Chapter Fourteen
Kindred Residence
Tupelo Pike
“Rory.”
Sleep held her deep in his clutches…there was a dream but she couldn’t quite hang on to the pieces of it. Pete was there. Chance too. She was running…
“Rory!”
Her body shook. What was happening?
Arms were suddenly cradling her. “Rory, wake up!”
Her eyes fluttered open. It was dark. Had she imagined the voice…the arms going around her?
“We have to get out of here!”
She tried harder to focus. Chance was holding her in his arms…against his chest. Why was he holding her that way? She coughed…something was wrong.
“…fire!”
Her mind cleared, and the coughing started again. Chance was rushing through the darkness…through the house. There was smoke.
The gold glow of flames snatched her attention. Fire. The house was on fire.
She tried to get free. Wiggled against the barriers. Had to run.
“Hang on,” he urged, his arms tightening around her.
Suddenly they were outside. Rory didn’t remember going through the door…across the porch or down the steps. Chance lowered her feet to the ground. Stuck his cell phone in her hand. “Call 9-1-1.”
Then he was gone…back into the house.
No. No. That was a bad idea. Her father had gone back into the house…
Rory stood there, unmoving. The image of her father rushing back into their burning home to find her mother expanded in her mind, blocking her ability to do anything but stand there like a statue.
“Chance!” Oh God. What did she do?
Call for help. He’d said she should call 9-1-1. Fingers fumbling, she managed to enter the necessary digits. The dispatcher came on, and Rory spewed out her address and the situation.
The house was on fire. Lulu’s house. And Chance was inside.
She dropped the phone and ran for the door. She had to find him. What if he’d succumbed to the smoke? What if he were injured?
Just as she topped the final step to the porch, he burst through the door. Safe. Not lost and confused in the smoke. Not overcome.
He ushered her back into the yard, away from the danger.
“I’m sorry.” His gaze rested on hers. “It was too out of control by the time I woke up. I couldn’t stop it.”
She shook her head, her eyes burning from tears or the smoke or maybe both. “Doesn’t matter. We’re okay. That’s all that matters.”
He thrust a white cloth bag at her. “I grabbed a few things for you.”
Pillowcase, she realized. She accepted the pillowcase and looked inside. Her cell phone. The photo from her wedding day. The wallet she’d found in her closet and had a few dollars in it. She looked up at him, her body feeling numb…her brain whirling. How did this happen? What did she do now?
Somehow her lips cooperated enough to say, “Thank you.”
He dropped his own bag on the ground. The case file was in there. Thank God he’d thought to grab it as well.
Then he put his arms around her and pulled her against him. For a second she wondered why he was hugging her. Not that she minded. His arms felt good. Strong. She needed him…because… She suddenly realized then that she was sobbing.
Lulu’s house was on fire. All her things…all the memories…they were lost. Just like her childhood home…her parents…all their things.
Rory wasn’t sure how much time passed. She only knew that the thought of withdrawing from this man’s arms was more than she could bear at the moment. He was speaking to someone. Sirens were blaring…lights were throbbing.
The fire department had arrived, and she hadn’t even noticed.
She turned her head, keeping her cheek against his solid chest. They were preparing to put out the flames.
The back side of the house was being eaten by the fire.
Regret and sadness swelled in her chest. Then she spotted another uniform.
The police. Not Fowler. A uniformed officer from Scottsboro PD.
Chance was still talking to someone nearby. None of the words made sense to her.
Her knees felt weak. She didn’t dare pull away from him.
Movement in her peripheral vision had her lifting her cheek from his warmth. A figure had stepped into view. Fowler. He was here too.
Rory drew away from Chance then. Her body swayed, and he steadied her.
She refused to look at the house. Instead, she glared at Fowler.
Why wasn’t he doing his job? If he had done his job when Pete was murdered, none of this would have happened.
Damn it. Now everything was gone. Taken from her when she had done nothing wrong.
Pete. The home they had shared. Lulu’s sweet cottage. Everything.
