Page 19 of Silent Stalker

“Just tired.” I take another sip of coffee, willing my hands to stop shaking.

My phone lights up with another text from Silas. I flip it face down, but the damage is done. Fresh heat pools between my legs as I remember his touch.

A knock at the door makes me jump.

“Special delivery.” That deep voice sends shivers down my spine.

Silas stands in the doorway, holding a paper bag from my favorite deli. Those crystalline eyes capture mine, making my breath catch. He’s wearing a charcoal suit that hugs his broad shoulders, looking every inch the powerful finance executive.

“I thought you might be hungry.” He crosses to my desk in long strides.

Before I can react, he bends down and presses his lips to my cheek. His cologne wraps around me, making my head spin. His mouth lingers a beat too long, his breath hot against my skin.

James clears his throat. My face burns as I remember we’re not alone.

“Oh, sorry.” Silas straightens, turning to James with an easy smile. “I’m Silas Knight. Clara’s...” He trails off, raising an eyebrow at me.

I want to sink through the floor. What are we? After one dinner and that kiss...

“We’re seeing each other,” I manage to squeak out.

James’s eyebrows shoot up. I’ve never mentioned dating anyone since moving back.

“Well, I’ll let you get back to work.” Silas sets the bag on my desk, fingers brushing mine. “Text me later?”

I nod, not trusting my voice. As he leaves, I catch James staring at me with his mouth hanging open.

“Silas Knight, huh?”

I busy myself with the lunch bag, hoping he can’t see how badly I’m blushing.

James shuffles papers on his desk, stealing glances at me. “So, how long have you been seeing him?”

“It’s new.” I focus on my sandwich, avoiding his gaze. The way his jaw tightens tells me everything I need to know about his feelings.

“Just... be careful, Clara. With everything going on-”

“I can handle my personal life, James.” The words come out sharper than intended.

He holds up his hands in surrender. “You’re right. Not my business.”

The tension eases as we return to work, but I catch him watching me with concern. After an hour of reviewing case files, his phone rings. The color drains from his face.

“Where?” He grabs his keys. “We’ll be right there.”

My stomach drops. “Another one?”

“Yeah.” His voice is grim. “Found at the jewelry store on Main.”

“Shit, we should have thought of warning the jewelers in the area. Five gold rings.” I shake my head, frustrated that I didn’t think of it before.

We pull up to Evergreen Jewelers amid a sea of flashing lights. The store’s display window is shattered, glass crunching under our feet as we enter.

The victim lies on the carpet, surrounded by five golden rings arranged in a perfect circle around his head. His dead eyes stare unseeing at the ceiling, mouth frozen in a silent scream. Blood has soaked into the cream-colored carpet, turning it rust-brown.

“Store owner found him when she opened up,” an officer reports. “David Lovell, twenty-five. Worked here part-time.”

I crouch beside the body, studying the precise placement of the rings. They’re identical, simple gold bands positioned exactly two inches apart.

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