Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
ONE MONTH LATER
CAMILLE
A biting wind blows the season’s first snow across the yard, battering the house and rattling the window above the sink, but I seem to be the only one who notices.
Davey’s too focused on the plate of cupcakes in front of him, and Dalton is busy digging through the drawers, looking for the candles I swear I put in one of them recently.
The way my pregnancy brain has basically turned my memory to mush hasn’t made the last month easy. I’m constantly forgetting things and finding myself standing in a room without any idea why I went there in the first place.
I’m dreading what these final two weeks before my due date will bring—both for my body and for all the people in this room.
Even the joy of Davey’s birthday celebration seems subdued by the fact that we’ve spent the last several weeks on edge. Between the changing weather, last-minute prep on both homesteads, and the growing uncertainty brought on by Sheriff Wilson’s warning, none of us have really relaxed.
But I intend to change that today.
I have to.
Davey shouldn’t suffer because someone else wants to hurt what we have here on the mountain.
Pops leans over to grab one of the frosted treats from in front of Davey, and Dalton smacks his hand away as he returns to the table with the missing candles in hand. “Knock it off.”
The old man scowls but leans back in his chair, crossing his arms defiantly.
Dalton smirks and inclines his head toward me. “She wants to sing.”
At least Pops has the decency to look properly reprimanded as Dalton tears into the package and starts placing the candles on the cupcakes.
Another gust of wind blows snow across the window, and I shiver even though the roaring fire in the living room has the cabin bright and warm.
Pops slides his hand over mine on the table and squeezes it, raising a brow as if to ask if I’m all right without actually saying it and alerting Dalton that I might not be.
God knows if he thought I was spiraling, he would rush in to rescue me from it—even to his own detriment.
He’s already working himself to exhaustion every day.
Shoring up the security around both properties as much as he can. Stocking supplies before the weather that would keep us trapped on the mountain hits. Moving Rocky down here to their place because Davey insisted we couldn’t leave him there, even though Dalton goes twice a day to feed all the animals and handle anything else. Pushing himself beyond what he’s physically capable of.
And he’s paying the price for it.
His back has acted up more and more, to the point that most nights, he’s spending an hour in the tub trying to release enough of the tension from his muscles to be able to actually sleep.
Which is a rare luxury for both of us these days.
I can’t get comfortable, and he can’t turn off his brain or stop worrying about the fact that it’s basically impossible to secure the mountain completely.
No fences line the properties.
Nothing to physically deter anyone from coming straight onto them the way those two men did to the lake.
Even if there were, given who we’re dealing with, a stupid fence wouldn’t be enough to stop what might be coming for us.
The vague assurances that Pops keeps offering that “things are in motion” and will “work themselves out” haven’t done anything to convince Dalton or me that we shouldn’t be terrified.
But not today.
Dalton slides his arm around my neck from behind and leans down. “Where are you right now? Because it isn’t here.”
Shit.
I glance up at him and smile. “Sorry.”
“You don’t have anything to apologize for.” He peeks over at Davey, who is counting the candles to ensure the right number made it on top of his cupcake. “He hasn’t noticed. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
A near-constant ache in my lower back and hips.
Swollen feet and ankles.
Heartburn that won’t go away no matter what I eat or don’t.
So many reasons to say I’m not all right.
But looking around this table, none of them really matter.
I slide my hands around my belly and press against the spot my little girl usually kicks me, but for the moment, she’s quiet. And she’ll be here soon. Things will feel…complete. “I’m good.”
And I actually mean it.
Dalton grins and kisses my temple, then retakes his seat as Davey bounces excitedly in his chair, clapping his hands. “Cupcakes!”
Pops snags the lighter off the table and ignites the candles. “Don’t touch these. Hot!”
Davey nods his understanding, the flames flickering across his wide blue eyes.
He probably doesn’t even remember his last birthday, when his father stood behind him and helped him blow them out…
Before the tears come, I clear my throat and clap my hands. “Time to sing!”
Pops launches into the most God-awful, off-key rendition of “Happy Birthday” I’ve ever heard, and Dalton and I join in, fighting laughter until Davey finally blows out the candles.
Dalton pulls them from the cupcake so Davey can dig into it, and we all sit back and watch him become an absolute disaster. Chocolate frosting covers his face and hands, but he doesn’t seem to care as he shovels more pieces of the crumbling confection into his mouth.
