Behind me, the temperature drops another ten degrees.Shadow Daddy’s presence solidifies, a jealous, territorial weight that presses against my spine.I feel more than hear his low growl, a vibration that rattles in my bones.
“In my car…” I shake my head.“What are you talking about?”
James shoves a tablet into my hands.“Watch.”
I look down.The screen shows grainy black-and-white footage of my driveway and my car.The timestamp reads thirteen minutes ago.
My stomach drops because I already know this can’t be good.
“Play it,” James says, his voice flat and dead.
I press play.
The footage is fish-eye distorted, mounted somewhere high—maybe the oak tree across the street?But the angle shows my car clearly.A figure dressed all in black approaches, and with hardly a twist of their wrist, they open the very locked back door of my car as though locks are just a rumor and then slide inside.Efficient and practiced, like they’ve done this hundreds of times before.They settle into the back seat, disappearing below the window line.
Waiting.
Waiting for me.
My blood turns to ice.
The timestamp ticks forward.Seconds.A minute.Two.Then the front door of my house opens, and I step out onto the porch, keys in hand, my bag slung over my shoulder.I’m completely oblivious.
After several steps toward my car, my house starts shaking.
In the footage, I flinch and look back.The door slams open and shut, violent and rhythmic.The porch light explodes.I retreat toward the porch, confusion clear in my body language.The front door hangs open.I pause, then I step back inside my house.
The door slams shut on me.
For three seconds, nothing happens.Then the car door flies open.The figure in black tumbles out, stumbling slightly, and runs.They disappear off screen.
The footage ends.
I stare at the frozen final frame of my car door hanging open.Other than the dripping hand reaching toward me from inside the house, which is blocked by my fat head, this is all like how I remember it, except…
“Someone was in my car.”My voice sounds too distant, like it belongs to someone else.
“Aye.”James’s voice is closer now.He steps inside, forcing me back a step.The front door swings wider.“Waiting on ye.But when it was clear ye weren’t immediately coming back, he bolted.”
I look up.James is staring past me, into the shadows where Shadow Daddy lingers behind my back.
The air between them crackles with violent intent.Two vicious predators sizing each other up.
“He saved me,” I hear myself say.“My shadow daddy.”
I whirl to face him even though I can’t see him.“You brought me back inside and distracted me until that man—whoever it was—left.”
“The question is, who was it?”James asks, his voice tight.“And what exactly would he have done to ye if you’d gotten into your car?”
“It’s not Vincent,” I say in case that’s what he’s implying.“Vincent doesn’t lie in wait.”
Hefollows and attacks in an area where no one will hear you scream.
The temperature drops further, and frost spiders across the inside of the living room windows.A low, guttural sound rumbles from the hallway, and the lights flicker.
Tires screech outside once more.A car door slams.Footsteps pound up the porch steps.Eddie appears in the open doorway, slightly out of breath, his detective’s eyes already cataloging the scene.Me in my shredded shirt, holding a tablet, James standing too close, the unnatural cold, and the flickering lights.
“Someone called the station about an attempted kidnapping at this address,” Eddie says.“An anonymous tip.Sera, what’s going on?”
