Let it Burn (Oakland Ridge #1)

Chapter 1

Evelyn

Flames danced up the wall to the ceiling of the salon. Embers fluttered through the air, singeing my skin as I lay in a puddle of mine and Celeste’s blood, staring into her lifeless eyes, unable to move. Unable to save my sister from him. It was the same dream.

It always ended with Charles dragging me by my feet through the shattered glass and debris, away from Celeste, toward the back of the salon to finish what he started.

First, the beating, then the slashing of his knife through my skin.

When my screams no longer echoed through the salon, he reached for his pants.

Only tonight was different. The acrid stench of smoke filled my senses and stole my breath as he shook me.

“Wake up, ma’am.”

My eyes jolted open—evidence of the horrid dream wet on my skin. Instead of seeing the last mural my sister ever painted, I stared into dark, honey-kissed eyes. The undeniable smell of smoke snapped me out of my haze.

“New York Fire Department, ma’am. You’re going to be alright. But we’ve got to go.”

My limbs were frozen. I opened my mouth to question him, but all that came was a harsh cough. Before I processed anything, he placed a mask on my face, lifted me into his arms, and carried me out of my bedroom.

Our house was on fire, and what was left of Celeste was being consumed by the flames.

That’s when the screaming started. I didn’t recognize it as the sound of my own voice until I felt the unmistakable prick of a needle on my arm.

As the darkness at the corners of my eyes started to creep in I thought:

He found me.

The sound of beeping and muted movement stirred me awake.

This was the first time I had a dreamless night.

As I regained consciousness, I realized I wasn’t in my bedroom as I stared at the sterile, white-paneled ceiling.

Of course, my dreamless night couldn’t be attributed to the amount of therapy I’ve had over the last year and a half.

I was in my healing era, my therapist would say.

The details of the night were fuzzy, but I had a hunch that I was sedated.

“Ms. Howard, we're glad to have you back with us. Do you know where you are?”

My eyes drifted from the paneled ceiling to a tall man in a white coat with umber skin. His silky black hair shone under the fluorescent lights as he made his way over to the chart that hung on the back of the hospital room door.

“Take your time. I’m Dr. Singh, and I’m just going to check your vitals.”

“I gather I’m at the hospital, but the details are a bit fuzzy,” I responded, my throat hoarse.

“That’s understandable. Ms. Howard, you were brought in last night after a fire at your residence. Shortly after being carried out of your home, you went into shock. The EMS providers on the call had to sedate you.”

“Oh, my God, my house. I don’t understand.” I whispered.

Dr. Singh continued on as if he hadn’t heard me, instructing me to open my mouth as he took a look inside.

“You’ve been in and out of consciousness since.

We’ve treated you for a mild case of smoke inhalation.

You’re very lucky to be alive, Ms. Howard.

It is my understanding that a moment later, you would have been trapped. ”

My mind reeled with this news, cataloging every step and action of the night.

It had been a typical Monday night. I couldn’t say I was much of an extrovert these days.

I went into the office, picked up takeout from my favorite Chinese restaurant around the corner, and then headed home to eat.

Caught up on Pop the Balloon and went to bed.

I hadn’t left my flatiron on despite my brain always telling me I had.

I always took a photo of it before I left the house, just to ease my mind.

I hadn’t left the oven on since I hadn’t cooked that morning or evening.

My heart stuttered in my chest, sending the machine into a momentary frenzy.

Why now?

This could be a coincidence, right? My hands clenched the rough material of the hospital blanket, stopping me from pulling my hair at the root. It wasn’t.

Even now, I couldn’t admit my mistake.

I wanted to say that I didn’t have a choice, but that wasn’t true either. I had a choice; and after everything that happened, I should have been far away from this place. Instead, I was living in a museum of my grief and pain, pretending to be whole when I was anything but.

This choice had consequences that were catching up to me.

I was here, sitting in a hospital bed after having survived another fire.

An image of his face twisted in anger rose to the forefront of my mind, and I was so lost in the memory that I almost forgot to breathe.

A light touch on my shoulder fleetingly wrenches me free from my horrible thoughts.

“Ms. Howard, we’ll be keeping you for one more night just for observation. I’m all done here, but I’ll come back to check on you later tonight. I know you’ve just woken up, but there is a Fire Captain outside waiting for you. I’ll let him know you’re awake.”

I nodded and thanked him as he exited the room.

The look in Celeste’s eyes was one of defeat. I shook my head wildly, hoping that she would receive the message. She couldn’t give up. We had to fight.

The small shake of her head warned me that I was too hopeful. Too optimistic. She smiled. Her face was splattered with her own blood as her skin took on a pale tint.

“I love you, sissy,” she mouthed as the knife went across her neck.

I screamed, hoping God would take mercy on me and wind back time just this once—but he just laughed.

I covered my ears as the memory of Celeste’s lifeless eyes began to assault my brain; the echo of his laughter rang in my ears. A sob broke free as I remembered the last pieces of her I had left were gone.

My legs trembled as I attempted to stand, but the room tilted as the weight of my decisions barreled into me at warp speed.

Foolish. Naive. So stupid.

You shouldn’t be here.

My hands found their way into my tangled and matted curls and pulled.

The bite of pain centered me. I spent the first year after Celeste was killed looking over my shoulder, hiding my body and the masterpiece of scars he’d left me with.

The police closed the case, and I assumed he would be happy getting away with his crimes.

I foolishly assumed he would stay away. He took everything from me. What could he want now?

A chime broke my paralysis and drew my attention to the clear plastic bag that held my cell phone.

Shakily, I unlocked it.

[Unknown]: You have 48 hours to leave New York.

[Unknown]: You should have left when they told you to, Evvie.

[Unknown]: Hide and Seek was always one of my favorite games.

My vision blurred as my phone slipped from my shaking hands and clattered to the floor.

Sweat beaded at my hairline as my chest tightened and the room shrank.

He’s back.

Charles came back for me.