by Rita Herron
“They’re twins,” Sam said in shock.
John met her gaze. “Yeah. But where is the baby boy?”
The crew arrived to drag the river and search the woods, and Sam closed her eyes.
Please don’t let Honey and her little boy be dead.
JOHN’S HEAD POUNDED with questions. The locket certainly suggested that Emmie and her twin were Honey’s babies. So where was the little boy? Had he been with Honey when she’d arrived in town?
“John,” Sam said in a shaky voice. “What if—”
“Shh,” he said, and pulled her up next to him. “Don’t assume anything. There was only one car seat in Honey’s car. Maybe she left the baby boy with someone else.”
“But why wouldn’t she have brought them both to me?”
“I don’t know,” John said, his own mind racing with various scenarios. One, that they had been right and whoever had hurt Honey and tried to run Sam off the road wanted the baby. Maybe both of them. “Maybe Honey thought that she could keep them safer if they were apart, so she left the little boy with another friend.”
Sam exhaled, obviously trying to regain her composure. “That makes sense. If so, then maybe the little boy is safe.”
He had no idea, but he didn’t want to panic Sam any more than she already was. “Hopefully so. We just have to figure out who she left the baby with. Maybe that person has answers about who is after Honey and the babies.”
Sam seemed to gather her iron-clad control around her, and obviously held on to her hope.
John squeezed her shoulder. “I need to talk to my deputy and coordinate the search. Will you be okay?”
She lifted her stubborn chin although worry still strained her features. “Of course. Go talk to them. Maybe Honey escaped here at the river, and she’s in those woods hiding out.”
“Could be,” he said, although he doubted it. More likely that she had been dumped in that river and that they’d find her body.
Although the current could have swept her downstream, miles and miles away.
The wind picked up and Sam shivered.
“Take the baby to the car and wait,” John said softly. “This is going to take some time.”
Sam glanced at the river and then him, but hugged Emmie to her, tightening the blanket around the little girl’s shoulders as she walked away. He gritted his teeth and strode over to meet his deputy.
Who in the hell would want to hurt that little baby, and why?
WHAT A NIGHTMARE.
Sam climbed in the front seat and rocked Emmie back to sleep as she watched a CSI team string crime scene tape around the area and search for forensics. Another team began to drag the river, and others dispersed through the wooded area to search for her friend. One grueling hour bled into another, dark clouds gathering above and threatening rain as evening approached.
News of the search must have spread through town and chaos descended. Men and women showed up to help, many who’d known Honey from high school. No one seemed surprised that Honey had landed in trouble, but all seemed eager to find her.
Dwayne raced up and joined the team in the woods, Sally behind him, her arms crossed as she watched her husband’s frantic efforts. Bernice from the local diner arrived, armed with hot coffee and sandwiches.
Sam accepted coffee but declined the food. “Thanks, Bernice, but my stomach is churning. I don’t think I could keep down anything right now.”
The plump woman patted Sam’s shoulder. “I know, sweet, but don’t give up. Our Honey is a fighter.”
Sam nodded, and glanced at the baby. Honey had two babies now, two reasons to fight for her life. She only hoped it was enough.
Renee Renfree, the reporter from the local paper and one of Honey’s co-cheerleaders in high school, arrived and made a dive for Sam. “What can you tell us about Honey’s disappearance?”
Sam cleared her throat. “I really don’t know much. Just that she’s missing.”
Renee pointed to Emmie, tucked in Sam’s arms. “Is it true that she was attacked at your home and that she left that baby with you?”
Sam hesitated, and John suddenly appeared by the car and shoved away the microphone. “This is an official investigation, Renee. Sam has no comment.”
“John,” Sam said.
He gave her a sharp look. “No, Sam. Stay out of it.”
“Then, Chief, can you tell us what’s going on?” Renee shoved the microphone toward John. “Is the baby Honey’s? Do you think Honey is dead?”
A muscle throbbed in John’s jaw as he reined in his temper. “As you know, we believe Honey Dawson is missing. She may be injured, and she’s in danger. If anyone has information about her, please contact the police immediately.”
“Is it true that she left a baby—”
John placed his hand over the microphone. “That’s it, Renee. This interview is over.”
Renee glared at him, but obviously decided she wasn’t going to pry any information out of him and moved on to question some of the locals. Sam could only imagine the comments. The men all loved Honey. The women wouldn’t be so kind; they’d probably paint her friend as a blatant whore.
Another hour passed, then another, and the clouds opened up and it began to rain. The search teams slowly made their way back in, their expressions grave.
As the rain began to pour down, most of the locals who’d gathered ran to their cars, and John strode toward her, then climbed into the driver’s side, swiping damp hair from his eyes.
“Did they find anything?” Sam asked.
“Forensics found a couple of stray blond hairs and collected them. But so far, nothing in the woods or the river.”
Sam pressed a hand to his arm. “That’s good news then. It means Honey may still be alive.”
He cut his dark eyes toward her. “Sam—”
“I’m not giving up,” she said.
His dismal expression offered no hope, and her heart twisted.
“Either way,” he said, “we need to trace Honey’s movements and find out who was after her and the babies.”
