Page 43 of Shiver

“Exactly.”

“Maybe this doesn’t have anything to do with the victims looking like Devra. Maybe it has always been about them looking like Michelle.”

As Riley absorbed Tony’s words, trepidation crawled over his skin. “If that’s true then bringing Devra here could have put her in even greater danger.”

Tony walked out of the barn’s doorway. “It’s something to think about. Why else would anyone care about a picture of your mom, unless they were trying to get to you?”

What else could someone do to try and get to him? They’d already killed Michelle; would Devra be next? Riley watched Tony get in his car and drive away. He replayed their conversation again and again in his mind as he locked up the barn. There was only one direction that line of thinking could follow—Mac. But Mac had always loved Michelle. Hadn’t he?

* * *

The estate layin a thick shroud of darkness, the only light coming from the quarter moon as the clouds raced across its surface. He walked quickly, his boots making soft mucking noises as he crossed the wet earth beneath the thick canopy of trees. He followed the path along the river, moving closer to the house, moving closer to Devra.

His footsteps crushed the fragile azalea petals the storm had shaken loose from their branches. As the path curved around the house, the barn came into view. He stopped and listened to the whimpering of restless animals. Bright lights shone down on the cop as he locked up the barn for the night, protecting it from any further intrusions.

He laughed under his breath and unsheathed a serrated knife from its leather case. He crept closer, smiled, and raised the blade. “This one’s for you, Devra.”

Chapter 17

Devra’s sleepwas far from peaceful. She moaned, tossing and turning. She felt as if she couldn’t breathe, as if a heavy weight were pushing down on her chest. Pulling herself from the dream, she opened her eyes and gasped as Felix’s yellow gaze gleamed in the dim light from his perch on her chest. The last remnants of her dream snapped into place.

“Riley!” Oh no! She pushed the cat off her, jumped out of bed, and ran to the window. Riley was outside and walking toward the house.

But he wasn’t alone.

Horror clogged her throat. She fumbled with the guillotine window, but couldn’t get it open. The man behind him lifted a knife. She banged her fists against the glass and screamed, “Riley! Behind you!”

Riley turned. The man lunged. They fell, rolling through the mud. Devra froze as uncertainty grabbed her. If she didn’t do something, Riley was going to die right in front of her, and this time she’d be wide awake and watching.

His gun. She tore across the house to his room, then stopped inside his doorway. She stared at his unmade bed, at the dresser, nightstand, and mirrored closet doors. Where would he keep his gun? She rushed to the nightstand next to the bed and yanked open the top drawer—magazines and papers, no gun.

“Where is it?” she ground out. She turned round and round, her gaze searching the room, her teeth gnawing her lower lip. Then, behind the door, she saw a coat rack with a holster hanging from one of the pegs. She pushed out a deep breath, crossed the room, and pulled out the gun.

She ran, faster than she ever thought possible, through the house and out the front door. She didn’t slow as she bounded off the porch. As soon as her bare feet hit the mud, she slipped and fell, landing hard on her shoulder, the breath whooshing from her chest.

Her thigh-length T-shirt was no protection against the rocks. She groaned, got up, and continued running around the side of the house. Thunder boomed in the sky, lightning flashed overhead. The brief lull ended and the rain started to fall again. She entered the clearing. The two men were still rolling in the mud, throwing blows at each other. Unfortunately, she couldn’t tell who was who. Nor could she tell who had the knife.

“Riley,” she yelled.

One of the men looked up, his eyes widening as he spotted her. “Devra, run!”

The other man lunged, knocking Riley onto his back. Within seconds, he had his big hands wrapped around Riley’s throat. Devra raised the gun. She focused down the barrel and tried to force herself to pull the trigger.

Riley clawed at the man’s hands. He was losing his strength. Hot tears of frustration seeped from her eyes. She couldn’t bring herself to pull the trigger.

With her legs braced apart, she took a deep breath, and raised the gun over her head. She closed her eyes and squeezed the trigger. The shot exploded into the night air. She jumped as the impact traveled through her hands and down her arms. Both men looked up.

She plastered a look of determination on her face and leveled the gun, pointing it directly at the muddy intruder.

I will shoot you. I will shoot you.She chanted the words to herself and hoped he’d buy her bluff.

The man raised his arms.

Devra froze, afraid any movement would give her game away.

Riley pushed the man off of him, but before he could gain his footing, the man rolled, swept his legs to the side, and knocked Riley flat to the ground. He jumped up, grabbed his knife lying near the bushes, then disappeared around the side of the house. Riley ran after him while Devra stood there, her arms extended, the gun still clutched in her hand.

She couldn’t move.

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