Page 71 of Silent Stalker

"Yes." Clara looks down, playing embarrassed. "We fell asleep afterward. He didn't leave until morning."

I drum my fingers against the steering wheel, pride swelling in my chest. She's performing beautifully—the perfect mix of discomfort and honesty. Even I might believe her if I didn't know better.

"Clara," James's voice softens, "if there's anything you need to tell me about Silas—anything at all—you can trust me."

"There's nothing to tell." She meets his eyes steadily. "I barely know him, James. We've just been... having fun."

The lie rolls off her tongue so smoothly. My Clara, learning to dance with darkness. She's right—she barely knows me. But what she does know, she loves. The monster beneath my skin calls to hers, and no amount of Detective Marsden's concerned glances can change that.

31

CLARA

Islide my chair back, the metal legs scraping against the precinct floor. James's concerned eyes follow my movements as I gather my belongings.

"Look, Clara, I know you didn't hurt Sarah. The hair we found probably transferred from his coat when he moved the body."

My fingers curl around my purse strap. "I told you, I barely know him."

"Stay away from him." James leans forward, his voice dropping. "He's dangerous. We're building a case, and I need you safe."

The fluorescent lights buzz overhead as I process his words. Each second feels like an eternity as I force myself to maintain eye contact to not give away the thundering of my heart.

"I understand if you want to return to New York, but..." James runs a hand through his hair. "Could you stay at your old place? Just for a while longer? We might need to ask more questions."

The precinct's walls feel like they're closing in. I think of Silas waiting for me, our carefully laid plans for Canada, the newidentities already prepared, and the cabin secured across the border where we'll disappear.

"Sure," I hear myself say, the lie tasting bitter on my tongue. "I can stay a few more days."

James's shoulders relax. He believes me; the good girl, the reliable friend, the one who always follows the rules. If he only knew the truth burning beneath my skin, the darkness I've embraced.

"Thanks, Clara. And remember what I said about Knight. Don't contact him."

I nod, already planning my escape in my mind. By this time tomorrow, James will be staring at an empty house. He'll never find us in the vast wilderness of Canada, where Silas and I will finally be free to embrace who we really are.

"I should go," I say, standing up. "It's been a long day."

"If you need anything, and I mean anything, call me," James says, reaching for his coffee mug. "Day or night. And if Knight tries to contact you?—"

"You'll be my first call." The lie slides easier from my lips this time.

James takes a sip of coffee. "Two days without a body. Maybe the Christmas Reaper is done."

My stomach twists. I know why the murders stopped—because I asked Silas to choose me instead. The memory of that night floods back, his hands on my skin, the way he marked me as his.

"Maybe." I adjust my purse strap. "Or maybe he's just waiting."

"Either way, stay vigilant." James drums his fingers on his desk. "The press is having a field day with the silence. Keep your doors locked."

I almost laugh at the irony. The monster they're hunting already has a key to my house, heart, and darkest desires.

"I will." I turn toward the door, eager to escape, before my face betrays me. "Thanks for looking out for me, James."

"Always have, always will."

The genuine care in his voice makes my chest ache. He's been a friend since childhood, and I'm about to disappear without a trace. But the pull toward Silas is stronger than any guilt I feel about leaving my old life behind.

I slide into my car, forcing myself to take steady breaths. The precinct's lights cast long shadows across the parking lot. My phone buzzes against my thigh, and I fish it out of my pocket.