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“Weird, how?”
“She doxxed a critic who panned one of my books, and she would rip into anyone who gave my books less than five stars. It got uncomfortable, so I ended our professional relationship.”
“What about your personal relationship?”
“It wasn’t exactly a relationship. It was a fling. When it ended, I thought she seemed okay with just being friends and colleagues. Writing is a lonely gig, and it’s nice to have someone who understands it to vent to. She was a talented writer on her own. She would send me some of her work to critique, but over time, I started to notice her writing was more and more like mine. Like she was stealing my voice. That was when I cut her off professionally, and that was also when things escalated. She started showing up wherever I was. Conferences, book signings. I took my parents to Hawaii last summer for their anniversary, and she was there, but I didn’t realize it until another reader pointed out her Instagram to me. She had posted all kinds of pictures of me, and almost all of them were taken without my knowledge. Some were... uh, personal. She must have taken them while I was sleeping.”
“She was stalking you?”
He nodded. “So I got the restraining order.”
“Have you heard from her since?”
Connelly’s heart pitched into his stomach, like that first gravity-defying second of stepping out of a plane with nothing but a parachute strapped to your back. He used to love that feeling. Now, not so much.
“Yeah,” he admitted. “She called me a few days ago. I told her I’d report her to the police if she contacted me again.”
Ash scowled. “You should’ve contacted me right away.”
“What were you going to do? She’s in Seattle.” He motioned to the crime scene photos. “And she didn’t do this.”
Ash leaned forward in his chair, his eyes boring into Connelly’s. “You don’t know that. She could have hired someone to do it for her, or she could have traveled here to commit the crime herself.”
“But you said May-Lynn was sexually assaulted…”
“Women are capable of sexually assaulting other women. It’s rare but not unheard of.”
Jesus. He had never considered that possibility, but now that Ash had said it out loud, it made a sick kind of sense. Sara’s obsession with him had always been intense, and she had shown a willingness to cross lines in the past.
“What do you need me to do?”
Ash collected his notebook and pen as he stood. “Stay vigilant. Anything out of the ordinary happens, you call me, day or night. If, for whatever reason, you can’t get in touch with me, call Zak or Donovan or anyone at RWCR.”
“You don’t want me to call your office?”
Ash’s lips thinned into a grim line. “My department is a mess. I can’t trust half of my deputies. I’ve been working on cleaning house, but it’s been a slow process. You’re better off contacting me directly.”
“That doesn’t make me feel very safe, Sheriff.”
“Good. I don’t want you to feel safe. People let their guard down when they feel safe, and I cannot lose anyone else on my watch.” At that moment, he looked like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. “There’s been too much death around here lately.”
“Hey, Ash? Don’t worry about me. I may be a nerd, but I know how to take care of myself.”
Ash studied him for a long moment, then nodded and knocked his fist lightly on the tabletop as he stood. “Counting on that. I’ll be in touch.”
chapter thirteen
Veronica awoke with a start as the first rays of the sun broke through the blinds. She squinted, blinking away the remnants of her nightmare-fueled sleep, and took in the room through half-lidded eyes. Dark shadows still clung to the walls, the dim light of the morning not yet strong enough to chase them away. Her sheets were a jumble of knots, and her pillow was damp with sweat from hours spent tossing and turning.
Rebel lifted her head from her spot at the foot of the bed and let out a soft woof that puffed out her jowls. At the noise, Alfie poked his head up from under the blankets, where he’d burrowed at some point during the night. He had a serious case of bedhead, his fluffy ears sticking up at all angles.
Veronica laughed softly and soothed a hand over his head. He gave an excited full-body wiggle, turning in several circles.
“All right, dogs,” she murmured. “I suppose you have to go outside?”
Rebel all but melted off the bed and stretched lazily, first her front paws and then her back. Alfie was a lot less graceful and took a flying leap off the bed, his ears flaring out like wings.
The dogs were ready to go.
