But a silence presses close… Something creaks behind me…
My pulse jolts, and I whip around.
But it’s nothing but a sway of chains hanging from a salvaged engine.
Okay. Breathe. This place is a horror movie set, but I’m not the star.
Still… I unclip my water bottle and take a sip just to steady my hands. My mouth is dry.
My phone buzzes in my palm, and I jolt again.
I expect it to be Ingram announcing his presence, but it’s not.
Anton
Relax. I’ve got your back.
Relief floods me so hard, my knees go loose for half a second, and I glance around to see if I can catch even a glimpse of him. I don’t.
Another buzz.
Anton
I got you covered from all angles.
Wanting that coverage this badly scares me almost as much as the emptiness of this place—because when did I start needing him to steady me?
Still, my chest warms. Not because I need him, but…Iwanthim. And because him covering me from all angles is an image that would make any woman heat up a few extra degrees.
It’s the smart thing to have said that Anton could come. It’s true that I never expected someone to be at the quarry. It could have been nothing, but I can’t let my pride make me stupid. There’s something strange going on, and I landed myself in the middle of it. I’m pregnant, and I’ll be damned if I’m the woman who’s too stupid to live.
I’m not here to prove I’m fearless. I’m here to prove I’m competent.
Anton being here and tucked away, I appreciate. I don’t want to be alone in isolated places after the quarry incident, and Ingram hardly feels like safe cover.
I tuck the phone away, but his reassurance lingers like a hand on my back.
I continue checking the car, the gouges around thewheels, the scoring on the tires and wear patterns… I crouch at the back end of the car, and damn. There is significant rear-end damage that wasn’t well documented.
This damage could have happened when she flew off the cliff edge. Depending on the velocity, the hood could have been tipped up, and the back could have hit. Unfortunately, the tire tracks didn’t provide enough data to analyze speed.
But wait…there’s also something else here on the bumper?
Taking my cell from my pocket again, I turn on the flashlight. There’s a faint scuff. It’s reddish… What’s that mark? Paint transfer?
A faint rustle scrapes through the maze of cars behind me—light, quick, too close. I freeze, breath locked in my chest, pulse kicking hard.
Then a blur shoots out from under a chassis. A cat darts across the gravel after a mouse, tail high like it owns the whole damn scrapyard. It stops to hiss at me before bouncing off again.
Just Echo Valley’s feral-cat Mafia doing their thing.
But my heart doesn’t recalibrate because just then, footsteps approach behind me.
I rise and turn toward the sound, hand instinctively drifting toward my hip.
Then I see him. For a split second, copper hits my tongue—the kind of instinctive fear that comes from being startled in a place where anything could be hiding.
It’s just Ingram. Calm. Casual. Not a single ounce of tension in his stance.
