In the center of the room was a makeshift shrine. Nora’s photo surrounded by news clippings about her father, about the embezzlement case, about Robert Whitmore’s suicide.
And written across the largest photo in red marker:SOON.
“Jesus,” Carson breathed.
“There’s more.” Finn led him to a corner where a laptop sat open. “He’s been tracking her digitalfootprint. Social media, email, even her banking records. He hacked everything.”
Carson’s hands clenched into fists. The level of obsession, the planning—this had been going on for years. Not months. Years.
“Does she know?” Finn asked quietly.
“Not yet.” Carson looked back at the entrance where Nora waited in the car. “She doesn’t need to see this.”
“Carson, she deserves to know what she’s up against.”
“I know.” But the thought of her seeing these photos, seeing the depth of Eugene’s obsession, made him want to put his fist through the wall.
He took photos of everything with his phone, documented the scene, helped bag evidence. The whole time, his mind was racing.
Eugene had been planning this for years. Had been watching Nora, learning her patterns, waiting for the perfect moment.
And now he was free.
Hunting.
When Carson returned to the car, Nora took one look at his face and knew.
“It’s bad, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.” He got in and started the engine. “I’m taking you back to the safe house.”
“Carson—”
“Please.” He looked at her. “Just...trust me on this. You don’t need to see what’s in there.”
“Is itphotos? Of me?”
His silence was answer enough.
Nora’s face paled. “How many?”
“A lot. Years’ worth.” He reached over and took her hand. “But we have them now. We know what we’re dealing with. And Finn’s already working on tracing Eugene’s movements, figuring out where he might go next.”
“He’s not going to stop, is he? Not until one of us is dead.”
The blunt assessment was accurate. And terrifying.
“I won’t let it get that far,” Carson said.
“You can’t promise that.”
“Watch me.”
***
Back at the safe house, Carson showed Nora the photos he’d taken—carefully curated to avoid the most disturbing images. But even the edited version was bad enough.
“He’s been watching me for at least three years,” Nora said quietly, staring at a photo of herself from what looked like her old apartment. “Maybe longer.”
