“They’re headed to your piece of land,” Pastor Mark shouted as he got off the phone with Todd. “He says Linx got in touch with her mother who hinted that Jessie is there, that she solved her biggest regret.”

“On it.” Grady did a U-turn in the middle of a hairpin turn. He swerved and wrestled with the steering wheel and the truck tilted onto the soft shoulder overlooking the side of a sheer cliff.

Pastor Mark lunged to the left, smashing into his body and throwing Sam across his lap, and the truck righted itself. As soon as the wheels touched solid road, Grady gunned the engine and made for his plot of land.

“Can we patch Todd in? Keep him on the line?” Grady asked.

“Sure, let me try. I shouldn’t have hung up,” Mark said, fiddling with his phone. “Will we have a signal up there?”

“Thank God, yes,” Grady said. “They just finished the tower a month ago.”

He’d been pissed off at the time, knowing that a new tower meant more people moving into the hills, but progress was inevitable, and now he was thanking God for the signal.

“I have to take a shortcut. Be ready for a rough ride,” Grady said, as he put his truck in four-wheel-drive and crashed through a set of wooden gates guarding the backside of his property.

It would take too long for him to wind around the mountain to the front, and hopefully, he could follow the creek up and climb the steep grade to the pad where the trailer was parked.

“Got patched in,” Mark said. “I muted our mic, so she can’t hear us. Todd’s going to be silent, too.”

“Who’s that freaky woman?” Grady’s eardrums prickled at the scratchy tone. “She sounds familiar, sort of.”

“You know Linx’s mother?”

Grady shook her head. “No, but the accent, that spooky, clipped way of speaking … Never mind. I’m hearing things. Why’s she telling Linx about a Black Widow?”

Every so often, he heard Linx make random comments designed to keep the other woman talking. His heart swelled at how brave she was, and how much abuse she was taking to keep the witch on the line.

A car door slammed and the last words from Linx were, “Mom, get out of the fire,” followed by excited barking.

“Fire?” Pastor Mark barked. “There’s a fire up there!”

“Here, take my phone and call the fire department.” Grady opened the glove box.

The roar of a crackling wildfire could be heard over the speaker, followed by cackling laughter.

“Fooled you,” Minx said gleefully. “I’m not in the fire, girl. I’m not even your mother. Fooled you good.”

“Who is that?” Mark shouted. “I’m turning on the speaker and talking to her.”

“No, don’t,” Grady said. “We need her to incriminate herself. Let her gloat.”

The laughter continued, but since Linx wasn’t answering back, there was a really good chance Minx would hang up.

Mark lowered his head and prayed. “Heavenly Father, protect our Jessie and Linx. Put your hand on them and keep them safe, and don’t let this deranged woman get away. Keep Jessie and Linx under your tender and merciful wings, and be a tower of strength against our enemies. Let the authorities catch this woman and bring her to justice. And please, don’t let anyone get hurt tonight. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

Grady splashed through the creek and caught sight of an animal. He swerved, narrowly avoiding it, but the animal jumped and threw itself against his door.

He braked hard and Sam started barking. Grady stared at the muzzle pressed against the window.

“Cedar,” he shouted, opening the door.

The large dog had a panicked look in her eyes, and instead of jumping into the cab, she tore away down the creek.

“Oh, God, oh, God,” Grady prayed. “Let Linx and Jessie be okay. Let Linx be okay.”

He shifted to low gear to get the truck out of the muck and lumbered up the banks of the shallow creek. Up ahead, the hot orange glow of a raging fire blocked his way. He got as close as he could to the fire before cutting the engine.

“Help me get this pump into the water,” Grady said to Mark. “Then stay back here with the dogs.”

“If my little girl’s in there, I’m not staying back,” Mark said.

“We don’t know if she’s there, we just know there’s a fire and Linx is there,” Grady shouted as he opened the tailgate and uncovered his portable pump.

“Tell me what to do,” Mark said, helping him drag the pump into position.

“Okay,” Grady said. “Stay here and man the pump. Make sure the intake hose is covered with water.”

Grady attached the discharge hose and unrolled it as far as it could go.

“Fire her up!” he shouted, and the pastor pulled the line to turn on the gasoline-powered water pump.

The fuel around his cabin site had burned itself out—all the logs he’d gathered and the building materials had fed the flames, but now, the fire raged in the vicinity of his trailer.

