27. Clara

27

CLARA

T he sunlight filtering through the windows rouses me. I’m wrapped in Silas’s strong arms. His warmth envelops me, and his steady breath tickles my neck. For a moment, I let myself sink into this comfort, this peace that feels so right despite everything going wrong.

My muscles ache pleasantly from our activities. I snuggle into his warmth, wishing I could skip work and stay here forever.

Work.

My eyes snap open, and I feel sick. The protective fog of denial evaporates, leaving me naked before a truth too terrible to process. My eyes snap open. The evidence. The murders. The investigation. My heart pounds against my ribs as I realize we got carried away last night without discussing it.

I can feel Silas’s DNA under my fingernails, on my skin, and probably all over this house. My training kicks in—the forensics team will find traces of him everywhere: hair, fingerprints, footprints in the woods, and potential witnesses who might have seen us together.

I tense in his arms, my breath catching. How could I have been so reckless? So consumed by our connection that I forgot who he is, what he’s done? James and the team are getting closer every hour. It’s only a matter of time before they piece it together.

Silas must sense my distress because his arms tighten around me. “What’s wrong?” he murmurs against my hair.

I turn in his embrace to face him, searching those mesmerizing blue eyes. The same eyes that have watched victims take their last breaths. Yet here I am, completely safe in his arms, more terrified of losing him than anything else.

“The investigation,” I whisper. “We didn’t... we never talked about how...” I can’t even finish the sentence. The weight of what’s coming bears down on me. Evidence is mounting. Connections are being made. Soon, very soon, someone will figure it out.

Silas brushes a strand of hair from my face, but I barely register the gentle touch. My mind races through all the ways this could end, each scenario worse than the last.

Silas’s finger traces my jawline as he regards me with those penetrating eyes. “You think I haven’t planned for this? I’ve orchestrated every detail.”

My breath catches as he outlines his strategy: multiple false identities, untraceable accounts, a network of safe houses across different countries, digital footprints scrubbed clean, and evidence planted to lead investigators down dead ends.

“The murders will remain unsolved. Detective Marsden will chase shadows while we disappear.” His voice carries absolute certainty. “I’ve arranged everything down to the smallest detail.”

I blink, stunned by the thoroughness of his preparation. “But how did you get the resources for all this? The money?—”

His finger presses against my lips. “That conversation can wait. What matters now is that we have options.” He pulls me closer. “I have a cabin in northern Canada. Remote. Luxury amenities. No neighbors for miles.”

“A cabin?” My voice comes out small.

“And a private jet fueled and waiting at a private airstrip. We can be there in hours, completely off the grid.” His thumb strokes my bottom lip. “Everything’s ready.”

The scale of his planning leaves me speechless. While I’ve been investigating murders and falling for him, he’s been crafting our escape route with surgical precision.

“You really thought of everything,” I whisper.

“I told you, Clara. I don’t leave anything to chance.”

I pull away from Silas’s embrace, my stomach twisting. “What about my father? Right before Christmas, I can’t just vanish in the middle of this case.” The image of Dad sitting alone in his room at Evergreen Care Home makes my chest ache. “He barely remembers me most days but always knows when it’s Christmas.”

Silas’s fingers trace patterns on my bare shoulder. “Your father’s condition is deteriorating rapidly. The staff mentioned he might not make it through winter.”

“How do you know that?” I prop myself up on one elbow, staring at him.

“I make it my business to know everything about you.” His hand slides down my arm. “The care home records aren’t exactly Fort Knox.”

I shiver, both from his touch and the casual admission of accessing private medical files. “That’s exactly my point. I need to be there for him, especially now. And James will know something’s wrong if I suddenly bail on the investigation.”

“You could tell them you received an emergency call about a family member in another state. A cousin perhaps, or an aunt who needs immediate assistance.” His blue eyes lock onto mine. “The holidays are a perfect cover for sudden travel.”

“James knows I don’t have any family.” I sink back against the pillows. “He’d see right through it.”

“Then perhaps it’s time for Dr. Clara Hart to have a breakdown.” Silas props himself up, hovering over me. “The stress of the case, the gruesome nature of the murders, your father’s declining health—it would be completely understandable if you needed to take a leave of absence.”

I blink up at him. “You want me to fake a mental health crisis?”

“It’s the perfect solution,” Silas murmurs, his fingers trailing down my spine. “Think about it. The stress has been visible on you since it started ten days ago. James has watched you spiral deeper into this case.”

My teeth catch my lower lip as I consider his words. He’s right. I’ve been showing clear signs of strain. The sleepless nights, the jumpiness, and my increasing distraction during investigations. Even this morning, my hands shake slightly as I run them through my tangled hair.

“James texted me last night while we were… busy,” I admit, thinking of the thrill of the chase. “Said he’s confident they have enough physical evidence to make an arrest soon. He thinks they’ve identified the killer’s pattern.”

Silas’s hand pauses on my back. “Did he share his theory?”

“No, but he seemed... smug. Like he’s got it all figured out.” I turn to face Silas.

“Your father...” Silas’s voice takes on a darker edge. “The man who left you alone for hours while he drank himself into oblivion. Who made you fend for yourself through childhood. Why put your life on hold for him now?”

I flinch at the raw truth in his words. “He’s still my dad.”

“Then say goodbye.” Silas cups my face. “Go to Evergreen. Have your moment. But don’t let misplaced guilt trap you here.”

My throat tightens. “And James?”

“Stop by the precinct after. Check if they’ve made any breakthroughs.” He reaches into his jacket, pulling out a small silver pin. “Wear this on your lapel. I’ll be watching, making sure they haven’t pieced anything together. I’ll also stay nearby at all times in my car.”

I examine the pin. It resembles a normal brooch, but I spot the tiny camera lens. “You want to spy on the investigation?”

“I want to protect us.” His fingers brush my neck. “We need to know if they’re close to connecting the dots. Now.”

“And if they have?”

“Then we move to plan B immediately.” He fastens the pin to my blazer. “But first, go see your father. Make peace with leaving.”

This is it—the moment I choose between my old life and whatever dark future Silas offers. I touch the pin, knowing his eyes will be on me through every painful goodbye.

“What if I can’t do it?” I whisper. “What if I freeze up?”

“You won’t.” Silas kisses my forehead. “You’re stronger than you think. Go now. I’ll be right there with you.”

I slide into my car, catching Silas’s intense gaze as he settles into his black Audi. My whole body feels ice cold as I start the engine. The familiar streets of Evergreen Falls stretch before me, each turn holding memories I’m about to leave behind.

Mom’s death hit hard when I was nine. Murdered by some degenerate. Quick and brutal. Dad crawled into a bottle that same week and never really came out. I remember the silence in our house, broken only by the clink of glass against glass as he poured drink after drink.

I learned to cook my own meals, do my laundry, and pack my lunches. While other kids had parents showing up for school plays and parent-teacher conferences, I forged Dad’s signature on permission slips and made excuses for his absence.

The bourbon became his constant companion. Some nights, he’d forget I existed entirely. Others, he’d stare at me with glassy eyes and call me by Mom’s name. Those moments hurt the worst, seeing him lost in memories of her while I stood there, invisible.

I spot Silas’s car following at a discrete distance through my rearview mirror. His presence steadies me and gives me the strength to face what’s coming. The truth is, I started saying goodbye to my father years ago, watching him fade away one forgotten memory at a time.

Soon, this place will be a distant memory too—the empty house where I raised myself, the streets I wandered alone, the father who chose a bottle over his daughter.

I press the accelerator, and Silas matches my speed. There’s no turning back now.