“Good,” Carson said. “That’s good. You’re okay. You’re safe. I’m right here.”
“I’m sorry.” Her voice was barely a whisper. “I shouldn’t fall apart like that.”
“You’re dealing with a stalker who’s been planning this for months. You’re allowed to fall apart.” He finally let himself touch her—just his hand on her shoulder, grounding. “But I need you to hear me, Nora. This is good news.”
“How is any of this good news?”
“Because now I know why Eugene is targeting you. I know his motive. And that gives me leverage.” Carson’s hand tightened slightly on her shoulder. “I’m going to use this. I’m going to dig into every aspect of Robert Whitmore’s case, find every connection to your father, build a case against Eugene that his lawyer can’t block.”
“And if you can’t?”
“I will.” The conviction in his voice was absolute. “Because Eugene made a mistake. He let this become personal. Let his need for revenge make him sloppy. And that’s going to be his downfall.”
Nora looked up at him, so close now he could see the gold flecks in her brown eyes. Could smellher shampoo—that floral scent that had haunted him since she’d first walked into his life.
“You’re always so sure,” she said softly. “How do you do that? Stay so confident when everything’s falling apart?”
“Because giving up isn’t an option.” Carson’s voice dropped lower. “Because I’ve lost someone I couldn’t save, and I’ll be damned if I lose someone else. Because you trusted me to protect you, and I don’t take that lightly.”
Because you matter more than you should,he didn’t say.Because somewhere along the way, this stopped being just a case and started being about you.
The air between them shifted, charged. Nora’s eyes dropped to his mouth, then back up. Carson’s hand was still on her shoulder, and he could feel her pulse racing under his palm.
He should step back. Put distance between them. Remember every reason this was a bad idea.
But Nora leaned closer, and Carson forgot how to breathe.
“Carson—”
His phone rang, shattering the moment.
Carson stepped back, dropping his hand, and pulled out his phone. Patterson’s was name on the screen.
“I have to take this,” he said, his voice rough.
Nora nodded and moved away, heading toward the guest room. Carson watched her go, trying to ignore the way his heart was still racing.
He answered the call. “Black.”
“We’ve got a problem,” Patterson said. “Someone broke into Nora Bell’s apartment tonight. Trashed the place. Left a message on the wall.”
Carson’s blood ran cold. “What message?”
“Two words, written in red spray paint: ‘Found you.’“
***
Carson stood in Nora’s apartment an hour later, staring at the words on her bedroom wall.
FOUND YOU.
Written in crimson spray paint, the letters dripping down the white wall like blood. The rest of the room was destroyed—clothes torn from hangers, drawers emptied, mattress slashed open.
This wasn’t just a break-in. This was a message. A threat.
And it meant Eugene knew Nora wasn’t here. Had come looking for her and found the apartment empty.
Which meant he’d escalate. Start searching. Get more desperate.
