12
Dawson was turning down Sadie’s street when his phone rang. “Stay away! Oh my God, whatever you do, stay away!” Sadie screamed and then she was gone.
The panic in her voice caused Dawson to stomp on the brake. There had to be a reason she’d called him off. But what could that reason be? What was happening?
He tried to reach her again. She didn’t answer, so he didn’t turn around. He knew how slight she was. What if she was trying to protect her little boy? What if Sly was there, giving her trouble, and that was why she’d called to tell him to stay away—to avoid a fight between them?
Dawson didn’t bother to park down the street. He was in too much of a hurry. He pulled in front of her landlady’s house, got out and jogged around to the back. He could smell something burning before he heard a disoriented “What is it, Sadie?” And then, even before Sadie could answer, the speaker—a woman—seemed to realize what “it” was, because her voice suddenly grew strident. “Fire! Vern! The bungalow’s burning. Call 9-1-1!”
The door to the house that fronted Sadie’s slammed shut as whoever had said that—which had to be her landlady—went back in to, presumably, make sure her orders were carried out right away.
Fortunately, Sadie appeared to be safe. Dawson could see her standing on the lawn dressed in the same T-shirt she’d worn last night and a pair of sweatpants. She was holding her little boy, although he was half as big as she was, who kept trying to get down. She wouldn’t let him go, however. She clung to him for dear life—until she saw Dawson. As soon as Dawson called out to her, she started toward him and, for a brief moment, he thought he saw a flash of relief in her eyes, which disappeared as soon as she reached him. “You have to go,” she said. “Hurry! I shouldn’t have called you.”
“What’s happening?” he asked.
“Someone set my house on fire!”
“On purpose?” He could hear the loud crackle, see orange flames leaping and dancing through the front window.
“Yes!”
He remembered hearing the old woman mention calling 9-1-1. “You haven’t called for help yet?”
“I didn’t have a chance. Once I hung up with you and smelled the smoke, I grabbed Jayden and got out. Maude’s calling the fire department now.”
“Maude” had to be the name of the landlady who’d just hurried into the front house. “Who could have done this?” he asked.
Sadie shook her head as if she didn’t know, but he wondered if there was more that she wouldn’t say. She probably didn’t want Jayden to hear her accuse his father, but Dawson guessed that was what she believed. She’d said she thought it might be Sly who’d knocked on the house, so it followed that he might also have set the blaze...
Dawson reached for Jayden. “Here, let me take him. He’s too heavy for you.”
She pulled away so that he couldn’t lift the boy from her arms. “No, you have to go.”
“Why? What does any of this have to do with me?”
Her eyebrows slammed together. “Don’t you see? Whoever did this has to have someone to blame—and who would make a better candidate than you? If you’re here, if everyone sees you, that’ll only make it easier for—” she was starting to shiver “—for whoever did this to connect you to it. Please, go home.”
“Who’s this?” The old lady had reappeared, this time with a silver-haired man who looked about the same age she did.
“My b-boss,” Sadie stuttered, likely from shock as much as the cold. “I...I called him when I heard someone outside, and he...he came to make sure everything was okay.”
Her husband hurried to the garden hose and unwound it as fast as he could, but the woman hesitated for a second. “You’re Dawson Reed,” she said.
He could tell she wasn’t exactly pleased to make his acquaintance. Fortunately, given the situation, there wasn’t time to have any further interaction. He nodded once to acknowledge his identity and turned back to Sadie while Maude went to help with the hose. “Let me take Jayden,” he insisted.
Sadie looked as though her knees were about to buckle. Maybe they were, because she allowed him to pull her son away, which Dawson hadn’t fully expected, despite his efforts.
“Tell me he didn’t do this,” she whispered as they transferred the boy.
Dawson scowled at the sight of her burning house. The flames were starting to take hold, creating a terrible stench as they consumed paint and plastic and other materials. The smell surprised him; it was far worse than any wood fire. He knew the fumes from a burning house could also be toxic, so he pulled Sadie out of the path of the breeze. “You would know what he’s capable of more than me,” he murmured.
“Who, Mommy?” Jayden asked. “Daddy? Did Daddy start the fire?”
What kid asked if his father was the one who’d tried to burn down their safe haven—while they were in it?
