Page 78 of Whispers in the Night

But he didn’t.

At eleven-thirty, Holloway called them into his office. “That’s it. We’re done. Pull all teams back.”

“Captain—”

“We’ve been following this guy for three days. He’s done nothing but live his life. Suspicious? Sure. Criminal? We have no proof.” Holloway scratched the scruff on his jaw. “I’m not saying Webb is off our radar. We’ll keep an eye on him. But I can’t justify this level of resources any longer.”

Harper wanted to argue, but she knew he was right. They’d gambled on Webb being their killer and lost. Or at least, they hadn’t won yet.

“What about the fiber evidence?” Silas asked. “Did the FBI lab come back with anything?”

“Still pending. Should have results by tomorrow.” Holloway looked at them both. “Go home. Get real rest. We’ll regroup Monday morning with fresh eyes and new strategies.”

Harper’s shoulders sagged, but she knew he was right. They needed a break—everyone did. Outside the station, she felt the weight of failure pressing down on her. Three days of intensive surveillance. Dozens of officers working around the clock. And they were exactly where they’d started.

“It’s not over,” Silas said, reading her expression. “We’re still building the case. Still gathering evidence.”

“While he’s out there planning his next kill.” Harper leaned against their car. “Five women dead in ten days, then nothing for four days. He’s either gone to ground or he’s planning something big.” Or worse. He could be out there killing indiscriminately and they just hadn’t found the bodies yet.

“Then we figure out which and stop him.” Silas opened the passenger door for her. “But not today. Today we rest.”

The drive back to the cabin was quiet. Harper stared out the window as had become habit, her mind churning through evidence and theories and dead ends. They were missing something. Some connection that would make everything click into place.

At the cabin, Silas headed straight for the kitchen. “I’m making lunch. Real food. You’re going to eat it.”

“I’m not hungry,” she groused, her appetite effectively dead from the sheer stress of the investigation.

“Don’t care. Sit.”

She glared at his back, wanting to be angry that he was being so pushy and demanding. But then she knew he was coming from a position of caring, and her anger deflated.

Harper sat, watching as Silas pulled out ingredients with the ease of someone who’d done this a thousand times. There was something soothing about watching him cook, about the normalcy of it in the midst of chaos.

“Talk to me,” Silas said as he chopped vegetables. “What’s going through your head?”

“That we’re failing,” she said honestly. “That every day we don’t catch him is another day he’s selecting his next victim. That five women are dead and it’s my fault.”

“It’s not your fault,” he said automatically, flicking her a serious look over his shoulder.

“Isn’t it though? He’s fixated on me. Every victim looks like me. They’re dying because I exist.”

Silas set down his knife and turned to face her fully. “They’re dying because he’s a psychopath who chooses to kill. That’s on him. Not you.”

“I gave that press conference in Nevada,” she pressed on. “I made myself a target.”

“You did your job. You explained the profile to help catch a killer. How were you supposed to know he’d fixate on you?” Silas moved closer. “Harper, you can’t control other people’s actions. You can only control your own. And you’re doing everything possible to stop him.”

“It’s not enough.”

“It never feels like enough,” he said softly. “I know. I’ve been there.” Silas took her hands, pulling her to her feet. “After Afghanistan, after my team died, I spent months thinking about what I could have done differently. What I should have seen. How I could have prevented it. It nearly destroyed me.”

She stared up into his eyes. “What changed?”

“I realized that guilt was a luxury. That if I spent all my energy feeling guilty, I had nothing left to actually make a difference.” His thumbs traced circles on the backs of her hands. “The best way to honor the people we’ve lost is to save the people we can. To keep fighting.”

Harper felt tears prick her eyes. “I’m so tired of fighting.”

“I know. Me too.” Silas pulled her into his arms, held her tight. “But we don’t stop. We rest, we regroup, we keep going.”