Page 10 of Whispers in the Night

But the timing felt too convenient to be coincidence.

Harper checked her reflection in the rearview mirror. She looked tired—dark circles under her eyes, skin too pale, the kind of exhaustion that came from six months of nightmares and guilt. But her hair was neat, her clothes were professional, and her expression was carefully neutral.

She could do this. She’d faced hostile cops before. She’d worked cases where local PD didn’t want the FBI anywhere near their jurisdiction. She knew how to navigate territorial detectives and departmental politics.

Even if those territorial detectives happened to know about Michael and blamed her for his death.

I made a judgment call that went wrong, she thought.There’s a difference.

Captain Holloway’s words from their phone conversation last night echoed in her mind. He’d been kind, professional, welcoming. “We’re grateful for the FBI’s assistance, AgentSinclair. Detective Kane is excellent, but this case is a little outside his usual scope. Your expertise will be invaluable.”

She wondered if Holloway still felt that way now that Silas Kane had undoubtedly called him to complain.

Seven fifty-eight. Time to go.

Harper grabbed her bag—laptop, files, credentials—and climbed out of the SUV. The morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of pine and coffee from a nearby café. Blackridge PD’s building was newer than she’d expected, all glass and brick with a modern design that suggested recent investment in the department.

She’d read about Blackridge PD online. They’d made national news eight months ago when one of their own detectives had exposed a twenty-year corruption scheme. Captain Ray Shaw, retired five years prior, had taken bribes to destroy evidence and protect criminals. The fallout had been extensive—cases reopened, convictions overturned, public trust shattered and slowly being rebuilt. Harper wondered if that history was why Captain Holloway had been so quick to bring in FBI help.

Inside, the lobby was busy with morning shift change. Officers clustered around the coffee station, talking in the easy shorthand of people who worked together daily. A few glanced at Harper as she approached the front desk, their expressions curious.

The desk sergeant was a woman in her forties with short gray hair and sharp eyes. “Can I help you?”

“Special Agent Harper Sinclair, FBI. I have an eight o’clock meeting with Captain Holloway.”

Recognition flickered across the sergeant’s face. “Right. The consultant. Conference Room B, second floor. I’ll let the captain know you’re here.”

“Thank you.”

Harper took the stairs, using the time to center herself. Professional. Competent. Unbothered by Detective Kane’s hostility. She’d worked with worse. She’d survived worse.

The second floor was quieter—administrative offices, conference rooms, the kind of spaces where real police work happened away from the chaos of the lobby. Harper found Conference Room B easily enough. Through the glass door, she could see Captain Holloway setting up a laptop. He looked up as she approached and smiled.

That was a good sign.

Harper knocked and entered. “Captain Holloway. Thank you for having me.”

“Agent Sinclair.” He stood to shake her hand. His grip was firm, his expression welcoming. “Glad you could get here so quickly. We appreciate the Bureau’s assistance on this. After what happened with Captain Shaw last year, we’ve made transparency a priority. Having an FBI consultant shows the community we’re committed to doing things right.” He paused. “I understand you’re already familiar with the case?”

“I worked similar murders in Nevada five years ago. Three victims, same MO, same symbols. The killer went dormant after the third victim.” Harper set her bag on the conference table. “When SAC Ellery called me last night about your murder, I knew immediately it was the same offender.”

Holloway nodded, his expression grave. “I’ve read your case files. Ellery sent them over. It’s...disturbing.”

Harper had read about Shaw during her research—the retired captain who’d run a corruption ring for two decades. “I heard Detective Black was instrumental in breaking that case,” she said carefully.

“He was. Carson’s one of our best.” Holloway’s expression showed both pride and residual exhaustion. “That investigation nearly destroyed him personally, but he did the right thing.That’s the kind of integrity we’re building this department on now.”

“That’s one word for it.”

“Detective Kane should be here any—” Holloway stopped as the conference room door opened.

Silas Kane stepped inside, and Harper felt the temperature drop about ten degrees.

He looked different in daylight. Still tall, still imposing, but she could see the details she’d missed at the crime scene. The sharp line of his jaw. The way his dark hair was slightly too long, as if he’d missed his last haircut. The pale-blue eyes that currently looked at her with all the warmth of a glacier.

“Detective,” Holloway said. “You know Agent Sinclair.”

“We’ve met.” Silas’s voice was flat. He didn’t sit, instead standing near the door like he might bolt at any moment. “Captain, can I speak with you privately?”