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Ash’s voice echoed back, “On it.” He was back in his Tahoe, his features highlighted under the harsh overhead light as he barked orders into the radio. Veronica barely registered him, her focus still riveted on Cal.
“The Firestones?” A fragile spark of hope flared in her chest. “Why was he going there?”
He nodded toward Alfie. “To pick up more stuff for the dog.”
A series of harsh curses came from the front porch, followed by the slamming of a car door and the crunching noise of rapidly departing tires.
She scrambled to her feet and ran to the door in time to see the Tahoe’s blue and red lights flash on. The siren whooped as Ash peeled out of her driveway.
“We need to go there.” She shrugged off Cal’s touch and grabbed her keys, pulling on her coat as she ran to her car. She fumbled to hit the unlock and prayed the neglected vehicle started.
“Wait,” Cal called. He tugged the front door shut, but not before Rebel shoved her way out, almost knocking him off his feet. “Jesus!”
Veronica whipped around as Rebel bolted across the lawn. “No, Rebel! Stay!”
But the dog was already gone, a black and copper blur disappearing into the dark.
“We’ll catch her on the way.” Cal took the keys from her trembling hands. “But you’re not driving in this state.”
Her protests died in her throat as he guided her to the passenger side, his firm grip anchoring her as she stumbled. She didn’t even hear Ash’s siren anymore, all sound fading to a dull ring in her ears. Her body felt thin and brittle like one push would shatter her into a thousand pieces.
Cal slid behind the wheel and twisted the key in the ignition. The engine coughed once but then thankfully grumbled to life. Veronica’s phone buzzed in her pocket as he put the car into gear.
She scrambled to pull it out. “It’s him,” she breathed, a surge of relief washing over her as she answered. “Connelly?”
There was no answer. Only static.
She gripped the phone tighter to her ear, straining to hear something beyond the white noise. “Connelly? Can you hear me? Are you okay?”
“Help,” he whispered, his voice weak, barely audible.
“Connelly! We’re coming! Where are you?”
The connection was terrible, full of crackles and pops that distorted his words. But she thought she could make out...
The line went dead.
“Where is he?” Cal demanded. “What did he say?”
“He said...” She looked at Cal, terror closing up her throat, making speech nearly impossible. “Shadow Stalker.”
chapter thirty-three
The Firestones lived in a large Victorian on a quiet cul-de-sac off Main Street. By the time Cal pulled up to the house, emergency vehicles had clogged the street with lights flashing, and two deputies were setting up a barricade of sawhorses and police tape at the end of the driveway. Ash’s Tahoe was among the vehicles, parked at an angle like he’d pulled up in a hurry. He stood, silhouetted against the halo of headlights, talking urgently into his radio.
A few neighbors, drawn by the commotion, were whispering at their front doors, their faces pale and fearful in the harsh lights of the cop cars. One of them, a small woman wrapped in a faded pink bathrobe, had a phone pressed against her ear.
Rebel had beat them there. She was barking furiously, restrained by a deputy as she tried to break free and bolt towards the house.
Veronica barely noticed any of that. Her gaze was drawn to the large Victorian house, or more accurately, what was left of it.
The Firestones’ house was ablaze. Tall flames licked against the night sky, painting everything in an eerie orange glow, while thick plumes of black smoke billowed out into the street. Firefighters were dousing the house with water from multiple angles, their efforts futile against the raging inferno.
Ash noticed them and strode over to the car. “You shouldn’t be here?”
Veronica tried to speak but found she had no voice.
Thankfully, Cal spoke for her. “He called Veronica.”
