“We need to get the door open,” Wren shouted, dragging Ella to her feet and pulling her to the balcony door.
The emergency exit.
The one that was blocked.
“The window will be quicker,” Ella responded, the back of her throat tasting like ash and hot coal, her eyes streaming with tears she didn’t have time to wipe away.
Her purse was still over her shoulder, the towel wrapped around the lower part of her face as she ran to the sink and fumbled with the window’s lock.
Her fingers were clumsy, but she finally managed it, shoving it open so that cold air blew in. Somewhere deep inside the house, the fire roared.
She could almost picture it.
Growing bigger. Feeding off the old wood and the dry wallpaper, the pretty couches and lovely throw rugs.
“You think you can get through there?” Wren asked, suddenly at her side, the lower part of her face covered, the upper part smudged with soot.
“Easily.” But she suddenly realized that Wren probably could not. She was tall and willowy, but her shoulders were broad. Even if she could manage to squeeze through, there was no way Sam and Radley could.
Sam.
She’d been trying not to think about him fighting his way through smoke and flames, trying not to think about how it would feel if he didn’t make it out. If she was the reason that he died.
Because this was her fault.
If she hadn’t been asking questions, if she hadn’t been so determined to find the truth, she would have already finished clearing Ruby’s apartment and would be back in Charlotte by now, and Sam would be still be working undercover. Doing a dangerous job, but safer than he was right now.
“Ella!” Wren shouted, shaking her arm. “Did you hear what I said? Get out that window. Now!”
“Let’s try the door instead,” she responded, dodging around Wren and grabbing the door handle. She slammed her shoulder against the door, but it wouldn’t budge.
Someone grabbed her arm, and she whirled around.
“Stop trying to call the shots and help me with this,” she shouted, her voice hoarse.
Only it wasn’t Wren. It was Sam. Standing right in front of her, a wet towel draped around his shoulders, his hair black with soot.
She wanted to throw her arms around him, tell him how relieved she was that he was okay, but he was dragging her back to the sink while Radley and Wren worked on opening the door.
She could barely hear the rhythmic thump of their shoulders hitting the door. She could barely see them, either. The smoke had become thicker, the room dusky with it. Light filtered in the window, tiny bits of debris floating on the chilly breeze.
“Climb out and head down the fire escape. If that’s not functional, dangle and drop. You might break a leg, but you’ll be alive.”
She didn’t move.
She didn’t want to die, but she couldn’t imagine living, knowing that she’d saved herself while three other people perished.
“Do you need help?” Sam asked, as if her exiting through the window was a foregone conclusion.
“I’m not leaving without you,” she responded.
Without all of you was what she’d meant to say.
There was no time to correct the mistake.
Flames jumped through the floor near the kitchen doorway, crawling up the wood trim, and suddenly, she was in Sam’s arms, floating through thick smoke and sooty air.
Up and over the sink, feetfirst out the window.
No warning. No chance to argue.
She was in the kitchen and then she was out, cold air bathing her hot skin as she stumbled backward and fell against the sturdy railing.
There were flames to her left, crawling up the wood siding of the house. Flames below, shooting out the windows.
Flames everywhere except the bright red balcony and the chair that stood beneath it, back beneath the knob, legs pressed up against the bottom of the door.
She yanked it away, and the door flew open, Wren and Radley tumbling out, their eyes wide with shock.
Sam came next, grabbing her hand as he ran past, leading her to the side of the balcony farthest from the flames.
“Good job, Ella,” he said, his voice so hoarse she could barely understand the words. “Now let’s get down from here before the whole house implodes. Where’s the fire escape?”
She pointed to the far railing, and the metal staircase that descended from it. Flames were shooting out from the wall, wrapping the metal with serpentine fingers.
“That’s a no go,” Wren said, suddenly beside them. “We’ll have to go down over the hard way. Quickly, because I think this thing is ready to fall.”
“I’m down,” Radley said, climbing over the railing and lowering himself so he could grab the cement floor. “Lower her to me once I reach the ground.”
He dropped, landing on his feet with fluid grace. “Lower her down! We’re running out of time,” he shouted.
“Your turn, Ella,” Sam said, and she realized that she was the person Radley had been referring to.
She didn’t argue.
She didn’t want to waste time.
Her heart pounded frantically, and she was shaking as she climbed over the side, her fingers tight around the railing.
“It’s going to be okay,” Sam assured her. “I’ll lower you down as far as I can. Radley will catch you as you fall.”
He dropped onto his belly, sliding his arms through the slates in the railing.
“Give me your hands,” he said, and she unfisted her right hand, stretched down to grab his warm palm.
“That’s it,” he encouraged. “Now the other one.”
“Hurry!” Radley yelled, and Ella knew they were running out of time.
She grabbed Sam’s other hand, closed her eyes and let herself fall off the edge of the balcony.
* * *
Ella dangled ten feet above the ground.
