Chapter Three
As though from a great distance, banging intruded into Sally’s exhausted sleep. She groaned and tasted the acrid dryness that, for some reason, rested in the back of her throat. Water. She uncurled from the tight ball she slept in and rolled onto her back, sliding her legs over the edge of the mattress. Hot air swirled around her bare thighs. It must be a hundred degrees in here. Barely a second passed before she made the connection. Her eyes flew open only to burn and tear with smoke from the flames that licked along the ceiling above her. Sally jumped to her feet as terror engulfed her. A coughing fit doubled her over and left her struggling for air.
Fire! I have to get Jen and Luke! Hastily, Sally shoved her feet into a pair of slip-on canvas shoes she’d left at the foot of her bed and sprinted toward the door. Fear for her daughter galvanized her movements and gave her purpose. Still, her heart hammered so hard and fast, the sound of its beating was all she could hear.
Reaching the door, Sally stretched for the knob, but the door flew open, barely missing her as she stumbled backward. A tall, broad-shouldered form stood just outside, the glow from behind her highlighting the relief on his chiseled features.
Luke held a squirming bundle close to his chest with one arm. Jen! He reached for Sally with the other, urgently tugging her into the hallway. His presence, and Jen’s, momentarily eased her panic.
“Luke? Is Jen okay?”
“She’s fine.” Luke tugged on her arm again. “We need to go.” He had to raise his voice to be heard over the roar she hadn’t noticed until now.
Fear squeezed Sally’s stomach as she stumbled after Luke. A glance over her shoulder caught flames clawing across the ceiling and down the wall by the window, engulfing the drapes in a barrier of fire. Drapes that had cost her a small fortune—gone in the space of a heartbeat.
Oh my God! That could have been me. Her involuntary gasp forced more smoke into her lungs, and her protesting airway took over again. The more she coughed, the more smoke she inhaled. Her eyes burned and watered until she could barely see.
The farther they got from the bedrooms, the less smoke choked the air. Exiting the hallway into the living room, she jerked her arm from Luke’s grasp. “Are you sure Jen’s all right?” She tried to untangle the blankets that held her daughter.
As though in response, the bundle in his arms stretched until two arms poked from the blanket and curled around his neck. Luke’s brief smile held relief. “I’ve got her. She’s okay.” He hooked his arm around Sally’s waist and guided her toward the front door, speaking calmly in her ear, loudly enough to be heard over the fire and the blood pulsing in her temples. His voice, sure and confident, called her back from the edge of terror.
Luke turned the dead bolt and opened the door, then dashed toward the couch and grabbed his duffel bag. At the last second, Sally spotted her purse atop the cabinet where she’d forgotten it after his unexpected appearance earlier. Her credit cards were in there, as well as what little money she had. Somehow, she’d have to put a roof over their heads—they’d need clothes and other essentials. She snatched the bag and her cell phone, threw the strap over her head, then noticed a pair of Jen’s tennis shoes beneath the cabinet and snagged them before rushing through the open doorway with Luke on her heels. They jogged down the front steps, both dragging fresh air into their lungs, causing them to work overtime to force the smoke out. When Luke finally stopped, she dropped to her knees in the grass at the edge of the street and gave in to the uncontrollable need to cough.
Finally, she was able to take a breath and then another, without her lungs starting to spasm. She wiped her eyes and eagerly turned to Luke as he dropped to the ground across from her and set the precious contents of his bundle on the ground. Jen shrugged out of the blanket, her eyes wide, but otherwise she was perfectly safe. Tears welling, she reached for Sally and sank into her arms.
Sally sought Luke’s gaze as she hugged her daughter, needing him to know how grateful she was for saving her little girl. He was staring over her head, and the flames, leaping from the blackened shell of her home, reflected in his eyes. A chill feathered up her spine and she trembled.
Luke lowered his head and met her gaze. “Are you okay?”
Sally held Jen tighter. “Yeah…now I am. Do you know how the fire started?”
He lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. “No, but old houses usually have old wiring. An electrical surge or a spark from a bare wire could have ignited whatever you had stored in the attic.”
“Why the attic?”
“The fire started above us, burned across the ceiling and down the curtains before the main floor became engulfed. The local fire marshal should be able to determine the cause after it’s out.” Luke stretched full length on the grass, leaning on one elbow, and searched her face.
He looked away, a sad expression dulling his eyes, reminding her how they’d left things between them. Their earlier conversation seemed as though it had taken place a lifetime ago. The world had changed in an instant. As hard as Sally had been sleeping, absent Luke banging on the wall, it was doubtful she’d have waked before inhaling enough smoke to kill her. And Jen—she couldn’t even think about what might have happened to her daughter.
