Circle on Home (Lost in a Boom Town Book 5)

by MJ Fredrick

  Chapter Seventeen

  The smoke tickled Noah’s nose and he lifted a hand from around Miranda’s waist to rub at his face. He turned his head a bit to scratch without disturbing her, and the smoke was heavier. What the hell?

  He nudged Miranda awake. “Get dressed.”

  “What? What’s going on?” Her voice was slurred.

  He’d learned over the past week of staying the night that she was slow to wake up, but now he needed her to snap to. “Miranda. Now. Something’s burning.”

  “What?” she asked again, and sat up, holding the sheet to her breasts.

  He was out of bed, pulling on his jeans, trying to find his shoes in the dark. He reached for the bedside lamp, but it didn't flicker. The power was out.

  And the floor was warm.

  “Miranda!” He sharpened his voice. “Dressed! Now! Fire!”

  He waited until he saw her on her feet, struggling with tangled clothes, before he hurried down the hall, his boots on but untied. He pounded on the next door, not remembering whose room it was, Jolie’s or Riley’s.

  “Fire! Wake up! Fire! Gotta get out of here! Wake up!”

  Behind him a door opened, and a wide-eyed Jolie stood there in a long t-shirt and not much else.

  “Fire?”

  “Get dressed and get out. Now. Is Riley here?” He pounded on the door behind him again.

  “Maybe it’s her, baking something.”

  He twisted his head to look at her. “Get. Dressed.” He was aware that Miranda hadn't come out, either. Shouting her name, he headed down the stairs, needing to see where the fire was, if the exit was blocked.

  Flames flicked through the living room windows, along the side of the house and at the front door. Shit. Shit. He pivoted and looked at the back door through the kitchen., which had flames encroaching from the edges of the room. That made no sense. The fire was all around the house?

  “Ladies! We’ve got to go!”

  Miranda appeared at the top of the stairs, cradling her kitten against her shoulder, as the kitten was trying to scramble free. Noah charged up the stairs and took the kitten from her, tugged her hand, vaguely aware of her roommates following.

  The kitchen exit was out of the question, and he hadn't seen how bad the front porch was. If it was too bad, they’d have to go through a window.

  The kitten’s claws penetrated his shoulder as he opened the front door and the flames leapt up. Yeah, not an option. He tightened his grip on the kitten, knowing if she got away, Miranda would run after her. So he let her dig her sharp little claws into his skin and vowed to have them trimmed tomorrow.

  He hurried across the living room to the window and looked out. The flames were below them, but if he broke the window, they could jump across to the safety of the lawn. He peeled the kitten off his shoulder, holding her by the scruff.

  “Like this,” he told Miranda, and when she took the animal, he picked up the end table and smashed the window, then grabbed a pillow from one of the sofas, put it over the broken glass and reached for Miranda, ready to shove her out.

  “You’re going to have to jump away from the house,” he shouted over the roar of the flames. “Can you do that?”

  She hadn't said anything, but only nodded a little frantically.

  HE held the cushion in place as she climbed up, crouching in the opening, one hand over her head to hold her balance. The flames were jumping higher, and the floor and wall were blistering hot. Before he could shout at her to go, she went.

  He watched her fall to the ground, but she was able to grab the kitten before the animal escaped. She rolled onto her back to wave that she was okay, and he handed Riley into the window next. She didn't hesitate, jumped like a pro, landed on her feet, and Jolie was next. She held her purse to her chest and and leaped, screaming as the flames jumped up as if to grab her, and ignited the cushion. With a shout, he flipped the cushion out the window and stepped into the sill, which sagged under his weight, the integrity of the house disintegrating beneath him. As he jumped, he felt the wood crack, and he didn't make the distance.

  Miranda was over him, suddenly, helping to pull him away from the house as pain seared his leg. Jolie beat at the leg of his jeans. He sat up and scooted across the cold wet grass, finally daring to get to his feet with the help of the women, and they stood, staring at the house, surrounded by fire, the porch engulfed, the windows cracked with a sound like a shot.

