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Ash exhaled in a rush. “All of them.”
“Did he write any notes in any of the others?”
“No. Just the one. Except...” He trailed off, and there was the sound of pages turning. “Wait. No, there are highlighted scenes in several of the books.”
She exhaled in a rush. “Okay. Jeremy said Connelly was ‘facing his fears.’ Do the scenes have anything in common?”
Ash was silent for too long. She wanted to shout at him to hurry, but she knew it wouldn’t help, so she bit her tongue. Alfie, sensing her unease, crawled into her lap. Rebel rested her big head on the seat next to Veronica’s shoulder. She gave them both a pet.
“It’s okay,” she whispered to them. “I’m okay. Connelly will be okay.”
“Yeah,” Ash said finally. “In every single highlighted passage, a character is?—”
“What are you afraid of?”
“I write horror for a living. I’m afraid of everything.”
“That’s not true.”
“You’d be surprised.”
“No, but really. What scares you?”
“My biggest fear? Being buried alive.”
“—buried alive.” Her choked voice joined with Ash’s to finish the sentence. “Oh my God. Jeremy buried him alive.”
And she’d never spot him from the air without radar.
“Holy fuck,” Ash whispered.
Every breath was suddenly filled with shards of glass. She swallowed, trying to keep her voice steady. “I can’t see anything from the sky. We need ground-penetrating radar. Do you have access to any?”
“Get back to the airport. I’ll have it there waiting.”
chapter thirty-five
Connelly woke with a start and instantly banged his head when he tried to sit up. He opened his eyes but saw a blackness so thick it felt as if he was drowning in it. He stilled his breath, listening. All he could hear was his own rapid heartbeat pounding in his ears and a steady thump, thump, thump from overhead.
Where the hell was he?
He remembered being in the Firestone’s house. He remembered finding his book on their coffee table, the chill of realization prickling his skin as he flipped through the pages and saw it was full of notes and signed to Veronica. Then there was a sound behind him, a sharp blow to the back of his head... and nothing.
No. Wait. Not nothing. He’d woken up once before in the back of a van. He’d still had his phone, had managed to call Veronica… tried to tell her…
What?
He couldn’t remember.
He winced as pain sliced through his skull and reached up to probe the sore spot on the back of his head. His fingers came away sticky with blood.
Gritting his teeth against the pain, he rolled onto his side...
And hit a wall.
And another wall at his other side.
He moved his hands around in the darkness to gauge his surroundings. Cold sweat trickled down his back.
