Page 88 of Keeping Knight

Ruby sitting out on her fire escape, a glass of iced tea beside her and a book in her lap.

All meticulously labeled by date and time, stretching back for nearly a year.

Considering all of that, Haverford looks guilty. If we turn over the evidence to the police—anonymously, since we’d rather not explain our methods of getting the evidence to begin with—I’m pretty sure it would be enough to charge him.

The only problem? When Haverford insisted he never did anything to Ruby, my gut said he was telling the truth.

Maybe he’s just a talented actor. But his reaction rang true. “Hurt Ruby?” he asked, his expression aghast. “I would never. Why would I want to hurt a sweet girl like that?”

“Maybe you were angry that she wasn’t responding to your advances,” I shot back. “Or maybe you wanted to hurt a sweet girl like her.”

“No,” he protested, shaking his head. “No. I like Ruby. I tried to help her, especially after her dad died. I would never hurt her.”

“Why are there photos of her on your computer?” Rogue snapped. “Are you going to claim you were trying to help Ruby by stalking her?”

Haverford’s frightened gaze jumped from my silicone mask to Rogue’s. “I didn’t take them. I don’t know how they got there. I swear.”

Of course, he could have been lying. Most suspects, when confronted with evidence of their guilt, claim innocence. But there was something in his expression that planted a seed of doubt in my mind. And now, with the conveniently-timed fire… the roots are taking hold.

“On paper it makes sense,” I agree. “But what does your gut say?”

Rogue glances at me. His mouth pinches. “It says there’s more to this.”

“Yeah.” My jaw clenches again. “I think there is.”

We both fall silent again as we come up behind a trio of women carrying what looks like their weight in shopping bags. Once we pass them, Rogue says, “If there’s more to get out of him, Houdini will do it.”

When I got Ruby’s text about the fire midway through questioning Haverford, there was no question of me going home. Initially, I thought I’d go alone. But Rogue insisted on going with me, and Houdini agreed. As we quickly conferenced in Haverford’s kitchen, while the terrified building manager sat passively in his restraints, Houdini reasoned, “I can handle this guy myself. You two should go back. Make sure everything is okay with Ruby.”

So Rogue and I left, leaving Houdini to continue questioning Haverford. “Don’t push him too much on my account,” I warned Houdini. “Don’t do anything you could get in serious trouble for.”

A touch ironic, considering we broke into Haverford’s apartment while wearing custom silicone masks to disguise our identities and illegally restrained the guy once we were inside. But we hadn’t gotten to the real intimidation part yet—the part I referred to as unconventional when I talked to Ruby earlier.

“Fuck off,” Houdini replied. “We’re in this together. And Ruby’s part of the family now. Whatever it takes to ensure her safety, I’ll do it.”

“There are the trucks,” Rogue says, gesturing with his chin at the flashing lights up ahead. “Not as many as I’d thought there’d be. Maybe it was a false alarm after all.”

“Maybe,” I mutter. A false alarm should be good news. Unless it was intentionally set in an attempt to draw Ruby out.

“Still no Beau?” I ask. Without waiting for an answer, I dial Ruby’s number again. It rings uselessly before switching over to voicemail, and I repeat the same message I’ve left numerous times already. “Call me, Rue. Right away. It’s an emergency.”

Then I switch over to the tracking app to check on Ruby’s location again. The tracker hidden inside the necklace I gave her displays a small red dot at my building. But as much as I’d like to take comfort from it, I can’t. There are too many uncertainties. Did she put the necklace on after her shower, or did she leave it off, assuming she didn’t need the added security when she was inside my condo? What if she lost it during the evacuation? What if someone took it from her?

Just as I pocket my phone again, Rogue does the same. Deep frown lines are etched across his forehead. “Still no Beau.” He grimaces. “I’m worried.”

Hearing him say that reinforces my own fears, sending my stomach swooping to my feet. “Shit.”

In unspoken agreement, we pick up our pace, sprinting outright as we close the final block to my building. As we approach, I scan the crowd of bystanders, hoping against hope to spot Ruby among them. But she’s not there. Neither are Beau or Sampson.

At least a dozen firefighters and police officers are clustered around the entrance, keeping everyone clear. Two firefighters head inside while I’m watching, moving quickly, but not running like I’d imagine they would be if there were an actual fire.

“You can’t go inside,” one of the officers barks at us. “Emergency personnel only.”

“I live here,” I snap. “My girlfriend is inside.”

His stern expression softens slightly. “You have to wait out here until the place is cleared. I’m sorry. Have you tried calling her?”

My fist itches to punch him. “Of course I’ve called her. She’s not answering. That’s why I need to get to her.”