The small barn had been built too close. When the ranch had been expanded in the fifties or sixties that barn…had just been too close. Especially with the cluster of trees Clint had been meaning to cut down when he had time.
Two of the trees were already engulfed.
Clint had been meaning to tear that shed down for months, but hadn’t had the time. He’d been so focused on getting the house ready for Maggie and the babies…
It had been far too close to the house.
It had been burning for a long while.
There were burning branches from the trees on the porch of his house. A large one had fallen onto the boards he and Rex had unloaded just the day before. He’d been meaning to redo the back end of the porch to make it safe for Violet to have a place to play while Maggie swung in the porch swing.
Tinder.
That was all it had taken. They’d just laid there and burned.
Burning for hours.
If the dog hadn’t barked…
Movement to his left caught his attention.
That’s when he saw it pulling out from behind the tree line—that same dark orange truck he’d seen the night of the prowler.
Every instinct he had flared, told him to get in his own truck and chase the son of a bitch down. To beat the answers out of him.
What was that son of a bitch hoping to accomplish setting a house on fire where a pregnant woman and a baby had been inside?
Rage unlike any he’d ever felt flooded him.
Now he understood how a good man could be driven to kill.
The only thing stopping him from doing just that, chasing that bastard down, was the woman crying in his arms. The baby terrified, held between them.
His family needed him now. But he was going to find that bastard and make him pay for this.
First chance he got.
40
Maggie stood in the cold, as the lights of red and blue shot everywhere around her, reflecting off the light snow falling around them. As the sounds and yells flooded her ears.
The scent of smoke flooded her lungs.
Fire.
Almost everything Clint had built was in that house.
A strong arm went around her. Violet was terrified; Clint held the baby tightly. His other arm was curved around her once-waist. His fingers were splayed over their son. Holding them all close.
He’d found rope in the back of his truck bed and looped it through Kody’s collar. Holding the dog close, too.
She curled into him as the volunteer firefighters—including two of her own brothers—worked to keep the blaze contained to just the house. Clint lived too far away from town for the fire department to have ever had a chance of getting there in time to save the house.
That house had been in Clint’s family for more than one hundred and forty years.
Now they just fought to save the rest of the barns. So that it didn't destroy anything else.
Someone had done this. Deliberately.
With her, Clint, and the baby inside. She shivered and shook, fighting the urge to vomit. They hadn't cared.
The man she knew—but couldn’t identify.
Whoever had done this hadn’t cared that there had been human beings inside. An innocent little girl.
It was as simple as that.
Just like the man before who had nearly killed her and sent her running to Texas. Whoever could start a fire in a house with a baby—they did not care who they hurt.
For a moment she wished she was back down in Finley Creek now. Wished she was so far away that this couldn't have happened to her. To Violet.
Tears covered her cheeks.
The house was gone. Clint had lost everything in that house. All the memories of Violet as a newborn. All the memories he had of Amy. Everything he'd saved of Amy’s for Violet.
That little baby hadn't deserved to lose the last connection to the mother she'd never know. Violet had already lost so much. Maggie turned toward Violet, reaching again. "Give her to me. Right now. Please. I need to hold her, Clint.”
She just needed to hold Violet, to know she was safe. Just for a moment.
Maggie didn't know if he'd heard her. It was so loud, the sounds of men fighting the fire.
Her hands reached.
He passed her the baby without hesitation.
Then his strong arms were around them both and he was holding her as tightly as possible.
Maggie buried her face in his strong chest and just tried to forget what was going on around her.
To forget the nightmares again.
41
This wasn’t what Jasper had intended to do. But he’d gotten into those boxes and found dozens, hundreds, of case files. Disks and flash drives had abounded. Jasper had found three bloodied scarves, just in photographs alone. He had quietly and carefully tried searching all of the boxes in the shed, after using the signal jammer again. Just to be safe.
He’d cut the telephone wire and internet cable, too. Just in case there was a landline, still.
It had been horrible. There had been far too much to ever have hoped to find what he was looking for. Even if he’d had hours to search.
Clive had been leading him on a merry little game, telling him to search here. No doubt the other man had gotten a laugh at Jasper’s expense.
It would be something Clive would enjoy doing. Especially if he was bored and it gave him a bit of a power trip.
Jasper hadn’t had any other option.
There was no way he’d have been able to find what he was looking for in there. He’d had no choice but to destroy it all, in hopes that what he was after would be caught in the blaze.
He’d torched the shed easily enough, with fuel he’d found in a lawn mower out back. Just that easy, after he’d put a cinderblock against the dog door around back. Just to keep the big dog inside.
The last thing he had ever expected to happen was the roof of Clint’s actual house catching fire after the trees. The barn was old, it had been saturated from a Wyoming winter, even though the sun had been out for a few days now. The house…had just been too close. He hadn’t been able to stop it from happening.
Not really.
There had been nothing he could do to stop it. Once he’d realized it was igniting, he had known…There had been nothing to be done.
