Page 72 of Fire Dancer

My gut twisted, and everyone went very, very quiet.

For the next minute or so, Kyle nodded into his phone. Then he signed off with a curt, “Yes, sir. I’m on my way.”

My lips moved, but I couldn’t spit out my question.

As it turned out, I didn’t have to. The second Kyle’s eyes met mine, I knew.

Chapter Seventeen

INGO

It was dark by the time I drove home from the Blue Moon Saloon. A universe of stars lit the sky, but I kept my eyes on the road rolling under my tires. On and on in an endless cycle. Lifeless. Bleak.

Passing Paige Springs, I continued to Sedona. My pulse rose at the turn to Painted Rock Ranch, but I forced myself to drive past it. Half a mile later, I cursed, pulled a U-turn, and headed back.

It was a bad night, and I was in a bad place, but I had to see Pippa. I had to know she was safe.

The dirt road to her place was full of ruts, twists, and turn-offs. I counted carefully, then looked for the big stone on the right a few miles down the road.

There. I stopped and peered into the darkness opposite it. Pure darkness, solid brush. Not a sign of a road or a ranch. Still, I eased the Jeep into gear and turned left with my heart in my throat.

Entering Painted Rock Ranch with Pippa, Erin, or even Nash was easy. The road just appeared, clear as day. Entering alone was harder, because an ancient spell cloaked the place. It was a lot like driving up to that cliff Pippa had taken me to on our Jeep tour. I was sure I would plunge into an abyss.

But my tires crunched over smooth gravel instead of crashing through prickly pears, and a few anxious minutes later, I could not only sense but also see the road. I exhaled, following it through the next couple of bends, where the cloaking spell fell away completely.

My knuckles went white over the steering wheel. What would I say to Pippa? How to break the terrible news? The police had agreed to keep the news of the victim under wraps for forty-eight hours, so Pippa couldn’t have heard.

Yet.

The Jeep creaked past the main house, where a single light still burned. Dogs barked, and a curtain moved. I pictured Abby inside, rushing to the window while Claire slept. I hoped she would recognize my car and take my slow speed as an indication that all was well.

I jutted my jaw. If only that were the case.

Continuing slowly, I pulled up to the converted barn Pippa lived in, then stopped and slid to the ground. Pippa emerged a moment later. The light inside cast a halo around her fair hair, giving her an angelic glow as she stood in the doorway.

She frowned, spotting me. “Ingo?”

I nodded and stepped closer, though my legs were full of lead.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

I forced myself to meet her eyes. My gut lurched, because for a moment, those were Stacy’s eyes, and Bridget’s and all the other victims I’d been too late too help.

My hands curled into fists. Sometimes, I hated my job. And sometimes — like this — I hated myself.

Pippa’s face went slack, and she paled.

“No…” she whispered, reading my mind.

Silent as the grave, I took another step.

“No…” She sank into a chair beside the doorway.

I stopped in front of her as she dropped her face into her hands, then glanced up with a look that gutted me.

“Stacy…?”

I nodded. Once.