Chapter 34
The highway looks stripped bare this morning—no traffic, no dust trails, no birds cutting across the washed-out sky.
There are just miles of gray asphalt stretching toward a horizon that feels farther away than usual.
Winter light flattens everything into pale shades of nothing, like the world lost its color overnight.
The elevation is high up here. Winter settles over the vehicle with every mile I climb. The drive doesn’t crescendo into a gorgeous viewpoint, but rather dips back downward, as if heading into a crater.
I pull into the assigned spot, easing the cruiser down into the shallow verge between two tufts of dried sagebrush.
It hides the SUV well enough from drivers barreling down the straightaway.
Normally, I appreciate the cover. Today it feels like sinking into a pocket of quiet that was already too silent to begin with.
The heater fights the morning cold, blowing soft waves of warmth over my hands.
I hold them there a moment longer than necessary, knowing it’s the last comfortable air I’ll feel for hours.
My toes warm against the vents, and I soak it in before I have to kill the engine and let the desert take it back.
I can’t idle forever and waste gas.
I reach for the scarf beside me, wrap it around my neck, and tug my gloves into place.
“Alright, baby girl,” I murmur to my belly because, apparently, I’m developing a habit of talking to her now. “Let’s do this.”
I turn off the engine.
The hum of the heater cuts off mid-note. The slight rumble under my feet dies. A hollow emptiness swallows the space inside my SUV. It’s unnerving but I tell myself it’s the silence to expect deep in mountain country.
But I’m a city girl, so I clear my throat just to hear something.
The cold moves in fast. It creeps through the glass, slides under my clothes, settles along my spine. I rub my arms but can’t shake the feeling that the temperature isn’t the real problem.
I look out the windshield.
The landscape is motionless. Not a single sagebrush shifting. Even the sunlight is hesitant as if it doesn’t want to fully touch the ground.
I’m nowhere out here.
And nowhere feels like it’s waiting.
I pull out my phone to text Anton. He’ll appreciate the reassurance and hopefully it will work on me, too.
Me
Boring morning so far.
I hit send.
The message fails.
I hold the phone higher. No bars. Not even a flicker. It’s as if the mountain swallowed the cell tower whole.
“Great,” I mutter. “Now I can’t even amuse myself with sexting.”
The baby flutters beneath my ribs. It might just be me digesting my breakfast, but I take anything as kicking these days.
I rest my hand on my belly, smoothing my palm over the firm curve. “Hey…Gabrielle…”
Does that sound right?
I like the name.
“Hey, Kiara…”
I practice the name I shortlisted, but my voice sounds too big in the cabin. Even the fog of my breath is loud in this empty space.
I check the road again, scanning the horizon for movement. Nothing. Not even a bird. Anything with wings knew better than to fly over this stretch today.
My fingers drift to my badge. It feels heavier than usual, tightening my shirt. I swear I can even feel my hair shift under my beanie. Maybe it’s all in my head. Maybe everything is in my head this morning.
But something isn’t right.
I’m still creeped out by Ingram.
But he’s gone.
And he wouldn’t lie about something like that. Right?
He’d be stupid to lie about it, knowing how easily any one of us at the station might see his wife in town. His kids must be out of school…
Just then, a faint crunch breaks the silence.
I go still and scan through the windshield, then flick my gaze to the left wing mirror where the sound came from, but I see nothing new.
I’m parked close to the sagebrush. Maybe it tapped the SUV in the breeze—except there is no breeze.
It could be anything. A rabbit. A squirrel.
“You’re hearing things,” I whisper. “Get a grip, Frey.”
But my mind drifts where I don’t want it to go—right back to everything I shouldn’t have to worry about today.
Back to Ingram’s comment this morning.
Last thing those poor Marshall folks need is another officer knocking at their door.
He said it casually. But it didn’t wash over me. Was he hoping to delay my visit to the Marshalls?
Or warning me he already knew about it…?
He’s in Florida now.
Far from me. Far from this case.
Far from whatever is unraveling in Echo Valley. We’re looking for Mace now, and he has no clue we’re coming for him. I’m not sure how quickly Ava and Enzo can move on things like this, but Rio gave the nod over twelve hours ago.
Anton will be here soon with an update. And I’m so glad he decided to join me. This place is creep…
There again—movement. The brush sways once as if something slipped behind it.
My heartbeat taps at my throat. I don’t look away from the sage.
The radio crackles, static bursting through the cabin like a scream.
I jerk back hard, slamming into the seat. “Jesus…” I clutch my chest. “That damn near gave me a heart attack.”
The static hisses, clicks, then falls silent.
I am way too keyed up out here.
I swallow and force my breathing to slow. Radios glitch. They pick up interference. Nothing about that should rattle me.
But it rattles me anyway.
I try my phone again. It would really help to call Anton. Something about the way he talks to me anchors things. But the signal is still dead.
The winter air finds new ways into the cabin, creeping deeper. Under my gloves. Under my skin.
Another flutter inside my belly, sharper this time. Is she reacting to my pulse?
I need to calm down. I close my eyes and breathe slowly.
A second crunch. Closer.
My eyes snap open.
This time it’s unmistakable. Not wind. Not imagination. Something moving.
I whip my head toward the brush line, searching for a shadow, an animal—anything.
I pull my scarf tighter as I look out the right side of the car.
But then, a single, gentle knock taps the glass beside my left ear.
My entire body jolts. I slap my hand over my mouth to stop the gasp as I spin violently to see what’s there.
A man stands at my window.
For a beat, I can’t move. Can’t even breathe.
He’s smiling, but the curve of his lips is vacant and wrong.
I don’t return it because I can’t. I’m frozen. Thank God I already locked the doors and windows.
A flicker of instinct tells me to reach for my gun, but he’s too close to fire…
And then, my gaze drops to a dark shape in his hand.
Before my mind can fully register it, he moves. His arm swings up…and then…shatter.
The driver’s window explodes inward. Glass sprays across my lap. Something slams into my shoulder. Cold air tears into the cabin with him, his smile gone and replaced by something feral and electric.
And the world goes white with terror.