Jasper couldn’t just take off, not without knowing Gunderson and his family were safely outside.
He might have been a real bastard, but he wasn’t a murderer. Especially of a pregnant woman and a toddler. He’d known Maggie since she’d been in preschool. He couldn’t let her burn like that.
All he could think to do was throw a damned landscaping brick through the window to get Gunderson’s dog going.
He’d stuck around long enough to make sure Clive’s son had gotten her out.
If Clint tracked down who owned this old truck, Jasper would be in a heap of trouble.
It was still registered to Jasper’s father-in-law, after all.
But it had been dark, he’d been too far from the house for easy visibility, and he’d obscured the license plate with electrician’s tape to alter the number. It was as good as he was going to get.
He’d hide the truck on the old place, and make certain he was seen in town in his own newer SUV.
Jasper still wore the fake facial hair and wig. Had still worn gloves.
He was safe.
For now.
And hopefully…hopefully the evidence was destroyed now. That was one part of his problem eliminated.
Now he had to move on. Find out who was stalking his daughters. Stalking him.
He consoled himself on the drive home with the fact that Clint Gunderson had two or three more properties to choose from. All were reasonably livable.
The boy and his family would have a roof over their heads within hours.
They wouldn’t be out in the streets, even if the Tylers would have ever let that happen.
No. Jasper hadn’t done tha
t much harm at all.
Especially if it meant keeping his children safe.
Everything came at a cost, after all.
One just had to be prepared to pay it.
42
Rex cursed as he came up on the destruction. This...son of a bitch...this hadn't been necessary. He ignored the rescue and fire and WHP personnel on scene and kept looking until he found the people he wanted to see.
There they were.
All three of them.
Rex jogged up to Clint's side. The other man jerked a nod at him. Maggie was crying in his arms, the baby held tightly between them. Violet was wailing, too.
Rex’s anger boiled. This family hadn't deserved this.
The radio had been abuzz—an arson fire.
Arson, at Clint Gunderson’s ranch.
Rex looked at the flames as they destroyed what his friend had been working to build for years. What had been in Clint’s family for a century and a half.
He knew the other man’s dreams for the place. They’d discussed them before. Clint had wanted to build a place his children could be proud of. Rex understood that.
He flinched. Rex had hung drywall in that house himself. Had painted until sweat was rolling down his back and he was vowing never to agree to help Clint again. But he would have; all the other man would have had to do was ask.
The house was destroyed. There would be nothing left of it but ash.
Maggie was safe. Violet was safe. The baby they were expecting was safe. Even the damned dog was pressed against Clint's leg, terrified of the chaos, but safe.
Rex saw some of his own people working the perimeter. He jerked his head at Melvin Scanlon, one of the supervisors under him.
Rex trusted the guy to know what he was doing. "What's the situation?"
"Just getting started. Gunderson reports the dog started barking and it woke him. He realized what was going on and the smoke alarms started going off—he was able to get his wife and baby outside. In time to see an orange truck pulling out of his drive. Fire started in the nearest barn, as far as we can tell. No signs of what started it yet, but we figure it jumped to the wooden boards on the back porch from the trees, there. Gunderson had the boards drying out under the awning for repairs next week. Or so he says.”
Rex didn't correct him on Maggie's status. As far as he was concerned, she was as good as Clint's wife already. “He did. I helped him unload the damned things a day ago. It was my idea to put them there.”
"Everything filters through me."
43
Her brothers Chandler and Reese were two of the volunteers. The MCVFD did what they could, but Clint knew the truth. His house was gone. Everything in it would be nothing more than ash.
He had digital photos of Amy, saved in the cloud. Digital photos of Violet as a baby, with both him and Maggie. He’d even scanned some of his mother’s family and his birth father’s, and important documents.
He hadn’t lost every tie to the past.
But that wasn’t important to him now.
What was important was the woman and two kids he loved with every breath he took.
Maggie was shivering, snow falling all around her. Someone—he suspected it was Rex—had found her a blanket somewhere and had wrapped her in it.
Clint swore.
He wanted to stay, see this through. But his family had to take priority. He looked at Rex. “She’s freezing out here. They both are.”
He’d only grabbed the baby the one blanket Violet had already been wrapped in.
“Put your family in my SUV, Clint. I’ll take you into town.”
Clint nodded. He should drive his truck. He looked for it.
A fire engine blocked him in. “The inn. We’ll stay there for a few days. Until I can regroup.”
“We can talk there.”
Maggie let him lead her docilely away. She hadn’t said anything since she’d wanted to hold Violet.
She’d turned in on herself, was consumed with the baby. Protecting Violet from the trauma of the night.
He was going to do no less with her. “Help me get her somewhere safe, Rex. Help me protect them. That’s all I ask.”
“I’ll do that.”
“Nothing else here matters. Not really. I say let it burn. All I care about is her, and our children. I just need to get her out of here.”
