Page 70 of Silent Stalker

I'm heading in now.

The steering wheel creaks under my grip. I feel something dangerously close to fear for the first time in years. Not for myself—I've always known the risks. But for her. Clara. The woman who crawled under my skin and made me feel...things.

I start the engine. Whatever happens in that station, I need to be close. Ready. The gun under my seat feels heavier than usual.

Be careful. Remember who you are.

A killer's lover. My partner. My weakness.

I pull into traffic, driving toward the station. All my careful planning, every detail meticulously arranged, now hangs by a single strand of golden hair.

I pull up the video feed from Clara's broach on my phone, the sharp clarity of the precinct's interrogation room filling my screen. James sits across from her, a manila folder spread between them. My fingers grip the phone tighter as he slides out crime scene photos.

"We found your hair on Sarah Matthews' body, Clara."

Clara's heartbeat quickens—I can see it in the subtle flutter of her throat. "I was at the scene with you. It must have dropped then."

"That's impossible." James leans forward, his face hardening. "Forensics collected that hair sample before we ever arrived."

My jaw clenches. Stupid. So fucking stupid.

"I don't understand." Clara's voice stays steady, but I catch a slight tremor in her hands. "There must be some mistake."

"The DNA is conclusive." James pushes another document forward.

I watch through Clara's brooch camera as James shifts in his chair, his expression softening. My fingers curl around the steering wheel, knuckles white.

"Clara, I need to ask you about Silas."

My teeth grind together as I watch Clara's shoulders tense.

"What about him?"

"I'm not accusing you of anything." James leans back, adopting his casual pose to put suspects at ease. "But you've been seeing him, right? Intimately?"

Clara's silence speaks volumes. I can practically taste her anxiety through the video feed.

"Look," James continues, "could your hair have been transferred from his clothing? We know you've been... close to him."

The muscle in my jaw twitches. Of course. James gives her an out—a perfectly reasonable explanation for the evidence. But it's also a trap. If Clara takes this bait, she must explain her relationship with me. And that leads down a dangerous path.

I watch Clara's hands fold together on the table. "Yes, we've been seeing each other."

"How well do you know him, Clara? Really know him?" James's voice drops lower. "Because something about him doesn't sit right with me."

My lips curl into a snarl. Detective James Marsden—always the noble protector. Always trying to save Clara. If he only knew how she moans my name in the dark, how she begs for the very danger he's warning her about.

Clara shifts in her chair, and I hold my breath, waiting for her response. Everything hinges on what she says next. One wrong word and our carefully constructed plans crumble.

I've trained her well, though. Taught her how to lie with just enough truth to make it believable. Now, it's time to see if those lessons paid off.

"I don't know him that well, James." Her voice carries just the right amount of uncertainty. "We've only been seeing each other a couple weeks."

James leans forward, his protective instincts clearly kicking in. "The night Sarah Matthews was killed—where were you?"

"With Silas." Clara's cheeks flush, and I can't help but smirk at the memory. "We were... intimate. At my place."

The tension in James's shoulders eases slightly. "All night?"

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