Page 11 of Silent Stalker

James runs a hand through his disheveled hair. "What are you thinking?"

"We need to implement a town curfew. Tonight." I gesture at Leah Collins' body. "The media's going to have a fucking field day with this. Four victims in three days, all following aChristmas theme? They'll eat it up. And you know what happens then?"

"Copycats."

"Exactly." I pull out my phone, scrolling through local news alerts. "Look—it's already trending. #ChristmasReaper is picking up steam on social media. Every true crime podcaster in the country will descend on Evergreen Falls by tomorrow."

"Chief won't like a curfew. Bad for holiday business."

"Better than dead bodies." I snap a few photos of the crime scene. "We need to get ahead of this. Control the narrative before it controls us. No leaked photos, no unofficial statements."

The forensics team bustles around us, cataloging evidence. One calls James over, pointing at something near the victim's hand.

"Tell the chief I'll back your play on this," I say as he walks away. "A psychopath who's this organized, this precise? He's not going to stop until he completes his song."

I pull out my phone and dial Chief Hawke's number, pacing the warehouse's perimeter while forensics continue their work. The call connects on the third ring.

"Chief, it's Clara Hart."

"Hart." His gruff voice carries the weight of too many sleepless nights. "James filled me in. Four victims now."

"That's why I'm calling. We need to implement a town-wide curfew immediately." I move away from the crime scene, lowering my voice. "This killer's methodical, organized. He's following a pattern we can't ignore."

"A curfew? During peak holiday season?" Chief Hawke scoffs. "The business council will have my head."

"Better your head than more bodies." I stop pacing, staring at Leah Collins's corpse. "Look at the escalation pattern. The first victim—simple staging. Second—two people dead and it’s moreelaborate. Now this? The killer is getting bolder, more theatrical. The next scene will be worse."

Silence fills the line. I can picture him at his desk, rubbing his temples.

"The victim profiles are concerning," I continue. "This latest one... she could be my twin. He's sending messages and getting personal. We need to act now, before?—"

"Fine." Chief Hawke's chair creaks through the phone. "But you're helping me draft the press release. And you're speaking at the council meeting tomorrow morning."

"Done." Relief floods through me. "I'll have the initial report on your desk within the hour."

"This better work, Hart." He hangs up without waiting for my response.

I pocket my phone and catch James's eye across the warehouse. I give him a thumbs up—the chief is on board. Now, we have to convince an entire town to lock themselves inside during the busiest shopping season of the year.

The dead teacher's eyes follow me as I return to the scene. Nine more days. Nine more potential victims. The bruise on my neck throbs, a reminder of last night's moment of weakness with Silas.

I push thoughts of him aside. Right now, I need to focus on the Christmas Reaper. Everything else can wait.

8

SILAS

Idrum my fingers against my thigh, watching Clara's delicate fingers dance across her keyboard through my laptop screen. Such grace, even in mundane tasks. The sunlight catches her hair, creating a halo effect that makes me want to reach through the screen and twist those golden strands around my fist.

Time to make contact.

Good morning, beautiful. What's keeping you busy today?

Her reaction is... exquisite. The way her lips part, that slight intake of breath, the pink flush spreading across her cheeks. She picks up her phone with trembling fingers. My message lights up her entire being.

I am her salvation. Her path to enlightenment.

Her fingers hover over the phone screen. One delete, two deletes. She's overthinking her response, wanting to appear casual. I lean closer to my screen, savoring every micro-expression that crosses her face. Such delicious anxiety.

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