Page 113 of Whispers in the Night

Holloway studied her for a moment, then his expression softened almost imperceptibly. “Actually, before we continue, I need to address something.” He looked between Harper and Silas. “You two. Whatever’s going on between you—and don’t bother denying it because we all have eyes—I need to know if it’s going to be a problem.”

Harper felt her stomach drop. “Captain, we’ve been completely professional—”

“I’m not saying you haven’t. But I need to know if personal feelings are going to compromise your judgment or create conflicts of interest.” Holloway’s tone was serious but not unkind. “Because if they are, we need to establish boundaries now.”

Silas spoke up. “Our personal relationship hasn’t interfered with the investigation. If anything, it made us better partners—more invested in each other’s safety, more motivated to close the case.”

“I’m not questioning your work. The results speak for themselves—you caught a serial killer who’d been operating for five years. That’s exemplary.” Holloway leaned back in his chair. “But I’m also not blind. The way you two look at each other, the way Kane nearly broke down the warehouse door when shots were fired... That’s not just professional concern.”

Harper exchanged a glance with Silas, then decided honesty was the only option. “You’re right. We’re...together. It developed during the investigation, and we tried to keep it separate from the work, but—”

“But these things happen,” Holloway finished. “Especially in high-stress situations where you’re working closely together.” He sighed. “Look, I’m not going to write you up or file reports.You’re both adults, and you handled yourselves professionally despite personal feelings. That takes discipline.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Harper said.

“But,” Holloway continued, and there was the hint of a smile now, “for God’s sake, stop trying to sneak around like teenagers. We’re all adults here. If you’re together, you’re together. Just keep it professional during work hours and save the longing looks for after shift.”

Morris, who’d been sitting quietly at the end of the table, couldn’t contain his grin. “Does this mean they can hold hands in the conference room now? Because the tension was getting painful to watch.”

“Morris,” Holloway said warningly, but there was no heat in it.

“What? I’m just saying, we all took bets on when they’d finally admit it. I had last Tuesday, so I’m out twenty bucks.”

“You bet on us?” Harper asked, caught between embarrassment and amusement.

“The whole squad did,” Morris said cheerfully. “Holt won. He said it would happen after you caught Sutton but before you left town. Smart money.”

Despite everything—the trauma of yesterday, the weight of nineteen closed cases, the exhaustion—Harper laughed. It felt good, releasing some of the tension that had been coiled in her chest.

“Alright, alright,” Holloway said, but he was almost smiling now too. “Enough about their love life. We have work to do.”

The meeting continued, but the atmosphere had shifted. Less formal, more relaxed. Harper caught Silas’s eye across the table again, and this time neither of them looked away. His expression was warm, open, full of promise for the future.

After the meeting, they split up to handle different aspects of closing out the case. Harper coordinated with FBI headquarterson evidence transfer and case documentation. Silas worked with Morris on organizing the trophy evidence to return to families.

But they found reasons to cross paths. Silas bringing Harper coffee with just the right amount of sugar. Harper’s hand brushing Silas’s shoulder as she passed his desk. Small touches, brief moments that spoke of something deeper.

Around two p.m., Harper was reviewing files in the small office they’d been using when Silas appeared in the doorway.

“Hey,” he said. “Got a minute?”

“Sure. What’s up?”

Silas closed the door behind him, moved to where Harper sat at the desk. “Nothing work-related. I just...” He pulled her up from the chair and wrapped his arms around her. “Needed this,” he said on a sigh.

Harper melted into the embrace, her face pressed against his chest, breathing in his scent. They stood like that for a long moment, just holding each other, grounding themselves in physical contact after the trauma of yesterday.

“I keep seeing it,” Silas said quietly. “You on that warehouse floor. The gunshots. Not knowing if you’d been hit.”

“I’m okay. We’re both okay.” She tightened her arms around his waist.

“I know. But it’s going to take a while for my heart to believe what my brain knows.” He pulled back slightly to look at her. “I love you, Harper. And the thought of losing you—”

Harper kissed him, cutting off the words. It started gentle but deepened quickly, so many days and nights of tension and fear and denied desire pouring between them. Silas’s hands slid into her hair, hers fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer.

A throat cleared behind them.

They sprang apart to find Morris in the doorway, looking far too amused.