Kayne swallowed.The anger drained out of him, leaving something colder behind.“So he wasn’t casing the gym.”
“No,” Anja said.“My guess?He was searching for a place to shoot up.”
Kayne closed his eyes briefly, replaying it all.The IT room door.Erickson fumbling.The desperation.The way Erickson had hovered where he didn’t belong.
Not predatory, just broken.
“He was looking for somewhere quiet,” Kayne murmured.“Somewhere he wouldn’t get caught.”
“And he found it somewhere else,” Anja finished.
Kayne stepped back into the hall.“Call it in.”
She nodded, already dialing.
Joel Erickson was dead.Which meant whoever had been watching Chloe, planting cameras, and learning her routines, hadn’t made a mistake.They were still out there.
And now they’d lost a suspect ...and gained a ghost.
#
Chloe wasn’t sure whatpossessed her to start chopping vegetables.Stress, probably.Or the bone-deep need to do something that felt normal and obediently domestic, even if nothing about today or yesterday or this entire horrifying week qualified as ordinary.
The safe house kitchen was quiet except for the rhythmicthockof her knife against the cutting board.She’d found a stash of produce in the fridge—broccoli, peppers, cherry tomatoes, a lonely bunch of cilantro—and decided fate clearly wanted her to make a stir-fry, or at least wanted her hands busy and her thoughts distracted.
Behind her, the house hummed with a soft, controlled vigilance.Motion sensors blinked on the wall.A camera feed scrolled across Kayne’s laptop.Every shadow seemed to stand a little too straight.
She added chicken to the pan and tried not to think about hidden cameras in vents or dead construction workers.
Footsteps padded into the kitchen, and Anja dropped onto a stool at the island, looking too tired to even pretend she wasn’t.
“You’re cooking?Voluntarily?”
Chloe snorted.“I can cook.”
“I wasn’t judging.”Anja propped her cheek on her hand.“You’ve had the most traumatic week I’ve ever seen outside of homicide cases, and you’re making dinner.”
Chloe stirred the pan, letting heat fog up her lashes for a moment.“My aunt always said food stabilizes the soul.”
“Well,” Anja muttered, “my soul could use stabilizing.And possibly a nap.Or a week of naps.”
Kayne entered then, silent as a shadow and twice as intense.He stopped when he saw the spread on the stove.
“Cher, you didn’t have to cook.”
“I know,” Chloe said softly.“I wanted to.”
Anja straightened.“I second that.And I will express gratitude with absolutely no shame.”She reached for a bowl but froze when her hip popped.“Never mind.My body is eighty years old.Someone serve me.”
Kayne smirked and dished up a generous portion.
Ten minutes later, plates were mostly empty, the kitchen was warm, and for the first time all day, Chloe felt a flicker of peace.It might be fragile and temporary, but it was real.
Anja pushed her bowl away and tapped her nails on the counter.“Okay.As much as I’d love to stay awake and babysit the perimeter feeds all night, I’m crashing before my eyeballs mutiny.”She slid off the stool with a wince.“You two behave.”
She didn’t wait for a response, just shuffled down the hallway and disappeared into the guest room.
Silence settled, softening the edges of the space.The stove clicked as it cooled.Outside, a night breeze whispered through the tree line.Inside, Kayne watched her with that unreadable expression that made her heart trip over itself.
