Searching for Shadows, page 14
Connelly’s life might be in danger.
She groped in her pocket for her phone and dialed his number. Straight to voicemail.
She cursed, her hands shaking as she ended the call. She tried again, dialing his second number, praying he would pick up this time. The ringing tone seemed to echo in the quiet house, making the silence all the more profound. Again, it went to voicemail.
“No,” Veronica muttered, refusing to accept what was happening. She would not lose Connelly. Not now.
Her fingers trembled as she dialed 911, the digits blurring together on the screen.
“911, what’s your emergency?” The voice on the other end sounded calm and collected, in sharp contrast to the chaos unfolding around her.
“Some... someone broke into my friend’s house,” she stuttered out, clutching Alfie closer to her chest. “I think he might be in danger. The intruder ran off into the woods when I arrived.”
The operator asked for more information — Connelly’s address, what the intruder looked like, if Veronica or Alfie had been harmed. The questions were a blur and she answered them mechanically, all while her gaze never strayed from the blood smeared on the wall.
The police assured her they’d send someone over right away. She hung up and slid down against the door, wrapping her arms around Alfie who crawled into her lap, whimpering softly.
The adrenaline was wearing off and reality was sinking in. She was alone, in a house that wasn’t hers, a house that now echoed with the violence. Every small sound seemed amplified, from the steady tick-tick-tick of the clock to the low hum of the refrigerator. Her heart was still racing, and she felt cold despite the warmth flooding in from the windows. She held onto Alfie tighter. His soft fur was a comforting balm against the icy fear slowly seeping back into her veins.
She thought about Connelly, his smile that could light up even the darkest corners of her mind, and his way of always making her feel safe. Now he was missing, possibly in danger or... or...
The door moved at her back and she jumped up with a yelp of fear. The intruder was back! Maybe this time with a gun. She should run, but she looked around the living room in panic and realized her legs were too shaky to move. As the doorknob began to turn, Veronica tightened her grip on Alfie, bracing herself for what was about to come.
But instead of the ominous figure she expected to see, in walked a shell-shocked Connelly. He was covered head-to-toe in mud and smelled like a musty dungeon, but she’d never seen any man look so beautiful.
He was alive.
She threw herself into his arms. He caught her without question and held her tight. He’d always catch her. She hated herself for forgetting that.
“Vee?” After several long moments, he drew away. “What are you doing here?” He looked at her and then at the blood stains on the wall. “Jesus. What happened?”
Without his support, she was shivering so hard she struggled to remain upright. She stuttered, attempting to explain everything that had happened while he was gone, but the words wouldn’t come.
A siren cut through the air outside as a deputy vehicle skidded into the driveway.
“What the hell?” Connelly muttered.
Their arrival only amplified the fear clawing at her chest, but she took a shaky step back from him. “I called them. I didn’t know where you were, and the intruder... he... he got away.”
“Intruder?”
“I don’t know who he was,” she whispered. “He didn’t say anything... but I think he was looking for you.”
He stared at her, his features a mask of concern and confusion. Then his gaze flicked back to the blood on the wall and realization swept across his features. He scrubbed a hand through his mud-caked, disheveled hair. “Shit. The stalker. He must’ve left the cave and come right here.”
“Cave?” Momentarily distracted from her fear, she eyed the mud coating him. “Why were you in a cave?”
Before he could respond, there was a knock on the door and two uniformed officers stepped inside, their stern expressions giving way to surprise as they took in the disarray of the living room - the skewed frames, the blood on the wall, and the two disheveled individuals staring back at them.
“We got a call about a break-in and a potential assault?” The older of the officers, a burly man with salt-and-pepper hair, spoke first. His eyes flicked to Veronica’s pale face, taking in her shaking form. “Are you alright, ma’am?”
Veronica nodded weakly. Her gaze never strayed far from Connelly, as if he was an anchor in this storm.
