The number was different from the one that had texted Nora. Another burner phone. But themessage was clear—whoever was stalking Nora knew Carson was investigating.
And they were watching him too.
Carson took a screenshot and forwarded it to Patterson with instructions to trace the number. Then he typed back:Come near her again and I’ll make sure you spend the rest of your life in prison.
No response.
Carson sat there in the dark, watching the building, watching Eugene through the glass doors, feeling the weight of the threat settle over him.
This was bigger than he’d thought. More dangerous. More calculated.
And Nora Bell was caught in the middle of it.
He pulled out of the parking lot and drove to the hotel where Nora was staying. Parked where he could see her window. The lights were off. She was probably sleeping, hopefully feeling safe enough to rest.
Carson settled into his seat, knowing he wouldn’t sleep tonight. Knowing he’d sit here until dawn, watching over her, making sure no one came near her.
Holloway would say this was crossing the line. That this was too personal, too involved, too much.
But Carson had failed to protect his sister.
He wouldn’t fail to protect Nora.
Not this time.
Not ever.
Chapter 5
Nora woke to sunlight streaming through unfamiliar curtains and forgot, for one blissful moment, why she wasn’t in her own bed.
Then reality crashed back. The hotel. The stalker. The text message about her blue sweater.
Someone watching her. Knowing what she wore. Following her movements.
She sat up, pulse already racing, and checked her phone. 6:47 AM. Three missed calls from Lila, two texts asking if everything was okay.
Nora stared at the messages, fingers hovering over the keyboard. What could she say?I’m hiding in a hotel because someone’s stalking me and only one person believes me and he’s the intense detective everyone warns me about?
Lila would just worry. Would probably call Dr. Kim. Would suggest Nora increase hermedication or take some time off work to “get her head together.”
She set the phone down without responding.
The hotel room was generic and sterile—beige walls, floral bedspread that had probably been here since the nineties, furniture bolted to the floor. But it was safe. No one knew she was here, except Detective Black.
Carson.
His first name felt strange in her mind, too familiar for someone who was just doing his job. But the way he’d looked at her last night—fierce and protective, like he’d physically stand between her and danger—that hadn’t felt like just a job.
That had felt personal.
Nora pushed the thought away as she got out of bed. She couldn’t afford to read too much into his actions. He was helping her because that’s what good cops did. Because he’d known her father. Because he was dedicated to his work.
Not because he felt anything for her beyond professional concern.
Even if the way his jaw had clenched when he’d read that text message had made her stomach flip. Even if his voice had gone rough and protective when he’d promised to catch whoever was doing this. Even if she’d caught him looking at her like—
Stop it.
