Chapter 8 #2
“I know I don’t need to. I want to.” Glancing over at the TV, where the credits for the movie we just watched are scrolling, I ask, “Do you want to watch another one? If you want to keep up with the Valentine’s theme, there’s Sleepless in Seattle or You’ve Got Mail. Unless you’re tired and ready—”
From the coffee table, my phone buzzes with an incoming call.
Vienna stiffens. “Do you think it’s…”
“Maybe.” We haven’t heard from the fire investigator since he left earlier today. I wanted to press him for answers while he was here, but he was firm on following proper procedure, which meant talking to the police about his findings before reporting them to me.
Personally, I think that’s a load of shit. It’s my damn cabin, after all. I should be the first person to find out what happened to it.
Holding onto Vienna with one arm, I reach for the phone and flip it over to see the screen. It’s a local number, but not one I recognize. It could be someone else. But at almost nine o’clock at night? When my phone almost never rings unless it’s my parents? I have a feeling I know who it is.
Tapping the screen to answer it, I say, “Caleb here.”
“Caleb. It’s West Napier. Do you have a few minutes?”
My gut twists. I told Vienna I don’t care how the fire started, and I meant it. But if she finds out it really was her fault, she’s going to be crushed. She might even bring up leaving again.
My jaw clenches. No. She can’t leave. Not when I just found her.
“Yeah. I have a few minutes,” I tell him. “Hang on just a second.” Lifting Vienna off my lap, I set her to the side. Then I get up from the couch and hold the phone to my chest as I say, “It’s the Fire Chief. I’m just going to talk to him for a minute.”
She flinches. Her shoulders hunch in. “Okay,” she replies quietly. “Will you tell me—”
“Of course.” I kiss her forehead. “And whatever he says, it’s going to be okay. I promise.”
As I walk into the kitchen, guilt stabs at me. I could have taken the call with Vienna beside me. But if it’s bad news… Shit. I want some time to figure out the best way to tell her.
Or you could lie, a silent voice suggests. Tell her it really was a fluke. That she didn’t do anything wrong. Then she won’t feel guilty and possibly talk about leaving again.
It’s tempting.
But I won’t start our relationship out on a lie. If it turns out the fire was because of her actions, I’ll help her through it. I’ll remind her of all the reasons it’s better to stay in Bliss until she has to believe me.
Once I reach the kitchen, I lift the phone back to my ear. “Sorry about that. Just needed to get someplace quiet. So, did the investigator find the cause of the fire?”
There’s a heavy pause that makes my chest go tight. Then a sigh. “He did.”
“And?”
He sighs again. “It wasn’t an accident, Caleb.”
“What?” My voice rises before I can grab control of it. “What do you mean?”
“The chimney was intentionally clogged. The investigator found traces of flammable debris inside it. Not creosote residue or a bird’s nest, which is what we might expect from a chimney fire, but accelerant-soaked kindling.
And there were remnants of wood with the same accelerant on it that he believes were dropped into the chimney with the intent of spreading the fire. ”
I’m so stunned, I can’t speak for a second. “Arson?”
“Looks like it,” he replies. “And I hate to tell you this, but that’s not all.”
I clutch the edge of the kitchen island so hard it’s a miracle it doesn’t shatter in my hand. “What else?”
“The deadbolt was jammed with some sort of adhesive. We’ll send it to forensics, but my best guess is superglue. If someone wanted to make sure it didn’t open, that would be a quick way to do it.”
As his words sink in, shock shifts to rage.
Someone tried to burn down the cabin. Did burn down the cabin.
They glued the fucking deadbolt shut. Trapped Vienna inside.
“That’s not just arson,” I grit out. “That’s attempted murder.”
West makes an unhappy sound. “Looks like it. I sent everything over to the police. I’m sure they’ll have more questions.” He pauses. “Shit, Caleb. I wish it were an accident.”
“Me too,” I reply. But already, my mind is whirling with possibilities.
Who could have done this?
Could it have been Vienna’s ex-roommate, still angry over her perceived betrayal? Or what about the slimy boyfriend, out for revenge after Vienna rejected him?
What about Tom, whose appearance in Bliss seemed too convenient for comfort?
What if it was some restaurant patron who’d seen Vienna and become obsessed with her?
He could have tracked her down in Vermont, or maybe it’s even someone who lives here.
Someone who got the idea in his head that she should be his, and when she didn’t notice or respond to him, he decided if he couldn’t have her, no one could?
“I’m sure you’re already thinking this,” West continues, “but I’d look into some extra protection. For you and Vienna. Just because she was the one trapped in the cabin doesn’t mean she was the intended target.”
My jaw could crack stone. “I know. I’ll get on it. Tonight.” Blowing out a long breath, I add, “Thanks, West. I appreciate you letting me know. If you don’t mind, I need to deal with some things.”
