Page 19 of Silent Home (Sheila Stone #13)

Sitting in his basement workspace, surrounded by carefully organized shelves of audition tapes, he adjusted the volume on his private viewing station.

The small TV cast a blue glow over his collection—hundreds of tapes, each one meticulously labeled and dated.

Some went back decades, copied from the original reels before digital took over.

Sarah Martinez appeared in his third tape of the morning.

Even in the harsh fluorescent lighting of the audition room, she had a presence—the kind that made you lean forward, hold your breath, and forget you were watching a recording.

Her take on Elena in "Southwestern Gothic" was revelatory.

Where other actresses played the character's madness big and theatrical, Sarah found the quiet horror in it.

The way she delivered the climactic monologue about her father's ghost, barely above a whisper...

He'd been eight when he first discovered the transformative power of cinema.

Hiding in the basement of the local theater while his father raged upstairs in their apartment, he'd watch the same films over and over, learning how people could become someone else entirely.

How they could escape. The projectionist—an older man named Ray—had let him stay, recognizing something in the quiet boy who memorized every line, every gesture.

By twelve, he was studying acting techniques. By sixteen, he was filming his own short movies with a borrowed camera. But his true talent lay in recognizing potential in others. He could watch an audition and see exactly what an actor was capable of, if only given the right direction.

Like Sarah. She understood Elena in a way the others didn't and brought layers of subtext to every line.

But they'd given the role to Jessica Kent instead—a safer choice, someone with more festival credits to her name.

"Southwestern Gothic" was supposed to premiere tonight, though the precipitous shutdown of the festival would change that.

Still, it didn't change the mistake the casting crew had made.

He paused the tape on Sarah's face and consulted his notes.

She was still in town—he'd seen her at the Mountain View Hotel bar last night, drowning her disappointment about the festival's cancellation.

The role of Elena should have been hers.

That scene in the bell tower, when Elena finally confronts her father's ghost..

.it could have been magnificent with the right staging.

He glanced at his worktable where the gaffer's wire gleamed under the basement's single bulb. Sarah deserved that role. Deserved to have her moment.

And he could give it to her. Could help her deliver the performance she was born to give.

Just like he'd helped the others.

He ejected the tape and returned it to its place in his collection, each one representing someone's dream, someone's chance at transformation. Then he began to plan how he would create Sarah's perfect scene.

After all, the show must go on.