Instead, she looked down at her notepad and kept writing.
She heard his footsteps as he left the room, heard the door close behind him with a finality that made her chest ache.
“Interesting interview,” Gabriel said, settling back in his chair. “Did you notice how he kept staring at you during the whole thing?”
Valeria’s heart hammered against her ribs. “What do you mean?”
“Like he was trying to communicate with you. Like he knew you or wanted to get your attention.” Gabriel’s detective instincts were fully engaged now.
“Probably trying to intimidate me,” Valeria lied, hating how easily the words came. “Standard manipulation tactic.”
Gabriel nodded, apparently satisfied with her explanation. “Good thing you kept a professional distance. I think we’ve got our guy. Timeline fits, motive is clear.”
Valeria’s throat was tight with unshed tears. Gabriel was building a case against her fated mate, and she was helping him do it.
That evening, Valeria sat alone at her desk, the case file spread before her like an indictment. The station had emptied out for the evening shift change, leaving her surrounded by the familiar sound of radio chatter.
She stared at Dom’s business card, still crisp and professional despite everything that had happened. Dominic Steel, Steel Protection.
The mate bond ached in her chest like a physical wound. Every instinct she possessed insisted Gabriel was wrong, that Dom was innocent, that she was betraying her own destiny. But the evidence was compelling. The timing was suspicious. And shewas a police officer sworn to follow the facts wherever they led. Even if they led her to arrest the man she was meant to love.
Chapter
Nine
Dom’s packwas assembled around the conference table, laptops open and files spread across the surface. Coffee steamed from multiple cups, and the familiar scent of strong Colombian roast filled the space. His crew had followed him across the country, trusted his leadership, and they’d built something meaningful together. He couldn’t let his personal pain compromise their mission.
“Four days since Rebecca Mathews’ murder.” Dom settled into his chair at the head of the table. “What do we know?”
The weight of mounting police pressure hung over them like smoke. They’d all been careful during their individual investigations, avoiding direct interference with the official case while gathering intelligence. It was a delicate balance.
Axel looked up from his laptop screen, dark eyes sharp. “Extended background check on Rebecca Matthews. Property ownership shows she bought the house five years ago. Stable residential area, no mortgage issues, clean neighborhood with mostly longtime residents. Family connections include elderly parents living nearby and a divorced sister in Portland.Professional history is solid - eight years with County Emergency Management, excellent reviews, emergency dispatch certification with security clearance.”
“Perfect target,” Siren observed. “Someone with access but no obvious protection.”
Axel nodded. “But here’s where it gets interesting. Her social media timeline tells a story.” He pulled up screenshots on his laptop. “Four weeks ago, she posted on Facebook: ‘Anyone else feel like they’re being watched lately?’ with a laughing emoji.”
Axel took a sip of coffee and continued. “Three weeks ago, Instagram story of her checking car mirrors with the caption ‘Paranoid much?’” Axel continued. “Same week, another Facebook post asking why she kept seeing the same car everywhere. Two and a half weeks ago, she tweeted about feeling like someone was following her but thinking she was probably just being crazy.”
“Then?” Dom prompted.
“Two weeks ago, all social media activity stopped completely.” Axel closed his laptop. “She went from joking about paranoia to complete digital silence in two weeks. Initially, she tried to laugh off the growing fear, but the posts became more frequent and concerning until she went dark entirely.”
Dom turned to Hunter, who was already reaching for his notepad. The man’s weathered face carried a satisfied expression of someone who’d gathered useful intelligence.
“Neighbors confirm the social media timeline,” Hunter said. “She’d been keeping to herself more lately. Stopped her regular evening walks about three weeks ago - walks she’d maintainedfor years. Avoided usual social interactions with people she’d known since moving in.”
Hunter flipped a page in his notes. “Classic behavior of someone feeling watched. Changes were recent but systematic.”
Dom nodded, pieces of the puzzle beginning to form a clearer picture. Someone had been conducting psychological warfare against Rebecca Matthews.
“Workplace intelligence confirms the pattern,” Hunter continued. “Coworkers noticed increased nervousness at work. She’d been double-checking her car locks, looking over her shoulder constantly. Asked a colleague about whether people could track your phone. Became jumpy at unexpected sounds or visitors.”
“Technology paranoia,” Siren observed. “Suggests a sophisticated threat.”
“She was worried about being followed or monitored,” Hunter continued. “Fear extended beyond home to the workplace. Behavioral changes were visible to multiple people, but nobody thought to connect them to anything serious until she was dead.”
Dom felt anger building in his chest. A woman had been terrorized for weeks, and no one had recognized the signs until it was too late.
