As she emerged around a corner in the trail, appearing healthy and sound between two trees, he let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. She was safe, happy, and motioning him to come forward. “You have to see what I found!”
He didn’t have the time. The chief had called him in for the follow-up on the house and he needed to get going. He’d only come out here to be sure that Maggie was safe and let her know that he was leaving. But he didn't say that yet.
“What did you find?”
“Look.” She’d come all the way up to him, reached out for his hand, and was now pulling him along. He wished she was holding his hand for some other reason, but he would take the feel of her hand in his for what it was. Something about their fingers laced together simply felt right. When was he going to say something? Would it ever be the right time?
He couldn’t go on wanting her, but if he made her uncomfortable … who would keep her safe?
“Come with me.” She turned and tugged him back the way she’d come, but didn’t explain further. He didn’t have time, but he didn’t say no.
She took a short side path and they emerged near a paved boat ramp and small parking lot. A rickety looking dock jutted out into the water. She was pointing at the river. “The lake is here.”
He frowned. Had she not known it was back here? “It's a tributary of the Platte River.”
“I know.” She turned to look at him, her eyes bright with wanting him to catch on to something he wasn’t catching. She gave him a hint. “It's a public dock.”
“Okay?” He let it hang in the air like a question. Still not understanding.
“It took me about twenty-five minutes to get here from the back gate. Well, give or take, because I passed it the first time. I needed to be coming from this angle to really see that the water was right over here. And I had to take a side path.” She pointed back behind them to where it joined up with the main trail that went on until the woods ended.
They walked further, down onto the old blacktop, near the water’s edge. And he confessed, “I'm missing the point.”
He needed to get back.
“The point is,” she explained gently, “You can walk out my back gate, and come here, and get in a boat.” She waved her hand toward the water again. “A boat that you've docked and kept here.”
“It’s always been that way.” He was still missing something.
“Exactly. You could leave by boat from this dock anytime day or night, and no one would really notice. It’s always been here. In fact, there are more docks than just this one around town, right? But this one is a quick walk from my back gate.”
“Oh shit.” He saw what she saw now. It wasn't a guarantee that it had happened this way, but it was even more plausible that the killer had been a boarder in Sabbie's home. While he lived there, he could easily have walked out the back gate, come here unnoticed, and taken a boat he had tied up.
“How much do you want to bet that the city doesn’t charge for the boats kept here?” She looked at him as if she knew she were right.
“I’m not taking that bet. We don’t even keep track of who has a boat tied up at the main dock. The town is too small for the city to bother with it. There’s never been an issue.”
She looked a little surprised that he knew that.
“We had a boat at the main dock catch on fire about seven years ago. No one claimed it. And there were no records to track down who it belonged to.” But now that her eyes narrowed at him, he wondered if maybe the boat hadn’t belonged to the killer and he’d had to get rid of evidence.
Maggie was talking again. “All of the victims’ bodies were found in the water. How easy would it have been to take a boat from here?” She waved her hand again a little too excited. “He leaves the scene from the water, not the land.”
Shit. She was making too much sense given what he knew of the cases.
“It explains how he vanished without a trace from the scenes. I wonder if the FBI has thought of this?”
“I can't imagine they haven't.” Surely the FBI hadn’t released all the information they knew, but the information she was spouting convinced him that she'd spent all night up reading. She hadn't had this knowledge when he had left for his shift the day before.
“It's not mentioned in any of the newspaper articles I found,” she confirmed his suspicion. “So either the FBI is sitting on the information, and they have managed to keep it quiet for years, or the FBI doesn’t think this is the case.” The irritation in her voice didn't suit the danger of the situation, he thought. She should be more on guard, but she was just angry. Still, now wasn't the time to point it out. “Also, I need to show you what I found.”
Shit, he thought again. This time he tugged on her hand, pulling her away from the scene and leading them back home. The new information was concerning in the reverse: If the Blue River Killer could have come and gone from Sabbie’s easily to kill someone, then he could just as easily come back in the middle of the night. It made too much sense with the prowler she’d had. He’d gone out the back door and probably over the gate in his speed.
But what Sebastian said was, “The chief called me in, so I came out to let you know that I’ll be on scene for a couple of hours.”
“Why are you called in?” she asked, genuinely curious.
“I'm a trained arson investigator.” He watched as her eyes lit up, having forgotten that she didn't know that. Everyone at the station did. “I was trained at Quantico.” He added that last bit then felt dumb, as though he'd been trying to impress her. “So, the chief and I are the preliminary task force here. And we're concerned that we've got a serial arsonist.”
“Are you kidding me?” She yanked her hand out of his in order to put both fists on her hips and stare at him. “What the hell kind of small town is this?”
He had to laugh. “I'm beginning to wonder that myself, though you have to admit both the Blue River Killer and the La Vista Rapist operated out of the Omaha and Lincoln areas. Not here.”
“Okay. Valid point,” she conceded. “But the arsonist is here.”
“Yeah, we got one.”
