Searching for Shadows, page 16
“You made me brave,” she said. “In the book.”
“You are brave.”
“I don’t feel it.”
“Because bravery isn’t about not being scared. It’s about being scared and doing it anyway. Like you did today.” Connelly’s lips brushed her temple. “So, are you going to tell me why you went to my place today?”
She hesitated. “Because you weren’t here.”
“You told me to stay away.”
“I didn’t mean it.”
“I’m here now.”
“I know. I’m glad for it.” She breathed in, taking his scent deep into her head and lungs. “Can we just... stay like this for a while?”
“We can stay like this forever if that’s what you want.”
She didn’t know how long they lay there together, wrapped in the cocoon of the bed and each other’s arms. But eventually, the tension drained from her body.
Forever, she thought as she drifted to sleep. She liked the sound of it.
chapter twenty
Connelly woke to find Veronica’s side of the bed empty, and he could hear her talking to the dogs in the other room. After spending so many nights sleeping on the hard wood of her front porch, he’d slept like a rock in her bed. He smiled a little at the memory of holding her as she drifted to sleep, and his heart seemed to expand, filling his whole chest.
He stretched, every single one of his muscles protesting after yesterday’s cave rescue. But it was a good ache. He felt alive, purposeful. He felt like a piece of his soul had slotted back into place, a piece he’d not even realized was missing.
He would join RWCR, he decided and swung his legs out of the bed. The wood floor was cold under his bare feet as he padded into the kitchen, drawn by the scent of fresh coffee and the comforting sound of Veronica’s voice as she animatedly babbled to Rebel and Alfie. He leaned on the doorway for a moment to watch them. Veronica was wearing a faded band shirt and flannel pajama bottoms, her dark hair piled into a messy bun atop her head. She moved around the kitchen with ease, adding dog food into two bowls while speaking in a high-pitched tone that made Rebel’s ears perk up and Alfie scamper around excitedly.
She looked good. Relaxed. Peaceful. Happy, even.
A wave of tenderness washed over him. He wanted to hug her, just wrap his arms around her, bury his face in all that dark hair, and breathe her in. He hesitated, debating until he finally decided, fuck it. They’d already crossed that line last night. If she didn’t want him touching her in the light of day, she’d tell him, but he wouldn’t know until he tried. He went to her, wrapping his arms around her as she straightened from setting the dog dishes on the floor.
“Morning,” he said against her temple.
To his surprise, she didn’t startle at the unexpected touch. She leaned back against him, relaxing into his arms.
“Good morning,” she replied with a lightness that made his heart do strange things.
“Any more nightmares?”
She shook her head. “Not even a dream. I slept better than I have in years.”
Normally, the last thing an author wanted to hear was that he was a cure for insomnia, but this time, Connelly welcomed the news. He tightened his arms around her. “Maybe it was the company.”
“Hm. Maybe.” She turned around, her dark eyes meeting his, and there was a warmth in them that he hadn’t seen in a long time. “The dogs are good company.”
When he opened his mouth to protest, she laughed softly and reached out to smooth her thumb over the crease between his brows. “You, too. Maybe I should keep you around.”
He caught her hand and brought it to his lips. “Maybe I’d like that.”
She moistened her lips. “I think... I’d like that, too.”
He didn’t miss the subtle shift of her body closer toward his, and he found himself closing the gap between them, drawn by the warmth of her skin, the twinkle in her eyes, the vanilla and cherry scent of her. Before he knew what he was doing, he tilted his head down, his lips brushing against hers. Veronica stiffened for a moment before melting into the kiss, her arms winding around his neck as she pressed herself closer.
He tasted coffee on her lips, and it was more intoxicating than any drink he’d ever sipped. Her hands found their way to his morning stubble, grazing it lightly before threading into his hair. His senses were overwhelmed—all thoughts of caution tossed aside as he deepened the kiss, earning a sigh from Veronica that sent a shiver down his spine.
