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But what if she was in immediate danger? It would take too much time for Ash or one of his deputies to get here.
He could call Zak. Redwood Coast Rescue was only a few miles away...
But Zak was probably in bed. It would take time for him to get here, too.
Time Veronica might not have.
Mind made up, Connelly peeked inside and shined the light around. The front door led into an open concept living room and kitchen. He could see straight to the back of the cabin, through the sliding glass doors to the porch and the cliff beyond. It was all empty.
He stepped inside, Rebel following him silently. The dog was suspicious but calm, and he took comfort in that. If there was someone hiding in here with ill intent, Rebel would know.
He opened the first door he came to. Bathroom. He shone the flashlight inside, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Just a generic bathroom that could be found in any vacation rental in the country. Toilet, sink, shower stall. All of it in plain, bland colors.
He kept moving.
The second door was open a crack, and a sliver of light cut across the floor from inside. He knocked, but against received no response. He looked at the dog in question. She sat down and gave a gentle woof and he decided to take it as encouragement. He opened the door.
Veronica was huddled under the covers, her eyes wide and unseeing. Her breathing was shallow and rapid, like she couldn’t catch her breath after a hard run.
She was in the middle of a panic attack.
Connelly’s heart clenched at the sight of his friend in such distress. He approached the bed slowly, his footsteps creaking on the old wood floor, and knelt beside her.
“Vee? It’s me, Connelly. You’re having a panic attack. It’s terrifying, but you’re okay.”
Veronica didn’t seem to hear him. She was lost in her own private nightmare, her body tensed and trembling.
He reached out and brushed a dark lock of hair away from her forehead. Her skin was clammy to the touch, and he could feel her pulse racing beneath his fingertips. “You got this. You just need to breathe through it. Slowly, deeply. In through your nose and out through your mouth.”
He demonstrated, and after a few moments, her breathing slowed. Rebel nuzzled between them and pressed her long nose to Veronica’s tear-stained cheek.
Connelly stayed right there, crouched beside the bed for what felt like hours, though it was probably only a few minutes. He didn’t rush her, didn’t try to push her to talk or move. He knew from experience that panic attacks didn’t work that way. They had their own timeline, their own rhythm. All he could do was be there for her, a steady presence in the middle of a storm.
Eventually, Veronica’s breathing evened out, and she relaxed back into the pillows. She didn’t open her eyes, but her grip on the covers loosened. Connelly took that as a good sign.
“There you go. You did it,” he said softly. “You made it through.”
She didn’t respond, but her breathing remained steady.
Connelly stood up, stretching his cramped muscles. Rebel jumped up on the bed and cuddled next to Veronica.
“I’ll give you some space,” he said. “I’ll be right outside the door when you’re ready.”
He left the door open a crack and made his way to the kitchen to put a kettle on for tea. Veronica had always preferred tea to coffee, and he wasn’t surprised to see a wide selection of flavors in the pantry. He was a coffee guy himself. He loved the stuff, loved the bitterness and the buzz of an espresso shot. But the last thing Veronica needed right now was coffee, so he chose a honey lavender tea, mainly because it was labeled “Calm” in a fancy, flowing script.
As he waited for the water to boil, he paced around the kitchen, his thoughts bouncing between anger at Sara and worry for Veronica.
He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.
It wasn’t just Veronica’s panic attack, although that was concerning enough. No, it was something deeper, something darker. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he knew it was there, lurking just beneath the surface.
He leaned against the counter and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Maybe he was just tired. Maybe he was letting his imagination run wild.
The kettle whistled, interrupting his thoughts. He opened the paper wrapping on the tea bag and put it in a mug, then added the hot water and a spoonful of honey. He stirred it for longer than necessary, trying to calm himself down before he carried the mug back to the bedroom.
Veronica was still lying there, her eyes closed. Rebel had her head on the pillow next to her and was gently licking her hand.
Zak was right. Rebel was the perfect dog for Veronica.
