Page 14 of Silent Stalker

James's face pales. He was there, too, back then. He lost his sister to the Songbird Killer.

"I'll have them pull everything," he says, his voice rough. "But Clara, are you sure you want to go down that road?"

"We don't have a choice, James. If we ignore the connection and it turns out to be him, or even a copycat, more people will die." I wrap my arms around myself, fighting off the December chill. "Think about it. Both killers chose music as their signature. Both created elaborate crime scenes. The positioning, the attention to detail..."

James runs his hands through his hair, his breath forming clouds in the cold air. "You're right. And if there's even achance..." He pulls out his phone and dials the station. "Yeah, Martinez? I need all the case files from the Songbird murders. Everything we've got. Photos, witness statements, autopsy reports. I want the whole deal." He pauses, listening. "I don't care if they're in deep storage. Get them."

The church bells toll in the distance, making me jump. Four bodies. Four calling birds. The killer's pace is increasing.

"They'll have everything ready by the time we get there," James keys his radio. “This is Detective Marsden. The scene's secure. CSU can start processing." He turns to me. Let's head back to the station. We can set up in the conference room and spread everything out."

"Good. I want to compare the victims' profiles and see if we missed any overlap." I follow him to his car, my mind racing through the old case details. "The Songbird Killer targeted kids. This one's going after adults. If it is the same person, why change the victim type?"

"Maybe that's why we never caught him." James starts the engine. "He evolved, adapted. Changed his patterns to stay ahead."

"Or maybe it's someone who studied his methods. Someone who wanted to perfect them."

James pulls away from the curb, leaving the church and its four victims behind us. "Either way, those files might be our best shot at getting ahead of him."

I nod, watching the snow-covered streets pass by. Twenty year old cold case files might hold the key to stopping this Christmas nightmare.

James's hand brushes mine as he passes me a coffee from the console. "You holding up okay? I know these cases bring back memories."

"I'm managing." I take a sip, the warmth spreading through my chest.

"Remember when we used to get milkshakes at Dixon's after school? You always got strawberry."

I smile despite myself. "And you always stole my cherry."

"Hey, I earned those cherries. Who walked you home every day after the Songbird stuff started?"

His vigilant protection has stayed the same. Even now, his broad shoulders and steady presence remind me of safer times. James is everything I should want—strong, dependable, honest, the kind of man who'd never let anything bad happen to me.

My phone buzzes. A text from Silas:

Thinking of you.

My pulse quickens as I read those three simple words. Something dangerous about Silas draws me in—his eyes hold secrets, and his touch leaves me breathless. He's a puzzle I want to solve.

"Earth to Clara." James waves his hand in front of my face. "Lost you there for a minute."

"Sorry, just... processing the case."

"You know I'm here if you need anything, right? Not just as your partner on this case."

His genuine concern twists like a knife in my chest. James represents safety, stability, and everything I should desire.

"Thanks, James." I squeeze his arm, grateful for his steady presence as we pull into the precinct parking lot.

Martinez meets us at the door, arms loaded with dusty boxes. "Found everything we had on the Songbird cases. Some of these files are pretty fragile."

We commandeer the conference room, spreading decades-old crime scene photos across the table. My stomach churns at the familiar images. Rose in her ring of roses, Tommy suspended from the playground equipment, Jessica among the lambs.

"Look at this." I point to a detail in Rose’s autopsy report. "The cuts were made with surgical precision. Just like our Christmas victims."

James leans over my shoulder, his coffee breath warm against my neck. "Same depth, same angle. Could be the same type of blade."

"The positioning too." I lay out photos from both cases side by side. "Everything's mathematical. The bodies are arranged at perfect angles, equal distances apart."

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