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Chapter 3

chapter

three

Nia stood at the window and stared out at the city streets below.

She was back in her apartment. No one had come to her door. No one had tried to get inside.

The elevator pinging . . . it must have been a coincidence.

Maybe the person she’d felt following her really hadn’t been there.

Maybe she was just paranoid.

Her thoughts were too scrambled to make sense of anything.

After fifteen minutes of nothing happening, she’d taken a quick shower then dressed in sweats. She had to get any more blood off her. Any evidence. Any . . . reminders.

Then she’d burned her dress in her fireplace. She knew there was blood on it.

Afterward, she cleaned out the ashes and washed them down the garbage disposal along with some bleach.

Then she’d waited. Paced. Thrown up. Paced some more.

At any minute, she expected the police to knock at her door.

But maybe she had more time than she thought. After all, how long would it take someone to discover Rob’s body? He worked from home, so he had no coworkers who would miss him. He did have an assistant, Cormac Westerly, and an attorney, Hector Backus.

Maybe she still had several hours before he was found.

Unless the killer was also hunting her. Then she was on borrowed time right now.

Her thoughts continued to race.

If someone had come into Rob’s apartment while she was there, why had he killed Rob and left her lying there? Wouldn’t the killer be afraid Nia could identify him?

Her head continued to pound.

Nia still wasn’t sure what she should do. If it wouldn’t look even more suspicious, she’d flee the area. But that would definitely make her appear guilty.

So she needed to stay put.

Dear Lord, what have I gotten myself into? She looked up at the dark sky overhead, wishing a face would appear and a voice would give her undisputable guidance on the situation.

But there was nothing .

She rubbed her temples. Why couldn’t she remember anything?

Had she been drugged? Hit over the head?

She hadn’t felt any bumps near her skull.

Drugs made the most sense.

There was a tender spot on her arm.

It could be a bug bite or the beginning of a bruise. Or . . . what if someone had injected her with something?

But wouldn’t she remember the moments leading up to that? Wouldn’t she remember feeling a surprising prick?

The pounding at her temples continued.

She reached for her right ear and froze.

Then she reached for her other ear.

Her earring was there.

On one ear.

But not on the other.

Had she lost it . . . at Rob’s?

Panic fluttered through her.

If it was at Rob’s, the police would find it . . . and the DNA on it could lead them right back to her. Her dad had designed the earrings himself and given them to her as a college graduation gift.

What was she going to do?

She needed to own up to what had happened. Explain the truth. Pray the right person would believe her.

That was what she would do. She’d go back to Rob’s place. Call the cops.

Try to make things right .

Although . . . she didn’t have the code to get into his apartment.

She’d have to wait outside.

Explain that she’d left out of fear but changed her mind.

It was the right thing to do.

She slipped on some running shoes and stepped outside again.

Another chill washed over her.

Was someone watching her?

Or was it her paranoia rearing its head?

She wasn’t sure.

But she desperately wished this was a nightmare she’d wake up from.

Gage downloaded the security footage from the apartment building for the rest of the night just in case he needed it.

Just in case that woman he’d seen with Rob was the killer.

She made the most sense. She’d obviously been in the apartment. He’d bet anything that was her earring he’d found.

He’d need to track her down to find answers.

Thankfully, he had facial recognition software at his disposal. There were some perks to working for the Shadow Agency, and this was one of them.

After he’d finished downloading the footage, he deleted the images of himself coming into the apartment from the building’s server. Once the police found Rob’s dead body, no doubt they’d look at this footage. If Gage appeared in the images, he’d be a suspect.

He needed to buy himself some time.

For now, he’d work on enhancing the image of that woman and then run it through his software.

Once he knew who she was . . . he would track her down.

Find out if she’d murdered his friend and why.

He stood and paced to the window, staring out.

She was out there somewhere.

He would find her.

Then Gage would demand answers . . . and make sure she paid.

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