familiar face caught her eye. Star stood near the refreshment table, looking slightly out of place. Surprised and delighted, Sheila hurried over to her.

"Star! How did you get here?" Sheila asked, pulling the teenager into a quick hug.

Star cleared her throat and stepped away, avoiding Sheila's eyes. "Finn told me about the party and sent someone to pick me up. He thought you'd want me here. I have to admit I'm a bit… surprised."

"Surprised?" Sheila frowned. "Why?"

Star shrugged. "Just… what you said before about me finding a more 'permanent' place to live. It's just like… maybe you didn't want me around."

Sheila sighed. Now she understood why Star had stormed off earlier while talking about her Aunt Sarah's offer for her to live in Colorado.

"Star," she said, "listen to me carefully. It's your choice whether or not you take your aunt's offer, but I'm hoping you don't."

Star looked her directly in the eye, confused. "You don't?"

"I want you to continue living with me. On a 'permanent' basis—well, at least until you decide you want to be on your own."

Star just stared at her as if she couldn't quite find the words. Then she threw her arms around Sheila. Sheila hugged her back, smiling.

"You really mean it?" Star whispered.

"I do," Sheila said. "I really do. We can turn the guest room into your permanent space, get you enrolled in school here in Coldwater. It'll be good for both of us."

She continued, her words coming faster as she shared her vision of their future. "We could paint the room whatever color you like, maybe get some new furniture. And I know you love music—we could set up a little studio for you. What do you think?"

Star pulled away, her face lighting up with excitement. "That sounds amazing! I've always wanted my own studio."

Sheila laughed, caught up in Star's enthusiasm. "Maybe you can even teach me how to sing—I could use a hobby that doesn't involve chasing criminals."

Star smiled. "I might be willing to give it a shot."

It felt good to see her looking so carefree, and Sheila immediately knew she'd made the right choice. Before they could discuss the future further, however, Star was distracted by a text. Sheila, glancing around, caught Finn's eye across the room. He drifted over, a soft smile on his face.

"Want to get away for a bit?" he asked, his voice low.

Sheila raised an eyebrow. "Did you have something particular in mind?"

Finn's smile widened. "As a matter of fact, I do."

***

"How'd you find this place?" Sheila asked in surprise as she stared across the clear water of the pristine mountain lake.

The lake was nestled in a valley surrounded by towering pines, their evergreen scent filling the air. In the distance, snow-capped peaks pierced the sky, their jagged silhouettes a reminder of the raw power of nature that Foster had so fatally misunderstood.

Finn, dressed in an athletic shirt and a broken-in baseball cap, shrugged modestly. "I know a guy who knows a guy."

As they prepared to launch their kayaks, Sheila thought back to their conversation during the case, when Finn had expressed his desire to move forward with their relationship, and she had hesitated, unsure if she was ready.

Now, as she watched Finn adjusting the straps on his life vest, Sheila pondered that question again. Would she ever be ready? Or was she letting fear hold her back from something wonderful?

Finn seemed to guess what was on her mind. He cleared his throat, drawing Sheila's attention. "I wanted to apologize for pressuring you before about our relationship. I-"

Sheila cut him off, suddenly certain of what she wanted to say. "Finn, wait. I need to tell you something." She took a deep breath, gathering her courage. "I want a future with you. A real future. And I'm ready for it, whatever that looks like."

Finn's eyes widened in surprise and joy. Sheila continued, her voice growing stronger with each word. "Life is short, Finn. We've seen that firsthand. And it's important to take risks for the people you love. This is a risk, but it's one worth taking."

She thought of her sister Natalie, her life cut tragically short. Of Jake, Brad, and Ellen, whose lives had been stolen by a twisted sense of justice. Of her mother, whose murder had shaped so much of Sheila's life. "We can't take anything for granted," she said softly. "I don't want to look back and regret not taking this chance with you."

Finn pulled her into a tight embrace, his voice thick with emotion. "I love you, Sheila. I'm so happy to hear you say that."

As they held each other, the beauty of the landscape surrounding them seemed to mirror the joy they felt. The towering pines, the crystal-clear water, the distant peaks still capped with snow—it all felt like a promise of the adventures to come.

"You know," Finn said as they finally pulled apart, "maybe we should think about moving in together."

Sheila laughed, feeling lighter than she had in years. "One step at a time, Mercer. But I like the way you think." She paused, considering. "Though with Star living with me now, we might need to look for a bigger place anyway."

Finn nodded, his expression turning serious. "How are you feeling about that? Taking on guardianship of a teenager is a big responsibility."

Sheila sighed, looking out over the lake. "It is," she agreed. "But it feels right. Star needs stability, a chance at a normal life. And honestly, I think I need her too. She reminds me that there's more to life than just the job."

They pushed their kayaks into the clear, cool water, the gentle lapping sounds mixing with the crunch of pebbles beneath their feet. As Sheila settled into her seat, adjusting her life vest, she watched Finn's practiced movements, admiring the ease with which he handled his paddle.

"So," Finn began, his voice carrying easily across the still morning air, "what do you think about the idea of becoming sheriff? Excited? Nervous?"

Sheila dipped her paddle into the water, propelling herself forward with smooth, even strokes. "Both, I think," she replied, her brow furrowing slightly. "It's a big responsibility. I keep thinking about my dad, wondering if I can live up to his legacy. Or Natalie's, for that matter."

Finn nodded, keeping pace beside her. "I get that. But you know, you don't have to be your dad or your sister. You'll be your own kind of sheriff."

A family of ducks glided past, the mother leading a line of fluffy ducklings. Sheila and Finn paused their conversation, watching the peaceful scene in companionable silence.

They paddled in silence for a while, the rhythmic sound of their paddles cutting through the water creating a soothing melody. A fish jumped into the air and then disappeared again.

"What about you?" Sheila asked eventually, glancing over at Finn. "Any big plans or dreams I should know about?"

Finn chuckled, a slight flush coloring his cheeks. "Well, there's this amazing woman I'm hoping to build a future with," he said, his eyes twinkling. "Maybe buy a house, get a dog..."

Sheila laughed, the sound bright and clear in the morning air. "A dog, huh? Not something big and slobbery, I hope."

"We'll negotiate," Finn replied with a grin.

As they passed a small island, Sheila's phone buzzed with an incoming message. She pulled it out, her heart skipping a beat as she read the text.

"What is it?" Finn asked, noticing her sudden tension.

Sheila looked up, a mix of emotions playing across her face. "It's about Eddie Mills, the man we arrested for my mother's murder. He just tried to kill himself."