Connelly heard Rebel growl somewhere in the background but chose to ignore it for now. Untangling himself from Veronica was going to be an uphill battle and he had every intention of dragging this moment out as long as possible.
But eventually he had to drawing back for air and rested his forehead against hers, eyes shut tight. They were swaying together in the quiet kitchen as they both caught their breaths.
He finally opened his eyes to find her watching him, her gaze soft and filled with a tender affection that made his pulse quicken.
He gave her a small smile, tucking a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. “Are you okay with this? With us... being more than friends? Because I still want to be more than friends, Vee.”
She hummed an affirmative.
“You sure? I don’t want to push you into anything you’re not ready for.” He wanted her—God, how he wanted her—but not at the expense of her comfort.
Determination flashed in her eyes as she flattened her hand against his chest. The gesture was both intimate and comforting, a silent reassurance that this was okay, that she was okay. “I’d tell you if I wasn’t.”
“Or if it gets to be too much?”
“I’ll tell you. Promise.”
Taking a deep breath, he wrapped his arms around her again, pulling her tight against him. His lips found hers once more in a slow, sweet, lingering kiss. He could feel her smile against his lips, which only encouraged him further.
Rebel let out a series of deep barks and ran into the living room. Alfie joined in, yapping wildly as he scampered behind her toward the front door.
Someone knocked.
Veronica broke from the kiss, and her entire body tensed.
“Shh.” He rubbed a soothing hand over her back. “It’s okay. It’s probably Ash. I’m sure he’s impatient to get your statement. You know him.”
The knock came again, louder this time. All the warmth and peace that had filled the room a moment ago seemed to evaporate.
“I’m not ready,” she whispered and buried her face in his shirt.
“Want me to tell him to get lost?”
“No.” She sighed and stepped out of his arms, and he instantly missed the warmth of her body against his. He could see the anxiety in her eyes as she glanced toward the door. “No. Let’s get it over with.”
“How about you stay in here and brew a fresh pot of coffee for us? I’ll go let him in. Give you some time to steady those nerves.”
“Okay. Coffee.” She straightened her spine. “Yeah, I can do that.”
He watched her for a moment longer, his gaze taking in the determined set of her shoulders and the way she was nervously biting her lower lip.
“Just remember to breathe, Vee.” He leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to her forehead before moving towards the door. “Rebel. Alfie. Come on. Away from the door.”
The dogs instantly obeyed, but not without whines of protest.
He opened the door to find Ash standing on the other side, his clothes rumpled like he’d slept in them—if he’d slept at all. Judging by the shadows of exhaustion around his eyes, he hadn’t. His expression was always serious, but today it was grave.
“Ash,” he greeted, stepping aside to let him in. “You look like you’ve been dragged through a hedge backward. Long night?”
The sheriff gave him a curt nod as he stepped over the threshold. “You could say that. How’s Veronica?”
“Honestly, she’s better than I expected. She’s making coffee.” He closed and locked the door, then led Ash into the kitchen.
Veronica looked up at their entrance, her eyes wide, but her hands were steady as she pulled mugs down from the cupboard. “Morning, Sheriff. Do you want coffee?”
“I won’t turn down caffeine.” He sat heavily in one of the chairs at the table, dragging a hand over his reddish-brown beard. “You wouldn’t happen to have an IV bag lying around so I can mainline it?”
Veronica’s shoulders relaxed, and she even gave a soft laugh. “Sorry, you’ll have to drink it the old-fashioned way. Black?”
“Yes, thank you.”
She poured mugs for the three of them—black for Ash and Connelly, cream and sugar for her—and carried them over to the table. When she sat, Connelly pulled his chair close enough to hers that their legs touched under the table.
The sheriff eyed them over the rim of his mug, and a smile flitted over his hard lips before he took a testing sip. “How are you two holding up after yesterday?”
Connelly started to answer but closed his mouth and looked at Veronica. She was the one who had faced down a killer yesterday, and he didn’t want to put words into her mouth.
