Page 65 of Hidden Shadows
As they drove, she stroked his arm. “Are you nervous about when we get back to the States?” The words fell from her mouth before she could pull them back. But then, it wasn’t a surprise. It was basically all she’d been thinking about lately.
“No. Are you?”
She almost laughed. “Yes. We haven’t worked out whether I’m coming to you or you’re coming to me or if we’re doing a long-distance relationship…”
“You’re coming to me.”
She swung her gaze to him, eyes widening. He said it with such certainty, like it had already been decided.
He lifted a shoulder. “I mean, when we said we were gonna do this, I just assumed that’s how it would work. We haven’t caught the stalker. He has your address. And you can work from anywhere. Plus, my place has a lot of security.”
Some of the excitement fizzled from her chest. He wanted her to live with him for security reasons. She shouldn’t be sad…he wanted them to be together. But a part of her couldn’t help but wish he’d said something more intimate.
“Do youwantto move in with me?” he asked.
“Yes.” Of course she did. But not because of security. And she didn’t want that to be his reason either. She plastered a smile on her face. “You’ll have to help me pack, though.”
He squeezed her hand. “I happen to be an excellent packer.”
When they pulled up at the fair, Nixon parked beside a police car. There were also two other cars in the parking lot, a blue Toyota and a black Ford.
They both climbed out. When she looked out at the empty fairgrounds, her nightmare came back to her. Her gaze shifted to the trailer, and an involuntary shudder ran down her spine.
Nixon stood beside her, slipping an arm around her waist. “Are you okay?”
She nodded quickly. Maybe too quickly. “Yeah. It’s just a bit…eerie when there’s no one here. It feels wrong.”
“Come on. Let’s get this over with so we can go home.”
They walked to the large warehouse. When they stepped inside, she immediately wanted to sink into the warmth.
The space was dark and musty, with sheets over what she assumed was a front desk, right before a small corridor. It looked like no one had come in here in years.
Nixon’s arm tightened around her as he led her to the wide staircase. When they reached the top, Finley frowned. It looked to be one big open room. Work desks were scattered around the space, each bare except for the dust that had collected on top.
But where was Rad? Where were the police? And why was it so quiet?
She started to step forward, but Nixon grabbed her arm, tugging her back. She opened her mouth to ask him what was wrong but stopped at the sudden squawk of a police radio.
“Darren…Joy…are you there?”
Where had that come from?
Her heart started to thump, dread pooling in her belly, when she noticed movement at the back of the cavernous room.
Before she could comprehend what was happening, Nixon shoved her to the floor behind a desk, covering her body with his own as a bullet slammed into the wall behind them.
For a moment, shock rendered her still. Then she lifted her head—and something caught her attention.
The blood drained from her face.
There, only a few feet away, lay two police officers, both on their stomachs…blood seeping from wounds in their backs.
* * *
The asshole was shootingat them.
Fuck.
