“How do you feel, Maisey? Knowing you were too late to save him?”
I bit back my instant retort that Dad wasn’t dead. That they hadn’t succeeded in killing him. Because maybe it was smarter to let them think they’d won. Maybe they’d back off then.
I hadn’t picked up my phone from the floor, and the light grew dimmer as I moved farther into the depths. The gross laughter filled the air again. Even mechanical and false, it sounded spiteful. They were rejoicing in my fear and anguish.
I strained my eyes, trying to find the attacker, and found a phone instead. It was propped up on the old window ledge, facing the door and my father’s body. As I approached, my distorted image filled the screen, a strange black-and-green shape like the ones you saw on the ghost shows when they filmed at night.
I stalked over and picked the phone up, voice quivering with anger as I said, “I will find out who you are.”
A cackle emerged. “I highly doubt it. But even if you do, I’ll just take care of you the same way I took care of him. Now, be the good girl you’ve always been, and do what you're told. Leave town. Forget everything about Swift Rivers and your friends and family. Don’t ever come back, and you’ll keep them all safe. Otherwise, who knows who might be next? Maybe Beckett? Or Fallon? How about that cute little girl of hers? How about if I start another fire, this time burning this entire, rich-as-hell ranch to the ground?”
I couldn’t help the pained gasp that escaped.
The evil laughter returned. “Your choice… Make the right one this time.”
The image went blank as the person hung up.
I wanted to cry. Wanted to grab the phone and toss it to the floor and break it into pieces.
But I wouldn’t mess with the evidence. I’d already done too much simply by touching it.
More importantly, Dad needed me.
I tossed the phone back where I’d found it and rushed back to my father. I searched for any visible injuries and found none. No blood or marks appeared on his face or neck. His hands and arms had scratches, as if he’d been dragged along the ground, but there was nothing else.
I inhaled sharply, fighting the tears. I had to get him out of here. I pickedup my phone, swiping for 9-1-1 just as I heard a bark followed by someone shouting my name.
Beckett!
Relief had my legs quivering.
“Up here! We’re up here! He needs an ambulance!” My throat screamed as I raised my voice, hoping he’d hear.
Vader found me first, barking and whining as I tried to keep him away from my father, but Beckett was right behind him. He stormed in, the flashlight in his hand twisting the light and bouncing it around eerily.
“Fuck! She’s here!” he called out.
He fell to his knees at my side and wrapped his arms around me. He held me so tight my breath, which was already coming in strange pants, almost disappeared. Vader tried to squeeze between us, and when he couldn’t, he licked both of our faces.
“I’m okay,” I said, but my voice shook. “It’s Dad.”
I pushed away from Beckett just as Fallon and Parker sprinted through the door.
“He’s breathing,” I said, trying desperately to keep my voice calm, to give the assessment as if I were in the emergency room and the patient wasn’t someone I loved. “He’s got a pulse, but it’s slow and erratic. I can’t see any injury. It’s too dark.”
Three flashlights slanted over my father.
“Goddamnit, Maisey,” Beckett cursed. “That could be you!”
I threw him a look. “Be mad at me later. Right now, I need you to call for help. Whoever this is, they think they killed him. They think he’s dead, but he’s not—” My voice cracked on the last words, and I fought the tears that flooded.
“Where are they?” Beckett leaped to his feet just as Parker whipped around to scan the detritus and refuse for the unseen enemy.
“He’s not here!” I told them. “But there’s a phone. None of that matters! Dad needs help! Now!”
Fallon made the call to Sheriff Wylee while the two men tore through the room, searching for clues, and I stayed by my father’s side, my pulse thundering with fear. Not being able to properly examine him sent my panic spiraling higher. There were no visible injuries, at least nothing I could point to, so what had they done to him? Had they poisoned him? Was something vile coursing through his veins, stealing him from me one slow heartbeat at a time? Would he be gone before I could do anything to stop it? Our attacker had already assumed he was dead, so how much longer before that became true?
I caught a sob before it escaped. Crying wouldn’t help Dad. I needed my wits about me. Vader whined again, pushing his body into mine, and I tried to soothe us both by rubbing a hand over his fur.