Page 30 of Silent Stalker

The bruises under my scarf throb, reminding me of last night's activities. It was not exactly restful sleep. "I'm fine."

"You're not fine. This case is eating you alive." He lowers his voice. “You should take a break and visit your dad.”

Dad. Guilt crashes over me like a wave. I haven't been to Evergreen Falls Care Home in days, not since finding that first body.

"He probably doesn't even notice I'm gone." The words taste bitter. "The nurses say he barely remembers his own name anymore."

"That's not the point, and you know it."

I turn away from his concerned gaze, focusing on the crime scene. But the precise angles and careful positioning swim before my eyes, refusing to reveal their secrets. My brain is wrapped in cotton, thoughts moving like molasses.

"I can't step away, James. Not now. Not when we're this close to..." To what? Understanding? Catching the killer? The truth dances just out of reach, mocking me.

"Take a break, Clara. That's an order." James's voice carries the authority of his position. "You're dead on your feet, and we both know you can't solve this running on fumes."

I open my mouth to argue, but exhaustion weighs down my bones. The crime scene blurs at the edges of my vision. "Fine. But I didn't bring my car."

"I'll drive you home." James pulls out his keys.

The thought of my empty house, with its lingering memories of last night, makes my skin crawl. I adjust my scarf, hiding the evidence of Silas's possession.

"Actually, could you drop me at Evergreen Care Home instead?" The words tumble out before I can stop them. "I should check on Dad."

James's expression softens. "Of course." He guides me back through the crowd of reporters, shielding me from their questions with his body. "I think that's exactly what you need right now."

I sink into the passenger seat, letting my head rest against the cool window. The geese and the music box swirl in my mind like snow in a blizzard. Maybe James is right. A few hours with Dad will help clear my head.

"You know," James says as he pulls away from the curb, "your father would be proud of your work here."

I close my eyes, remembering Dad in his prime—sharp, intuitive, always three steps ahead before dementia stole his mind piece by piece. "Would he? Or would he tell me I'm missing something obvious?"

"Hey, don't do that to yourself." James navigates through the quiet streets. "You're doing everything you can."

The rest of the drive passes in silence. When we pull up to Evergreen Care Home, James squeezes my hand. "Get some rest, Clara. That's not a suggestion."

James's hand lingers on mine for a moment too long. I pull away, pretending to adjust my scarf. His eyes drift to my lips, and the air in the car grows thick with tension.

"Thanks for the ride," I mumble, reaching for the door handle.

"Clara, wait." His fingers brush my arm. "Maybe we could grab coffee after your visit? Talk about something other than dead bodies for once?"

A week ago, I might have said yes. James has always been attractive in that clean-cut, reliable way—the kind of man my mother would have approved of—the kind who'd never push boundaries or explore dark desires.

But now? After Silas?

The memory of last night floods my senses—rough hands, demanding kisses, complete surrender. My body heats at the thought. James could never give me that kind of passion. He's too... safe.

"I should get some rest after this," I say, avoiding his disappointed gaze. "Doctor's orders, remember?"

He forces a smile but hurt flashes in his eyes. "Right. Of course."

I step out into the cold, wrapping my arms around myself. The truth is, James deserves someone whole. Someone who doesn't crave the dangerous thrill of submission. Someone who doesn't dream about masked figures in the dark.

Someone who isn't me.

16

SILAS

---