  “Is everyone okay?” Jolie asked. “Noah, your leg?”

  “Might need some antibiotic cream for the cat scratches,” he said. “Jolie, were you burned?”

  “Maybe a little, but not worse than first degree burns.”

  “The smoke alarms didn't go off,” Riley said. “I know they work because they went off the other night when Miranda was cooking.”

  “What?” Miranda was still half asleep, and leaned into Noah’s shoulder. “They didn't go off? What woke you up, Noah?”

  “The smoke. What took you so long?”

  “Skipper went under the bed and I couldn't get her out, and I wasn't going to leave her there.” She looked up at the house that was creaking and moaning, and she shuddered.

  “We need to move back,” Noah said, herding the women away.

  Sirens sounded at the end of the street. Noah hadn't called the volunteer fire department. Maybe someone else had. In fact, now that he looked around, he saw a lot of the neighbors had come out of their houses and were standing on their own wide porches, watching the fire. The next-door neighbors, the Boysen, hurried down the steps of their porch toward the women, Mrs. Boysen carrying an armful of afghans.

  “Come inside!” Mrs. Boysen urged, handing each young woman a blanket. “It’s too cold out here, and nothing you can do, anyway.”

  The fire trucks were pulling up as Mrs. Boysen helped a coughing Riley pull the afghan snugly around her shoulders.

  “Can we move these cars?” Trace McKenna shouted from the sidewalk, motioning to the three cars in the street and Riley’s in the driveway. Noah had forgotten Trace was part of the VFD.

  “My keys!” Miranda cried, turning back toward the house.

  “I have mine,” Jolie said, opening her purse.

  Noah had his, too, and the two of them hurried off to move their vehicles. When Noah returned, Miranda and Riley were gone. Hoping they’d taken the Boysens up on their offer, he walked up on the porch, buttoning his shirt as he went.

  “Are Miranda and Riley in here?” he asked Mr. Boysen, who answered his knock.

  Mr. Boysen’s eyes were flat. “They are.” He opened the door wider for Jolie, who trotted up the steps behind Noah. “Miranda’s calling her mother.”

  When Noah started to follow Jolie inside, Mr. Boysen closed the door slightly, as if debating whether or not to let him in, before he decided to welcome him.

  Miranda sat by the window closest to her house, her knees drawn up under one afghan, another wrapped around her shoulders, the phone held to her ear. Her hair was a tangled mess, and he could see lines of blood on the side of her neck from the kitten.

  Where was the kitten?

  Riley stood at the window beside her, arms wrapped around herself as she watched the volunteer firefighters battle the blaze that had overtaken the house. Her hair was sticking up all over and her face was streaked with soot. As he watched, another spasm of coughing racked her body.

  “We need to get you looked at,” Jolie said. “Let me take you to the ER.”

  Riley shook her head vehemently. “Not yet.”

  “They’re not going to be able to put it out for a while,” Noah said quietly. “Why don't you go? You got some smoke, and they can treat you.”

  Riley shook her head again, tears streaming. “Everything was in there. Everything.”

  “They’re only things,” Mrs. Boysen said, rubbing a soothing hand over Riley’s back, and Riley burst into tears. The older woman took her into her arms and tried to comfort her.

  Miranda disconnected and han
ded the phone to Jolie, who set it back in the cradle.

  “I don't have anyone to call,” Jolie said.

  “What did your mom say?”

  “She’ll be here as soon as she can,” Miranda said.

  “Where’s the cat?”

  “We have a crate for our dog, so we let the dog out and put the kitten in there,” Mr. Boysen said.

  “She’s not happy,” Miranda said with a sad smile, unfolding her legs and rising to stand beside Noah.

  He pushed her hair over her shoulder and inspected the scratches. “Do you have any antibiotic cream?” he asked Mrs. Boysen. “The kitten was not appreciative of the rescue. He got her pretty good.”

  “I do.” She released Riley reluctantly, gave Mr. Boysen a significant look, and left the room.

  “It sure doesn't look good,” Mr. Boysen said. “You came out through the window?”

