Page 38 of Whispers in the Night

“It’s fine.” Silas was already doing his own scan of the space, checking windows, exits, sight lines. Military habits. “You have an alarm system?”

“Basic one. I’ll give you the code.”

“Good. We’ll set it every night. And I’m a light sleeper, so if anything happens, I’ll hear it.”

They stood there awkwardly, neither quite sure what to do now. This was crossing a line—moving from professional partners to something more intimate, even if the intimacy was just shared living space.

“I should show you the bedroom,” Harper said finally.

She led him down the short hall to the guest room—small but clean, with a double bed and a dresser. Silas set his bag on the bed, unzipping it to reveal clothes, toiletries, and a gun safe.

“You sleep armed?” Harper asked.

“Old habit.” He looked at her. “You should too. You have your service weapon?”

“I’m on leave. I’m not authorized—”

“I got you authorized this afternoon. Holloway fast-tracked it after the second note.” Silas pulled a holster and weapon from his bag. “Glock 19. Loaded, safety on. Keep it on your nightstand. If anything happens, you shoot first and ask questions later. Clear?”

Harper took the offered weapon, her fingers grazing his palm, checking it automatically and ignoring the way her stomach dropped slightly at the brief contact. “Clear.”

“Good.” Silas’s voice was gentle now. “I know this is weird. I know you didn’t want protection. But Harper...” He waited until she met his eyes. “I’m not losing anyone else on my watch. Especially not you.”

The words hung between them, loaded with meaning Harper wasn’t ready to examine.

“Especially not me?” she repeated quietly.

Silas looked away. “You’re my partner on this case. That makes you my responsibility.”

Partner.That word again. But Harper heard what he wasn’t saying. Heard the concern in his voice, saw the way his hands had fisted at his sides when he’d seen Nicole’s body. Saw the protectiveness that went beyond professional obligation.

Something had changed between them. In the parking lot during surveillance, in the conversations over terrible diner food, in the hours spent working side by side. The hostility had faded, replaced by understanding. By connection.

By something that felt dangerously close to trust.

“I’m not going to lie to you,” Harper said, folding her arms over her chest, closing as much of herself off as she could as the words tumbled from her mouth. “Part of me wants to just walk out there and dare him to come after me. End this. Finish it. No more waiting, no more women dying in my place.”

“I know. I feel the same way sometimes. Walk into danger because at least then it’s on your terms.” Silas moved closer, those cool-blue eyes soft, open, filled with understanding that made Harper hold her breath. “But that’s trauma talking. That’s guilt and PTSD and survivor’s instinct telling us we deserve to be punished. It’s not rational.”

“Since when is anything about this job rational?”

“Fair point.” He smiled slightly, cracking that rigid demeanor he wore like armor. “But we’re going to catch him, Harper. The right way. Without getting you killed in the process.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

God, she wanted to believe him. Wanted to trust that they could solve this case, stop the killer, save future victims—all without her becoming another body with symbols carved into the skin.

But she’d seen the note.I’ll be ready soon.

Time was running out.

“I should try to sleep,” Harper said, hugging herself a little tighter. “Even though I know I won’t.”

“Nightmares?”

“Always.” She turned on her heel and headed toward her bedroom, then paused. “Silas? Thank you. For...all of this.”