“Of course,” he replies. “You have any questions, give me a call. And I really am sorry.”
“Me too,” I tell him. Then I end the call.
In the silence that follows, I stare blankly at the phone as I wrestle with my emotions.
I’m worried. Angry.
No, not angry. Furious.
How could someone do that to Vienna?
What will she say when she finds out?
And shit. What if she wasn’t the target at all? What if it was someone who came for me?
As the years have gone by, it’s gotten easier to push aside the memories of all I’ve done.
The enemies I’ve confronted in battle. The families of men I didn’t save.
What if the arsonist thought I was the one in the cabin?
It would make sense, given that I’ve lived here for three years, and Vienna just got here.
Fuck.
What if it’s my fault she was nearly killed?
On the heels of that, a new and frightening thought occurs to me.
What if the would-be killer is out there right now; angry that their first attempt didn’t work and waiting to try a second time?
My gaze skips around the kitchen, as if the asshole might appear from nowhere. But of course, he doesn’t. He’d be outside, waiting and watching—
Shit, if only I’d installed a full security system when I moved here. I put cameras and alarms on the doors, of course, but more than that didn’t seem necessary. Not when it was just me out here, and I was more than capable of defending myself.
“Caleb?” Vienna’s soft voice draws my attention. Hovering in the kitchen doorway, she flashes me a quick look of apology. “I’m sorry. But I didn’t hear you talking anymore…”
My stomach lurches again.
Shit. How do I tell her?
“It’s bad, isn’t it?” she asks. Her teeth dig into her lower lip. “It was my fault, wasn’t it?”
That’s an easy answer, at least. “No. It wasn’t.”
“No?” Her shoulders sag. “So it was an accident? I was reading about chimney fires, and sometimes if a bird builds a nest—”
“It wasn’t that.”
“Then what?”
“It was…” Fuck. I don’t want to tell her. “It wasn’t an accident. It was intentional.”
Vienna takes a startled step back. “What?”
I spit out the rest of it. “The fire chief. He said the fire was set on purpose. And the deadbolt was glued shut.”
She flinches as if she’s been struck. “Someone tried to kill me?”
“Or me. They might have thought… Shit. I’m so fucking sorry, Vienna. I thought the cabin was safe. I thought the property—”
My gaze moves past Vienna to the living room window behind her. When I moved in, my parents had blackout curtains up, but I took them down because they made me feel too claustrophobic and put light-filtering ones up instead. Another thing I never gave a second thought to before. But now…
With the lights on, our silhouettes would be clear to anyone watching outside.
One target small, one large.
And Vienna is the one closer to the window.
A surge of fear steals my breath. “V. Come here. Now.”
It’s not a request. It’s an order.
Hurt and confusion flicker across her face at the force of my tone. “What?”
“Now.” I’m already moving, instinct driving me to protect her.
“I don’t under—”
A sharp crack is quickly followed by shattering glass.
I leap at Vienna, wrapping my arm around her as I take her to the ground.
We crash to the kitchen floor, and pain flares in my hip and side where I hit it. Trying to shield Vienna from the worst of the impact, I palm the back of her head as I hug her close, attempting to cushion her body with mine.
I roll us to the side of the kitchen, out of view of the living room window. Then I just lie there, heart thundering and adrenaline zipping as the reality of our close call sinks in.
Someone shot at us.
Shot at Vienna.
This isn’t the safe haven I thought it was.
The enemy is out there. Armed. On the offense.
Panic explodes, taking over everything.
My lungs compress.
Someone shot at us.
The enemy’s out there.
The enemy is coming, and he won’t stop until he kills Vienna.
I’ll fail another person I care about. I’ll see her bloodied and gasping for breath, crimson pooling around her on the pale wooden floor. I won’t be able to save her. She’ll die, and it’ll be all my fault.
Everything around me fades to a low buzz as the panic takes over.
Vienna’s going to die. And it’s all my fault.
In the back of my mind, I know it’s a panic attack. I know it, because I used to have ones even worse than this.
“Caleb.” Vienna touches my cheek. Her small hand is cool on my heated skin. “Did someone just shoot at us?”
Her question pierces through the thick bubble of panic surrounding me.
Vienna.
She’s in trouble.
I need to protect her.
And I can’t do shit if I’m lying on the kitchen floor, freaking out.
So I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then I do it again. And again.
I command my muscles to work.
I grab hold of the ballooning panic and wrench it back.
Then I rise on my hands and knees, so I’m still shielding Vienna. I scan her face and body, searching for blood.
Thank fuck, I don’t see any.
“Someone shot at us,” I confirm. As I look into her frightened eyes, panic recedes and determination takes over. “I’m going to get you someplace safe. And then I’m going after them.”