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I had to think fast. There was no time to linger outside this flat. While Forde and I might be at a crossroads in our relationship, I needed to make a choice. Either I trusted him enough to tell him why I was here or I lost my opportunity to find some real evidence.

My feelings came second to saving women’s lives, so I hissed, “Help me break into this flat and I will tell you everything.”

Forde’s dark eyebrows almost hit his hairline. “Are you kidding me?”

“Forde …” I pleaded. “Trust me.”

He searched my face, somewhat frantically, and whatever he found there made him sigh in exasperation. He gestured to the tools in my hand. “Give them to me.”

I stood from my haunches to do just that and my skin tingled with awareness as our palms brushed. Forde kneeled next to the lock and inserted the tools.

“Have you done this before?” I whispered.

He cut me a dirty look over his shoulder. “Why would I have picked a lock before?”

“I was just asking,” I huffed.

Forde bit his lip in concentration as he seemed to be feeling inside the lock with the rake and hook. It was kind of attractive how quickly he got to grips with the mechanism. The door snicked open, and I felt a flush of admiration. “Well done.” I patted his shoulder and gestured him inside.

I hated to admit it, but after quickly reconciling myself to the inevitability of his presence, having him here had soothed my jitters.

We darted in and I closed the door softly behind us.

Forde opened his mouth, but I put my finger to my lips to silence him.

I gestured, indicating we needed to check the coast was clear.

His eyes widened and he whispered, “You mean, you don’t know if it is?”

I gave him a sheepish grimace as I tiptoed down the short hall to peer into the bathroom first. It was a tiny one-bedroom flat with an open-plan kitchen and living room, so it took us seconds to confirm we were alone and that there were no signs of internal cameras or security.

“Right. Explain,” Forde demanded as we stood in the bedroom. “Who’s flat is this?”

Just like that, a rush of agonized nerves flooded over me. “Do you remember Greig?”

Forde was visibly confused. “Aye?”

“This is his flat.”

Something flickered over his expression, akin to resentment. “And you’re here breaking and entering why?”

“Because …” Nausea burned my gut. “I’m trying to find evidence to prove he’s the Iron Ripper.”

Forde’s features slackened with shock, and he stared at me, apparently having lost the ability to speak.

“I know it sounds insane, but I think I have proof already.” In a rush of stumbling words and short, harsh breaths, I relayed all the information that I’d pieced together that condemned Greig. Greig, the charming, funny, flirty plasterer who freelanced all over the country, with whom I’d had sporadic sex over the course of nine months until I decided I wanted to settle down and broke it off with him.

The memories of being in bed with Greig now made me sick to my stomach.

Forde’s tan complexion paled considerably. Finally, he cut me off with a sharp wave of his hand. “Let me get this straight. You believe this man is capable of the darkest of evil and you came five hours away from everyone you know to break into his flat alone?”

I could hear and see the anger bubbling inside him and while I understood it, I didn’t have time for it. “Be pissed off at me later. We need to search the flat for the branding iron before he comes home.”

“Or we go to the police like normal people,” Forde argued.

“With what? Circumstantial evidence? Forde, if I’m right … fuck … I can’t even think about it. Ever since I suspected this about him, I can’t sleep. I can’t focus on anything. If he really is the man doing these horrific things and I might be able to stop him, I must.”

“What are the odds, though, Cameron?”