  “Both the kitchen and the front door were fully engaged,” Noah said. “We had to think fast.”

  “You thought fast,” Miranda said, leaning into him. “I still can’t think.”

  “You got the kitten,” he pointed out. “I forgot about her.”

  “You got my roommates,” she countered, with a tired smile. She turned back to the window. “I can’t believe it. The whole house is surrounded.”

  Like it was set on purpose, but Noah didn't say it out loud.

  Another knock on the door. Noah felt bad that the Boysens were dealing with this in the middle of the night. He had no idea what time it was.

  Deputy Wyatt Jordan walked through the door, removing his hat and looking at the three miserable women sitting on the couch.

  “Ladies. Anyone hurt?”

  Miranda shook her head as Mrs. Boysen returned with the antibiotic cream and handed it to her.

  “What happened?” Wyatt asked, hat in hand.

  “Sit down, Deputy,” Mr. Boysen offered.

  “Noah woke me up,” Miranda began.

  “I smelled smoke.”

  “So you were spending the night?” Wyatt asked, drawing his notebook out of his pocket.

  “I was.”

  “The smoke woke you? Not the smoke alarm?”

  “No, they didn't go off,” Riley said.

  “I smelled the smoke, too, but it didn't register until I heard Noah shouting in the hall for us to get out,” Jolie said. “We barely had time to dress, didn't have time to grab anything. The lower floor was already burning and we had to go out through the window.”

  “None of you dialed the fire department?”

  “There wasn't time,” Jolie said again. “It’s actually pretty terrifying to think what would have happened if we had just delayed five more minutes.”

  “But we didn’t,” Noah said, his tone calm as he rubbed his hand up and down Miranda’s back.

  Miranda looked up at Wyatt. “Someone set it.”

  “Are you asking or telling?”

  “Someone had to set it, for the fire to be all around the house. It didn't start in the kitchen and spread to the front porch without going through the middle of the house. It had to be arson.”

  “Do you have any idea of someone who might do that? I mean, that’s attempted murder of four people,” Riley said. “I don't have anyone that hates me that much.”

  "I don't, either," Jolie said, alarmed.

  The three women huddled together on the couch, confused.

  "We'll ask the neighbors if they saw anything," Wyatt went on. "Though I doubt they did, since it's two in the morning."

  Before he could say anything else, there was a knock at the door. Again Noah felt bad for the Boysens who were just trying to help. Mr. Boysen came back with Miranda's mother and Allison. Miranda's mother snatched her off the couch and hugged her tight. "Oh, thank God you're all right." She gave Noah a look that conveyed her disgust at seeing him here, but she didn't say anything. "I knew moving out was a bad idea, but you can come home now."

  Miranda looked at the deputy and frowned. "Is that all right?"

  "Yeah." He rose with a sigh and closed his notebook. "Nothing else we can do tonight. May as well try to get some sleep, everyone."

  "Do you girls have a place to stay?" Mrs. Boysen asked.

  "I have a room over the bakery," Riley said. "I kept it for those early mornings, you know?"

  "You really need to go into the ER to see about your lungs," Jolie said. "I can take you." She held up her car keys.

  "I'll be fine." Riley visibly struggled to contain her cough. "If I'm still coughing in the morning, I'll go."

  Miranda turned to Jolie. "Jolie, you come home with us. You can sleep in my room."

  Mrs. Bonner stiffened and Noah wondered if she was going to turn away the invitation, but instead she put her arm around Jolie, too, and after thanking the Boysens profusely for looking after the "girls," she guided them out of the house, a sleepy Allison behind her.

  Once outside, Miranda broke her embrace to turn to Noah.

  "Are you going to be okay to drive home?" she asked, resting her hand on his chest.

  "I'll be fine." He kissed her forehead. "I'll call you tomorrow. Or, later today."

  She gave a rough laugh, which morphed into a cough in the smoke-filled air. "Can't. My phone is in there." She pointed to the house, where the flames were being battled back. "I guess I'll be replacing everything, again."

