What She Found

Hayden's fingers tightened around the cup of coffee in front of her. She listened to Reese as he talked about growing up in foster care, how he'd left when he was eighteen, worked through school and then academy.

"Impressive," she said.

"What is it that you do?" he asked.

"I'm a receptionist at a psychiatrist's office."

She glanced out the window, at the people going by, and wondered which one of them was the person who attacked her. Was he nearby?

"You're searching," Reese said, his voice tight. "Hayden, stop. It's okay. You're safe. He's not here."

"Right," she murmured, her eyes on him. "I'm sorry. It's just a lot to deal with—to be out here and not huddled alone in my house. Don't you have to be getting back to work?"

"I took this case," he said, smiling. "Besides, Maya is taking care of things at the station. And there are still cops outside your place."

Hayden nodded, finished her coffee, and stood. "I should go to work."

Reese frowned. "You think that's wise?"

She handed him money for the coffee and grabbed her things.

"The worst has already happened," she commented.