“No, not Daddy. A...a hitchhiker,” she said vaguely.
“What’s a hitchhiker?” Jayden asked.
“In this case, it’s a bad man,” she replied.
Dawson thought the boy might struggle to reach his mother, or get down, since he’d been trying to get down when she was holding him, but he seemed surprisingly content where he was. He even put his arms around Dawson’s neck as if he was quite comfortable.
“I can take Jayden. You’ve got to leave,” Sadie said, her face drawn and pinched as she looked up at him.
He could only imagine how difficult it would feel to be victimized like this, to know that someone had purposely tried to harm her—in her own home, where she should feel safe—and that the person responsible might be the father of her child. Knowing she could lose all of her belongings, when she had so little to begin with, had to be almost as difficult. “I’m not leaving, not unless you and Jayden come with me. It won’t do either of you any good to stand out here in the cold, breathing in this toxic air and watching—” what little you have go up in smoke “—this.”
“We can’t leave,” she said. “There will be...questions I’ll have to answer.”
“Then I’ll wait, too, make sure everything goes okay,” he responded.
She shook her head. “That’s not a good decision.”
They could hear the wail of sirens growing louder as the emergency vehicles drew close.
“Sly will come,” she said. “Someone...someone will call him. And regardless of...of how this got started, he won’t be happy to see you here. He’ll assume...the wrong things.”
The mere mention of Sly made Dawson clench his jaw. “Maybe he’ll assume the right things.”
She gave him a look that indicated she couldn’t possibly understand what he meant by that.
“That he’ll no longer be able to push you around,” he explained. “I’ve had it. I won’t allow it anymore.”
Her mouth formed a worried O. “I don’t want to draw you into this—not to that degree. I just...needed to talk to someone who...who wasn’t connected to the life I lived before, someone I felt was strictly my friend and not his.”
Dawson watched the flames leap higher. “Then you chose the right person, because I’m definitely not his friend.”
* * *
The temperature wasn’t much less than fifty degrees, so not exactly freezing. But the shock and upset of what was happening, in addition to the cool breeze, made Sadie shiver uncontrollably. As the fire trucks arrived and cut their sirens, which had become almost deafening, Dawson took off his coat and insisted she put it on.
Sadie could smell the scent of Dawson’s cologne before that far more pleasant scent was overwhelmed by the stench of the fire. She could’ve gotten a jacket or blanket from Maude, but Maude was busy trying to direct her husband on where to aim the garden hose, and Sadie didn’t want to interrupt. Although the two had started to spray the house where Sadie lived, hoping to save what they could, the hose provided such a pitiful trickle compared to what was needed that their efforts seemed to do little or no good. Dawson soon persuaded them to spray the surrounding shrubbery and their own house in an effort to stop the fire from spreading instead of trying to put it out altogether.
The first firefighters on the scene yelled for them all to stay back, but the yard was so small there wasn’t anywhere to go. Dawson, still carrying her son, guided her around to the front and insisted she and Jayden get in his truck. He climbed in, too, and started the engine so that he could back down the street to allow more room for the emergency vehicles now gathering en masse, and turn on the heater.
“You warm enough?” he asked Jayden.
“Yeah.” Her son, who was now sitting between them, climbed up on his knees to be able to see out the window. “Can I go watch the firefighters?”
“No!” Sadie replied. “You could get hurt. We need to stay here. You heard what they said.”
Several of the neighbors streamed out of their houses to see what was going on. Sadie watched them gather in a frightened and questioning cluster on the opposite side of the street.
“Is that Daddy?” Jayden pointed when the first police car appeared.
Sadie’s heart jumped into her throat as she squinted against the glare of headlights. But the man who climbed out from behind the wheel once those lights were turned off wasn’t Sly; it was Leland Pinter. “No, that’s not him.” She breathed a sigh of relief, but it wasn’t more than ten or fifteen minutes later that Sly did pull up. She curled her fingernails into her palms as she watched him get out. She had a feeling he’d cause trouble. He didn’t hurry to the back like everyone who’d arrived before him. He didn’t seem to care about the fire, not as much as he cared about the fact that Dawson’s truck was parked so close to her place and she was sitting in it.
How had he even noticed them? If he’d just heard her house was burning, wouldn’t he automatically run to the back to see if she and Jayden were okay?
