Searching for Shadows, page 26
Veronica bit back the tears that threatened to spill. “You make it sound so simple.”
“It’s not,” Alexis replied, her voice soft and understanding. “It’s the hardest thing you’ll ever do.”
Veronica nodded, though she found herself unable to respond immediately. The honesty Alexis showed was humbling. Maybe it was the solidarity in their shared trauma, or maybe it was just the kind of person Alexis was— raw, sincere, and brave.
“Thank you,” Veronica murmured after a long silence, the words sounding inadequate in her own ears. But what else could she say?
Alexis smiled warmly, reaching out to touch Veronica’s arm in a comforting gesture. “Hey, what are friends for?”
Friends.
Wow.
She actually had friends again.
Headlights flashed through the window, and they both turned toward the front of the house.
“That’s probably your man,” Alexis said. “Let me wake Miss Snores-a-Lot, and we’ll get out of your hair.”
It took both of them to pull Ellie, who was more than a little tipsy, to her feet.
“Why can’t I find a duke?” Ellie slurred as they practically carried her to the door. Her cheeks were rosy pink from the wine, her hair was a frizzy riot of curls, and her glasses were adorably askew. “Instead, I find a cute lawyer—he’s cute, right? With all that blond hair and that crooked smile?”
“He’s cute,” Alexis confirmed, straightening Ellie’s glasses before they completely slipped off her face.
“Who?” Veronica mouthed over Ellie’s head.
“Cal,” Alexis whispered back and pulled open the door.
“Ohh.”
Ellie sighed and staggered out of their grip. She whirled to face them and almost took out a floor lamp. “Cute, with a very squeezable butt.” She held up her hands and squeezed the air suggestively. “But a squeezable butt doesn’t make up for the fact he’s a complete... ashhole.” She tilted sideways and righted herself with a hand on the doorframe. “No, asshole. I meant asshole. Complete asshole. Throw the whole man out. I hate him.”
At that very moment, the cute lawyer with the apparently squeezable butt walked up the porch steps with the sheriff right on his heels. He froze at Ellie’s declaration, his expression like a kicked puppy.
“Hey, Ellie,” he said awkwardly, shoving his hands into his pockets and shifting from foot to foot.
Ellie whirled toward his voice.
“You!” she shrieked, outraged in the way only a drunk person could be, and pointed an accusing finger at him. He flinched as if expecting it to become a weapon. “You’re an ashhole—”
“Okay,” Alexis cut in, drawing the word out as she grabbed her sister by the arm and propelled her down the steps. “We’re going home. Goodnight, Cal.” She nodded to the sheriff. “Ash.” Then she waved to Veronica. “Bye, Vee. We have to do this again soon.”
The sheriff waited silently until Alexis had bundled Ellie into the car, and the car was turning to leave. Then he faced Veronica, and the look on his face had her stomach knotting up.
She straightened away from the door. “What’s wrong?”
“We need to talk to Connelly.” His tone said it wasn’t Ash, the friend, who needed to talk to him, but rather Ash, the cop.
“He isn’t here.”
The two men shared an indecipherable glance.
“He should be here by now,” Cal muttered.
They both looked toward Connelly’s rental house. No lights shone through the shifting branches of the trees.
“I’ll send a car to check.” Ash grabbed his radio, ordering the two deputies on the road to drive over to the house.
While they waited for the response, Veronica’s gaze bounced back and forth between them. She had a sick feeling in her stomach, and it wasn’t from the wine she’d been drinking earlier.
“What’s going on?” Panic rose in her throat, choking her. Her eyes finally settled on Cal. “I thought he was with you.”
“He was, but he left…” He checked the time on his phone. “Nearly forty-five minutes ago.”
The radio crackled to life in Ash’s hand. The house was empty.
“Fuck,” Ash muttered and raised the radio to his mouth again. “Dispatch, this is Sheriff Rawlings. I need a BOLO for a potentially endangered missing person. Connelly James Davis, male, thirty years old. Estimated height six-two and weight one-ninety. Brown hair, brown eyes. Last seen leaving The Mad Dog Pub at around twenty-three hundred hours driving a dark blue BMW X7, Washington license plate alpha, x-ray, x-ray, two…”
Veronica’s head spun as the sheriff continued rattling off Connelly’s details.
