“Trouble with the houseguest?”
Carson shot him a look. “How’d you know about that?”
“Captain mentioned it. Also, the entire department is gossiping about how Carson Black finally brought a woman home.” Finn grinned. “Even if it is technically for protective custody.”
“It’s not like that.”
“Isn’t it?” Finn’s expression turned more serious. “Look, man, I get it. She’s pretty, she’s vulnerable, you’re playing hero. But be careful. Getting involved with a victim never ends well.”
“I’m not involved.”
“Sure you’re not.” Finn drained his coffee. “Come on. Let’s see what Eugene’s been hiding.”
They approached the storage unit—number 247, according to the financial records. The lock was standard, easy to bypass with bolt cutters if they needed to.
But when Carson tried the handle, it swung open.
Unlocked.
Every instinct in Carson’s body screamed danger.
“Finn,” he said quietly. “Something’s wrong.”
Finn’s hand went to his weapon. They exchanged a look, then Carson pulled the door open fully.
The storage unit was empty except for one thing in the center of the concrete floor.
A manila envelope with Carson’s name written on it in block letters.
“Son of a bitch,” Finn muttered. “He knew we’d find this.”
Carson pulled on gloves and picked up the envelope. Inside were photographs.
Of Nora.
Dozens of them. Nora leaving her apartment building. Nora at work. Nora having lunch with her friend. Nora walking down the street, unaware she was being watched.
And underneath all of them, a single typed note:You can’t protect her forever.
Rage flooded through Carson, hot and consuming. Eugene wasn’t just stalking Nora. He was taunting Carson. Making this personal.
“There’s more,” Finn said from the back of the unit.
Carson looked up. Finn was standing near the wall, shining his flashlight on something scratched into the concrete.
A list of names. Eight women. Avery Shone. Jessica Brown. The victims they’d already identified.
And at the bottom, underlined three times:Nora Bell.
“This is his trophy room,” Carson said, his voice tight. “He’s documenting his victims. Keeping track.”
“Which means this is evidence,” Finn said. “Finally. Something concrete we can use.”
Carson photographed everything—the photos, the list, the note. His hands shook slightly with suppressed fury.
Eugene had been watching Nora for months. Documenting her every move. Planning this.
And Carson had let him get this close.
