Page 23 of Whispers in the Night

“No. It doesn’t.” He was quiet for a moment. “The DNA under Amy’s nails. That’s our first real break.”

“If he’s in the system. If we’re lucky.” Harper pulled out her phone. “I’m going to call Ellery, see if we can fast-track the DNA analysis. Usually takes weeks, but with an active serial case, we might be able to push it through in days.”

“Do it.”

While Harper made the call, Silas leaned against his car, watching the street. She noticed he did that a lot—positioned himself where he could see approaches, kept his back to solid objects, maintained awareness of his surroundings. Military training, probably. The kind of hypervigilance that came from combat zones and never quite went away.

She understood that. Her own hypervigilance came from different sources, but it was just as persistent. Even here, in broad daylight outside a city morgue, part of her brain was cataloging exits, identifying potential threats, planning escape routes.

Trauma rewired you. Made you see danger everywhere, even when you were safe.

Ellery answered on the third ring. “Sinclair. Tell me you have good news.”

“We have DNA from under one of the victim’s fingernails. I need it fast-tracked through the lab. Can you make that happen?”

“I can try. Send me the case number and I’ll push it through our channels. But Harper...” He paused. “I heard about the note. About him mentioning you specifically.”

Harper’s jaw tightened. “Word travels fast.”

“I’m pulling you off the case. This is too dangerous—”

“No.” The word came out sharper than she intended. “Ellery, I’m the only one who knows this killer. I’m the only one who’s been hunting him for five years. If you pull me now, more people will die.”

“If you stay, you might die.”

“I’ve been dying for six months,” Harper said quietly. “At least this way, my death would mean something.”

“Harper—”

“I’m staying on the case. Holloway wants me here. The local PD needs me. And I’m not leaving until this bastard is caught.” She softened her tone slightly. “I know you’re worried. I appreciate it. But I need to do this. I need to prove—” She stopped, aware that Silas was probably listening.

“Prove what?” Ellery asked gently.

She squeezed her eyes shut briefly then confessed, “That I can still do the job. That Michael’s death didn’t break me.” Harper took a breath. “Please, Ellery. Trust me on this. Let me finish what I started in Nevada.”

A long silence. Then, “I’ll fast-track the DNA. And I’ll send a protective detail—”

“No protective detail,” she said, shaking her head emphatically even though he couldn’t see it. “It’ll spook the killer. He’s watching. If he sees federal agents following me around, he’ll go to ground.”

“Then you work with Detective Kane. You don’t go anywhere alone. You stay armed at all times. And you check in with me twice a day. Deal?”

Harper blew out a resigned breath. “Deal.”

“And Harper? Be careful. This one’s personal for him. That makes him more dangerous.”

After she hung up, Harper found Silas watching her with an unreadable expression.

“Personal for him,” Silas repeated. “Ellery’s right. Killers who fixate on specific people are unpredictable. They don’t follow normal patterns.”

She met his intense stare with one of her own. “I know.”

“Which means we need to figure out why he’s fixated on you. What you represent to him. Because that’s the key to understanding his endgame.”

Harper nodded, but inside, her stomach was churning. She’d been trying not to think about it. About what it meant that a serial killer knew her name, had apparently followed her career, maybe even followed her to Blackridge. It was the kind of thing that kept you up at night, made you jump at shadows, made you question every interaction you’d ever had.

Was he someone she’d interviewed in Nevada? Someone she’d passed on the street? Someone who’d watched her on the news coverage of the case?

Or was he someone closer? Someone who’d inserted himself into her life in ways she hadn’t recognized?