Apparently not. Nothing got past him. He didn’t even look worried as he approached her side of the vehicle. Expression hard, eyes flinty, he looked angry instead.
She glanced at Dawson in a silent appeal to let her handle Sly and rolled down the window.
Sly’s eyes narrowed even further as he looked over at Dawson. He didn’t even acknowledge Jayden when Jayden said a soft “Hi, Daddy.”
“What’s going on?” he demanded without preamble.
Thankfully, Dawson refrained from responding. Given Sly’s volatile temper, Sadie was grateful for Dawson’s forbearance.
“Someone set my house on fire.” She was so upset she had a hard time keeping the accusation out of her voice.
“Someone,” he repeated, obviously grasping that she believed he was to blame.
“Yes. You wouldn’t know who, would you?” Since he’d already guessed what she believed, she couldn’t help lifting her eyebrows in challenge.
A muscle moved in his cheek. “How would I know?”
“Whoever it was knocked on the side of the house, then came around back. I saw him, for a second, before he ran away.”
“What’d he look like?” Sly angled his head toward Dawson. “This guy right here?”
Sadie felt the tension between the two men edge up a notch, but, to Dawson’s credit, he didn’t take the bait. “Like a man dressed in black. He was wearing a hoodie that covered his face, so I couldn’t see it.”
Once again, Sly indicated Dawson. “And then this guy shows up right away? You don’t find that suspicious?”
Sadie was no longer cold. She was beginning to sweat. But she was still shaking. She knew how her response would sound to Sly, how he’d interpret it. “No, because he didn’t ‘show up.’ I called him.”
“You called him,” Sly repeated.
“I was scared,” she explained.
He pulled out his phone. “I don’t see where you tried to reach me.”
“Because I didn’t. Why would I? We’re divorced, Sly.”
“Not yet. And I’m still Jayden’s father, and a police officer. A police officer would make sense to most people. But not you, I guess. You’re so stupid you call a suspected murderer.”
Dawson seemed to have reached his breaking point. “Your son’s sitting here,” he growled, his voice a warning.
Hoping to save Dawson from Sly’s reaction, Sadie jumped out of the truck. “Look, why don’t we go somewhere we can talk privately?” She took his arm and tried to lead him away, but he shook her off, his gaze riveted on Dawson’s coat.
“Where the hell did you get that?” he growled.
“Does it matter?” she asked. “Please! I’ve been through enough tonight. Let’s not fight. Dawson doesn’t want to fight with you, either. We’re merely trying to cope with what’s happened.”
“By cozying up together.”
“Cozying up? Don’t you care that someone set fire to my house, Sly? That we could’ve burned to death in our sleep? You’d think you’d be more concerned about the fact that there’s an arsonist running around than whether or not I’m wearing another man’s coat!”
He shoved her back toward the truck. “Get Jayden.”
Sadie wasn’t about to do that, not with an argument brewing. “No. We’re both exhausted and upset. We might’ve lost the only belongings we have left, and we were barely scraping by to begin with.”
“We’ll talk about that later. Get Jayden. I’m taking you home.”
“Home?”
“To the house we bought together. That’s still home, Sadie. Where else are you going to go?”
Holy shit! This was exactly what he wanted. He thought she’d come back to him; he thought, without her rental house, she’d have no choice. “Oh my God,” she whispered.
“What?” he snapped.
“You did it! You burned my house down so I’d have nowhere to live, so that I’d have no resources and would have to come back to you.”
“Now you’re talking crazy,” he growled. “I’m a police officer. Be careful who you accuse of arson!”
“Who else would do such a thing to me?”
“It could be anyone! I told you not to hang around a murderer. For all we know, it was him—the very man you called!”
“It wasn’t him,” she insisted. “If he wanted to hurt me, he’s had plenty of chances. You’re the only one who’s ever made my life miserable.”
“What have I done to you?” he cried. “You’re such a baby. But we’ll talk about all of this later. Get Jayden.”
He had no conscience. He’d do anything to retain control of her. He’d said as much—and tonight he’d proved it. “What about the collateral damage, Sly? Do you realize what you’ve done to Maude and Vern? They didn’t deserve this.”
“If you won’t get Jayden, I will.”
