Runaway Witness
Page 18
A gust of wind sent leaves scuttling across his windshield and snapped him out of his reverie. He figured he might have strayed onto private property, but he had seen no sign and there hadn’t been a fence barring the way. He wasn’t there to make trouble, just to lay eyes on the place. In his rare imaginative moments, Sergio sometimes fancied himself a spider, so intricate was the web he’d spun, the feelers he’d put into place to solve the mystery of Fiona’s murder.
Those feelers had begun to vibrate when he’d learned that Helen Pike had gone to the cops with a note she’d found from Fiona.
Trish. Proof.
Find out who still has theirs.
It meant nothing to him. Was Helen making something up in her mind? Imagining a connection between what happened to Trish all those years ago and his sister? Maybe Helen’s own guilt had finally gotten the better of her. He felt no pity. She should have listened to Fiona, gone with her on whatever crazy investigation she’d hinted at in her last message to him.
Sorry I missed your call, Serg. Going to talk to Helen about something that’s bothering me. She’ll help me. Some help. Helen admitted to him that she’d put Fiona off, busy with her duties managing her fancy hotel. Helen’s tear-washed jade eyes had not cooled his ire one bit. His sister was gone, his nieces left orphaned with only a hard-bitten, desperate uncle to care for them.
He had a fleeting thought that he hadn’t reminded Laurel and Lucy to brush their teeth. Yet another thing he’d have to hope the nanny followed through on.
You’re a sad excuse for a parent, Serg.
A cottage came into view that had to be the one he sought. Parked outside was a van with Roughwater Lodge emblazoned on the side. As he opened the car door, his nose picked up the clue before his brain did.
Smoke.
A fire in the fireplace?
Yet the cottage was dark.
Not completely dark. There was a flicker of orange like a monarch flitting against the front window.
Not a monarch, his brain finally supplied.
A flame.
The cottage was burning. His leather boots hit the ground with a smack as he barreled out of the SUV and shoved through the front door.
“Hey,” he yelled. “Anybody in here?”
No answer. The curtains in the shabby front room were on fire, a lighter still lit on the floor, one of those fancy numbers that kept burning until it was switched off. The flames had not yet started to devour the rest of the room. Smoke filtered through the air, mingling with the darkness, so he did not notice at first.
As he lurched toward the curtains to pull them down and stomp out the flames, his boot impacted something soft. No, not something...someone!
Copyright © 2020 by Dana Mentink
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ISBN: 9781488060939
Runaway Witness
Copyright © 2020 by Mags Storey
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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