Page 71 of When the Smoke Clears

I clear my throat, shifting the subject. “So, who’s taking me to meet the realtor today?”

Luke glances down at the digital watch wrapped around his wrist. It’s one of those high-tech models with a sleek touchscreen that not only tracks his heart rate but also manages a bunch of functions that, to me, feel like something out of a sci-fi movie.

“It’s after eight,” Gabe replies.

“I need to go,” Luke says, his tone urgent. “Tim is covering for me, but there’s a mountain of paperwork waiting for me to tackle, and I want to have a quick chat with Doc to make sure he hasn’t gotten wind of anything suspicious.”

“Good call,” Gabe replies, nodding. “Gauge the situation and see if we need to switch to defense mode.”

“And you’ll stay with Isla the entire time?”

He shrugs with a casual air. “Unless I decide to make a pit stop at The Cherry Pie Club.”

“Do not take Isla to that place,” Luke warns, his voice firm as I picture the rundown strip club with its flickering neon sign. “You need antibiotics just to step foot inside that dive.”

“But their lunch buffet is top-tier,” Gabe quips. “She could perform on amateur night, maybe even make a few bucks.”

Luke’s expression hardens into a stern glare as my giggles escalate into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. The sound lightens my mood, and the tight knot in my stomach loosens ever so slightly.

After Luke leaves, Gabe and I head out toward town.

At first, the drive is quiet, familiar streets sliding past my window. But beneath the stillness, something prickles at the back of my mind—a tug I don’t like.

Gabe says something teasing, and I try to answer, but unease clamps around my ribs. I scan the streets. Nothing looks wrong…

Then—

A siren slices through the morning.

An ambulance bursts around the corner, a patrol car tight behind it, both speeding in the direction of the sheriff’s station. The same direction Luke went. Red and blue lights strobe over the truck, turning everything frantic.

My stomach drops. Heat flashes under my skin. Maybe it’s paranoia, but the connection is instant and brutal: Luke. Something could have happened to him.

Gabe must have had the same thought. He stiffens, jerks the wheel, and executes a hard U-turn to fall in behind them.

Unease detonates into full-blown panic. With everything happening in Wildhaven, my mind leaps straight to the worst possibilities—all of them ending with Luke hurt, or worse.

I grip my knees, heart hammering, breath shallow.

A whispered prayer slips out before I can stop it. Please don’t let it be Luke. Please don’t let it be him. Not now.

CHAPTER 17

LUKE

The voice rips through the air, calling my name, but it’s distorted, like it’s clawing its way through a dense, suffocating fog. “Luke, can you hear me? I need you to keep your eyes open.”

I can’t answer. The sensation of flight consumes me. Below me, Wildhaven unfurls in patchwork: grazing fields, red barns, cows swatting flies with their tails.

In the middle of the field, a blonde woman in a flowing blue sundress twirls as a satin scarf floats behind her like a phantom.

A desperate yearning claws at my insides—I need to speak to her, to reach out and touch her.

I dive closer, but agony shatters the dream. A bullet rips through my shoulder, shattering bone and flesh. I crash into the earth, the ground drinking my blood in greedy gulps.

I can’t die yet. I need to ask Isla to marry me, take her to Disneyland, and spin together in the teacups.

“He was a good sheriff,” they’ll say at my funeral. “He cared deeply about Wildhaven.”