She took her time in answering, drinking her coffee in silence for several long seconds. “I’m okay. I think... it put some things into perspective for me.” She looked at Connelly with a soft smile, then over the table at Ash. “Did you find him?”
“No.” Ash’s eyes hardened. “And I’m afraid I have bad news.”
“Shit,” Connelly said and set his mug down. “Lucy?”
“No, no. She’s still in the hospital, still fighting. Getting stronger and angrier every minute, according to Sawyer.”
Dread curdled the coffee in his stomach. “Then who?”
“We don’t know. Haven’t ID’d the body. It was...” Ash swallowed, and the color left his face. “Horrific.”
“Which scene was it?”
“I believe he was trying to reenact the aichmophobia scene.”
“Fear of sharp objects.” Connelly shut his eyes and took a moment to breathe through the flood of anger and regret. He never should’ve written that scene. “Fuck. That’s a bad one.”
“It was the worst thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” Ash said. “But other than the knives, it was nothing like the scene in your book. We saved Lucy, then Veronica and Rebel got the better of him, and it pissed him off. He lost control.”
Veronica’s gaze ping-ponged back and forth between them. “Wait. What do you mean it wasn’t like the scene in his book? Why the hell would it be like the book?”
Ash sat back in his seat. “Jesus, Davis. You haven’t told her?”
Connelly winced.
Ash sighed heavily and met Veronica’s gaze over the table. “This killer—the guy you and Rebel scared off yesterday—is obsessed with his books.”
“So that’s why the deputies were sitting in front of my house?” she asked.
“Yes. Given that the heroine of the book is loosely based on you, we thought it best to provide protection.”
Connelly turned toward her. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I was afraid it would trigger your anxiety.”
She sat back in her chair, her eyes wide and staring as though seeing him for the first time. “So this guy... the guy from yesterday... he’s... he’s a fan?”
“It appears that way,” Ash answered. “We have people going through every fan letter, email, and social media DM that Connelly’s ever received. We’re also looking into the former girlfriend, Sara Parker.”
“Girlfriend?” Veronica echoed faintly.
Connelly reached out to touch her hand, but she pulled away, wrapping her arms around herself.
He let his hand fall back onto his lap. “She wasn’t a girlfriend. She was a mistake. An obsessed reader I stupidly slept with—one time—before I realized how absolutely crazy she was.”
“We haven’t found her,” Ash said. “Seattle police say she left the city, and a traffic cam caught her three weeks ago at a rest stop off I-5 in Oregon, headed south.”
“You think she’s here?” Connelly asked.
“I do, yes.”
“And you still think she’s involved?”
Veronica shook her head. “The intruder at Connelly’s was definitely a man.”
“We’re not ruling out any possibilities until we find her,” Ash said evenly. “And anything you remember about the man from yesterday can help.” He pulled a notebook from his pocket and flipped open the battered green leather cover. “So, can you walk me through the whole thing, starting from when you got to the house?”
Veronica’s hands clenched around her mug, all the color draining from her face. Connelly watched the changing emotions in her eyes— fear, shock, anger. She sucked in a shaky breath and blew it out slowly.
“Okay,” she said finally, her voice a bare whisper. “Okay. I hadn’t seen Conn yet that day, and I was worried, so I walked over…”
Connelly listened as she recounted every detail, from how she’d noticed the front door was unlocked to how the man had attacked her and Rebel had intervened. His heart raced with each graphic detail, a knot of guilt and worry twisting in his gut.
She could’ve ended up in the hospital, fighting for her life like Lucy Harper. Or worse, dead like May-Lynn Tapia and the unnamed victim from last night.
His books were meant to thrill and entertain, not inspire real-life horrors. He had never imagined that someone would take his words this far.
Occasionally, Ash interrupted with questions, which Veronica answered as best as she could. When he asked her to describe the man, she shook her head.