Potentially endangered missing person.
Connelly had told her he’d be back around eleven, but she hadn’t been worried when his arrival time came and went. After all, he often got lost in thought, scribbling down ideas on whatever scrap of paper he could find. It wasn’t unusual for him to lose track of time.
“How do you know his plate?” Cal asked, sounding like he was at the end of a long tunnel.
“I have all my friends’ plates memorized,” Ash replied, also from the end of that tunnel.
“Of course you do. Why am I surprised?”
Endangered missing person.
Veronica’s heart began to thunder in her chest, and she couldn’t seem to draw enough air into her lungs. The world around her blurred and warped as she took a step back. She gripped the doorframe for support, her skin feeling too cold, too clammy.
Endangered.
“Veronica,” Cal said softly, reaching for her, but she pulled back, shaking her head.
“No.” She whirled on him, her voice raising several octaves with panic. “Where is he? He should be here by now. It only takes fifteen minutes to drive from the Mad Dog.”
“We’ll find him.” Ash’s voice was as gentle as she’d ever heard it. He stepped toward her, hands raised as though she were a skittish animal. “With all the shit happening around here recently, I’m just being overly cautious. It’s probably nothing. He probably just stopped somewhere and lost track of time.”
“No,” she spat out, the fear rising like bile in her throat. “You don’t understand. He wouldn’t just... He wouldn’t. I’m calling him.” She tore herself away from her death grip on the door frame and fumbled through the house until she found her phone on the kitchen counter. Her shaking fingers slipped on the screen as she dialed, and she pressed the phone so hard against her ear that it hurt.
The ringing filled her head, echoing through her like a ticking time bomb. It rang once, twice, three times before his voicemail kicked in: “Hey there, this is Conn... you know the drill.”
Beep.
She hung up in frustration, then redialed. One ring, two rings, three...
“Hey there, this is Conn…”
She hung up.
“Veronica.” Cal’s voice was heavy as he walked into the kitchen. “Stop.”
“No, no, no,” she mumbled to herself, her fingers frantic on the touch screen as she tried calling again.
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
“Hey there, this is Conn…”
Everything around her seemed to stand still. The tick of the clock on the wall, the refrigerator hum, Alfie’s concerned whines, Rebel’s anxious pacing... they all faded into insignificance. She could only hear her own heartbeat and the ghostly echo of Connelly’s voicemail.
“Hey there, this is Conn…”
She needed to feel something solid and sank to the floor to wrap her arms around Rebel. Alfie nuzzled into her lap. She held the dogs tight, trying to ground herself as she dialed again.
Her best friend. The man she loved. Her lifeline...
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
“Hey there, this is Conn…”
“He’s not answering. Why is he not answering?”
Cal’s silence was telling.
She looked up at him, desperate tears blurring her vision. “Did he say anything to you before he left the pub? Did he mention stopping somewhere or... or...” She couldn’t think. She felt fractured, the world around her surreal and dizzying. It was like being in free fall. The terror of not knowing where Connelly was consumed all rational thoughts.
“No. I’m sorry. I—” Cal broke off, and his eyes bugged. “Oh, fuck.” He strode back through the living room and called through the open front door. “Ash! Try the Firestones’ house. Connelly was going to stop there on his way home.”
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.”
Ash’s gaze zeroed in on her. “When?”
“No more than ten minutes ago,” Cal answered. “Just after you left.”
He nodded. “I’ll contact the cell phone company and see if we can nail down a location for his phone. What did he say?”
Her lips were numb, her throat raw from suppressed tears, but she still managed to whisper, “He said... ‘help.’” Her gaze strayed back to the fire. Had he called from inside the house? Was he still in there?
Ash’s eyes narrowed on her. “Anything else?”
“I think... I think he always said ‘Shadow Stalker.’”
He growled low in his throat. “Get your dog and go home. There’s nothing you can do here.”
“Was he in there? Ash!” she called when he started to turn away. “Was Connelly in that house?”
He turned back, his features a grim mask. “Firemen found a body in the garage. It was in the driver’s seat of Connelly’s car.”