He couldn’t see clearly through the smoke, as he charged up the hill from the creek, stretching the hose to the max.

The pine tree above the trailer snapped with fire, and a shower of flames fell onto the trailer, engulfing it. Grady aimed the water at the trailer as fire hissed and popped.

He tried to douse the trailer, but couldn’t keep a steady stream. The creek wasn’t deep enough and Mark wasn’t able to hold the intake hose low to grab enough water.

Grady swept what water he had on the trailer, but the fire was too strong and his hose ran dry, sputtering little more than a garden hose. The fire had burned through the hose, and since he didn’t have a team to cover the hose line with sand, he was out of luck.

The fire-fueled wind whipped over the trailer and consumed bushes and trees around it, throwing embers and sparks. Flashes of light blinded Grady, and he lost sight of the trailer as the pine tree exploded overhead.

Through the eerie light and thick smoke, his eyes burned. He couldn’t stop staring as the metal on his trailer twisted and crumpled. The fire found new fuel as it consumed the trees and bushes surrounding the trailer. With a wicked roar, it sprang up to the night sky as it overran the entire trailer and headed down the hill toward the driveway.

* * *

Blinded by thick smoke, Linx scrambled for the thin aluminum-covered fire shelter every wildland firefighter had for emergency situations. They were one-man cocoons that lay low on the forest floor and provided last ditch protection.

Grady had one, and fortunately, she had pulled it clear of the trailer when she found his tools.

The ground underneath the pine tree was littered with flammable needles and would bake them alive. But they had no time to find the perfect area.

Stumbling blindly away from the fire, she crashed through a row of dry bushes toward the driveway. The flames were gaining on her and Jessie was in a panicked state, hyperventilating in the smoke.

She stumbled down an embankment into a sandy area and set Jessie, who was mewing and crying, onto the ground with Ginger. “Hold the puppy. Head down and don’t look up,” she snapped sternly as she pulled off the protective covering and grabbed the two tabs.

Coughing from the smoke, she shook out the shelter to its full-length tube shape and covered Jessie with her body, tucking all three of them in before looping her arms around the hold down straps.

“Breathe into the dirt and don’t look up. No matter what.” She knew she was squishing Jessie, but it didn’t matter. The closer to the ground the better. Even inside a shelter, she could still get smoke inhalation. She had to get down as low as possible, especially if the fire burned through the protective layer.

Jessie snuffled and cried, “I want my mommy. I want my mommy.”

The roar of the flames crashed over them, and heat rose inside the shelter. Linx’s hands blistered as she held onto the straps, fighting the wind that ripped at the shelter.

Please God. Please God. Linx prayed, not knowing what to say. The shelter was supposed to be good for an hour, but at the same time, nothing was truly invulnerable to the fire. Tears rolled down her eyes as she thought about the members of her crew who’d died when a fire overtook them.

She sucked in dirt from the ground, keeping herself frozen as the fire surged over them. She was going to die. She was going to die with her precious daughter. How long should she stay in here? Slowly shaking and baking to a crisp.

Pressing Jessie down, she could be suffocating her, but she couldn’t let her take a breath of the hot air that would immediately sear her lungs. As for the puppy, she was probably smothered, as there was not a sound or a squeak.

Flame front after flame front hit them, gusting and ripping at the shelter. The noise was deafening, whooshing over and around them. Pinecones popped and trees snapped as debris tumbled over the shelter, thrown and tossed by the fierce and unrelenting firestorm.

She buried her face into the sandy dirt until she thought she’d pass out. Her sweat ran dry as heat baked and fried around them, and the fire roared over them like a steamrolling freight train. She lost track of time, her arms and hands frozen in place, tight to hold down what was left of the sweltering shelter.

“I love you, Jessie,” she muttered into the dirt. “I love you like a mother. Like a real mother. I love you.”

The little girl sniffled. “Mommy, Daddy, Mommy, Daddy, Betsy.”

“Grady, Jessie, Grady, Jessie, Grady,” Linx whispered, losing hold of her mind. Pain covered her entire being, and she couldn’t tell where the fire ended and where she began. All she knew was she had to protect Jessie. Had to cover her. Couldn’t let her go. “Jessie, Jessie, live, Jessie, live. Live. Live. Live for your mommy and daddy and Betsy.”