I reach out for my own, but a sharp tug at my side makes me wince. Pressing my palm over it and massaging at the muscle, I shift in the chair to try to find a position that isn’t so uncomfortable on the hard wood.
Of course, Dalton didn’t miss the movement, his intense gaze zeroing in on my hand. “Are you okay?”
Getting this little celebration together means I’ve spent more time on my feet today than I have in a few weeks, and I am certainly paying the price for it now.
I nod and give him what I hope is a reassuring smile. “I’ll lie down when we’re done. Maybe on the couch by the fire for a while…”
His hand glides across the back of my neck, and rough fingertips dig into the tense muscles at the base of my skull.
Groaning, I lean into his welcome touch. “You have no idea how good that feels.”
Dalton chuckles low, leaning in even closer, until I catch a hint of that woodsy, fresh scent that always clings to him. “Oh, I do. And I promise I’ll take care of you later.”
The promise in his words makes me shiver again. “Take care of me, how?”
He moves even closer and kisses my cheek so that I’ll be the only one who can hear whatever he’s about to say. “However you want me to. You know that.”
Heat spreads across my cheeks and between my legs, the pain in my side long forgotten.
Pops slams his palm against the table hard enough to make both of us jerk away from each other. “Will you two lovebirds knock it off? I’m trying to eat here.” He takes a massive bite of his cupcake, and Dalton glares at him, even though the old man couldn’t care less. “These are really good, sweetheart. I could eat ten of them.”
I snort and nod. “I bet you could.”
And he will, if I don’t stop him.
The man may be “as healthy as a horse,” as he likes to say, but at his age, he doesn’t need to be devouring almost a dozen cupcakes.
Davey finishes his and rushes off into the living room, probably to play with the few new toys he already opened before we got to the singing and cake portion of the day.
Something tells me the bright-yellow dump trunk that makes real sounds will be both his new favorite and the most annoying, especially when the baby comes and I need the house quiet at times.
But I knew as soon as Dalton showed it to me that it was the perfect gift.
Because he knows Davey so well.
And me.
“Go lie down. Pops and I will clean up in here.”
Pops’ brows rise. “We will?”
Dalton glares across the table. “We will. ”
That seems to settle any further debate, and Dalton rises to his feet to help me to mine with a supportive arm. His hand lingers on me, and he searches my face. “You’re sure you’re okay?”
I’m already getting sick of hearing him ask. I still have two more weeks to go before this baby arrives, but I can’t be annoyed by it. Not when he’s genuinely concerned and willing to do anything I need to ease my discomfort.
I kiss his cheek. “Positive. Just need to rest.”
And watching Davey enjoy his birthday surprises will help, too.
I waddle into the living room, expecting to find him right in front of the fireplace, using the dump truck to move around the little balls of wrapping paper he created earlier.
But the room is empty.
Where did he go?
I glance up the stairs and pause to listen for him running around in his room or even using the bathroom, but the only sounds in the house are Dalton and Pops debating something and water filling the sink for the dishes.
With worry starting to take root in my chest, I return to the kitchen. “Davey didn’t come back in here, did he?”
It wouldn’t have been impossible for him to have snuck around the couch, going one way, while I came into the room from the other, and hidden from me.
My gaze drifts to the back door that leads to the porch where Pops likes to sit with his coffee, and I move toward it and peek outside. Snow already blankets everything, including Pops’ favorite Adirondack chair, and the wind kicks up a cloud of it as I turn back toward the sink.
“No…” Dalton comes to my side. “What’s wrong?”
“He’s not in the living room, and I didn’t hear him upstairs.”
Dalton immediately rushes from the room, bolting for the stairs. “I’ll check the bedrooms and bathroom.”
Pops dries his hands on a kitchen towel, and I follow him back into the living room, where most of Davey’s gifts still sit strewn in front of the hearth.
Most but not all.
“His new truck is gone, too.”
Pops’ gaze drops to follow mine, and Dalton’s heavy footsteps coming down the stairs only increase the panic starting to fill me.
Dalton reaches me and grasps my elbow, the concern furrowing his brow. “He isn’t up there…”
“Oh, God…”
Pops makes it to the front door before I can even pull out of Dalton’s hold, and we quickly follow him.
