Page 28 of Whispers in the Night

“How do you deal with it?”

He blinked and was back from wherever he’d traveled to. “Work, mostly. Exercise. Staying busy enough that I don’t have time to think.” He shrugged. “And therapy, when I can make myself go. It helps. Sometimes.”

Harper nodded. She’d been to therapy too. Talked about Michael, about the guilt, about the nightmares. Her therapist said it would get better with time. Harper wasn’t convinced.

“Come on,” Silas said, standing. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

“I’m fine—”

“There’s a serial killer out there who’s fixated on you. You’re not going anywhere alone.” His tone left no room for argument.

So Harper packed up her things and let Silas escort her to the parking lot. The rain had stopped, leaving the streets wet andgleaming under the streetlights. Her SUV was one of only three vehicles left in the lot.

“Drive careful,” Silas said. “Text me when you get to the cabin so I know you made it.”

“You don’t have my number.”

He rattled it off from memory, surprising her. “I have everyone’s number who’s connected to this case. Text me. I mean it.”

Harper felt something warm bloom in her chest. “Okay,” she said softly. “I will.”

She climbed into her SUV, started the engine, and pulled out of the lot. In her rearview mirror, she could see Silas standing there, watching her go. Making sure she left safely.

The drive to the cabin took thirty minutes, winding through dark forest roads that suddenly felt more ominous than peaceful. Harper kept checking her mirrors, looking for headlights, for any sign that she was being followed.

Nothing. Just darkness and trees and her own paranoia.

At the cabin, she checked every lock twice, turned on all the lights, and texted Silas like he’d asked.Made it home safe.

His response came immediately.Good. Lock your doors. Set your alarm. I’ll pick you up at 7am.

You don’t have to—

7am. Don’t argue.

Harper smiled despite herself. Silas Kane was bossy, territorial, and made it clear he didn’t trust her. But he also made sure she got home safe, checked that she’d locked her doors, and planned to pick her up in the morning so she wouldn’t have to drive alone.

Complicated. He was complicated.

Harper changed into pajamas, washed her face, and climbed into bed. She didn’t expect to sleep, but exhaustion pulled her under almost immediately.

And this time, when the nightmares came, they weren’t about Michael.

They were about a killer with a knife, carving symbols into skin, whispering her name in the darkness.

I’m waiting, Harper. I’m waiting for you.

Chapter 6

Silas picked Harper up at exactly seven a.m., coffee in hand—black for him, vanilla latte for her. He’d asked Morris last night what she drank, claiming it was relevant to the case. Morris had given him a look that said he wasn’t buying it, but he’d provided the information anyway.

Harper climbed into the passenger seat looking like she’d slept about as well as he had—which was to say, not at all. Dark circles under her eyes, hair pulled back in a hasty ponytail, but her eyes were sharp and focused.

“Thanks,” she said, taking the coffee. “You didn’t have to.”

“Consider it a peace offering for being an asshole yesterday.”

She blinked at him over the rim of her cup. “Are you...apologizing?”