Not far, and with Radley ready to break her fall, Sam felt confident she wouldn’t be hurt, but she was clutching his hands in a death grip, her eyes closed as she swayed in the open air.
She was light enough that he could have held her there for hours, but the balcony shook, and he knew they only had seconds to escape.
“Ready?” he yelled over the roar of the fire.
She opened her eyes and looked up at him, the terror in her face unmistakable.
“Yes,” she said, and he knew it was a lie. She wasn’t ready to fall ten feet.
Not many people were, but he wasn’t ready to die, and he wasn’t ready to do it knowing that she was dying, too.
“Good. Ease your grip, and I’ll let go.”
“Right.” One heartbeat of hesitation and her fingers went lax.
He let her go, clambering over the railing as she dropped.
Radley caught her easily, hands around her waist as he lowered her to the ground. Then, he pulled her out of the way, dragging her toward a private dock that jutted out onto the river, far away from the flames and the gutted house.
That was his cue to go, and he glanced at Wren, saw that she’d climbed over the railing, too.
She nodded once, then dropped down, grabbing the cement floor of the balcony and lowering herself over.
Sam followed, dropping to the ground quickly, the sound of sirens and shouting voices carrying over the roar of the fire.
The house trembled, one of the balconies giving way and crashing to the ground.
“Let’s get out of here before falling debris does what the fire didn’t,” Wren said, jogging toward the river.
Sam followed more slowly.
Someone had set that fire.
Sam had smelled the chemical accelerant mixed with the scent of burning wood and electrical wires. He hadn’t smelled it when he’d walked in. He was sure Wren and
Radley hadn’t, either.
They would have retreated if they had.
So someone had entered the house after them, poured the accelerant out near the front door, on the stairs and—based on how quickly the structure had been consumed—probably in half a dozen other places. If Ella hadn’t been able to squeeze through the window, and if she hadn’t found a way to open the door, they’d all be dead.
Two birds with one stone—plus a couple of unintended victims.
It would have been a good day for The Organization.
Now, it was going to be a bad one.
Sam pulled out his cell phone and dialed Adam Whitfield’s number, waiting impatiently for him to pick up.
He did on the fifth ring. “Hello?”
“We’ve run into some trouble. Has Wren contacted you yet?”
“She didn’t have to. I was going to rendezvous with the four of you after I met with the local PD. I was on my way when I saw smoke. I figured you were in the thick of it. Is everyone okay?”
“Yes, but the apartment we were searching is gone.”
“You do know that apartments don’t just disappear, right?”
“Gone, as in up in flames. The entire building is going to collapse.”
“I’m assuming faulty wires didn’t cause the fire.”
“You’re assuming right.”
“What do you need me to do?” He cut to the chase, just like he always did. That was one of the things Sam liked about him. He didn’t waste time, didn’t hesitate.
“Everyone who lived in the apartment building worked for the clinic.”
“That’s convenient.”
“Yeah. Very. Did Wren fill you in on what we were looking for there?”
“Some journals that might have information about Ruby McIntire. She thinks there’s a connection between her death and The Organization.”
“I do, too. I also think it’s interesting that so many clinic employees are living in the same building. It’s not close to the center of town. No way to walk to work or even to bike.”
“Friends hooking friends up with places to stay?” he suggested.
“Maybe, but when I moved here, The Organization set me up in an apartment next door to the clinic. They sent the address, a key and information about how and where to pay rent.”
“So you think that’s how three medical professionals ended up renting apartments in a building that just went up in flames?”
“Four. If you count Ruby.”
“Wren doesn’t believe she was involved with the syndicate.”
“I don’t, either, but I think her death is, and I think there might have been a good reason someone wanted her to rent that particular apartment.”
“What reason?”
“She was a social worker. She led classes for recovering addicts, so she had plenty of contact with people who were disconnected from society and from family.”
“The perfect victims if you’re into human trafficking. Grab someone who won’t be missed, who will never be searched for, and you don’t have to worry about getting caught.”
“Right,” Sam agreed.
“So what do you want me to do?”
“Find out who owns the property. Individual or corporation. Check for ownership of the building my apartment was in, too. If they’re the same, we may have a good lead to pursue.”
“Got it. Anything else?”
“Yeah. Check with the state police. We’re looking for a car with North Carolina tags registered to—”
“Ella McIntire?”
“Right.”
“How long has it been missing?”
“Twenty-four hours. Maybe a little longer.”
“Got it. I’ll be in touch.” He ended the call, and Sam walked across the field of scraggly weeds that separated a lush yard from the river and the dock.
He could see Wren, phone pressed to her ear. Radley was beside her, hands in his pockets, gaze on the crowd of gawkers that had formed a few hundred yards away.
Ella was sitting, her feet dangling over the water.
“Sam!” she shouted, her voice still hoarse, her face stained with layers of soot. She didn’t wait for him to step onto the dock. She jumped up, rushing toward him and throwing her arms around his waist.