“It was dark in the hallway, and he was backlit by the window in Connelly’s bedroom. I mostly just saw his silhouette. But—” She stopped. “He was young. Maybe mid-to-late twenties. I think he had dark hair... but maybe that was just a hat. The hair on his arms was light, so it was probably a hat. I’m just not sure.”
“Did you notice any identifying marks?” Ash asked. “Tattoos? Scars? Birthmarks?”
“No, I—” She stopped again, considered. “Actually, when Rebel bit him, she ripped his shirt, and I think I saw a mark low on his stomach.” She motioned to her pelvis. “Or maybe on his hip? It was just a split-second glimpse, but it looked big. Like one of those red birthmarks babies sometimes have… what do you call them?”
“Port wine stain?” Connelly suggested.
She nodded. “Yeah, that’s it. But I’m not even sure if that’s what I saw. It could’ve just been blood.”
“Okay,” Ash said, and after a second full run-through of the events, he closed his notebook. He pinched the bridge of his nose like he had a headache and then looked at the two of them for a long moment. “Okay,” he said again. “Listen. We have his DNA and blood now. He’d devolving, getting sloppy. It’s only a matter of time until we catch him, but until we do, I want both of you to take every precaution. I’d feel better if I could move you to a safe house...”
Veronica shook her head.
“Yeah, didn’t think so, but I had to try. So, here’s the deal. I’ll still have my deputies stationed on the road, and I’ll hand-pick every one of them so you don’t end up with another one like Turney. Zak has also agreed to rotate his men and dogs through bodyguard shifts each night. They’ll camp in your front yard.”
When Veronica opened her mouth, no doubt to argue, he held up a hand. “This is non-negotiable.” He turned to Connelly. “I assume you’ll be staying here with her every night?”
“I’m not leaving her side.”
“Good.”
Veronica shoved out of her chair. “Do I have any say in this?”
“No,” Ash said unequivocally.
“Not in this,” Connelly added in a gentler tone. “We want you safe.”
She stared at him, defiance flaming in her eyes and her jaw set. But he could see the fear lurking beneath the anger.
“Fine,” she conceded after a moment. “But this is my house. My rules. They’re not allowed inside unless I invite them.”
“Or if you’re in danger. That’s also non-negotiable.”
“I can live with that.”
“I’ll have Zak arrange the first shift tonight.” Ash finished his coffee and set his mug down on the table, his expression softening with genuine concern. “You two... just be careful. I’ll be in touch with any updates.”
Ash let himself out, leaving behind a silence that buzzed with tension.
Connelly finally broke it, pushing back his chair and standing to bridge the distance between them. “I know you’re pissed at me. You have every right to be. I should’ve told you all of this before now, but I was afraid you’d withdraw. I was afraid I’d lose you.”
“I need to think,” she said curtly and walked through the sliding glass doors to stand on the deck and stare out over the ocean.
He watched her, his gaze tracing the rigid line of her back and shoulders. Tension vibrated off her in palpable waves. The last thing he wanted was for her to push him away out of anger or fear.
He moved to her, stopping just a breath away. He wanted to reach for her, to reassure her with his touch, but he held back, respecting her need for distance. “Talk to me, Vee.”
The silence lingered between them as she continued to stare out at the ocean. The waves crashing against the cliff below echoed around them.
After what felt like an eternity, Veronica gave a small nod and turned around. “You’re damn right I’m angry. At you.” She motioned toward the front of the house. “At Ash. For thinking I’m some fragile flower that can’t handle the truth.”
“Vee…”
“And I’m mad at myself because, dammit, you were both right to think that.” Her eyes were bright with unshed tears, but there was determination behind the tears. Her hands curled into fists at her sides. “I’m done being afraid. I’m done with being so weak that you didn’t think you could trust me with all of this. I want control over my life again. I want to learn to defend myself.”
He set his hands on her shoulders and rubbed down her arms. She was covered in goosebumps even though the morning was warm. “That’s the Veronica I remember,” he said softly. “The fearless pilot who wouldn’t back down from any challenge.”
