Page 69 of Shadow

Destiny and Roger were still inside, in an unsecured house.

“Get off! Get off!” She scrambled out from under Asher as he pushed himself up and away.

Fire roared from the twisted metal that used to be the junky car next door. Heat hit her face even from fifteen feet away. Orange flames reflected in the windows of neighboring houses.

Rain soaked her through to her bones.

“Destiny and Roger⁠—”

“Go!” Asher said. He was already moving toward the car.

Daphne ran for the house, ears ringing from the blast, shaking a little. She’d set the system to auto-rearm after thirty seconds—a habit she’d picked up from Ruthie. She hit the door hard, and the system beeped—thirty seconds to disarm.

Destiny stood in the living room in her silk nightgown, hand pressed to her chest. Face pale in the lamplight. “What’s going on?”

Roger emerged from his bedroom wearing rumpled pajama pants and an old T-shirt. Face pale. “Are we under attack?”

“Bathroom. Now.” Daphne didn’t mean to bark. “Move.” And maybe it was overkill—after all, it seemed like an accident, but…

But she was paid to be paranoid.

“What—” Destiny.

“Now!” She herded them down the hallway to the master bathroom. The one with the reinforced door she’d installed on day two. Steel core wrapped in wood veneer. Deadbolt that could withstand a battering ram.

She pushed them inside. Destiny stumbled slightly on the tile floor. Roger caught her arm.

“Stay here. Don’t open this door for anyone except me or Asher. Understand?”

Destiny nodded. Roger’s dark eyes were wide with fear. He looked young suddenly. Not the forty-year-old entitled witness, but a scared kid.

Daphne closed the door. Heard the deadbolt slide home from inside with a solid thunk. Then she grabbed her tablet from the kitchen counter, where she’d left it charging. The screen glowed bright in the dim house.

She pulled up the security feeds. Four camera angles. Rewind.

9:48 p.m. Nothing. Empty street. Pools of yellow streetlight. Dark houses, the rain just starting.

9:52 p.m. Nothing. A golf cart passed, splashing in puddles.

10:03 p.m. Movement. Small. Low to the ground, near Asher’s car parked in the driveway.

She zoomed in. Enhanced the image. Pixels fractured and reformed.

Something dark. Small animal, maybe. Too grainy to identify clearly.

10:19 p.m. Lighting strike. It blinded the screen.

10:23 p.m. Asher and her on the porch. Then moving toward the car, her on his six.

10:24 p.m. Explosion. The feed went white. Overloaded by the flash. Then it cleared, and there they were, tangled up on the ground.

She replayed the footage, searching for sabotage.

Just the wind. The storm.

Outside, sirens wailed. Multiple trucks. Fire engines. Police cruisers. So much for keeping a low profile. Through the window, she could see lights turning on in houses up and down the street.

Footsteps thundered behind her, and Daphne spun, her weapon up.