An icy blast sends snow across the floor, and Dalton tugs on his boots and places mine on the floor for me to do the same.
The obvious question finally makes its way up my throat as Dalton rises to his full height. “Do you think he went out there? ”
In this storm?
Not only is it freezing, but we’re expecting to get several inches before midnight, maybe more than that before daybreak tomorrow.
There isn’t any reason for him to step foot outside this cabin—especially in weather like this. It may only be the first week of October, but it already feels like the dead of winter.
But the frigid chill isn’t what catches my attention.
It’s the smell permeating the air.
Smoke.
And it isn’t from the hearty fire roaring only a few feet away from us.
Pops scans out the front door as he pulls on his own boots, and his eyes widen. “ Shit. ”
Dalton shoves past him in nothing more than jeans and a Henley, his vigilant gaze cutting over the porch and then to where Pops looks. I follow him out, not caring that I’m only wearing thin leggings and a sweater.
Smoke billows from the barn, thick flames licking across the roofline. “Oh, God…”
I tear my eyes from the inferno and search the accumulating snow for any sign that Davey was out here, but it’s coming down so fast that it’s nearly impossible to see anything through the near whiteout.
“Davey!”
The howling wind quickly swallows my cry, and Pops and Dalton rush down off the porch, calling out for him the same way.
There are so many hiding spots on the property, so many places he could go, but my gut tells me something I wish it didn’t—that he went to go see Rocky.
And Rocky is in that barn.
* * *
DALTON
My feet slam into the snow as I race across the clearing from the cabin toward the barn, now partially engulfed in a spreading inferno.
The exterior gate to the paddock that always stays closed now stands open, banging against its hitch in the wind that seems to be fanning the flames on the building just behind it.
Oh, God…
There’s only one reason for it to be like this—because Davey came through it.
I hope I’m wrong as I shove it all the way open and rush to the barn, but chilly awareness ripples through me as I see tiny boot tracks in the snow closer to the structure, where they haven’t been covered by the falling, blowing flakes yet.
Thick, dark smoke fills my lungs with each breath I take, and I cough and advance inside, barely able to see anything through the darkness swirling in the air. “Davey!”
I listen for him, but all I can hear is the frantic noises of the animals stuck in their pens as the flames grow closer from the back corner.
How the fuck did that start?
It climbs up the far wall and rushes across the ceiling beams and roof.
There isn’t any way to stop it.
This whole place is coming down—sooner rather than later.
Anything and anyone inside it won’t stand a chance.
Coughing and covering my mouth and nose with my arm, I make it to Rocky’s pen, and my heart stops, along with any of my attempts to breathe.
No.
Davey’s brand-new dump truck lies on its side in front of the closed gate.
Only an hour ago, we all sat around him in the living room as he unwrapped it. I saw the joy light up his face. Heard his little squeal of excitement. Felt his arms wrap around my neck and squeeze as he thanked me for the gift.
Now, the only squeals are from the animals desperate to escape the flames.
Camille coughs behind me, skidding to a stop and grabbing my arm to steady herself.
I whirl to face her, gripping her arms and coughing, struggling to draw in any form of useable breath through the thick smoke. “You can’t be in here!”
The terror I felt at knowing Davey could be in here triples as I push her toward the open door.
She tries to pull against my hold. “Davey!”
I finally manage to force her out into the blustery wind. It freezes my bare skin instantly, but at least the air is somewhat breathable, the smoke blowing away from us at the moment.
Taking her face between my palms, I lock eyes with her, hoping she can see the promise in mine through her tears. “I’ll find him and get him out. I promise.”
She sobs, and I can feel the anguish radiate off her.
I lower a hand to her belly. “ You can’t be here .”
My words finally seem to get through to her, and she nods, taking a few steps back as she stares at the barn going up in flames.
I rush back inside and scan the pens, but there’s too much smoke to see more than the frantic movement from the animals trying to free themselves.
“Davey!”
Smoke fills my lungs, and I sputter a cough, dipping my head low to try to keep it closer to the ground where the air seems less tainted.
The fire continues to spread, the roar of the flames consuming the old wood so loud, coupled with the panicked noises from the animals, that there’s no way he would hear me even if I could keep screaming.
