I turned, pulled her close. "You didn't have to get up."
"Clinic opens at eight. I need to go home and change first." She glanced at the clock. "What time do you have to be at the station?"
"Seven." I poured myself a travel mug. "Want me to make you breakfast before I go?"
"I'll grab something at home." She headed toward the bedroom to get dressed. "But thank you."
A few minutes later, she emerged in yesterday's clothes, hair pulled back in a ponytail.
Judge sat by the door, tail wagging.
"He knows the routine already," she said, scratching behind his ears.
I walked her out to her car. The January morning was cold enough to see our breath.
"See you tomorrow at Judge's appointment?" I asked.
"Two o'clock," she confirmed, then kissed me. "Be safe today."
"You too. Text me when you get home."
I watched her drive away, then headed back inside to grab my keys and badge.
***
At the station, I settled at my desk with my second cup of coffee and pulled up the security camera footage from Monday night.
My blood ran cold.
Eleven-fifteen p.m. The studio door shook violently—someone on the other side kicking it, yanking the handle. The deadbolt held. Whoever it was kept at it for close to a minute before giving up.
I scrolled back. At eleven-ten, a figure appeared in the stairwell. Male, disheveled. The way he moved told the story—unsteady, swaying even when standing still. Strung out or mentally unstable, maybe both.
He must have forced the main entrance downstairs. That door only had the building's original lock, not the security I'd installed upstairs.
I didn't recognize him from the grainy footage. But whoever this was, he was desperate enough to break into a building in the middle of the night.
I texted Lacey:Need to talk. Call when you have a break.
She'd be at work now, couldn't answer her phone while assisting Dr. Bev. But she'd see the message eventually.
I started working through other cases while I waited. Twenty minutes later, my phone rang.
"What's wrong?" she asked. No preamble.
"The camera caught someone trying to get into the studio last night around eleven-fifteen. The deadbolt held. He couldn't get through."
Silence.
"Lacey?"
"I'm here." Her voice had gone tight. "Did you see who it was?"
"Not clearly enough to identify him from the footage. But I'm going to find out."
"Could it be Boyd?" The fear in her voice cut through me. "He was obsessive like this. What if he came back?"
"I'll check. Give me his full name and date of birth if you have it."
