Daniil keepshis word and sends the files within the hour. I sit up against the bed frame, tablet in hand, and open them.
It starts normal. College, veterinary degree, grew up in New York.
His mother died a little over a year ago from breast cancer. His father sold everything after, moved to Vegas, and is drowning in debt now. I blink at the numbers. Not sure how one man racks up that much financial damage by himself in under a year.
Kelly’s all alone now. No family to miss him if something happened.
Then it shifts and gets more interesting.
The last six months stand out. His record was clean before that. Perfect little veterinarian with his perfect little life.
Then suddenly he’s arrested three times in half a year. Trespassing, disorderly conduct, public intoxication. Not major charges but messy.
On top of that, there’s a stack of harassment complaints filed against him. Unpaid fines piling up, enough to seriously fuck with his finances.
He tried to file a restraining order against someone, but it got dropped. No details. Just a dead end in the system like someone reached in and erased it.
Who wanted Kelly’s complaint buried?
I don’t know him. Don’t know anything about him besides the fact that he didn’t call the police when he should have. That part’s stuck in my head because most people would’ve called someone the second I passed out.
He didn’t. He helped me instead. Patched me up. Let me leave.
Why?
Consider me very fucking interested.
I scroll down the file and come across his work schedule.
Kelly’s working at the clinic two days from now. That gives me exactly what I need. While he’s busy saving strays, I’ll have time to take a look at his place. See what he’s hiding. What he’s running from.
My instincts tell me something’s buried under that gentle exterior. Something dark he’s working hard to hide from everyone.
I’m going to figure out exactly what that is.
I can’t walk away until I do.
I tapmy fingers against the steering wheel and stare at his building. Almost eight and Kelly should be on his way to work by now. Which means if he doesn’t leave soon, he’s going to be late.
He lives in a decent neighborhood with clean streets, overpriced coffee shops on the corner. The apartment buildings are pressed tight together. His is red brick, seven floors, old fire escape running down the side. His apartment is on the second floor, according to the file.
Daniil pulled the door code for me last night, so I don’t have to sit here waiting for someone to hold it open like a creep. Though that’s exactly what I’m doing—sitting in my car, watching his door like a creep.
I lean back in the seat and exhale.
The door swings open and drags me out of my thoughts. Kelly steps out with his bike, navy scrubs under a black coat, hair messy from the wind. It’s colder than it should be for late September. He pulls the coat tight around himself while he fumbles with the lock.
He hops on his bike and pedals away. I reach for the passenger seat and hiss when I feel my stitches pulling. I grab my kit, pull my hoodie up, and then I head toward the building.
The whole place smells stale with blue paint peeling off the walls. By the time I hit the second floor, I slow down and glance around.
I knock once, just in case. Although the file said no girlfriend, no roommate, nothing else tied to this address, I’m not about to get jumped by some pissed-off girlfriend with a frying pan.
Nothing.
I use the lock kit, and it takes only seconds before I hear the click. I glance over my shoulder once more, then slip inside and shut the door behind me.
What the fuck?