She owed Luke a debt she’d never be able to repay…for saving both of them. The slight she’d suffered in Bethesda no longer seemed the unforgiveable sin it had before. He’d come here to explain and apologize…and ended up saving their lives. That was worth something, wasn’t it?
Jen pulled free of Sally’s arms, sliding down onto the grass beside her. It was all Sally could do to let her go. “Are you hurt anywhere, honey? Are you warm enough?”
“I’m fine, Mom. May I go talk to Tiffany?” She pointed toward her babysitter and some other girls she knew from the neighborhood a few feet away.
Let Jen out of her sight? “Oh, honey. I’d rather you stayed right here so—”
“Sally?” Luke drew her attention, his voice brimming with quiet strength. “She’ll be all right. I’ll go with her. Okay with you, Jen?” He stood and offered her a hand up.
“Sure.” Jen reached for his hand and scrambled to her feet. “Is it okay, Mom?”
Sally managed to nod even though the last thing she wanted at the moment was to be separated from her daughter. She did a halfway decent job of returning Luke’s smile before he and Jen walked away.
Gradually, Sally became aware of other people standing nearby, of voices and sirens in the distance. She recognized Tiffany’s mother, Gretchen, when the woman who’d lived next door for the past ten years bent down and squeezed her shoulder.
“I called nine-one-one as soon as I saw the flames coming from the roof. The fire trucks will be here any second. Are you and Jen all right?” Gretchen eyed Luke curiously.
That explained the sirens getting closer by the minute. Sally patted Gretchen’s hand. “We’re fine now. Thanks for calling the fire department.” Gretchen nodded and moved away to await the firemen before Sally could tell her they might not have made it out if it hadn’t been for Luke. She looked around for him and found him standing nearby, one arm around Jen’s shoulders.
The fire engine, sirens screaming and red lights twirling on the roof of the truck, raced down the block and stopped in front of her house. Firemen jumped from every opening and began unrolling hoses. They pushed the small crowd of neighbors that had gathered farther into the street as they prepared to douse the flames with water.
Luke knelt in front of her with Jen’s blanket in his hand, and placed it around Sally’s shoulders. It wasn’t until then she realized she was sitting in her front yard with nothing on but a stretchy knit tank top and panties. She experienced a brief moment of wishing she could drop through the earth’s crust until she put it in perspective: being alive was the only thing that mattered. Still, she had no doubt her face was crimson when she met Luke’s gaze.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
He smiled, regarding her with those expressive brown eyes that had hypnotized her more than once. Though very glad Luke was here, this wasn’t the time to explore residual feelings. He must have come to the same conclusion. Rising to his feet, his gaze swept the milling crowd. She searched for Jen again and found her, her small hand held in Tiffany’s larger one as they both sat on the curb beside Gretchen. Reassured, Sally turned to watch the firemen efficiently quenching the flames on the roof. From the corner of her eye, she saw Luke pull his cell phone from his pocket and move away from the noise of the group clustered in front of her house.
“Sally, what happened?”
She dragged her attention from Luke to the man who knelt beside her. “Sheriff Anderson. I wish I knew. I really have no idea.” Sally covered her forehead with one hand and tried to squeeze her burgeoning headache away. It didn’t work.
“Are you and Jen all right?”
“We’re fine, considering. I mean, it looks like they’re getting the fire out, so it won’t be a total loss, right?”
The lean, dark-haired lawman studied the progress of the fire for a moment. “There’ll be smoke and water damage, Sally. I wouldn’t count on saving much. Looks like the roof and attic have sustained the worst of it. You’ll need someplace to stay until the landlord gets the needed repairs done.”
“Great. This is the last thing I needed right now.” Sally clamped her lips closed on the rest of her complaint. Her lack of employment wasn’t any of the sheriff’s concern, and he probably didn’t need to know she’d started and lost a new job in the same month.
“Do you have someone you can stay with for a couple of months?”
A couple of months? “I’ll figure something out.”
“I spoke with Gretchen a minute ago. She mentioned you have someone staying with you.” Ben removed his ball cap and gave her an apologetic smile. “Gretchen is quite a busybody.”
Tell me something I don’t know. “An old friend stopped by unexpectedly. Luke Harding—he got us out of the house, Sheriff. Otherwise, I don’t know what would have happened.”
The sheriff drilled her with his gaze. “Harding? As in Garrett Harding’s brother?”
“Yeah. That’s me, Sheriff.” Luke stood a few feet behind them.
The sheriff rose slowly and swiveled toward him. “Ben Anderson.” He offered his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Luke. Your brother is a friend of mine.”
