“No, Casey! Listen to me!” I shouted, receiving a startled look from him.
“Okay… I’m listening.”
“This isn’t Kiyah’s phone.”
“Then how did it get here?”
“Mr. Stone,” I said, already dialing the security company. “We had the security firm interviews at the house, and we’d left him alone for a few minutes while we discussed behind closed doors. Now that I think of it, Mr. Stone sat right where he—”
“Thank you for calling Sentinel Security. How may I direct your call?” a voice interrupted.
“This is Grant Baker. I need to speak with Mr. Stone.”
There was a pause.
“I’m sorry, but Mr. Stone isn’t available.”
“When will he be available?”
“I cannot say.”
“You can’t say, or you won’t?” I asked, allowing my impatience and frustration command my tone.
The woman sighed before saying, “I-I-I’m sorry,” she stammered before hanging up. I stared at the phone, and Casey dragged his fingers through his hair.
“That’s not suspicious. She sounded like she knew something—something bad,” Casey said.
I received an email from the dealership before I could respond.
“What’s happening now?” Casey asked.
“The dealership sent the coordinates and last known location for my vehicle. She was two miles from Emerald Hills.”
“She was going to visit Granddad. Why did her location stop tracking there?”
I shook my head, trying and failing to keep myself composed. “This has Branson written all over it.”
I was already in motion when I heard it—a crash—metal impacting against brick, shaking the foundation. Casey and I both moved at the same time.
“What the hell was that?” he asked, already heading for the door. I didn’t bother answering and kept running.
The front door flew open, and the stench of smoke, rubber, and vehicle fluid hung in the air. The sound of a child wailing sent my pulse off the charts. Soon after, we discovered a black SUV with steam billowing from a crumpled hood, embedded in the side of the house. My stomach dropped out of my body.
“No, no, no, no—”
I was at the driver’s side before my mind caught up, and nothing could prepare me for what I found.
Kiyah was slumped over the steering wheel. The airbag had deployed upon impact, and blood streamed down the side of her face, dark and wet against her skin. She wasn’t moving.
“Holy shit!” Casey exclaimed.
I yanked the door open and reached for her with trembling hands. She groaned faintly, and her head lolled when I touched her shoulder.
“Hey,” I said, voice breaking on the word. “Hey, baby, stay with me.”
“P-P-Pete,” she whispered through consciousness.
I finally glanced away from her to the crying toddler in the backseat. He cried so hard that his little chest hitched. His face was red and wet with wide, terror-filled eyes.