Page 94 of Whispers in the Night

“He’s talking to her,” Silas said, leaning closer to the screen.

The conversation appeared casual, professional. Sutton showed his badge, asked questions—probably something routine about security or safety concerns. The young woman smiled, nodded, answered his questions.

She had no idea she was talking to a serial killer.

After five minutes, Sutton thanked her and left. Returned to his patrol car and drove away.

“He was selecting her,” Harper said. “Getting a closer look, seeing if she fits his criteria.”

“Or he was doing legitimate police work, checking on the gym’s security after multiple murders,” Holloway countered, clearly playing devil’s advocate when they all knew he was their guy. “We can’t arrest him for doing his job.”

“We need to warn her,” Harper said. “That woman at the gym. She needs to know she’s in danger.”

“And say what? ‘One of our officers might be a serial killer, so be careful’?” Holloway shook his head. “That creates panic, tips our hand, and possibly taints any future case against Sutton.”

“So we just let her be at risk?”

“We watch her. Surveillance team follows her when she leaves the gym. We make sure Sutton doesn’t get near her again.” Holloway’s tone was firm. “I know this is frustrating. But we’re doing everything we can without compromising the investigation.”

Harper wanted to argue, but she knew it was pointless. They were trapped between the need to catch Sutton and the need to build a case that would actually hold up in court.

At midnight, Sutton’s shift ended. He returned to the station, checked in his patrol car, and drove home in his personal vehicle—a dark-blue sedan, ten years old, unremarkable.

Surveillance followed him to his apartment. He went inside and the lights went out twenty minutes later.

“Day shift takes over at six a.m.,” Morris said. “We’ve got eyes on him all night.”

Harper and Silas finally left the station around one a.m., both exhausted but too wired to sleep. At the cabin, Harper paced the small living room while Silas made tea.

“We’re so close,” she said. “The GPS data, the fiber evidence, the employment history—it’s all there. Why can’t we just arrest him?”

“You know why. Because circumstantial evidence isn’t enough for a murder conviction. We need physical proof—DNA, fingerprints, something that directly ties him to a victim.” Silas handed her a mug of chamomile tea. “The vehicle samples will help. If Amanda’s DNA is in that patrol car in places it shouldn’t be, that’s our smoking gun.”

“Forty-eight hours,” Harper said, warming her hands on the mug. “Two more days of watching him patrol, watching him select potential victims, knowing what he is and not being able to stop him.”

“We are stopping him. By watching, by documenting, by making sure he doesn’t get an opportunity to kill again.” Silas pulled her down to sit on the couch beside him. “I know it feels like we’re being passive. But we’re not. We’re being strategic.”

Harper leaned against him, letting his warmth and solidity ground her. “What if the DNA comes back negative? What if the patrol car doesn’t have Amanda’s DNA?”

Silas swallowed down some of the tea before answering. “Then we keep building the case with what we have. The employment history, the evidence tampering, the GPS data. It might take longer, but we’ll get there.”

“And meanwhile, he kills again.”

“Not if we’re watching his every move.” Silas draped an arm around her shoulder and gave her a squeeze. “We’ve got this, Harper. We’re going to catch him.”

Harper wanted to believe that. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that they were running out of time. That Sutton was planning something, building toward some climax that they couldn’t see yet.

She thought about the woman at the gym. About how easily Sutton had approached her, how naturally he’d played the role of concerned officer. That woman had no idea how close she’d come to becoming a victim.

How many other women had Sutton talked to in the past two weeks? How many had he evaluated and dismissed as not quite right? How many were on his list for future consideration?

“I can’t stop thinking about the bait plan,” Harper said quietly.

Silas went very still. “No.”

“Hear me out—”

“No. Absolutely not. We’ve been over this.”