He started to go around her, but she grabbed his arm. “Don’t you dare! I won’t drag him out of that truck just because you can’t stand to see me in the company of another man. Dawson’s my boss, Sly. And...and a friend. He doesn’t like me in the way you think. He’s made that clear.”
The sudden fury she’d expected when she accused him appeared now. “He has, has he? You’ve talked about it? The two of you?”
“Don’t twist what I say!”
“I’m not going to let this no-good bastard come between us, Sadie.”
“He’s not trying to come between us!” Their voices were so loud she guessed Dawson could hear bits and pieces, if not everything. “He’s being a nice guy, helping me out.”
He shoved her again, hard enough to make her stumble back. “He’s a murderer!”
The driver’s-side door opened, and Dawson got out. “Get back in the truck, Sadie.” He spoke in a cordial tone as he came toward them, but Sadie could tell he’d had all he could take. She wanted to do as he said, to escape Sly as soon as possible, but she couldn’t. She had to remain between them. She was afraid of what might happen if she didn’t.
“Please, let me go with him,” she said to Sly. “I wouldn’t come back to you even without Dawson in my life. I was unhappy. Don’t you understand that? So unhappy that I could barely get up in the mornings. I don’t love you anymore. The only thing I want is for you to let me go!”
His hand whipped out and grabbed her arm, fingers digging deep into her flesh, like they had so many times before—deep enough that she’d have bruises. But the pain wasn’t what alarmed her. Almost as fast, Dawson gripped Sly’s arm in the same “I’m in charge” manner.
“Let her go. Now,” he gritted out.
Sadie watched Sly’s eyes flare in surprise. He was so used to doing what he wanted—and getting away with it almost uncontested in this town—that he hadn’t expected Dawson to go so far in her defense. His top lip curled under and his other hand went for his gun with such determination that Sadie felt sure he’d shoot Dawson. She opened her mouth to scream, but, in that moment, someone besides the three of them called out to Sly.
“What’s going on, Harris?”
The chief of police had pulled up while they were arguing and was getting out of his car. He obviously thought Sly was about to apprehend Dawson, but the sound of his boss’s voice caused Sly to let go of Sadie, back away—and leave his gun holstered. “Nothing,” he muttered.
“Then what’re you doing out here when everyone else is in back?” Thomas demanded.
Sly’s chest was rising and falling fast, but he managed to modulate his voice so that he sounded somewhat normal. “I was—I was checking on my wife and son to...to make sure they’re okay.”
Chief Thomas strode toward them. “And?”
“I’m fine,” Sadie said, but her heart was pounding so fast she thought she might faint.
The police chief turned his attention to Dawson—and grimaced when he recognized him. “What’re you doing here?”
“He’s my boss,” Sadie cut in. “I called him when I heard someone outside my house, and he was kind enough to come.”
Shouting from around back drew the chief’s attention. Sadie supposed the noise had been going on all along. The firefighters were still battling the blaze back there. She’d seen the frenetic activity before Sly had shown up, but, somehow, she’d been so caught up in what was happening right here over the past several minutes, she hadn’t noticed the noise since.
“Are they getting the blaze under control?” Thomas asked.
“I haven’t been around back to see,” Sly grudgingly admitted.
“I’m in good hands,” Sadie told Sly. “You can... You can go ahead and do your job now.”
She was sort of surprised that the chief didn’t raise a fuss about Dawson, given what he believed Dawson to be. Obviously, he was more concerned about the fire than trying to control the company she was keeping, as Sly should’ve been. That her ex had focused so quickly on her, despite the fact that her house was burning, served as yet more proof that he’d known about the fire all along—and didn’t care. He was only concerned about the fact that she was fleeing in the wrong direction.
As Sly stalked off with his chief, Sadie covered her mouth and breathed slowly through her fingers, trying to calm down. She thought he might turn and glare at them both, but he didn’t. Maybe he was as shocked as she was that he’d almost done something even more reckless than setting fire to her house.
“I can’t believe that happened,” she murmured as she dropped her hand. “And what could’ve happened if Chief Thomas hadn’t arrived when he did.”
Dawson was the one glaring—at Sly’s back. “He almost drew his weapon,” he said, his voice filled with the same shock and anger she felt.