The younger officer, a woman with steel grey eyes and a stern expression, studied their surroundings critically. “I’m Deputy Delgado and this is my partner, Deputy Turney. Could you tell us what happened here?”
Connelly spoke up then. “I was out on a rescue with RWCR and the sheriff,” he said, his voice hoarse with some undisclosed emotion. “I came back and found all this. Where the hell were you guys? The sheriff promised to have sitting someone on Veronica’s house.”
“This isn’t Veronica’s house,” Turney pointed out with a faint sneer. “We were exactly where we were supposed to be. How do you think we got here so fast?”
“It wasn’t fast enough,” Connelly snapped, running a hand through his hair, the mud flaking off onto the hardwood floor. “This guy’s dangerous. He’s killed once and nearly succeeded in taking a second victim today. And he was here, in my house, fighting with Veronica, and you didn’t notice?”
“Our job was to sit on Veronica Martens house,” Turney replied, biting off each word. “The sheriff said nothing about watching your place, too. We can’t be everywhere at once.”
Delgado sent her partner a look of barely concealed contempt before smoothing her face into an unreadable mask.
Veronica knew that feeling well. She’d once been a woman in a male-dominated profession. She knew what it was like to have to defer to men who thought they knew more than she did solely because of the different equipment between their legs.
Connelly gave the older deputy a hard stare, but said nothing. Veronica could see the threadbare patience in his gaze. He looked at her, his eyes softer now. “Vee, are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine,” she muttered, even though she knew she was far from okay. Connelly looked like he wanted to argue but the female officer spoke up again.
“You said the intruder ran into the woods?”
Veronica nodded.
Delgado reached for her radio. “I’ll call in backup to search for him and the forensics team to dust for prints, take samples of that blood.”
Turney grumbled something under his breath and stepped out onto the porch.
Delgado ignored him and stayed focused on Veronica, her gaze sympathetic. “In the meantime, you should go to the hospital—”
“No.” The suggestion had her throat closing up with panic. “No, I can’t.”
Connelly put a soothing hand on her back. “I was a medic in the Air Force. I’ll make sure she’s okay, and if she’s not, I’ll drive her to the hospital myself.”
Delgado eyed him, then gave a curt nod. “I’m afraid you won’t be able to stay here until after the forensics team is finished.”
“We’ll be over at Veronica’s,” Connelly said. “Would if be okay if I grabbed some fresh clothes from the bedroom closet?”
Delgado hesitated for a moment, glancing toward the hallway that led to the bedrooms. “Just a minute,” she said, then reached for her radio again, murmuring something into it. A moment later she nodded at Connelly. “Alright, make it quick.”
Connelly disappeared down the hallway, sidestepping the streaks of blood. Veronica watched him go, and found herself grabbing onto Alfie for support. The little dog whined anxiously and pressed up against her, obviously distraught by the lingering tension in the room. While he was gone, Deputy Delgado snapped some photos of Rebel’s bloodied muzzle. “Looks like this good girl took a chunk out of the guy?”
Veronica nodded and tried to speak but found her throat had seized up. She cleared it and tried again. “She bit his arm and his leg.”
“Good girl,” Delgado said again and stoked an admiring hand over Rebel’s head. Rebel’s tail thunked against the floor and she gave the deputy a sloppy doggie smile. “That should help us identify him.”
Connelly returned a few moments later with a duffel bag slung over one shoulder and exchanged a few murmured words with the deputy. He showed her what was in his bag, and she nodded.
“Okay,” she said. “We will get this sorted out as fast as we can, but I recommend you two find somewhere else to stay for the night.”
Staying anywhere but at home was out of the question.
“We’ll stay at Veronica’s.”
“If you insist, I’ll personally make sure the sheriff assigns someone...” She trailed off and glanced toward her partner, then lowered her voice. “Competent to the protection detail.”
“Thank you.” Connelly nodded and turned to Veronica. “Ready?”
chapter eighteen
Veronica didn’t say a word during the walk back to her cabin. She walked with single-minded purpose, eyes focused on the path ahead like a horse with blinders on.
