He was comparing.
The man in front of him was shorter. Narrower shoulders. Completely different build. And his face, even in fear, even in shadow, did not match.
Leo's memory pulled up the photo Bella had sent. The hooded figure outside the lounge. The stance. The angle of the head. The way he had stood, still and patient, watching.
This man could not have stood like that. His posture was wrong. His proportions were wrong.
And the photo.
The photo Bella had taken from the security feed showed the figure positioned at a specific angle to the window. A specific distance. If this man had been the one standing there, the height would have looked different. The perspective would have been off.
It was not him.
Leo's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly.
Because somewhere in the dark, the real watcher was still out there.
This man was a photographer. A creep. A predator of a different kind.
But he was not the one who had stood in the dark and stared at Bella through the glass.