“And it looks like the La Vista Rapist and the Blue River Killer both have very strong ties to Redemption. In fact, to my own home.” Again, she sounded more irritated than angry, as if the newspaper had been overcharging her or such.
Her dismissal of her possible danger petrified him. What if something went horribly wrong and she wasn’t prepared? “Come on back. Let's get you locked in. I'll only be a couple hours.”
When she didn't balk at that, he reached out again, taking her fingers in his.
Without the threat hanging over their heads, it would have been a gorgeous walk. But as he got back closer to the house, he couldn't shake the feeling that something worse was on its way.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Sebastian fought the urge to break the speed limit.
It was a gorgeous day and being on his bike again felt wonderful. In just a few months, he'd have to put it in storage for the winter. The arson investigation had quickly been handed over to the state, and now that he didn't have that occupying his brain, his only thought was getting back to Maggie and making sure she was okay.
In his mind, when he climbed on the bike, he’d told himself he was going home. It took effort to remind himself that Maggie’s place wasn't his home, that this was only temporary until the killer was caught. Then again, the killer hadn't been caught already for close to twenty years.
He could only hope the jewelry box and the other evidence in Maggie’s house was the break they all needed. In the meantime, pushing the speed limit wasn't the only urge he had to fight. It was getting harder and harder to stay with Maggie and not act on his feelings. The more he was around her, the more he liked her. He’d thought that, being in the house with her twenty-four/seven, she would begin to annoy him in some way or other, but it hadn't happened.
Until the feds caught the guy, or until Sebasti
an was certain that she returned his feelings, he didn’t want to push. What if she said no? Then she’d be alone.
It would have been relaxing to peel off his helmet and feel the wind in his hair, to really enjoy the sunshine. But it wasn't safe and, especially as a firefighter, he wasn't going to drive around town illegally and unsafe. He'd already passed a handful of people that he knew.
Taking the last turn, he let the bike lean hard underneath him. He saw Maggie’s house, still standing—not burned to the ground or some other bizarre torturous fantasy that had occurred to him while he was driving. The sight alone relaxed him, but he knew he'd feel better when he got inside and saw that Maggie herself was in one piece.
Just as he was ready to turn into the driveway, his muscles clenched and his pulse kicked up as he saw a silver sedan at the end of the street. It was older, dinged and just a little dirty—exactly as Maggie had described—and it was driving away from him.
Would the driver notice if he sped up and followed?
Did it matter?
Maybe it would be best if this person understood that someone was on his tail, someone willing to give chase.
Sebastian revved the bike and beelined down the street. At the end of the short block he hung a sharp right, following where he'd seen the silver car turn. He'd walked here yesterday with Maggie on the trail behind the houses in the strip of woods. For a moment, he lost sight of the car. But then, once again having turned right, Sebastian caught the car and made another sharp turn to follow. He was now aiming back toward Main Street.
At the end of the block, the sedan turned right this time. Sebastian pushed the bike harder, hoping no one would notice he was chasing a car. Following through two more turns, he managed to get close enough to memorize the license plate.
Surely this asshole knew he was being followed by now. Besides, he hadn’t done anything wrong that Sebastian knew of. If the police stopped him or if this guy called it in, there wouldn’t be much he could say in defense. So he hung another right and pulled to the side of the road, his heart pounding.
His fingers were clumsy as he punched the license in a text message to Maggie. Even as he started to relax, it occurred to him that he'd seen the sedan driving away from Maggie's house.
What if this person was leaving the house? What if Maggie was in trouble?
His pulse shooting up again, Sebastian took off, aiming back toward Maggie's.
A few minutes later, he pealed into the driveway probably grabbing all of the neighbors’ attention as he did. He didn't care. He raced to the front door, one hand grabbing his helmet and holding it by the strap out of habit alone. Otherwise he might have tossed it on the grass in his haste to see that Maggie was okay.
Even as he reached for the door, it flew open.
“Are you okay?” Maggie asked, looking concerned but okay.
The irony that she was worried about him wasn’t lost. But he couldn’t speak as all the breath whooshed out of his lungs.
She was fine. She was in shorts and a T shirt. Her hair was up in a haphazard ponytail and his immediate response was to take her in his arms and kiss her. He reached for her out of sheer want, his body reacting without thinking.
But she frowned ever so slightly, and it was like the scratch of a record pulling him back to reality. He hadn’t said anything, hadn’t made a move on her before, and pulling her into his arms—basically assaulting her now—was not the answer.
“I'm okay.” He managed the words she needed to hear.
“I saw the silver sedan.” She pulled her phone from her pocket and frowned. “You messaged me.”
“I saw it too. I was chasing it and I got the plate.”
She smiled now, wide and beaming, and again his heart twisted. He wished that was for him. “I got a picture of him. That's why I didn't get your message right away. I had my phone in my hand and I was sending it to the FBI.”
“Good. I’m hoping if we just hand everything over to the feds they’ll finally catch this guy.”
