Chapter 12 #2
Rachel Kim. Another name. Another face. Another family that would get the worst phone call of their lives.
“She matches the profile,” Harper said. “Brunette, petite, professional job, lives alone or with roommates. He’s consistent in his selection.”
“But he left her purse,” Silas said. “That’s new too. Previous victims had no identification left at the scene.”
“He wanted her found quickly. Wanted to make sure we knew who she was.” Harper looked at the positioning again, at the careful arrangement of hands and limbs. “This is more personal. More ritualized. He’s not just killing anymore. He’s creating a tableau.”
They spent two hours processing the scene, photographing evidence, searching for anything the killer might have left behind. The building had been empty for months, scheduled for demolition, which meant minimal security and no witnesses.
Perfect for a killer who wanted privacy and time.
By the time they returned to the station, it was after six p.m. Harper had been awake for nearly forty hours straight, running on adrenaline and caffeine and pure stubborn refusal to quit.
“Go home,” Holloway ordered when he saw her. “Both of you. Get some sleep. You’re no good to anyone like this.”
“Captain—”
“That’s an order, Sinclair. You’ve been working nonstop since the first victim. You need to rest or you’re going to burn out.” He softened slightly. “I need you sharp tomorrow. Not dead on your feet.”
Harper wanted to argue, but she knew he was right. Her eyes were burning, her head pounding, her thoughts starting to blur together. She needed sleep.
“Four hours,” she negotiated. “Then I’m back.”
“Eight hours minimum. I’ll see you at seven a.m.”
Silas drove them back toward the cabin, but instead of heading into the forest, he pulled into the parking lot of a motel near the station.
“What are you doing?” Harper asked.
“Being practical. The cabin’s twenty minutes away.
This is two minutes from the station. If something happens overnight, we can respond faster.
” He put the car in park. “And honestly, I don’t trust him not to leave another note at your door.
At least here, there are witnesses, security cameras, other people around. ”
Harper was too tired to argue. “One room or two?”
“Two,” Silas said immediately. Then paused. “Unless you’d feel safer with me in the same room.”
“Two is fine.” Harper climbed out of the car, her whole body aching.
The motel was standard—clean but generic, the kind of place business travelers stayed when they were on a budget. Silas got them adjoining rooms on the second floor, away from the street, with a clear view of the parking lot.
“Lock your door,” he said as they separated. “Call me if you need anything. I’ll be right next door.”
Harper nodded, too exhausted for words. She stumbled into her room, barely registering the bland decor and industrial carpet. She kicked off her boots, pulled her gun from its holster and set it on the nightstand, and collapsed onto the bed fully clothed.
Sleep claimed her in seconds.
***
Harper woke to darkness and the sound of screaming.
She bolted upright, hand reaching for her weapon, heart pounding. It took her a moment to orient herself—motel room, not the cabin. The screaming was coming from her own throat.
Nightmare. Just a nightmare.
A knock at the adjoining door. “Harper? You okay?”
She stumbled to the door, unlocked it. Silas stood there in sweatpants and a T-shirt, hair mussed from sleep, concern etched on his face.
“Sorry,” Harper managed. “Nightmare. I’m fine.”
“You’re shaking.”
Harper looked down at her hands. He was right. They were trembling.
“Come on,” Silas said gently, guiding her to sit on the edge of the bed. “Breathe. You’re safe. You’re here. No one’s hurt.”
Harper focused on breathing—in through her nose, out through her mouth. Slow and steady. The shaking gradually subsided.
“What time is it?” she asked.
“Just after midnight. You got about four hours.” Silas sat beside her, keeping a respectful distance but close enough that she could feel his warmth. “Want to talk about it?”
She shook her head no but said, “The usual. Crime scenes. Victims. Except this time they were all looking at me, asking why I didn’t save them.” Harper rubbed her face. “Classic guilt nightmare.”
“I get those too. Different faces, same basic premise.”
They sat in companionable silence for a moment. Harper was acutely aware of how close Silas was, of the warmth radiating from him, of how easy it would be to just lean into him and let someone else be strong for a while.
“You should try to sleep some more,” Silas said. “You’ve still got a few hours before we need to be back.”
“I don’t think I can. Every time I close my eyes, I see them.”
“Then we’ll do something else. Watch bad TV, play cards, review case files. Whatever helps.”
Harper looked at him—this man who’d been a stranger ten days ago and was now the person she trusted most in the world. When had that happened? When had Silas Kane become essential?
“I keep thinking about what you said,” Harper said quietly. “About him building toward something. About me being at the center of it.”
“What about it?”
“What if we’re thinking about this wrong? What if the endgame isn’t about catching me or killing me? What if it’s about something else entirely?”
His brows pulled together. “Like what?”
“I don’t know. But the positioning of Rachel Kim—hands crossed like she’s sleeping, purse left so we’d identify her quickly, the change in ritual.
He’s trying to tell me something. Show me something.
” Harper stood, pacing the small room. “Every victim is a message. And I’m not reading it correctly. ”
Silas was quiet for a moment, thinking. “Tomorrow, let’s go through all the crime scene photos again. Look at them not as individual murders but as a sequence. See if there’s a progression we’re missing.”
“Okay.”
“But right now, you need to rest. Even if you can’t sleep, you need to lie down, close your eyes, let your brain reset.” Silas stood. “I’ll stay if you want. Sit in the chair, keep watch. Make sure the nightmares stay away.”
Harper wanted to say no. Wanted to maintain her independence, her strength, her professional boundaries. But she was so tired of being alone with her thoughts, so tired of fighting everything by herself.
“Okay,” she said quietly.
Silas settled into the room’s single armchair, pulling it closer to the bed. Harper lay down, pulling the blanket over herself, hyperaware of his presence just a few feet away.
“Thank you,” she said into the darkness.
“For what?”
“For not leaving. For staying when anyone else would have asked for a transfer by now. For...” She trailed off, not sure how to finish.
“For caring about you?” Silas’s voice was gentle. “Harper, I’m not going anywhere. Not until we catch this bastard. Not until you’re safe.”
“And after?”
“After, we’ll figure it out.”
Harper closed her eyes, Silas’s presence a comforting anchor in the darkness. For the first time in days, she felt like maybe she could sleep without the nightmares.
And if she couldn’t, at least she wouldn’t face them alone.