Then she moved fast.
Down the hallway again. Out of frame. Back into frame in fresh clothes that had no business being worn at ten o’clock at night. Blouse. Skirt. Heels back on. She wrestled with a pair of pantyhose and swore when something snagged. Yanked them off. Grabbed another pair.
Urgent.
Not planned.
“The fuck are they dragging you back in for?” I asked the empty room.
A paralegal didn’t get summoned at ten on a Friday unless something was wrong. Or unless someone wanted to remind her who held the leash.
That thought made something low and ugly settle in my chest.
She grabbed her laptop bag and purse, slung both over her shoulder, and walked toward the door. Her hand hovered over the knob for a second longer than it needed to.
Like she didn’t want to open it.
That hesitation hit harder than I liked.
“Ghost?”
Cap’s knock came before he stepped inside.
“You good?” he asked, eyes landing on the monitors.
“She just got called back into work,” I said without looking away.
“At this hour?”
“Ten on a Friday,” I replied, leaning forward in my chair. “She didn’t look thrilled about it either.”
Cap moved closer. “You think it’s connected?”
“I think she didn’t look like she had a choice.”
That was the part that stuck.
He studied the screens. “You get audio?”
“No.”
“Phone cloned?”
“Not yet. Earlier was tight. Cameras came first.”
He nodded slowly. “Then get the phone.”
I was already standing, mask sliding back down over my face.
“She wasn’t in the official registry,” I reminded him. “They’re hiding her for a reason.”
Cap’s jaw flexed. “Then figure out why.”
I shut down the monitors, but not before watching her lock the door behind her and disappear down the hall outside her apartment.
Thirty-five minutes if I took the back roads and didn’t hit traffic.
Forty-five if I behaved.
