She hesitated but turned away from the door eventually. She nodded and looked toward the living room.

“You can take the room upstairs. I’ll take the couch,” I said quickly.

“It’s your place,” she started.

“Actually, it’s Nelson’s place,” I answered, and she gave in without a fight.

* * *

The next morning, I made a call back to Quantico.

Len was still upstairs, sleeping from what I could tell. I hadn’t heard a sound come from the second floor since I woke. It wasn’t surprising; I’d been up before the sun was completely risen.

“Mags,” I spoke into my phone.

“Stone, I don’t have all the information you asked for on that bar yet. I’ve had to do what I can between cases.”

“That’s not why I’m calling,” I said, starting to second-guess my ask.

Mags was already doing enough for me, and risking her own job to find this information, could I really ask her for more?

“I have a video, footage from outside of a shop,” I started slowly. “It’s hard to make out, but the person I’m trying to identify looks to have a keychain hanging out of their pocket. When I zoom in on a laptop, it distorts the picture, but I’m wondering if it’s something you might be able to make out.”

“Send it my way, and I’ll get to it as soon as I get to the rest of the information you asked for,” she said.

I heard footsteps walking across the second floor, hurrying down the stairs.

“Thanks, Mags,” I said, hanging up before Len could hear me.

“How did you sleep?” I asked as she rounded the corner into the living room.

She still wore her fuzzy pink robe, and her hair was a slight mess, but in a way I found to be adorable. Had I really become so analytical that I was noticing these things?

“Better than I expected,” she muttered, rubbing sleep from her eyes. “I think it helped knowing you were down here.”

“You can stay here for the foreseeable future,” I promised her.

She shook her head quickly, her eyes narrowing. “I can’t stay here,” she started. “I have work and the cats to take care of, and Mallory would lose her shit if she found out I was staying here and not my apartment.”

“Mallory can get over it,” I retorted. “You have a stalker.”

That sentence alone should be enough to scare anyone, but Len barely flinched.

“And I’m really grateful you let me stay here last night, because I was far too tired to be driving home, but I’m fine. I’ve survived three years without them coming for me. I’ll be fine.”