Luke hesitated slightly before accepting the sheriff’s hand. “My brother is a good man to have as a friend.”
“He’s sure proud of you.” Maybe Ben noticed the barely perceptible narrowing of Luke’s eyes and the tick just above his jaw too, because he pivoted quickly back to Sally. “Do you have a place to stay tonight?”
“Yes, she does,” Luke said.
That was news to Sally.
If the sheriff noticed her surprise, he didn’t let on. “I’ll check in with you tomorrow. Meanwhile, if there’s anything I can do, just let me know.”
Before Sally had a chance to thank him, the night sky erupted in a deafening explosion. What was left of her house shot into the atmosphere as though in slow motion, and the shock waves rocked the ground beneath her. Instinctively, she scrambled toward Jen as pieces of what was once her home began to rain down around her.
Luke whisked Jen from Tiffany’s care, pointing her and Gretchen to the opposite side of the street. Both men shielded Sally and Jen from the worst of the debris as they ran for safety. Firemen yelled commands. People screamed. And above that, the roar of the out-of-control fire fueled a terror in Sally the likes of which she hadn’t known for a number of years.
No matter how hard she tried to ignore it, the truth wouldn’t go away. This was no accident. Someone had started her house on fire and then blown it up…to make sure no one survived. It was after midnight. She and Jen would still be sleeping if not for Luke. But that didn’t change the facts—someone had tried to kill them.
By the time they’d reached a safe distance in the neighbor’s yard across the street, the firemen had already switched gears. They’d gone to work saving the nearby houses, counting hers a complete loss.
“Sally, you got any enemies?” The sheriff’s straight-faced question at her elbow almost made her laugh.
As a matter of fact she did, and as soon as she could get a private moment, she’d have to make the call she’d dreaded for almost nine years, but right now she’d put on her game face and lie like hell. “No, Ben. Everybody loves me. You know that.”
“Well, that’s what I always thought, but do you mind telling me how you got those bruises on your face?”
In light of everything that had happened, Sally had practically forgotten about the altercation with Emmett and the bruises that had obviously appeared since then. Emmett was a creep, but blowing up her house and trying to kill her wasn’t his handiwork. She started to shake her head.
Luke pushed one side of her hair behind her shoulder, gaining her attention, then pointed to Jen, standing graveyard still at his side. “I know what you’re thinking, but what would it hurt to let the sheriff check him out? He deserves to at least answer a couple of questions to prove his innocence. If he’s guilty, you and Jen won’t have to worry about a repeat of this.”
He was right, of course. Sally believed she knew who the responsible party was, but what if she was wrong? She glanced at Jen again. Thank goodness her daughter had fallen asleep earlier with sweats underneath her nightshirt. The air could get a little nippy in the mountains in the middle of the night. Sally owed it to her little girl to check out every viable suspect until she knew, beyond a doubt, who’d destroyed their home and their lives. Her very real fear of retribution from Emmett once he learned she’d named him as a suspect would have to be set aside.
She was going to need some strong mojo for her headache before this night was over. Sally chewed her bottom lip as she faced the sheriff. “Emmett Purnell.”
“Oh shit.” Ben massaged the back of his neck absently. “What happened?”
“Can we just say a date didn’t end the way he expected and he made threats against me and Luke?” Sally looked at Ben hopefully.
“Who is this guy? I thought he was just your boss.” Luke’s gaze swept from Sally to the sheriff.
“Emmett runs the largest logging outfit in the state. He’s got some big money and questionable associates behind him.” The sheriff frowned at her. “I thought you were smarter than that.”
What? Sally struggled to subdue the rush of anger his words triggered. “Ben, you and I have known each other since the day I moved to Small Town USA, but that doesn’t give you the right—”
Luke stepped between her and Ben. “This isn’t the time for making judgment calls. Is Emmett Purnell capable of this kind of violence because a woman refused to jump in bed with him?”
“Maybe, maybe not, but I think it’s important to at least rule him out. Problem is, with the fire and the water, there won’t be much forensic evidence left. I’m going to visit with the fire chief—see if he’s found anything. You’re welcome to tag along if you want.” Ben set his cap back on his head and started toward the man standing beside one of the fire trucks, shouting orders into a handheld radio.
Luke pivoted to face Sally and pulled her blanket around her more securely. Concern emanated from him as his eyes searched hers. “The sheriff didn’t mean anything by that. He’s worried…and apparently doesn’t have a friggin’ clue how to talk to women.” His trademark grin slipped into place. “Will you be okay for a few minutes? Stay right here and wait for me?”
Sally smiled half-heartedly and gave him a casual salute, which almost caused the blanket to slide off her shoulders.
