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She returned Connelly’s hand squeeze with a reassuring one of her own. “Thank you.”
Ash slid his notebook from his pocket. “Do feel up to running through it all with me, Connelly?”
Connelly sighed, a look of weariness flashing across his rugged features. He released her hand and nodded. “Yeah, let’s get this over with.”
“I’ll try to make it as painless as possible.” Ash sat down at the small table in the corner by the window and opened his notebook. “Start from when you left the Mad Dog that night. What happened?”
Connelly exhaled, long and slow, and closed his eyes. “Jeremy told me he still had some of Alfie’s things, so I stopped by on my way home to pick them up. He invited me inside. I was standing there in the living room, waiting for him to bring the box downstairs—and there was this smell. Like rotting meat.” He paused and swallowed hard. “I didn’t recognize it at first because it had a chemical undertone, but it was human decomp. I’m sure of it. I noticed he had my book on the coffee table, picked it up, and started to flip through it. It was full of notes. I looked at the title page and realized it was the copy I’d sent Veronica. The one she was missing. And I just—I knew. I started to turn to leave, and he hit me over the head. Next thing I remember was waking up in a metal box. I could hear the dirt hitting the top of it...” He trailed off, shuddered.
“Did you see Hank Firestone while you were at the house?” Ash asked.
“No, I think he was already dead. I think he was the reason the place smelled of decomp.”
“That lines up with the forensics reports,” Ash confirmed. “It appears Hank had been dead for a few weeks at least. Under the fire damage, he was already well into the advanced stages of decomposition.”
“Did Jeremy kill him?” Veronica asked. “When he spoke about Hank at the hangar, there was a lot of resentment in his voice. He acted like his father wasn’t worthy of being called The Shadow Stalker.”
“We can only speculate at this point, but I’d say it’s a good bet. Hank Firestone wasn’t delusional. He didn’t believe all that Shadow Stalker shit. He just liked to kill. That’s why his kills were so methodical. That’s why he got away with it for so long.”
“But Jeremy was batshit crazy,” Veronica said without a shred of doubt. “I saw it in his eyes. He called me his muse, said I’d be his masterpiece. He truly believed he would become The Shadow Stalker of legend when he killed me.”
Ash grunted. “The kid didn’t stand a chance. Not excusing what he did, but he was raised to kill. I got his adoption records unsealed, and he was Maria Socktish’s son. We’re still waiting on the paternity test, but I’m reasonably sure it will come back with Hank Firestone as his biological father.”
“No doubt. Jeremy looked just like Hank,” Connelly said.
Ash nodded. “I’ve known him since he was a kid and honestly never knew he was adopted.” He closed the notebook and tucked away his pen. “I think that’s all I need for now.”
He was almost to the door when a thought struck Veronica. “Hey, Ash?”
He stopped and turned back, an eyebrow raised in question.
“They killed Dr. Firestone, didn’t they?”
Ash’s lips thinned into a grim line. “We’re still waiting on forensics, but I do know for certain that Jaxon Thorne didn’t do it. Despite his confession, his DNA was nowhere on the scene. The current running theory is Dr. Firestone found out about her husband’s and son’s extracurricular activities, and one or both of them killed her to keep their secret. My money’s on Jeremy. Hank was a cold-blooded killer, but I do believe he truly loved his wife.”
Veronica thought back to how Hank had looked when he gave her Alfie—unkempt, exhausted, heartbroken—and she felt a weird tug of sympathy for him. “I think so, too. Nobody can fake that level of grief. But he created a monster he couldn’t control, and Dr. Firestone paid for it with her life.”
“Unfortunately,” Ash agreed, a hint of sorrow shadowing his stoic gaze. “She was a good woman. She didn’t deserve that.”
After the sheriff left, Connelly raised her hand to his lips. “I don’t think I ever thanked you for saving my life.”
She smiled and tilted her head in invitation as his lips brushed her neck just behind her ear. “I think you just did.”
“Vee.” Connelly waited until she looked at him before he whispered, “You are the most amazing woman I’ve ever known. When I thought I was going to die in that box?—”
“Oh, don’t?—”
He silenced her protest with a finger against her lips. “Let me finish. Right before I passed out, you were my very last thought, and I hated that I couldn’t give you the happily ever after you deserve.”
Tears flooded her eyes. “Connelly...”
“But, because of you, I got a second chance, and I’m not wasting it. I love you, Veronica. I’ve loved you since I first saw you riding your bike across the street with that gap-toothed smile and those lopsided pigtails in your hair.” He smiled at the memory and tugged on the end of her ponytail. “I knew from that moment I wanted to marry you someday, and I don’t want to wait any longer.”
His laptop case sat on the overbed table. He reached over and dug in the side pocket. She knew what he would pull out, but shock and wonder still coursed through her when she saw the small velvet box in his hand. Opening it up, he revealed a delicate engagement ring, the diamond sparking under the harsh hospital lights.
The tears spilled over. She tried to speak, but all she could manage was a choked sob as she threw her arms around him, burying her face in his shoulder. Connelly held her tight, whispering words of comfort and love into her hair.
“When did you get that?” She finally managed to ask between the sobs.