  "At least you know where the good buys are."

  "UPS man is going to have to learn a new address."

  He brought her hands to his lips and kissed them before kissing her mouth and letting her go back to her mother, who had turned her head away at their display.

  "Thanks for saving our lives," she called to him as she followed her mother to her car.

  "Any time."

  He didn't go back inside the Boysens after Miranda left, and after a few minutes, the lights went off in their house. He remembered too late that the kitten was still in there, but he'd retrieve her in the morning, take care of her until Miranda knew what she was going to do.

  He watched the firefighters work and wondered what the hell had happened. Someone had set fire to the house? Why? To hurt the girls? Or to hurt him? And why hadn't the smoke alarms gone off?

  He wandered over to where Trace stood by the pumper truck, wiping soot from his face.

  "Total loss," Trace said without Noah asking. "It speaks volumes for the construction of the day that the part of the house over the kitchen hasn’t collapsed."

  "The alarms didn't go off."

  "That's what Wyatt said. What the hell?"

  "I wish I knew. Damn, Trace, when I think what might have happened." He dropped to the curb and wrapped his hands around the back of his neck. If he hadn't been there, he girls could have died–a few more minutes and the smoke might have made them too weak to escape, too weak to reason the safest way out of the house. And if he'd died? What would become of Selena?

  "Go home, man. Get some sleep. You've been a hero tonight." Trace clapped his shoulder and went back to work.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Miranda woke on the couch when her mother tiptoed through the living room on the way to the kitchen. A moment passed before the events of the night before came flooding back.

  "Mom?"

  "Go back to sleep, sweetheart. I was just checking on you."

  "What time is it?" She looked toward the window, but the curtains were drawn and it was hard to see anything.

  "It's after nine. Are you hungry?"

  They'd gotten home and settled before four. She hoped Jolie was having better sleep in Miranda’s old bed.

  Miranda pushed herself off the couch. "I could eat." She followed her mother to the kitchen on unsteady legs.

  "It's a sign you should move back here," her mother said as she started the coffee.

  Not this argument again. She was too tired. And the last thing she wanted was to live with her mom after making a home of her own. ”I’ll have to, for a bit. I don't know if there will be a lot of choice
s to rent, and I don't have the money just now anyway."

  "Are you insured?"

  "I am. I don't know about Jolie and Riley."

  "And Noah? Is he living there, too?"

  Miranda was actually surprised her mother hadn't posed this question last night. "No. Just spending the night."

  Her mother's jaw tightened. "And now the entire town will know it."

  Her mother had been fine with Miranda living with Damian. Miranda hated to think it was because of Noah. More likely, her mother let it slide because the neighbors didn't know. “I don't think it was much of a leap. Everyone knows we've been seeing each other again."

  "Yes, but to see him coming out of your house in the middle of the night..."

  "When his truck has been parked in front for the past week? Again. Not much of a leap. Or a big deal."

  Her mother turned to her. "Not a big deal? Don't you see what happened? Who in this town do you know who would start a fire? Who has been in prison? His father, that's who."

  Miranda's blood chilled. "What reason would he have to set fire to a house of three women he doesn’t even know? That’s a serious accusation, Mother.”

  "He knows you."

  "Not really. He knows of me. And again, why would he set fire to the house? He has no motive."

  "Hate needs no motive, and he does have a history of violence against his wife.”

  “And no history of arson. Mom. Don't go telling everyone that Rey Braun set this fire. You know he didn't. He had no reason to."

  "Who does, then?"

  That was a question Miranda had fallen asleep pondering. That Damian was one of the first names to pop in her mind scared the hell out of her. "I don't know. I don't know if Riley and Jolie could have pissed off someone, maybe an ex-boyfriend."

  Her mother shook her head. "Enough that he'd try to kill all of you? I don't think so."

  Miranda didn't, either. But she didn't know what else to think.

  A knock at the front door surprised Miranda into looking at the clock over the back door. After nine, though, God, it felt earlier after a restless night. She crossed to the door, and saw Noah’s dark head in the window at the top of the door.