“I understand. Let’s do just that.”
Clint looked around.
Maggie’s borrowed SUV was the closest, but it was blocked by patrol cars. “There will be a spare diaper bag in Marin’s SUV. It’ll be unlocked. The locks are broken on it. Grab it, will you? I’m getting my family out of here.”
44
Madam Zelda was waiting on the porch steps when Rex pulled to a stop in front of the hotel over two hours later.
Of course. It was going to be that woman everywhere he turned. Just his luck.
She was dressed in daring purple silk pajamas that looked like they came straight from the 1920s, and were practically cut to her navel. Hints of feminine flesh taunted him.
If he hadn’t been so damned tired, he’d have looked. Rex would admit that.
She seemed to favor that era in her odd-ball clothing choices. Probably spent hours online shopping for them—or hitting thrift stores. Looking for just the right cut and material to make a man’s hands itch to touch. To see if she was as soft as that silk looked.
Damn the witch.
Maggie had fallen asleep ten minutes into the drive. Clint handed Rex the diaper bag that had been in the back of Marin's SUV, along with the car seat that Rex had moved over to his own SUV himself, then swung the baby out into Rex's arms.
She snuffled and put her tiny head on his shoulder. She hadn't lasted half as long as Maggie. He patted the little back until she fell asleep again.
Rex met the crazy woman on the inn's large front porch. "Who called you?"
The last thing Clint needed was this going around like crazy already. The man couldn’t catch a break
lately.
Hell, if he was Clint, he’d say screw it, pack his woman and baby up, grab the damned dog, sell what properties he owned, and take her somewhere else to live.
Put Masterson County behind them.
But her being a Tyler—that wasn’t likely to happen. Not as attached to each other those Tylers were.
It was up to Rex to help his friend make it as safe a place for her as he possibly could.
"No one called me, Commander.” The witch took the diaper bag from him quietly. Her cheeks were pale in the porch light. There was worry—and fear—in the big blue eyes. "I woke a few minutes ago and knew someone would be needed. We have a night clerk, but I'm going to take them in through the family entrance. I'm not registering them in. As far as our records will show, they were never here."
"How in the hell did you know something was happening?" The woman had to have spies everywhere. That was the only explanation he could find.
"Don't worry, commander, you don't have a leak in your precious department. I just woke up and knew someone would need me tonight. Would need a place to stay. It was just a feeling. That’s all it ever is."
There was a look in her eyes that told him one thing—she was lying to him right now.
"That's bullshit, and we both know it." He didn’t believe in that, and he never would.
"Is it? You're standing right here now, aren't you?" She shot him a pointed look out of those damned blue eyes of hers.
Rex would admit it, the woman got under his skin. Fast.
If she wasn't as cooky as a cookoo clock, he'd think she was one of the hottest women he'd ever seen. But he'd never thought batshit crazy was a turn on.
Rex just grunted at her.
He carried the baby inside as Clint led a drowsy Maggie up the back walkway.
Madam Zelda went to her friend's side and hugged her quickly. She was older than Maggie, he thought, by a few years. Very protective.
Loyal. He had to give her that,
she was extremely loyal.
Right before his eyes she efficiently got them up the back stairs and into a room in the family wing. He hadn’t even realized there was a “family” wing in the place.
Rex just followed, listening as she talked. "It's Miranda's suite. She's not going to be back in town for a few months. There's a private bath there through that door. If she won't let you in the bed with her yet, Clint, that sofa pulls out into a sleeper. Extra blankets are in the far closet. I'll bring breakfast up later, whenever you are ready. I know you'll want to avoid people for a few hours. Until you get your bearings."
Clint just nodded. Maggie had already sank into the bed, still dressed in her smoke-scented clothes.
Hell, they were probably all the poor woman had.
Clint wouldn't have had any more than that, either.
Nor would the baby. Shit. Everyone knew babies needed things. Things Rex couldn’t even begin to think about. They’d lost everything for Violet, and had another baby coming—they’d need supplies. Fast.
"Hell, Gunderson. I'm going to run to the damned store. Grab you all something to wear tomorrow." He'd never bought maternity clothes before. He had no idea. “Get some diapers and things, too.”
"I'll go with you," Madam Zelda said, so firmly he didn’t argue. "You'll need help getting everything they’ll need. Clint, Dusty is the only one who knows you three are here, other than me. If you need anything, hit number seven on that phone. It'll dial her phone directly.”
The last thing Rex wanted was to spend even one more minute with the woman, but Clint had his hands full. The man was rocking his daughter, while standing over his pregnant woman. After losing his damned home because of arson. The man had taken enough abuse for one night.
Anger was just below the surface. Rex clamped it down. Now wasn't the time.
He'd put a car out in Masterson tonight. Of deputies he somewhat trusted. Other than standing guard over them himself, there was nothing else he could do. Except help them get started on tomorrow. "Come on, then. Let's get going. It's an hour drive."
Facing the Fire Page 15