Chapter 17 #3
“Then we find another option.” Silas’s voice was firm. “I’m not using you as bait. End of discussion.”
Harper wanted to argue, but she could see from his expression that it was pointless. And truthfully, she wasn’t sure it was a good plan either. Too many variables, too much that could go wrong.
“We need to search his apartment,” Harper said instead, switching tactics. “See if he’s keeping trophies.”
“Also requires a warrant, which requires probable cause,” he reminded her.
“We have probable cause. The evidence tampering.”
He was already shaking his head. “Not enough. A judge would say evidence tampering warrants investigation, not a full search of someone’s home.” Silas saw her frustration and squeezed her hand. “I know this is maddening. But we have to do this by the book.”
Harper’s phone rang, stopping the argument that was poised on her tongue. Morris.
“Sutton’s on the move,” Morris said. “Just left his apartment, got in his car. Surveillance team is following.”
Harper and Silas rushed back to the monitors. They watched as the surveillance team’s feed showed Sutton’s car heading downtown.
“Where’s he going?” Harper murmured.
Sutton drove for ten minutes, then pulled into a grocery store parking lot. He went inside, emerging twenty minutes later with a single bag of groceries. Normal, mundane behavior.
But as Sutton walked toward his car, Harper noticed something. A young woman—brunette, petite, mid-twenties—was also heading toward her car, parked two rows away. Sutton’s head turned slightly, tracking her movement.
“He’s watching her,” Harper said, her pulse quickening.
They watched as Sutton got in his car but didn’t start it immediately. Instead, he sat there, watching as the young woman loaded groceries into her trunk. She got in her car, pulled out of the parking lot. Only then did Sutton start his engine and drive away—in the opposite direction.
“That was target selection behavior,” Harper said. “He was evaluating her as a potential victim.”
“Or he just noticed a pretty woman in a parking lot,” Silas countered. “We can’t arrest someone for looking.”
“But it fits the pattern,” she argued. “He’s selecting his next victim.”
“Then surveillance will catch him if he makes contact with her.” Silas pulled up the grocery store’s security footage. “We got her license plate. We can identify her, warn her.”
“Without telling her why? Without explaining that a police officer might be stalking her?” Harper shook her head. “That’ll just create panic and possibly tip Sutton off that we’re watching him.”
Silas looked at her, and she could read his frustration. “So what do you suggest?”
“We watch her too. Make sure she’s safe. And we wait for Sutton to make his move.”
It was nearly midnight before Sutton finally returned to his apartment. He’d driven around for hours after the grocery store—past the gym where Amy had worked out, past the coffee shop where Melissa had been employed, past all the locations where his victims had been last seen.
Revisiting his hunting grounds. Reliving his kills.
“He’s going to strike soon,” Harper said. “I can feel it. He’s building up to it.”
“Then we’ll be ready,” Silas said. “We have eyes on him constantly. The second he makes contact with a potential victim, we move.”
Back at the cabin later that night, Harper couldn’t sleep. She lay in bed staring at the ceiling, her mind churning through everything they knew about Sutton.
They were so close. She could feel it. One more piece of evidence, one more connection, and they’d have him.
But how many women would die before they found that piece?
Silas’s arm tightened around her waist. “Stop thinking so loud,” he murmured. “I can hear your brain working from here.”
She didn’t have it in her to smile. “Sorry. I can’t shut it off.”
“We’re going to get him. Tomorrow we’ll review his complete employment history, cross-reference with unsolved murders in every city he’s worked. We’ll build an airtight case.”
“And if he kills someone tonight while we’re lying here?”
“Then surveillance will see it and stop him.” Silas pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “But torturing yourself with what-ifs doesn’t help anyone. Get some sleep. We need to be sharp tomorrow.”
Harper knew he was right, but sleep felt impossible. Her mind kept circling back to Sutton—sitting in his apartment right now, probably planning. Thinking about his next victim. Maybe even thinking about Harper herself.
The idea made her stomach turn.
But it also gave her an idea. A dangerous, reckless idea that Silas would absolutely hate.
What if she did make herself bait? Not obviously, not in a way that would alert Sutton. But subtly. Make herself available, create opportunities for him to approach her. Under controlled circumstances, with backup nearby.
It might be their only chance to catch him in the act.
Harper decided not to mention the plan to Silas. Not yet. Not until she’d thought it through more carefully.
But as she finally drifted toward sleep, her last thought was, I’m coming for you, Dale Sutton. And you have no idea.