Sam glanced back at the baby. Yes. They had to find Honey’s little boy and make sure he was safe.
The babies were siblings, twins—they needed to be together.
RAIN POUNDED THE ROOF of his SUV and slashed the windshield as John drove back to Sam’s. He wanted to be optimistic for her sake, but the fact that they hadn’t found Honey didn’t bode well with him. Every day that passed decreased their chances of her being alive.
Her body could have floated downstream, and if she was running for her life in the mountains and injured, she might not survive.
“Are you hungry?” he asked as they drove through town.
“Not really,” Sam said.
He gritted his teeth. “Did you eat anything since this afternoon?”
Sam shook her head, twisting her hands together. “I couldn’t.”
John swung the SUV into the parking lot of the diner. “How about the special of the day?”
“That’s fine,” Sam said, although he sensed that she was only agreeing to appease him.
John jumped out and slogged through the rain to the door, then stepped inside, shaking rain from his head. The weather must have kept people home because the cozy diner was nearly empty. The scent of turkey and dressing suffused him, and his stomach growled.
“I figured you’d be by tonight,” Tonya, the waitress, said with a flirty smile.
He ignored the flirting part. “I need a couple of the specials to go.”
“No luck finding Honey?” she asked.
He shook his head. “No, but I’ll keep looking.”
She packed the food in take-out containers, then added a couple of pieces of homemade cake to the order, and he paid, then rushed back outside. The baby was fussing, so he remained silent until they arrived at Sam’s. He grabbed an umbrella from the back and covered her and the child, then guided them inside and returned for the food.
A noise sounded from the
bushes, and he jerked his head to the left. The bushes rustled and twigs snapped, the whisk of movement making him tense.
He removed his gun from inside his jacket, wielding it at the ready as he inched around the side of the house. Another sound echoed from the woods beyond and a coyote howled from a nearby ridge.
His chest tightened as he searched the shadows and circled the house, but he didn’t find anyone lurking around.
Had he imagined it or had someone been there?
Thunder clapped above, lightning zigzagging across the dark sky and another noise sounded from the front of the house. He ducked in the rain, inching back around and searched for the origin, but saw nothing.
The door swung open, and Sam stood in the doorway. “John?”
“I’m right here,” he said as he slid through the shadows and climbed the steps.
“Is something wrong?” she asked.
“I just wanted to check the outside,” he said. But he remained alert as they went inside the house. Someone was stalking Sam. Someone who wanted the baby.
He’d kill the son of a bitch before he let him hurt either one of them.
HE SLIPPED INTO THE SHADOWS and the safety of the woods and slithered back to his car where he’d parked on the dirt road that led to those old chicken houses. Grateful to be out of the rain, he checked his messages and punched in a return call.
“It’s me.”
“Did you take care of that kid yet?”
He clenched the phone with one hand while swiping rain from his face and neck with a handkerchief. “No. This local cop is all over the woman Honey left the brat with.”
“You need to do it soon before he figures out what’s going on.”
“I know that. How about the other baby?”
“I have a lead and I’m closing in. You take care of your end and let me worry about this one.”
“How about Honey?”
He hesitated, sweat beading on his forehead. “Taken care of.”
“Good. Now finish up and make sure you don’t leave a trail behind you.”
He disconnected the call, then sat and stared into the canopy of trees for hours, until the rain finally dwindled. Determined, he climbed out, pulled on fireproof gloves, then grabbed matches and the old rags he’d tied together in the trunk. Adrenaline churned through him as he doused them with kerosene.
Pulling his coat around his neck to ward off the chill, he walked back through the woods to the Corley woman’s house, his boots sinking into the mud. Darkness bathed the exterior of the house, and barring a light from the kitchen, the inside lights were off.
He struck the match, lit the end of the cloth and tossed it onto the front porch beneath the door where the wood flooring and door were dry. Flames flickered upward, the fire catching along the edges of the door. He tossed another below the window. Then he crept around to the side of the house and lit another one and tossed it against the back door beneath the awning.
A smile curved his mouth as he watched the flames catch. Soon the house would be on fire. Then that damn baby and the Corley woman would be toast, and his problems would be over.
Chapter Nine
John jerked awake from the den chair where he’d kept vigil over Sam and the baby. He’d had a feeling the stalker had been watching, biding his time until he could strike.
The scent of smoke wafted through the cracks and seeped into the room, and he jumped up, instantly alert. They hadn’t lit a fire in the fireplace.
He blinked to focus, then hesitated, trying to detect the source of the smell. The front of the house? The back?
He ran to the kitchen door. Smoke seeped through the bottom of the door, choking the air. He hurried to the front and saw flames crackling along the seams of the door, smoke beginning to flow through the foyer. A quick check through the window, and he spotted flames shooting upward along the door and along the floor beneath the front windows.
Dammit, the bastard had lit them up on both sides. He wanted to rush outside and catch him. He was probably hanging around to watch.
But Sam and the baby were in danger, and they came first.
He stabbed the numbers for the fire department. “Get out to Samantha Corley’s right now. Someone set the place on fire.”
