Chapter 16 #3
The implication hung heavy in the room. A cop. One of their own.
“Pull the duty roster for yesterday evening,” Holloway said with a dark edge to his voice. “I want to know which officers were on patrol in that area between seven and eight p.m.”
Morris pulled up the records. “Four patrol units were in the downtown area during that time window. Officers Sanchez and Beech in Unit 12, Officers Arden and Wilton in Unit 18, Officer Sutton solo in Unit 23, and Officers Greene and Williams in Unit 27.”
Harper felt her pulse quicken at Sutton’s name. He’d been patrolling that area. Alone. Right when Amanda Crawford disappeared.
But that didn’t mean anything. Sutton was assigned to downtown patrol. It was his job to be in that area. She couldn’t jump to conclusions based on scheduling coincidence.
“Cross-reference those officers with our profile parameters,” Holloway said. “Age, physical description, service record.”
Morris worked his keyboard. “Officers Sanchez, Beech, Arden, and Wilton don’t fit—wrong age or wrong physical build.
Officer Greene is female. Officer Williams is sixty-two, too old for our profile.
” He paused, scrutinizing the information that had already sparked Harper’s interest. “Officer Sutton fits. Mid-thirties, brown hair, average build. Three years with the department.”
“Sutton was at the farmers market yesterday when we checked in,” Silas said. “I talked to him. He seemed normal. Professional.”
“Serial killers often seem normal,” Harper reminded him. “That’s how they get away with it for so long.”
“We need more than coincidence before we start investigating a fellow officer,” Holloway said firmly, reminding her how dangerous it could be to jump to conclusions.
“Pull Sutton’s full service record. I want to know everywhere he’s worked, everywhere he’s lived, any complaints or concerns.
But we do this quietly. No one else knows we’re looking at him. ”
“Understood,” Morris said with a sharp nod, already diving into his computer search.
They worked until midnight, reviewing evidence, building timelines, cross-referencing data. By the time Holloway finally sent everyone home, Harper’s eyes were burning and her head was pounding.
In the car, Silas drove in silence for a few minutes before asking, “Cabin?”
Harper nodded. She was too exhausted to speak.
At the cabin, Silas went through his usual security check while Harper changed into comfortable clothes. When she emerged from the bathroom, she found him on the couch, laptop open but his attention clearly elsewhere.
“Come here,” he said softly when he caught sight of her.
Something inside of her sighed at his attention and promise of affection. It had been so long since she’d had…well, any of that.
Harper curled up next to Silas, letting him pull her close. She rested her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. The normalcy of the moment felt wonderful and dangerous, as if she were waiting for the rug to get pulled out from under them.
Nothing in her life had ever been easy or normal. This slice of it felt like a trick—something she didn’t dare to trust. Yet she couldn’t help doing exactly that.
Silas made her feel safe, even when every instinct screamed that she needed to stay on guard.
“We’re going to catch him,” Silas said quietly, his fingers combing lazily through her hair.
“Are we? Because right now it feels like he’s always three steps ahead.”
“He’s made mistakes. The fibers, the pattern in victim selection, the escalating violence. He’s getting sloppy.” Silas’s hand drifted down and rubbed slow circles on her back. “We just need one more piece of evidence. One more connection. And it’ll all click into place.”
Harper wanted to believe that. But six women were dead, and the killer was still free.
She thought about Officer Sutton. About how unremarkable he’d seemed when they met him. How easily he’d blended into the background of the investigation. If he was the killer, he’d been hiding in plain sight this whole time. Watching them work the case. Knowing exactly what they knew.
The perfect position for a predator.
But the captain was right—they couldn’t accuse him without proof. Couldn’t even investigate openly without risking tipping him off. They had to be smart. Strategic. Patient.
Harper was so tired of being patient.
“Sleep,” Silas murmured with a soft kiss to the top of her head. “Tomorrow we’ll look at Sutton’s records. See if there’s anything there. But tonight, you need rest.”
Harper knew he was right. When he shifted, she sat up. Allowed him to take her hands and pull her to her feet. She let him guide her to the bedroom, let him pull back the covers and tuck her in. He climbed in beside her, pulling her into his arms.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Harper whispered into the darkness.
“Me too.”
Harper closed her eyes, trying to quiet her mind. But all she could see was Amanda Crawford’s face. Melissa, Amy, Nicole, Jennifer, Rachel. Six women. Six lives ended.
And somewhere out there, the killer was already selecting number seven.