“So, let me get this clear…” one of the officers said, pen poised above a notepad. “Miss Torres was already inside this apartment when the object struck the glass?”
Realizing that the question was directed at him, Seb looked up from his musing. Even though it was technically his window that got hit, the assumption that her stalker did it meant Ainsley had been doing most of the talking. She stood near the counter, arms crossed loosely, her short hair still slightly messy from running. She looked tired but calm—maybe a little too calm.
“She was,” Seb answered. “We’d just finished eating dinner when it happened.”
From across the room, Arthur made a quiet noise. It was barely noticeable, but Seb clocked it immediately. The older man stood near the entryway, lips pressed in a worried line.