One corner of his mouth hitched up and he leaned toward her as though he was about to kiss her, but he merely adjusted the blanket before he strode off after the sheriff.
She missed his confidence as soon as he was gone. Normally, she possessed all the self-reliance needed, but it had deserted her tonight…about the time Luke showed up and turned her world upside down. If she and Jen were going to make it through the days to come, she’d need a good offense. Fishing through her purse, she found her cell phone and scrolled through the list of contacts until she found the right one. Greg Lambert. She stared at the name for a moment, then hit the button to dial the number.
“Lambert.” The phone was answered immediately.
She started to hyperventilate and could barely speak. “Marshal Lambert? This is Sally Duncan. I think…I have a problem.”
“Are you somewhere safe?” Greg’s voice was familiar, though she’d only spoken with him twice before.
“Yes, for now.” Sally glanced around at the neighbors she’d known for years. There’d been some turnover during that time, but it had been a safe place to raise Jen…until now.
“Tell me what’s happened.” Greg was moving around now, making noise as though he was getting dressed.
Sally shook her head, a silent refusal to the worthless tears that threatened. “Someone set my home on fire and then blew it up. I had a house guest who woke up in time to get us out. Otherwise Jen and I would both be dead.”
“Any sign of Clive or any of his men?” The jangle of keys came over the phone, along with Greg’s ridiculous question.
A shiver raced through her at the mention of the name. She’d known Clive Brennan better than anyone. He was her father, after all, but it had been years since she’d thought of him as Dad or Papa or anything other than Clive Brennan, cold-blooded murderer. Even now, if she closed her eyes, the horror of his crimes flooded her, bringing more tears that stung the backs of her eyelids. The Biloxi family he and his henchmen had butchered were people she’d known all her life. The killers hadn’t seen her come calling that day…they didn’t hear her quietly step through the half-open front door…her gasp of shock had been swallowed up by the screams of the innocent people in the sunken living room. The shame of backing away—leaving her friends in their moment of need—to call the police still tormented her, even though reason said there was nothing she could have done to save them. Surely sometimes the right thing must be the unreasonable one.
Apparently, Clive’s alibi hadn’t held up, and the prosecutor had already established a motive, so all they needed was Sally’s testimony to place her father at the scene of the crime. Still traumatized, she’d agreed, not realizing to what extent it would change her life forever.
And then it had changed again three months ago, when Clive was released from prison. “Of course not. If I’d seen anyone even remotely familiar, don’t you think I’d have called you before now?” As soon as the heated words were out, Sally regretted sniping at him.
Greg chuckled. “Good girl. Get mad and stay that way. You’ll have to get yourself and your kid out of sight and keep your head down until I get there. I’ll call when I’m close.”
“Then what?”
“Then we start over from scratch. A new identity. A new life. Except this time you have a daughter.” Greg’s statement was punctuated by the slam of a door and then a car engine started. He was already on the move.
Sally’s gaze flew to Jen, who’d moved to join a circle with Tiffany and a few of the neighbor children, who were up way past their bedtime. She fought the urge to snatch her away from the group and hug her tightly. It would only scare her. “I can’t do that to Jen. She has friends here. A life. I can’t just rip her from everything she knows and expect her not to be devastated.” Her voice was starting to rise, but she couldn’t seem to stop the flow of words.
“Your daughter nearly died tonight. Is that what you want?” Greg’s voice was still calm and patient, despite the seriousness of his words.
“You know it isn’t! I just…I need some time to think.”
“Sally, you know as well as I do that if Clive Brennan was responsible for the explosion at your house, he knows where you are right this minute and he’s already working on plan B. Now listen carefully. Don’t trust anyone.” His voice hardened. “Take your daughter and find a safe place to stay. I’ll be there by noon tomorrow and we’ll figure this out. Okay? Now hang up and get moving.”
“No. I’m not ready. There must be some other way. Wait!” Sally was talking to dead air.
Greg had disconnected. The hand that held the phone dropped to her side. Was he right? Was it possible Clive knew where she was and was already planning his next move? Could he be here in this crowd? She raised her eyes and ran right smack into Luke’s gaze, staring curiously back at her. He strode toward her, across her neighbor’s grass, concern and determination in his expression.
Clearly, he’d overheard her on the phone. As she dropped the device into her purse, she went over her conversation with the marshal in her head, but other than ranting about not taking Jen away from her home, Sally didn’t think she’d given up any secrets. But she could trust Luke, couldn’t she? He’d be the perfect person to help her figure out what to do. Was it asking too much of their strained friendship? All she needed was a little advice. There was no one else.
The marshal’s words came back as though he stood directly behind her.
Don’t trust anyone.