“First, we check your apartment. Then I’m getting you a hotel room for tonight. Somewhere safe, somewhere no one knows about. Tomorrow, we’ll work on next steps. But tonight, you’re not staying in that apartment.”
Relief and something else—gratitude, maybe, or trust—flooded her expression. “Thank you. For believing me. For helping me.”
“It’s my job.” The words came out rougher than he’d intended.
Liar. This stopped being just a job the moment she looked at you with those scared eyes and you wanted to protect her from everything.
He stood abruptly. “Let’s go check your place.”
***
Nora’s apartment was exactly what Carson expected from someone who’d grown up in foster care—minimal, carefully organized, nothing out of place. Every item had a specific spot.Every surface was clean. The kind of order that came from never feeling secure enough to be messy.
It reminded him of his own apartment after Lily disappeared. The way he’d controlled his environment because he couldn’t control anything else.
“Show me the photo,” he said, pulling on fresh gloves.
Nora led him to the bedroom, pointing to the nightstand. “There. That frame.”
Carson examined it carefully. Silver frame, standard size, professional photo of a young couple with a child. The glass was clean. No fingerprints visible, but he’d dust it anyway.
He pulled out his evidence kit and got to work, methodically checking the frame, the nightstand, the surfaces around it. Looking for any trace of whoever had been here.
Nora stood in the doorway, hugging herself. “I sound crazy, don’t I? Getting upset about a photo being turned around.”
“No.” Carson didn’t look up from his work. “You sound like someone who knows her own space. Who pays attention to details. That’s not crazy. That’s smart.”
He moved to the bedroom window, checking the lock. Secure. No scratches or signs of tampering. Same with the door—both the main entrance and the sliding door to the small balcony.
Whoever had gotten in had used a key.
“Your building’s security system,” Carson said, straightening. “The cameras. I reviewed the footage from the parking garage yesterday. There were gaps. Sections that looked erased or corrupted.”
Nora’s eyes widened. “Someone tampered with them?”
“That’s what it looks like. Which means either someone with technical skills hacked the system, or someone with access to the security room deleted footage.” He paused. “Eugene has that access.”
“Oh God.”
Carson watched her process this information, saw the fear and realization wash over her face. She was smart. She’d already connected the dots.
“I need you to pack a bag,” he said. “Enough for a few days. I’m getting you out of here tonight.”
“Where?”
“Hotel. I’ll arrange it. Somewhere off the grid, paid in cash, no paper trail.”
She moved to her closet, pulling out a small suitcase. “This feels surreal. Like I’m running from something I can’t even see.”
“You’re being smart. Cautious. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
Carson continued processing the scene while she packed. Dusting for prints, photographing everything, documenting the layout. By the time he finished, his phone buzzed with a text from Patterson:Number came back to a burner phone.Purchased with cash three days ago at a convenience store on Maple. No cameras. Dead end.
Of course. Their stalker was careful. Organized. This wasn’t some impulsive obsession. This was planned.
Which made Nora even more vulnerable.
“Ready?” she asked, wheeling her suitcase to the door.