Connelly let her have the silence until the door shut behind them. He opened his mouth to say… he didn’t know what. But he didn’t get the chance to utter a sound. She held up a hand, stopping him, and went into her bedroom. Alfie trotted after her without a backward glance. The bedroom door shut behind them.
Rebel, still bloodstained, sat down next to him and stared up, a look of confusion in her eyes.
He met the dog’s gaze until she looked toward the bedroom.
“I know. I don’t like being shut out either.” He rubbed her soft ear. “Let’s get cleaned up and give her some time. Alfie will take care of her for us.”
In the bathroom, he took a moment to dial Ash. The sheriff needed to know what happened at his place, and he didn’t trust the deputies to do it.
When he finished explaining, Ash sighed. “I’m sorry about that. Delgado is still green, but she’s one of the good ones. Turney… is not.”
“Then why not get rid of him?”
“It’s on my to-do list.” His tone said that the to-do list was about as long as a redwood was tall.
“Any word on Lucy’s condition?” Connelly asked. The rescue had taken hours, and Lucy had lost consciousness before they managed to free her.
“She’s very dehydrated and has lost a lot of blood. She slipped into a coma, but the doctors are still optimistic about her chances. Sawyer’s staying with her.”
Connelly smirked. “Yeah?”
“Yeah, I don’t know. Said he promised her or some shit. I still can’t believe you sent the blind man into a cave.”
“Worked, didn’t it? He found her and kept her calm until the calvary arrived.”
Ash grunted. “If you want updates on her, he’d be the one to contact. I’m headed to your place now to meet the forensics unit.”
“If you need me, I’m at Veronica’s.” Though, this place was nothing like how he pictured Veronica’s home. He picked up the hand towel hanging beside the sink and shook his head at the rooster printed on it. Farmhouse chic. Veronica almost certainly didn’t buy that. It must have come with the rental, like everything else. There was nothing of the fierce, vibrant woman he’d known here and he could hardly picture the once fiercely independent Veronica living amidst these rooster-printed hand towels and dainty floral motifs. The Veronica he knew had loved bold artwork that made a statement and sharp colors. Her old apartment had been an eclectic mix of pop art and abstract paintings that seemed to shout out their existence at anyone who entered, each piece selected for its vibrancy and ability to stir emotions.
Now, Connelly stood amidst the neutral tones of this quaint country cabin, a place as calming as a cup of chamomile tea on a quiet morning, and heavy sadness filled his chest. He ran his fingers over the coarse fabric, picturing Veronica’s smiling face from the days of their reckless youth. Those bright, wild eyes that dared the world to hold her back.
“I’ll need to talk to her,” Ash said, drawing him back to the conversation.
He sighed and set the towel down. “I know. I’ll prepare her for it.”
There was a lot of shuffling on the other end then Ash came back to the line. “How is she?”
Connelly looked at the closed bathroom door. “Not sure yet.”
“I need to catch this fucking asshole,” Ash muttered. “Don’t let Veronica out of your sight until I do.”
“Wasn’t planning on it. Hey, Ash?” he added before Ash could end the call. “I need a gun. I bought one the other day but the waiting period... I can’t wait any longer.”
“No, you can’t. I’ll get you one.”
“Thanks,” he said but Ash was already gone. He set the phone on the counter and scrubbed his hands through his hair. Crusted mud fell to the floor at his feet.
“Okay. Shower,” he said to Rebel, who was sitting next to the door, watching him suspiciously. “Then it’s your turn.”
Her ears flattened and she crouched down, making herself as small as possible.
“That’s not going to save you, girl.”
He washed off the mud, then pulled Rebel into the stall with him and scrubbed the blood off her. It amused him when he scratched under her ears and both of her legs thumped on the tile floor.
“You’re a good girl.” He kissed her long nose. “Thanks for protecting our Vee today. You’re getting all the treats with dinner.”