He has to be in here.
If he were anywhere else, he would have come running to Camille, Pops, or me by now after smelling the smoke and seeing the fire.
Which means, he’s either too scared to move or trapped in the barn somewhere.
I start unlatching every pen door to release the animals, letting them race out into the livestock yard so I can check each enclosure to ensure he’s not hiding in it.
The heat from the growing blaze makes sweat flow down my temples, chest, and back, and each breath comes with more of a struggle. By the time I make it to the final pen and release Apollo, I can barely breathe, my chest so tight and the smoke so thick that it makes it impossible to draw it into my lungs without coughing violently.
Covering my face again, I stumble over a bucket one of the animals sent flying, moving to the corner of the barn farthest from the fire, and the only other possible place he could be if he’s in here.
The tack room.
I race toward it and yank the door open. “Davey!”
A tiny sob reaches me over the roar of the flames at my back, and a relieved breath that quickly becomes a violent cough falls from my lips as I stagger inside.
“Davey, where are you, buddy?”
“Dalton?”
His tiny voice carries on a little hiccupped sob from somewhere beneath me.
I squat and duck my head under the table where he’s curled up in the corner with his knees tucked against his chest, tears streaming down his face.
“Come on, bud.”
The longer we’re in here, the harder it’s going to be to get back out. Any clear path to the doors will have been almost entirely engulfed by now, and with the heavy, acrid smoke billowing in the small room, I can feel it growing closer.
I reach under the table and try to pull him out, but he resists me, trying to knock away my hand.
“Davey, we have to go.”
He shakes his head, lips trembling and coughs, his little body rattling. “I’m going to be in trouble.”
“What?” I cough, covering my face with my elbow. “You’re not in any trouble.”
“I’m not supposed to be out here alone.”
“You’re not—but I promise you’re not in trouble. Come on.”
I manage to get both hands under his arms and drag him out from under the table, but when I turn back toward the main barn, a wall of flames blocks the door.
The intense heat immediately makes me twist away, and Davey cries, burying his face against my neck and clinging to me.
Stepping forward, I kick the door closed.
It won’t do much to hold off the fire, but we aren’t going to be able to go through that. It may just give me a few precious minutes to figure out a way out of his mess.
I scan the tack room for any means of escape.
The small, square window above the table he was under is barely big enough for Davey to squeeze through, and I definitely won’t fit. But short of running through fire, it’s our only chance of surviving this.
He coughs violently, his terrified sobs mixing with the rush of blood in my ears as I set him on the table.
“Davey, listen to me.”
Please, God, let me get him out of here…
The heat grows at my back, but I don’t look over my shoulder to see if the fire has made it through the door. If I do, I might panic rather than do what needs to get done.
“I’m going to open this window and help you through it. I’ll be right behind you.”
He nods, tears streaking down from his red, puffy eyes.
“Cover your mouth and nose with your arm, if you can.”
I reach above him, undo the latch, and shove at it, battling the cough that makes me almost double over.
Old paint sticks like glue.
This window probably hasn’t been opened in fifty years.
Fuck.
I give another couple of hard whacks up at the top of the frame near the locking mechanism and finally manage to get it to move up a quarter of an inch from the ledge.
Just barely enough for me to get my fingers under the pane.
My eyes and lungs burn as I shove it up with all my strength and get it wide enough for Davey to slip through.
“Come on.” I slide my hands under his armpits and lift him. “Quickly.”
I help him turn so his legs dangle through the window, which should allow him to come down more safely on the other side after the slight drop. He clings to my arms, and I nudge him out, tightening my grip to lower him as far as I can before my shoulders hit the window.
“I’m going to let go, buddy. You’re okay.”
His sobs fill my ears, along with the crackling of the fire. A deafening crash comes from the barn behind me—so loud and massive that it can only be the beams that have supported this building for the last hundred years giving way.
I may only have seconds before the roof of this room comes down, too.
Terror grips me tightly, squeezing my already struggling lungs, as I release him, and his cry on the way down makes my heart stop.
But I force myself to turn to assess my exit…that’s now fully consumed by the flames.
There’s no way I’m getting out.
I quickly scan the room and the various tools and random pieces of equipment we have stored in it.
My eyes land on an old, rusted axe propped against the wall.
