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“Thanks.” The officer headed for the receptionist. “I owe you one.”

Eric let his chair snap forward. Dealing with an agitated Allye Jessup would be fun, to use the term loosely. When that woman got something in her head, she was all in. Better get started on his notes while he had the chance.

Notes. “Hey, Moore!”

The officer turned back toward him.

“Shoot me a copy of your report before you go.”

“Will do. Not much there, but I’ll send it.”

He nodded his thanks. Delusion or not, he preferred to be in the know before speaking to a potential witness.

As he reached for his laptop, his still-silent phone caught his eye. It had only been a few minutes since he’d left the voice mail, but he grabbed it anyway and tapped out a text.

Dion, I really need to talk to you. It’s important.

Message sent, he powered on his laptop and began entering his handwritten notes into the system, adding to them as necessary. Taking his notes on a tablet or laptop in the first place would save time, but he’d found he processed better on paper, and sometimesthings jumped out at him during the transcription process. It was worth the extra few minutes.

When Moore’s report came through, he paused to read it. Not much there, and like Moore had said, nothing but Allye’s word indicated that anything had actually happened.

Satisfied that he knew as much as he could, he returned to his own notes. Barely five minutes passed before the tap of fashion boots against tile announced Allye’s arrival. He saved his progress and navigated back to Moore’s email before rising to greet her.

“I hear you had a rough night.”

“No kidding.” Her voice was scratchy.

He pulled a chair from a nearby desk and offered it to her. “Officer Moore gave me a brief rundown of the situation. Why don’t you tell me what happened?”

As Allye launched into her story, he grabbed a pen. But instead of taking notes, he studied the woman in front of him. Though naturally fair-skinned, Allye was more pale than usual, and she looked tired—no, weary. But her pupils appeared normal, and her voice was steady as she related what she believed happened the night before. Everything seemed to match the report. No inconsistencies.

“. . . but he chased me.”

Eric straightened. Neither Moore nor his notes had mentioned that part. He flipped to a blank page in his notebook. When she mentioned that she’d been choked, his pen stilled. He lifted his gaze to her neck, which was obscured by a bright, oversized scarf.

“Then I blacked out.” Her voice cracked. “When I woke up, I was at the foot of the steps to my studio. Mayor Jennings was there, and everyone else was gone.”

Eric clicked his pen as he digested the new information. Despite the mayor and Moore’s opinion that Allye had imagined everything, her account was concerning. And it made him mad that someone might have put his hands on her.

He looked again at her scarf. “Do you mind showing me your neck?”

She grimaced but unwound the material. Ugly bruising consistent with attempted strangulation had formed on her fair skin.

The angry knot in his gut grew. Regardless of whether there’d been another victim, something had happened to her last night.

4

Allye pulled down her visorto block the afternoon sunshine and tried to ignore the angry pulsing of yet another migraine on the short drive from the police station. She’d taken more meds before hitching a ride with a neighbor to retrieve her car from the studio, but the prescription didn’t seem to do much anymore. Something else she’d need to follow up with her doctor on. She glanced in her rearview mirror to confirm Eric was still behind her. A flash of pain reprimanded her for the unnecessary eye movement. This was getting old.

Before agreeing to take another look at the crime scene, Eric had taken photos of her neck. She really should have thought to do that last night. Having them documented right away might have even been worth the ER trip she’d refused. But she hadn’t thought of that. She sighed.

Eric had also taken the time to ask about the men—whether she’d seen them before and if she could identify them. She’d only gotten a good look at the one who’d come after her. He was a complete stranger to her. The man was muscular, but not in an attention-grabbing way. Average height. Average weight. Her impression was that he was tanned and had short dark hair. But the lighting had been horrible, the encounter short, and the terror ...She wasn’t naïve enough to think that her memory couldn’t be slightly skewed. But she would know him if she saw him again. She was sure of that.

But she was the only one who would. Her description hadn’t been helpful. Eric’s expression had remained impassive. They both knew those qualities could apply to any number of men. Maybe if she’d seen a tattoo or a scar. No such luck.

But his eyes. She shuddered. Felt her throat constrict. The look in those dark pools had haunted last night’s dreams. He’d fully intended to kill her. Why hadn’t he?

Hand shaking, she flipped her turn signal and pulled into a street-side parking spot in front of the building that housed her studio. A bump signaled she’d hit the curb again. She couldn’t bring herself to care.