Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
When I text the images to Buck and Weston with a brief explanation, Buck answers first, then Weston a minute later, both of them telling me they’re on their way.
I get back in my truck and circle by Mae’s house again, where the street is clear, and the snow around the property is undisturbed.
It’s a relief, except for the part of me that wants to march up to Mae’s door, bring Elena and T.J. out, then take them to my house and lock them away until there’s no such thing as danger.
I won’t do that, but there’s also no way I’m going to make myself keep my distance.
CHAPTER 16
ELENA
Four days after T.J. and I are able to move back into our home, I wake to the sound of my phone vibrating in the early morning hours, just after five.
My pulse pounds instantly because no one calls that early with anything good. I snatch the phone off my nightstand and answer in a voice still thick from sleep. “Hello?”
“Elena.” It’s Buck, and his voice is low and controlled, fully awake. “I need you to stay calm.”
My body goes cold, and the blankets tangle at my waist as I quickly sit up. “What’s wrong?”
“There was a fire at the school overnight. The maintenance shed. No one’s hurt.”
That much is a relief, but it does little for my pounding heart.
“The fire didn’t extend to the main building, but the shed is a total loss. Fuel cans inside made it burn quick, before the crew could put it out.”
I’m already on my feet, heading for the closet.
“I’m at the scene now,” he says. “I wanted you to hear about it from me first. And Elena—” His tone lowers, and another wave of dread floods through me. “There’s something else.”
I’m flipping through my shirts, but I freeze, one hand with a death grip on my phone. “What?”
“There’s a message.”
“What kind of message?” My throat is so tight, it’s hard to get the words out.
“Spray paint on the school’s exterior wall beside the shed.”
I squeeze the phone tighter. “What does it say?”
He pauses, then tells me in a plain tone. “‘You can’t hide from the past.’”
It knocks the breath out of me. The words don’t exactly make sense, but a cold certainty moves through me anyway. This began in San Diego, but it didn’t stay there. “I’m not hiding from anything,” I tell Buck. “Nothing I know about anyway.”
I abandon my closet and go back into the bedroom to sit on the bed. “Buck—“
“I know.” His voice turns rougher. “I know.”
The house is quiet, and when a vent clicks in the hall, I flinch.
“Listen to me, Elena. You’re not alone in this. I’ve already got more eyes on your house and the school. Motion-activated lights, added cameras, Sentinel Security patrols overnight. Weston and Calder will coordinate with me and the sheriff’s office this morning. I need you to stay home until I come get you.”
“I have to go in.”
“I know you do, but not yet.”
“Buck, I’m the principal.”
“There’s an active scene. Whoever did this just escalated, and you don’t need to walk into it blind.” His commanding voice softens just a little when he adds, “I want to make sure you’re safe.”
His words help calm the fear that’s clawing at the inside of my chest. “When?” I ask.
“I’ll be by as soon as I’m clear here. Should be an hour, maybe less. I’ll text you.”
“Okay,” I whisper.
His voice is softer still, almost intimate, when he says, “Check the doors if you need to. Stay inside. Call me if anything feels off before I get there.”
It’s almost like he knows exactly what I’ve been doing. Ever since we’ve been back at our house, and even when we were at Mae’s, I’ve been checking the locks, front and back, then rechecking. I can never quite remember the feel of the lock under my hand, or reassure myself that I saw the locks were engaged.
I’ve been listening for sounds that may or may not be there, and jolting awake over furnace and refrigerator noises.
I swallow back some of the fear. “Okay.”
“Elena.” Our connection is so clear it almost sounds like he’s in the room with me. I wish he were. “I’m coming. You hear me?”
“Yes.”
After we end the call, I get ready, using some of Calder’s grounding techniques while I shower and do my hair.
When I’m ready, I wake T.J., who somehow knows something’s wrong as soon as he clears the sleep from his eyes.
“There was an incident at the school,” I explain. “Fire Marshal Brennan is going to drive us in today.”
“Was it another fire?”
“It was. In a shed outside the main building. No one was hurt.”
He’s quiet for several long seconds before he asks, “Why is someone starting fires, Mom?”
“I don’t know, Bug.” T.J. usually doesn’t like me using his childhood nickname now that he’s older, but today, he doesn’t seem to mind.