“No.” She shook her head. She wouldn’t believe it was Connelly. She couldn’t believe it. “No, no, no.”
She just spoke to him.
He was alive ten minutes ago.
It wasn’t him.
“Is it him?” Cal asked softly.
Ash gave a slight shake of his head. “We can’t tell. It’s male, but beyond that, it’s too badly burned. It’s like the fire started right on top of him. We’ll have to wait until the autopsy for an ID.”
Veronica clasped her hands in her lap and stared out the windshield at the blaze. “He’s alive. I know he is.”
Ash said nothing for several seconds. “I’ll have Rebel brought over to you. Take them home, Cal, and don’t let them leave again.”
Her house was overrun again.
Alexis, Ellie, Anna, Sasha, Rose…
They had all come back. And all of their men, except for Ash, came with them.
Veronica knew they meant well, but it was too much. Too many bodies, too many voices, too much concern. Everyone spoke in hushed tones and tiptoed around her like she was a fragile china doll ready to shatter.
And maybe she was.
She certainly didn’t feel strong or capable at the moment.
Alfie scampered around at everyone’s feet as if unsure who to comfort first, but Rebel was uncharacteristically still, curled up on Veronica’s lap, her intelligent eyes tracking the flurry of movement around them.
At some point, Anna made tea. Veronica mechanically accepted the mug, cradling it between her numb hands for warmth more than anything else. She didn’t notice the tears dripping into the steaming liquid until a saltwater droplet splashed onto her thumb, and Alexis hugged her.
At three a.m., Ash finally called with an update. Cal put him on speakerphone.
“The body is not Connelly.”
Everyone in the room let out a collective sigh. Veronica closed her eyes and choked back a sob of relief.
“Then who is it?” Cal asked.
“Hank Firestone.”
Alexis leaned toward the phone. “How did you find out so fast?”
“The body was too old to belong to Connelly.” There was a beat of hesitation at the other end of the line. “And Hank’s DNA was already in our system. It flagged on several cold cases from the late 90s and early 2000s when the lab ran it. You were right all along, Alexis. Those cases were connected. Hank Firestone is the Shadow Stalker.”
Alexis instantly shook her head. “He was too old to be the guy who raped me.”
Shane made a sound low in his throat and wrapped his arms around her from behind.
“It’s okay,” she told him, kissing his scarred cheek. “Really. I’m okay. I promise.”
“Cal told me there are two of them,” Ash said. “We think the other is his son, Jeremy. Once the fire in the garage was out, we searched the house and found Connelly’s book, filled with notes, on Jeremy’s bed. It’s a signed copy to Veronica.”
“That’s where it went,” Veronica realized, remembering her search for the missing book. “Oh my God. He was inside my house.”
“What the fuck?” Rose murmured. “Are you telling me I hired a killer?”
“I’m sorry,” Ash’s voice softened as it only ever did for his wife or sister. Then he shifted back into cop mode. “Hank Firestone owned a 2019 Ford Taurus and a 2008 Chevy Express cargo van from his job as an electrician. Both are missing.”
“Jeremy drove the Taurus to work every day,” Rose said. “And he worked tonight. Maybe check the parking lot at The Mad Dog?”
“I’ll send someone,” Ash said.
Shortly before dawn, a state trooper found Hank Firestone’s cargo van parked in an emergency turn-out on the highway with Connelly’s laptop case in the passenger seat and a pool of blood in the back.
The Taurus was still missing.
Zak and the rest of the men left to search the woods around the car with their dogs, but the dogs didn’t pick up any scent. There was no trail to follow. The van was empty. The forest was silent, refusing to give up its secrets.
It was as if Connelly had vanished into thin air.
By mid-morning, Zak called with another update. The forensics team had confirmed that the blood in the van was a match to Connelly’s. The news hit Veronica like a punch to the gut.
“Ash is organizing an aerial search,” Zak said. “We’ll find him.”
Aerial search.
Veronica popped to her feet. “I’ll go.”
When everyone looked at her like she had grown a second head, the worry shifted to mad. “I won’t just sit here and wait for the news he’s dead. I can fly any-damn-thing with wings. Give me a plane. A helicopter. Something.”
