The Önager mansion was dark when Tommy pulled into the garage. The Riss Spectre's engine ticked as it cooled, the only sound in the quiet space. He sat for a moment, hands on the wheel, letting the exhaustion settle into his bones.
Three hours of sleep, four if he was lucky. Then back to the office to dig through the records of a serial killer who collected people like specimens.
'Some life you've got now,' he thought.
Inside, the kitchen light was on. Aloy sat at the counter in her nightgown, a cold cup of tea in front of her, her laptop open but ignored. She looked up when he entered, and her expression was a complicated mix of anger, relief, and something that might have been fear.
"It's three in the morning," she said.
"I know."
"You disappeared from the boutique. You didn't answer my texts. The maid said you got a work call and left in a hurry."
"I did."