Except Austin, she reminded herself. She still had her little brother. He too would be devastated by the loss of the home where they had grown up. At the loss of the mementoes that could never be replaced. She glanced back to Chance. Thank God she hadn’t lost him.
How had this happened?
Chance was talking to Fowler now. Giving his statement, she assumed.
“The sound of something breaking woke me,” he was saying. While he explained this new nightmare, she scanned the ground for his phone. She spotted it and tucked it into the sheet with her things.
Chance had slept in Lulu’s room. Rory hadn’t wanted him stuck on the couch again. He was kind enough to stay here to ensure she was safe. The least she could do was see to it that he was as comfortable as possible.
She stared at the house…the water now dousing the flames. He had saved her life.
“I sat up on the side of the bed with the intention of getting up to ensure there was no intruder or any new vandalism happening, and I smelled the smoke. I got Rory out of the house and went back in to see if I could get the flames under control, but it was too far gone.” He gestured to the pillowcase she carried.
“I grabbed a few things and rushed back out.”
“Could you see where it started?” Fowler asked. “Appears to be at the back of the house.”
Chance nodded. “In the kitchen area.”
The kitchen was at the back of the house. Made sense. Whoever did this would want to be behind the house, not in front where someone passing by might see them up to their dirty deeds. By sticking to the kitchen area, no chance of anyone in the bedrooms hearing the heinous work either.
“You should talk to Cade Coleman and Ronnie Smith,” she blurted suddenly. “They showed up here that first night when my window was broken. And don’t forget about those two who used those paint guns.”
Fowler gave her a nod. “I’ll talk to them.”
Which meant nothing, really. She didn’t know why she even bothered. He didn’t care if the truth was found when it came to her. The Harris family hated her, and therefore she was nothing. Insignificant.
Fowler moved on to the two uniformed officers on the scene. Another fire department vehicle had arrived, and the man who exited it appeared to be in charge. The fire marshal, she reckoned.
“We can sit in the car,” Chance offered.
She didn’t really care. No sooner than the thought whizzed through her mind, she realized she was standing in the middle of the yard wearing a nightshirt and with bare feet.
She nodded. “That’s a good idea, I guess.”
Once they were in the car, she collapsed against the seat and squeezed her eyes shut. Would this nightmare never end? The trouble just kept escalating. When was enough enough?
Tears burned in her eyes once more, and she fought them back. She would not cry again. Damn it. Okay. Get it together, Rory. She and Chance had a lot to do. There was no time for falling apart.
A rap on her window made her jump. She sat up and stared at the person on the other side of the glass. Detective Fowler. What did he want now? What she wanted was to demand to know why he hadn’t brought up the Henagar case when investigating hers…but now wasn’t likely the time.
Chance powered the window down.
Fowler looked from Rory to Chance. “You two don’t have to stay,” he explained. “One of the officers said you’d already answered his questions about any potential items inside that could escalate the situation. I or the fire marshal will contact you if there are more questions.”
“Thanks,” Chance said before powering the window back up.
When he’d backed out of the driveway and headed toward town, she asked, “What do we do now?”
“First, we’re going to get clothes. Then we’re going for coffee and food.”
She didn’t argue. What he suggested was necessary. “What about talking to the people from the case Shane told us about?”
“Heading that way as soon as we’re dressed and fed.”
“Okay.” It wasn’t like they could show up at a stranger’s home looking like this or at this hour anyway. She glanced at Chance. At least he had on jeans. The tee was one of those sleeveless tanks. The image almost made her smile. He looked like a movie-type tough guy with those muscled arms.
Rory stared forward. She had no idea how this was all going to turn out. But she had the overwhelming urge to laugh. Maybe it was hysteria…insanity…or a combination of both. But she had to bite her lips to prevent the sound from erupting.
How weird was that? Her life just kept unraveling and she wanted to laugh.
Allston Residence
Bray Drive
Henagar, Alabama, 8:15 p.m.
It was probably still too early for a house call from a stranger, but here they were.
Chance had parked on the street in front of the home belonging to Alita Whitmore and Carla Allston were both schoolteachers.
Rory had searched the internet for as much information as she could find on the two.
She just hoped one or both were willing to talk.