Page 9 of Shadow Operative

That meant the man probably couldn’t identify the woman either.

Gage glanced at the earring in his palm.

He needed to find that woman . . . because, based on the evidence in front of him, she very well could have been the last person to see Rob alive.

chapter

three

Nia stoodat the window and stared out at the city streets below.

She was back in her apartment. No one had come to her door. No one had tried to get inside.

The elevator pinging . . . it must have been a coincidence.

Maybe the person she’d felt following her really hadn’t been there.

Maybe she was just paranoid.

Her thoughts were too scrambled to make sense of anything.

After fifteen minutes of nothing happening, she’d taken a quick shower then dressed in sweats. She had to get any more blood off her. Any evidence. Any . . . reminders.

Then she’d burned her dress in her fireplace. Sheknewtherewas blood on it.

Afterward, she cleaned out the ashes and washed them down the garbage disposal along with some bleach.

Then she’d waited. Paced. Thrown up. Paced some more.

At any minute, she expected the police to knock at her door.

But maybe she had more time than she thought. After all, how long would it take someone to discover Rob’s body? He worked from home, so he had no coworkers who would miss him. He did have an assistant, Cormac Westerly, and an attorney, Hector Backus.

Maybe she still had several hours before he was found.

Unless the killer was also hunting her. Then she was on borrowed time right now.

Her thoughts continued to race.

If someone had come into Rob’s apartment while she was there, why had he killed Rob and left her lying there? Wouldn’t the killer be afraid Nia could identify him?

Her head continued to pound.

Nia still wasn’t sure what she should do. If it wouldn’t look even more suspicious, she’d flee the area. But that woulddefinitelymake her appear guilty.

So she needed to stay put.

Dear Lord, what have I gotten myself into?She looked up at the dark sky overhead, wishing a face would appear and a voice would give her undisputable guidance on the situation.

But there was nothing.

She rubbed her temples. Why couldn’t she remember anything?

Had she been drugged? Hit over the head?

She hadn’t felt any bumps near her skull.

Drugs made the most sense.

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