Page 32 of Guarded Knight

He nods. “It could be he slipped out. Or maybe he has a friend at work who isn’t afraid to lie on the stand if he gets caught. But this alibi means we don’t have an airtight breaking-and-entering case to pursue unless we get his face on CCTV or his prints somewhere.”

I lean against the wall, the bricks cool beneath my shoulder. Shit. We want to nail Cameron for breaking in. That has jail time. Unfortunately, stalking is hard to prove, most of the evidence being circumstantial. We’ll need to get the trap set after all. I was hoping to avoid that.

But I also know better than to stop asking questions. “Let’s say maybe he didn’t leave that money. And maybe he didn’t take the photos? So what’s the explanation then?”

“Maybe someone else helped him.”

I hate every possible answer and every question that follows.

Too many maybes.

“A stalker with an accomplice?” I doubt it.

Anton goes quiet, somehow concurring in the silence. “Look, hopefully we’ll find evidence he left work that night. I’ve asked for CCTV footage from his workplace to confirm. We’ll keep digging. But there’s also the problem of no sign of forced entry.”

I think of Lara curled in bed, her profile soft in sleep. I picture a lens trained on her, Cameron’s finger hovering over the screen, and the need to break every bone in his hands blurs my vision. I want to crush his throat for daring to touch her world—as if she’s still my future. The way she used to be.

My jaw aches, my chest pounds. This doesn’t feel like a job at all. I wish it did.

He speaks calmly, as if I won’t like what he’s about to say. “Is it possible that at one point Lara gave Cameron a key? We need to be a hundred percent clear on the access issue.”

“I doubt she gave him a key. Lara is a woman raised by two protective parents who enrolled her in self-defense classes when she went away to college and a brother who taught her to think everyone is the enemy before they’re a friend.”

But I never directly asked her that question because it seemed like the kind of thing she’d tell me up front. And asking willresult in one of two responses. If she gave him a key, it’ll be fine. If she didn’t, she will fly off the handle and think I’m assuming she’s stupid.

This is going to be fun.

He senses my doubt. “You’re going to ask her?”

“Yeah. I just need to pick the right time.”

“Now would be good…”

We’re interrupted by the apartment door creaking open behind me.

“Gabriel?”

Freya pokes her head out, rubbing sleep from one eye, her voice still husky from bed. She’s in a threadbare tank top and cotton shorts that look like they lost a fight with the dryer. Anton goes silent beside me.

Freya blinks at him, then offers a drowsy smile. “Hey, Anton, right? From book club?”

He clears his throat but doesn’t say anything. It’s like his whole world has stilled.

Freya laughs gently, not taking her eyes off him. “Do you want to come in? We have a tragic coffee situation, but I’m working on it.”

He nods, not breathing again until she disappears inside.

His words are supposed to be some sort of excuse for drooling. “I introduced myself at book club.”

I roll my eyes. “Keep it in your pants.”

Anton side-eyes me. “What?”

“You didn’t blink for thirty seconds.”

He shrugs, takes a long sip of coffee like he’s unbothered. “Worry about yourself, brother. You’re the one half-feral over Lara.”

I shoot him a look.