Page 65 of Whispers in the Night

“What about it?”

“What if we’re thinking about this wrong? What if the endgame isn’t about catching me or killing me? What if it’s about something else entirely?”

His brows pulled together. “Like what?”

“I don’t know. But the positioning of Rachel Kim—hands crossed like she’s sleeping, purse left so we’d identify her quickly, the change in ritual. He’s trying to tell me something. Show me something.” Harper stood, pacing the small room. “Every victim is a message. And I’m not reading it correctly.”

Silas was quiet for a moment, thinking. “Tomorrow, let’s go through all the crime scene photos again. Look at them not as individual murders but as a sequence. See if there’s a progression we’re missing.”

“Okay.”

“But right now, you need to rest. Even if you can’t sleep, you need to lie down, close your eyes, let your brain reset.” Silasstood. “I’ll stay if you want. Sit in the chair, keep watch. Make sure the nightmares stay away.”

Harper wanted to say no. Wanted to maintain her independence, her strength, her professional boundaries. But she was so tired of being alone with her thoughts, so tired of fighting everything by herself.

“Okay,” she said quietly.

Silas settled into the room’s single armchair, pulling it closer to the bed. Harper lay down, pulling the blanket over herself, hyperaware of his presence just a few feet away.

“Thank you,” she said into the darkness.

“For what?”

“For not leaving. For staying when anyone else would have asked for a transfer by now. For...” She trailed off, not sure how to finish.

“For caring about you?” Silas’s voice was gentle. “Harper, I’m not going anywhere. Not until we catch this bastard. Not until you’re safe.”

“And after?”

“After, we’ll figure it out.”

Harper closed her eyes, Silas’s presence a comforting anchor in the darkness. For the first time in days, she felt like maybe she could sleep without the nightmares.

And if she couldn’t, at least she wouldn’t face them alone.

Chapter 13

Harper woke to sunlight streaming through the motel curtains and the smell of coffee. She blinked, disoriented for a moment, then remembered—motel, not cabin. Nightmare. Silas staying.

She sat up and found him still in the armchair, awake now, two cups of coffee on the small table beside him. He looked rumpled and tired, his dark hair sticking up in several directions, but his blue eyes were alert.

“You stayed all night,” Harper said.

“You didn’t have any more nightmares. Seemed to be working.” Silas handed her one of the coffees. “It’s six-thirty. We’ve got thirty minutes before Holloway expects us.”

Harper sipped the coffee—black, strong, exactly how she liked it. “Thank you. For last night.”

“Anytime.” Silas stood, stretching. “I’m going to grab a shower and change. Meet you in the parking lot in twenty?”

“Yeah.”

After Silas left through the adjoining door, Harper took her own quick shower and tried to prepare herself mentally for another day of hunting a monster.

Five victims in seven days. And they were no closer to catching him.

***

The station was already buzzing when they arrived. Morris and Holt were hunched over computers, Sanchez had the tech station covered in monitors, and Captain Holloway looked like he’d been there all night.