Page 27 of Safe in Shadow (Pine Ridge Universe #22)

“Uh. Sorry! Sorry, Mom, I was just saying, he wants to give me this beach house. But, he also had a car accident, and he’s pretty banged up.

He thinks he’s dying. He’ll probably recover and change his mind.

Who knows? Anyway, he sounded like a decent human being for a few minutes, and I decided to go up to Lake Erie and see him on his supposed deathbed, ‘cause, y’know.

I’m a nurse who can’t resist playing the hero in someone’s hour of need, and I’m a sucker.

Not to mention,” I drop my voice, eyes scanning the first small house I see, “if this is legit, I might be able to sell the place and pay off my student loans. Or hey, home ownership! Love you, Mom. Call me when you get signal, or send me an email.”

I hang up. My mother probably hasn’t figured out how to use the ship’s WiFi, and I don’t know if I really want her to. I know she’s been done with Gary for a long time, but she loved him once. This news could ruin her vacation.

Shit, why did I call her? I should have waited.

I peer at the house past the mansion. The lighthouse-shaped mailbox bears the number 36. I just passed 32 at the bottom of the little sandy lane. The misty lake air blankets the cream-colored Victorianesque mansion that must be number 34.

My stomach suddenly knots. I don’t think it’s nerves about seeing Gary. If he really changed, I’ll be shocked. A little nugget of determination sits in my subconscious, telling me I want him to put it in writing that I get this place—I think.

I ease my car up to the mansion. I don’t see any numbers on it, but it has to be the right place.

And that feels wrong. This whole thing feels wrong. I creep up the driveway, mist suddenly hanging like a cloud across my windshield.

For a minute, I just sit, my foot on the brake.

How did Gary get this place?

Why did he call me?

Did he say the guy on the pier died? How do you have a car accident on the pier?

I guess someone could have careened off of it...

I know why I called my mom. I wanted someone to know where I went because I don’t trust my creepy ex-stepfather.

But I trust my nurse’s instincts. I think about Gary’s voice during the call—the whistling sound of a broken nose and badly deviated septum combined with the careful, labored breathing that accompanies multiple broken ribs.

No one could fake those sounds so consistently without the actual injuries, especially through the range of emotions Gary displayed.

Whether trying to be upbeat or tearful begging, his breathing and voice stayed the same.

He’s hurt—and he can’t hurt me.

I’m still in my car. My gut is screaming at me.

He never laid a hand on me.

No. Not in a violent way. Not in a sexual way.

But his eyes...

Stop it. Near-death experience. He wants to turn over a new leaf.

Crippling loans.

I look up at the house. There are lights on in the upper rooms, but none on the ground floor.

Well, maybe he can’t do the stairs. Maybe he’s comfortable in bed, recuperating.

But if he’s supposed to be dying, where are the people to take care of him? Nurses? Family?

Oh. Duh. Me. I’m probably the only nurse-family member he has. Probably the only one dumb enough to give his sorry ass a second chance.

As I slowly step out of the car, I recall that Gary’s sister and brother never came to visit after he married Mom. I used to think it was because they didn’t like us, but Mom told me it was because he’d borrowed so much money from both of his siblings and never paid it back.

A sudden shiver races up my back, like someone ran an ice cube along my spine.

You know what? If I’m not comfortable, I’ll just leave.

I pat the pepper spray in my pocket and think of the medical teams in Doctors without Borders, those brave men and women going into disaster areas and war zones for the greater good.

Here I am, afraid to walk into a house in a nice neighborhood in a sweet little beach town.

Shame. You’re not worthy of your nursing pin.

I push the car door shut with a bang, march across the gravel drive, and stomp up the stairs to the wrap-around porch. Ooh. Wrap-around porch.

Besides, I took self-defense classes, and I have pepper spray. I’ll be fine. If I could handle that drunk linebacker during practicum, I can handle severely injured Gary.

With false bravery, I pound on the door. “Gary! Can I come in?” I figure he won’t be moving around much.

I don’t figure on the door opening and a burst of wind from inside the house sucking me into a huge, dark entryway. Yes. It came from the inside . Like a giant invisible vacuum that pulls me in and slams the door shut behind me with a slam that echoes.

“Hi, you must be Molly.”

A man in a dark hoodie is suddenly in front of me, and I know he wasn’t there a second ago.

I blink. I back up.

And the door is gone.

Just— gone . My back hits a solid wall. “Ow!” The noise is more a gasp of surprise and fear than pain.

“Oh, careful, love! Sorry about that. I... I sort of made a trade for you, and I can’t really let you leave at the moment.”

The man’s voice is soft and apologetic, with a trace of an accent I can’t place. Like Cockney but more refined.

“What’s going on? Where’s Gary?” Hand in purse. Pepper spray in palm.

“Hmm. Hang on.” The man closes his eyes, and I stare at him in the darkness. His skin is so pale that it illuminates the room.

Like he’s glowing.

Humans don’t glow. There are no bioluminescent humans.

Stay calm, stay calm, stay calm...

“He’s driving a stolen Toyota down the PA Turnpike. Hm. As if I wouldn’t catch him just because he’s in a different vehicle.” There’s a mocking little chuckle in his tone, one that sends bile burning the back of my throat.

This glowing psycho is not going to be the reason I end up on the true crime channel—unless it’s as the survivor who tells her story, the one who gets away.

“Creep!” I screech and lunge forward, pepper spray shooting in a targeted stream for his eyes and mouth. I want him blind and gasping on the floor.

Well. I’m just not getting anything I want tonight.

Mr. Pale blinks at me with an apologetic wince, spray sliding down his face like raindrops. Meanwhile, I’m over here gasping and choking just from the fumes.

“Molly, maybe I could just take you through to the kitchen and—” Pale guy reaches for my elbow, and I use my free hand to claw for his face.

And connect with nothing.

What? Does not compute. I can feel a solid hand on my arm, pushing me along, but my attempts to strike back only meet emptiness.

“Who are you? Do you—Did you do something to Gary? What do you want with me?” I’m struggling and using every move I know, and he just evades them like they’re nothing, forcing me into a large, dark kitchen.

“Shh, good girl, I’ll explain everything.”

“Do not shush me! I’m not a dog!” I growl between gags. The pepper spray didn’t hurt him, but it’s choking me.

Suddenly, my stomach is slammed against something hard and metal—a sink. He’s behind me, chest to my back, hands scrabbling over my arms to pin them to my sides.

“No!” It’s one word with a whole world of anger and regret.

How did I end up like this? How is Gary involved?

There’s a glint of silver in the corner of my watering eyes. Knives. Counter. Over the sink. His body is crushing mine, even though he’s barely bigger than me. I guess I’m not getting away. I don’t even know why. “Please...”