She checked to make sure Jayden was still in the truck and saw him standing up in the seat, hands on the dashboard, nose almost pressed to the glass. “Sly’s not right in the head,” she whispered. “He’s obsessed with...with making sure I don’t get away.”
Dawson shook out his hand, which had been curled into a fist. “He’s the one who set the fire.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “He wasn’t the least bit surprised that there was a major blaze going on. Did you notice?”
“He thought you’d have to move in with him.”
Where would she go? The full extent of where she’d be without her small cottage hit her in that moment. Although she’d been worried all along, she’d been holding out hope that her house and most of the things inside it could be saved. She was still hopeful. But even if they could save her belongings, the fire had to have done enough damage by now that she’d probably have to live elsewhere while the cottage was being repaired or rebuilt. Where would she go? She didn’t have any family she could stay with. And Petra didn’t have room for her. She couldn’t see herself moving in with Petra and her family, anyway. She couldn’t see herself trying to stay with Maude and Vern, either. They were nice, but she doubted they’d even make the offer.
She’d have to hit up one of the waitresses she worked with to see if she could move in and pay half the rent, but she hated how awkward that would be, especially because she wouldn’t be able to afford a great deal. She’d have to spend what money she was making on replacing clothes and other basic necessities.
“I’m so tired,” she mumbled as she gazed at the little person who was depending on her to take care of him.
“Everything’ll be okay,” Dawson said. “Let’s go to the farm.”
“You won’t mind letting me stay the night?”
“Of course not. You can stay until you have somewhere better to go.”
He’d made it easy. His kindness brought a lump to her throat. He’d been through a lot himself, and yet he’d stepped up to help her, even though he was already helping her by providing a job with pay on which she could actually survive. Everyone expected her to be skeptical of his help, but she could tell Dawson had no ulterior motive. He was what she thought he was—a nice guy.
“Are you sure?” She blinked rapidly, trying to suppress the tears that threatened in the wake of so much drama, fear, anger and upset. She’d cried in front of him once before. She didn’t want to cry again, didn’t want to give him any more reason to regret befriending her.
“You work there, anyway. Consider it part of your pay, if that helps.”
“But you’re already paying me well.”
“I have the mortgage whether you stay or not. It’s not like it’ll cost me any more to have you.”
Would she have been this generous to him, had their roles been reversed? Like the rest of Silver Springs, she’d been so prejudiced against him, so conditioned to believe that a monster lurked behind that handsome face. “I just... I feel bad for leaning on you. You’re already carrying a heavy load.”
“There’s plenty of room at the farm.” He shrugged off his kindness as if it wasn’t a big deal. But it was a huge deal to her. Before she even knew what she was about to do, she grabbed him and hugged him—partly so that he wouldn’t be able to see the tears gathering in her eyes.
“Thank you,” she said. “I can’t tell you how grateful I am for your help.”
He’d stiffened when she grabbed him. The contact had obviously been unexpected. But then she felt his hands slide up her back and became instantly aware of his large, firm body. At that point, the hug turned into something a little more intimate than she’d intended, but the contact felt so good she couldn’t let go. She clung to him, even went so far as to close her eyes and let her fingers briefly slip through the hair at the nape of his neck.
He was the one who pulled away. “We’d better get some sleep.” After setting her gently to one side, he walked back to the truck as if that hug had never happened.
Sadie could hardly breathe for the acrid smoke billowing into the sky. Sly was in back, probably trying to keep the neighbors who’d wandered over, and the fire truck chasers, at a safe distance. She knew, if she got into the vehicle with Dawson, she’d be driving a wedge between her and her ex-husband, his friends on the force, almost everyone in town. She could easily become a pariah like Dawson. He’d warned her as much. So...was she making a mistake?
She feared she might be. She’d known Dawson for only four days. But in that time, he’d been a better friend to her than anyone else in Silver Springs.
Squaring her shoulders, she turned her back on everything that’d come before and got in the truck.
“Would you rather I take you to a motel?” he asked as she put on her seat belt. He’d already buckled Jayden in. Jayden’s safety seat was in her car around back; there was no way she could reach it.
She tried to imagine herself at one of the three local motels. The Mission Inn was the cheapest, but even that would cost over $100/night. She wouldn’t be able to stay there long even if she went there tonight. “No.”
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“I’m sure,” she replied.