Maggie replied, “Agreed, but I’ll also do my own reverse online search.”
Smart, he thought, still breathing heavily and only just now beginning to calm down.
He looked her up and down again. The running shorts weren't normal for her. She was barefoot. Even her ponytail was a bit of a mess—very un-Maggie-like—with dark red curls springing out in various places. He was curious now. “What were you doing?”
“Cleaning,” she offered it with a wry grin. “House this big doesn’t clean itself.”
This was new to him. An image of Maggie as a domestic goddess had simply not occurred to him before.
“Somebody's got to clean,” she sighed.
“I'm staying, I can help.”
“I got most of it done while you were out.” He noticed then that everything was shiny. She must have mopped and dusted everything, maybe burning off extra energy. Lord knew he had plenty to burn himself, but cleaning wasn’t how he wanted to burn it.
He nodded and they stood there in the foyer, face to face, not speaking for a moment. As the silence grew awkward, Maggie looked at him oddly and asked, “What?”
He'd been staring at her.
“What is it, Sebastian? Something's wrong. Tell me.”
He stood there, debating with himself. Should he tell her?
Chapter Thirty-Four
Something was wrong, but Maggie couldn't quite tell what. Sebastian's jaw was clenched and he wouldn't tell her what it was.
To change the subject, she asked, “How did the arson investigation go?”
“It was definitely arson,” he answered, though the tension didn’t seem to go away. “The paper will likely have already printed it. This person didn’t do much to cover their trail. So they’re either a newbie or making a point.”
“You really do have a serial arsonist on your hands.”
He nodded, resigned.
“Any leads?”
“Of course not.” His jaw was still clenched. He was having this conversation with her but still thinking about the other thing he didn’t want to tell her. Had he learned something about the silver sedan? Was he afraid of worrying her? Or was it something else entirely?
Not knowing was painful. Maggie stayed on topic though and asked wryly, “Is anybody missing any jewelry?”
Wouldn't it just be perfect if a serial killer, serial rapist, and serial arsonist all had ties to her home?
“At least it wasn’t that,” he said and offered a half smile, but he still hadn't budged from his position.
Changing the subject hadn’t worked. He wasn’t in any better of a mood and she still wanted to know. She went back to the direct route. “What aren't you telling me?”
“Nothing bad,” was all he offered, but he didn’t look at her.
“Then tell me.”
He shook his head and shrugged as he sighed, clearly untangling something for himself, before he finally spoke. “I just don't want to burden you with something else.”
Maggie almost threw her head back and laughed out loud at the idea. “Sebastian, you've unburdened so much already. Whatever it is, I can handle it. And I think I should know if it pertains to my safety.”
He shook his head. “It doesn't.” But again, he looked away and she saw his fingers curl, clenching into fists.
“Tell me,” she pushed again, but he shook his head.
“If you don't agree, it'll ruin everything.”
“Then I'll probably agree,” she offered easily. They got along great, maybe too well. And she was beyond curious now what was going on.
“But that's just it, I don't want you to agree just so that I'll stay here.”
Well, hell. There wasn’t much he could have said that would make her more determined that that. “So, if I don't agree, you'll leave?”
“I won’t leave. You'll want me to leave.” Even as he said the words, she could see he was trying to swallow them back, as though he thought he’d already said too much.
He didn’t have to tell her. He didn’t owe her anything. She owed him. But she wanted to know what he was holding back and she was willing to force him to tell, if she could just figure out how …
“You've been through too much already,” he said, still not spilling whatever he was holding.
“I've had very threatening things,” she corrected. “But aside from walking down my hallway with a baseball bat, I haven't actually been through that much.”
“You broke up with your boyfriend recently.”
“It was hardly traumatic. We should have broken up well before that,” she said. “Trust me. I liked the guy, I really did—oh God, please don't repeat this to anyone—but that was all it ever was. In the end, he wasn’t around, and I didn’t miss him that much.” She shrugged as she tried to explain a relationship that had been fun, then not, and never anything more. “I haven’t been sitting here heartbroken, if that's what you're wondering.”
Even as she said the words, she began to wonder what Sebastian might be suggesting. Was his concern that she was still hung up on Rex?
“Tell me,” she pushed again, her heart pounding in her chest. Could he want what she wanted? Could she maybe fix the error of saying yes to the first man who asked her out? She should have waited for a better offer, for someone she really wanted to be with … someone like Sebastian.
Still he shook his head.
“If you don't want to stay here, I can find someone else—”
“No! It’s not that,” he interrupted.
Well, that sounded good, she thought. It didn't really mean anything, though. This was so frustrating. She wanted him to kiss her and he was probably going to tell her he’d found more footprints or he knew the man in the silver sedan.
“Tell me.”
He shook his head.
So she tried playing just a little dirty. It was either going to work out really well or be a phenomenally stupid move. She stepped closer and put her hand on his chest. “You can tell me.”
Crash and Burn (Wildfire Hearts Book 1) Page 12