He was surprised.
Pleased.
Touched.
“You’re okay!” she said. “I was worried you’d been hurt when you jumped.”
“It wasn’t that far to the ground,” he said, smoothing loose tendrils of hair from her cheeks, not caring that Radley and Wren were watching.
“It sure felt like it to me.” She glanced past him, her hands brushing against his sides as her arms fell away.
He wanted to step close again, pull her back into his arms, but she was looking at the house, watching as the flames consumed what remained of it. “Everything is gone,” she said quietly.
“Not everything. We’re still here.”
She met his eyes and smiled. “True. And I’ve still got my purse. No need to get new ID or bank cards. As far as I’m concerned, that’s a win.”
“Is the journal still in it?” he asked, and she nodded, opening the bag and handing it to him.
“It doesn’t look any worse for wear.” He ran his hand over the leather cover, then opened the book, scanning the first entry, wanting to know a little more about Ruby. Not through the lens of Ella’s love. Through her words, the things she wrote about, what she saw when she looked at the world.
“The book might not, but we all do. I think I’ve got a pound of ash in my hair, and probably double that in my lungs,” Wren commented, striding toward them, her gaze focused on Sam.
She probably wanted an explanation for the hug.
He didn’t have one.
Even if he did, he wouldn’t have offered it. He loved his job, but outside of work, he made his own decisions.
“You do know you’re still working this case,” she said, and he frowned.
She jabbed the book. “You’re still on the case, and we like to process evidence in a certain way. Or have you forgotten that we have protocol to follow? Even out here.”
Surprised, he met her eyes, saw the humor in her gaze.
She’d reminded him of his purpose there, and she obviously planned to leave it at that.
“I didn’t say you could take the book as evidence,” Ella said uneasily. “I’m happy to let you read it, but I’m not willing to have it out of my sight.”
“Understood,” Wren said. “We’ll look through it while you’re around. If there’s anything we want to study further, we’ll make copies.”
“I appreciate it.”
“You know what I’d appreciate?” Radley asked. “Finding the guys who set that fire. And I can guarantee it was more than one person. Look at that place,” he gestured toward the burning building, its roof caved in, flames shooting out its windows. “Several fires had to be set at once for that to happen.”
“The Organization has plenty of people willing to do their dirty work. Whoever it was, however many people, they had to have a key to get in the front door. I locked it before we went up to Ruby’s apartment,” Wren said.
“There’s a back door,” Ella offered, and Wren shook her head.
“It was locked, too. I checked it.”
“That means someone with a key walked in with a friend or two and destroyed a million-dollar building, all in the hope of getting rid of a woman who doesn’t know anything about how The Organization works? That makes no sense.” Radley raked a hand through his hair and a puff of black smoke drifted into the air.
“I’m guessing they’re just as anxious to get rid of me,” Sam said. “I did infiltrate their syndicate and collect data from their computer systems.”
“Or, maybe, our deat
hs would have just been a nice bonus to what they were really trying to accomplish,” Ella said, taking the notebook and slipping it back into her purse.
“You don’t think murder was their goal?” Wren asked, her eyes gleaming with interest. She enjoyed bouncing ideas off team members, and she was always willing to keep an open mind.
“I don’t know. They could have killed me before they tossed me in the shipping crate. They didn’t.”
“I think they planned to move you through their trafficking channels. You’re young. You’re alone. You don’t have many people who would be looking for you. Not right away,” Sam said, remembering his initial impression of her. She’d looked like a kid, and that was exactly what The Organization trafficked in.
“I don’t know how they would have known anything about my life. I’ve asked a lot of questions, but I haven’t answered many.”
“But Ruby liked to talk, right? She was a social butterfly, lots of friends?”
“Yes.”
“Then it’s possible she told people about you. Maybe even shared that you guys were each other’s only family.”
“I can see that happening,” she conceded. “Ruby did love to talk to people, and she had a lot of close friends.”
“You were about to explain why you thought the fire might be more than a murder attempt?” Wren prodded, and Ella nodded.
“I wonder if the police department was more interested in Ruby’s journals than it pretended to be. Maybe there really was some pejorative information in them. Something that only someone who worked for The Organization would recognize.”
“And maybe someone working for the sheriff and The Organization saw the information and wanted to get his hands on the journals? So he broke into Ruby’s apartment after you were kidnapped and took them?” Sam could see that. He could believe it.
But it still didn’t explain the fire.
“Yes. Except I’d put the only important journal in the desk drawer.” She tapped her bag. “This is the one that had numbers in some of the margins and three names jotted inside the back cover. None of the other journals had a smudge outside the lines. Ruby was particular about things. A perfectionist. She liked her world neat and orderly. That’s why I kept going back to that one journal, and it’s why it wasn’t with the others. Ruby hid a message in it. Maybe not purposely, but I know it’s there. I just need to figure out what she was trying to say.”
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