At the T-word Rebel’s ears perked and she turned a tight circle in the small room, nearly knocking him off his feet.
“Okay. Okay!” He laughed and opened the bathroom door, intending to let her out while he dressed. She had other ideas. She ripped his towel off and burst through the door, prancing right past a wide-eyed Veronica, the towel flying behind her like a white flag.
Veronica stared at him, her eyes going even wider as her gaze slid down the front of him.
“Shit. Sorry.” He reached blindly for the first thing he could find to cover himself—the hand towel.
Veronica burst out laughing.
He looked down and saw the cock covering his cock and his ears burned with embarrassment. He pushed the door shut with his foot, threw the stupid cock towel in the trash can, and quickly dressed. He wasn’t usually self-conscious about his body, but this was Veronica. She’d never seen him naked before and he’d always hoped if she ever did, it would be under sexier circumstances. Not because a dog stole his towel.
Jesus.
He waited until his face stopped burning before opening the door. To his surprise, Veronica wasn’t in the living room anymore. He peeked into her room, but she wasn’t there either. Nor was she in the kitchen, though there was a freshly opened bottle of wine on the counter next to an empty, unused glass. A cool, salted breeze swept across the kitchen and he looked toward the back door, his heart jumping into his throat when he saw it open.
She wouldn’t have gone out there willingly, would she?
“Veronica?”
He found her sitting on the deck chair with Alfie on her lap, staring out over the restless Pacific. Her eyes were closed and her fingers were buried in Alfie’s fur. Instead of wine, she had a glass of water on the table beside her.
“What are you doing out here?” Connelly settled into the seat beside her. Rebel padded over, still dragging the towel, and dropped it at her feet before resting her head on Veronica’s knee.
A smile flitted over her mouth, but she still didn’t open her eyes. “I challenged myself to sit out here for ten minutes.”
“How long has it been?”
“Not long enough.”
He watched her. The longer she sat there, the more she relaxed, the easier her breathing. “I think you’ll make it.”
Finally, she exhaled and opened her eyes. “I was scared today.”
He wanted to reach for her, to squeeze her hand, but stayed still. “I know. I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”
“But I didn’t freeze. I didn’t let the fear win.”
A silence settled between them, only to be broken by the lapping of the waves and the distant cries of seagulls. Connelly took a deep breath, tasting the salt in the air.
“I’m tired of letting fear win, Conn.”
“Then don’t.”
“It’s not that easy.”
“You did it today.”
“That was different. That was a tangible threat I had to deal with. But the daily fear? The fear that keeps me locked in the house? It’s not tangible. It’s not logical. I know it’s not, but knowing that doesn’t stop it.” Tears squeezed from the corners of her eyes and she shook her head hard as if to fling them away. “If I could just decide to stop being scared, don’t you think I would’ve done it by now? I’m exhausted. I don’t even know myself anymore. If I could’ve woken up one day and just decided to be normal again, I would have done it ages ago.”
“Normal’s overrated.”
She didn’t seem to hear him. Or, if she did, she ignored him. “It’s not a voluntary reaction. It’s not controllable. I walk outside and every nerve in my body screams for me to run back inside, to lock the doors, to hide. I don’t know why. I don’t know how to stop it.”
Connelly studied her profile in the fading light, taking note of the lines of exhaustion etched into her face. The Veronica he knew was a fighter; she had always been a fighter. But now, that fight seemed to have ebbed away, leaving only a hollowed-out husk of the woman she once was.
“But you’re sitting outside now,” he pointed out.
Her arms tightened around Alfie. The dog licked her cheek before burrowing under her chin. “It’s taking everything I have to stay put and not run inside and drown myself in that bottle of wine.”
So the fight hadn’t completely disappeared from her, after all. “That’s still a victory. And you faced down a killer today. Most normal people wouldn’t have been able to do that. Another victory. A huge one. You can conquer this.”