He hung up, ran upstairs and vaulted into Sam’s room. She lay sleeping on her side, tucked beneath a homemade quilt. He knew she was exhausted and hadn’t slept or rested since the night Honey had shown up in her house, and he hated to wake her, but he had to.
He leaned over and shook her gently. “Sam?”
At that moment, the smoke detector finally went off with a shrill beep. Sam jerked awake and stared up at him, sleep and confusion clouding her eyes.
“Sam,” he said in the calmest voice he could muster. “Someone set the house on fire outside. I’ve called the fire department, but you need to get up.”
Panic flashed in her eyes for only a brief second before she threw the covers off her and reached for a robe and shoes. He shoved the robe into her hands. “Get the baby. I’ll try to contain the blaze until the fire department arrives.”
She nodded, her eyes wide, but dragged on the robe, stuffed her feet into the shoes and followed him as he ran from the room.
“Do you have a fire extinguisher?” he asked as they raced into the hall.
She gave a terror-stricken nod. “Yes, one upstairs and one in the kitchen.”
“Get the one up here and use it to protect you and Emmie if you need it. I’ll take the downstairs and try to stop the flames from spreading inside.”
They parted at the door to her bedroom, and she ran to get the baby while he raced downstairs and grabbed the fire extinguisher.
The flames were licking along the front door and windows as he peered out, and he dared not open the door, so he knocked out the window in the laundry room off the kitchen and climbed through it. He dropped to the ground and hurried to the back of the house. The fire was small on the stoop but eating at the wood, and he sprayed the fire extinguisher to douse the flames. Precious minutes passed, his nerves on edge. With the rain dwindling, how fast would the front porch catch and the smoke curl inside?
But as soon as he extinguished the back doorway, he raced back inside. Sam had gathered Emmie and was in the den, crouched down low, covering the baby’s mouth and nose to prevent her from inhaling the smoke. He grabbed the fire extinguisher from her, then coaxed her toward the kitchen.
“Come on, let’s go out back.”
She nodded and ran beside him, clutching the baby to her in a death grip as they raced onto the lawn and around to the front.
“Wait here with Emmie,” he yelled, then he ran toward the front porch. Flames were inching up the railing all along the front door and spreading on the porch.
He aimed the fire extinguisher and sprayed the flames, hoping like hell that now Sam and Emmie were safe, that he could save her house.
SAM WATCHED IN HORROR as the fire engine roared up her drive and screeched to a halt. The siren’s wail burst into the night and woke the baby, and she began to scream. Sam jiggled her up and down to calm her, her own heart racing.
“Shh, precious, it’s all right.” She nuzzled Emmie’s cheek with her own. “You’re safe now. I won’t let anything bad happen to you. I promise.”
Smoke curled upward into the sky, blackening the white painted wood and porch, the flames licking toward her wicker furniture.
Shock set in, mingling with raw anger as Sam’s adrenaline waned. She couldn’t believe that someone had tried to burn them out of her home. Someone who could have killed not only her and John but a sweet, little innocent girl who’d never hurt anyone in her life.
The pure injustice of it reminded her of her past and the stories she heard on the job, and rage replaced her fear. “We’ll find out who did this, Emmie, and make them pay.”
A team of firefighters jumped from the truck and began to roll the hose toward the house. John met one of them on the porch and turned the tas
k over to them while he pulled his gun and began to circle the house in case the arsonist was lurking around.
Fear made her chest clench as John disappeared into the woods. Had John seen her stalker in the trees? Had the man set fire to the house, then stood by and watched to see if they’d died?
One of the firemen approached her carrying a blanket and wrapped it around her. “Ma’am, are you and the baby all right?”
“Yes,” she said through a thick throat.
He leaned around her to examine the baby. “Are you sure? Do either one of you need a doctor? Did the little one inhale smoke?”
“No, we got out in time,” she said. Thanks to John and his quick thinking.
“Can you tell me what happened? Do you know how the fire got started?”
She shivered, swaying back and forth gently to rock Emmie. “We were asleep, and someone must have set it outside.”
His sandy-haired brow shot up. “You think it was arson?”
“Yes,” she said, her teeth gritted. “Chief Wise was at my house because someone has been stalking me, someone who wants to hurt this baby.”
His young face looked shocked but resigned. “I see. I’ll tell the fire inspector to search for an accelerant and trace evidence.”
With a quick adjustment to his fire hat, he strode over to consult with the other firefighters. She paced back and forth, continuing to soothe Emmie as she watched the flames slowly die and the smoke waft upward and fade into a hazy cloud.
Minutes ticked by, rolling into an hour. The firefighters finally extinguished the last of the waning flames. Thankfully they’d managed to contain the fire to the front porch, but the scent of the charred wood filled the air, the black ashes and soot reminding her of how close she and Honey’s daughter had come to dying.
An inspector arrived to sift through the debris, and she continued to pace, hugging Emmie to her as she searched the thicket of trees surrounding her property for John.
A gunshot suddenly blasted the air, and she froze, her heart constricting. Had John fired his gun, or had the man who’d set the fire shot at him?