Page 51 of Whispers in the Night

The forensics team worked until nearly one a.m., bagging evidence, dusting for prints that wouldn’t be there. When everyone finally left, Harper and Silas were alone again.

The cabin felt too quiet. Too empty.

Harper couldn’t stop thinking about the note, about the woman screaming somewhere while they stood here safe and warm.

“You should try to sleep,” Silas said.

“Right. Because that’s happening,” she said with a snort.

“Harper—”

“Please.” She held up a hand. “Don’t tell me it’s going to be okay. Don’t tell me to rest.” Harper moved to the window, stared out at darkness. “I can’t fall apart right now. I need to stay angry. If I stop being angry, I’ll start feeling guilty, and if I feel guilty, I won’t be able to function.”

She felt Silas come up behind her, felt the warmth of his presence. His hand settled on her shoulder, gentle and grounding.

“We’ll find him,” he said softly. “Together.”

Harper closed her eyes, leaned back slightly into his touch. For just a moment, she let herself take comfort from his strength.

“Together,” she whispered.

Outside, the forest was dark and silent. Somewhere out there, a killer was watching. Waiting. Always three steps ahead.

But Harper Sinclair had spent five years hunting monsters. She’d failed before. She’d lost people before. She’d carried guilt that should have broken her.

But she was still standing. Still fighting.

And this time, she had Silas Kane at her side.

This time, she wasn’t alone.

Chapter 10

The call came at four a.m.

Harper jerked awake at the first ring, her hand already reaching for the phone on the nightstand. Years of FBI work had trained her body to go from deep sleep to full alertness in seconds. Across the cabin in the armchair where he’d insisted on keeping watch, Silas was already on his feet, weapon in hand before Harper could blink.

“Sinclair,” Harper answered, her voice rough with sleep she’d barely gotten.

“We’ve got another body.” Captain Holloway’s voice was grim, weighted with the exhaustion they were all feeling. “Downtown parking garage, Third and Superior. You need to see this one.”

Harper’s blood ran cold. Her free hand gripped the edge of the mattress. “How long?”

“Security guard found her twenty minutes ago. Called it in immediately. ME’s estimating time of death around midnight, give or take an hour.”

Midnight. Just hours after they’d found the note taped to her door. While Harper had been standing on her porch reading those words—she’s screaming right now as I write this—the killer had been keeping his promise. He’d been making good on his threat while she’d been drinking tea and trying to convince herself to sleep.

“We’re on our way,” Harper said, already swinging her legs out of bed.

She was dressed in under two minutes—jeans, FBI windbreaker, boots laced tight. Silas was ready even faster, both of them moving with the practiced efficiency of people who’d rushed to too many crime scenes in the dead of night. They didn’t speak. What was there to say? Another woman was dead because Harper had tried to trap a killer and failed.

The drive downtown took fifteen minutes through streets still dark and mostly empty. A few delivery trucks, a street sweeper, the occasional taxi carrying someone home from a late shift. Normal people living normal lives while monsters walked among them.

Harper kept seeing the note in her mind. Kept hearing those words echoing:Every cut is your fault, Harper.

“It’s not,” Silas said quietly, breaking the silence.

“What?”