It isn’t mine that’s still up at the house where I like to keep it, but it’ll do.
I snag it, immediately run to the exterior wall farthest from the visible flames, and swing.
The blade bites into the wood easily, splintering it and cracking the old board. I pull back and swing again, using every ounce of strength left as the fire and smoke threaten to consume me.
Coughs rattle my chest, but I push through the burn and bear down on the wall over and over again.
Slowly breaking through board after board.
Until muted daylight cuts into the room and I can slip my hand through the mangled edges and tug at them.
The old nails holding them in place pry away easily, and fresh air rushes in at me, but the oxygen causes the fire to surge at my back.
Sparks and ash land on me, searing through my thin shirt and scalding my skin. I shove my shoulder through the opening, trying to get my chest through but meeting resistance that keeps me partially stuck with the inferno advancing.
Please, God…
This can’t be the way it ends.
Not after everything we’ve been through to get here.
Suddenly, the narrow opening I’ve created gives way, the boards on either side of me collapsing, and I stumble to the hard, icy ground on my hands and knees. My chest heaves, drawing in the cold air, and coughs rattle through me, making me shake so violently that I can’t get my legs under me.
Strong arms wrap around me and drag me off the frozen ground and away from the barn.
My eyes water, and I struggle to catch my breath enough to speak. “Davey?”
Pops squeezes his arm around my waist. “He’s okay. With Camille.”
Blinking away the tears, I search around us through the blowing snow and smoke that continues to pour from the half-gone barn.
Camille kneels with him in front of her only a few feet away, clutching him as close to her as she can with one hand pressed to that same spot at her side that was bothering her earlier.
She stares up at the barn over his head, and I turn back and watch another massive portion of it collapse inward, sending a burst of sparks and flames shooting higher into the snowy sky.
The animals in the paddock on the side scurry even farther away from their former home, cramming themselves into one corner. But at least they’re all safe.
Including Rocky.
Pops helps me move over to Camille and Davey, and I pull Davey up into my arms, gripping him close and running my hands over him to ensure he’s really unharmed.
We almost lost him.
If I had been even one minute later in finding him, that tack room would have become our grave instead of the place that held such an amazing memory with Camille.
Pops helps her to her feet, and I wrap one arm around her and tug her against me as all of us cry and stare at what’s left of the barn in utter shock.
How the hell did this happen?
We’ve never had a fire on the property. At least, not during my lifetime. We’re so careful never to bring anything with a flame into the barn or any other outbuilding, and any machinery that could get hot and spark something is always kept far away from anything flammable.
Davey whimpers, his hot tears a sharp contrast against my neck to the icy-cold flakes hitting me. “I’m sorry.”
He says it over and over again, his sobs becoming more frantic.
I clutch him and Camille tighter. “I already told you, buddy. You’re not in trouble. We were just worried about you.”
Camille pulls her head back from my chest, and her tear-soaked, panic-clouded gaze meets mine. “How did the fire even start?”
That’s a good fucking question.
I share a look with Pops that tells me he’s thinking the same thing I am. “Davey, did you see anything or anyone when you came out to the barn?”
He shakes his head. “No…but I heard something.”
Pops stiffens, inching closer to us. “What did you hear, kiddo?”
Davey drags his face from my neck, his brow furrowing as he tries to explain. “Like a car.”
My back goes ramrod straight.
It wasn’t a car.
There’s no way a car could get up the mountain in this snow when it would be difficult for a well-equipped truck to do so. Plus, we would have seen some sign of tire tracks if someone had used the road.
That only leaves one other possibility.
It was either an ATV, which would have been a huge risk, given how quickly the snow is falling and accumulating on the ground, or it was a snowmobile.
Someone was here.
This wasn’t a random accident.
It was deliberate.
Those motherfuckers set the goddamn barn on fire to send us a message, and they almost got Davey killed in the process.
I clench my jaw and tighten my grip on Camille and him.
She flinches.
Dipping my head, trying to meet her gaze, but she keeps her focus locked on the snowy ground. “You okay?”
Her mouth falls open slightly, and she takes a step back.
“Camille, what’s wrong?”
When she lifts her head, her eyes are filled with a panic that wasn’t there only a moment ago, and she wraps her arms around her stomach.
Her lips tremble. “My water just broke.”