by Laura Scott
As they approached, the laughter and conversation died down and a mixture of contempt, confusion and annoyance crossed their expressions.
“Hello again,” Colt said. “Enjoying lunch?”
“We are,” Coach Flanigan said. “Y’all?”
“Definitely. Hey, curious. Which one of y’all owns 4214 Pine Road?”
Coach’s eyebrows lifted, Sunny stared at his plate and Terry Helms laughed. “Property ownership is public record, Colt. Not very good investigator skills going for you there.”
Colt’s jaw ticked. “See, the thing is one of you are hiding behind James Kreger. Just wondering which one of you it is.”
“Financials are a little more difficult to crack into,” Terry said over the rim of his sweet tea.
“And you’d know,” Georgia blurted. His verbal swing at Colt fired her up. “You are the bank president. I imagine if we dug hard enough, we’d see that the land was purchased with a loan at your bank. You’re a booster. You have everything to lose, Terry, if we find out you’ve been committing fraud and funneling money and false loans through dummy names. You’d be out a job and that nice big house, speed boats—plural—great cars and all the time you spend at the country club are going to fade away.”
Well, she hadn’t meant to go that far. She dared a peek at Colt. The big vein in his neck was protruding.
Terry’s smug smile faded, and a heavy dose of fear filmed his gray eyes. Good. It was high time someone other than Georgia felt afraid. “And if we find out you killed Jared and Dandy and attempted to murder me—you’ll spend the rest of your life in a prison cell. Not a country club.”
“Whoa, now.” He raised his palms in surrender. “I didn’t kill or try to kill anyone.”
“But you are involved in illegal recruiting.”
Colt pinched the bridge of his nose. She was stopping. Right now.
“I’m not,” he insisted. “So I suggest you lower your voice and stop making accusations, Miss Maxwell. Or the only one who’s going to regret it is you, when I sue you for defamation of character.”
Colt stepped in front of Georgia. “I suggest you watch your threat, Mr. Helms. And we’ll be seein’ you. All of you.” He placed his hand firmly on Georgia’s lower back and all but shoved her out the front door.
Outside, he threw his hands in the air. “Georgia. Did we not just talk about how to approach those men?”
“He hit you below the belt, Colt. All the fear...it turned to anger and I lost it. I’m sorry.”
“Are you?”
“Mostly.” She tried a smile, but it didn’t hit its mark.
Colt scowled and massaged the back of his neck. “Quit worrying about me. I can take care of myself. If you can’t follow my lead, I’m taking you off the case as a consultant. This isn’t an episode of Castle.”
“I kicked a beehive. Again. I really am sorry.”
Colt glanced toward the restaurant. “I hate how it went down, but sometimes you have to be willing to feel the sting to disable the bee and taste the honey. But no more kicks and stings, Georgia. I’m serious.”
The team met them outside. “Well, you sure broke up that good ole time in there,” Poppy said. “Maybe you scared them enough that they’ll make a mistake or give themselves away.”
“Or come after Georgia again,” Colt said as he jumped in his truck’s driver’s seat. “If one of them is the killer.”
“You say that as if there might be more than one someone.” Georgia buckled up.
“I think we have one killer and a handful of potential ones. There are entirely too many folks trying to keep secrets buried. So any one of them may be your attacker.”
She’d never thought of someone other than Jared’s killer coming after her. Had she messed with an illegal recruiting cash cow, or had she opened up another can of worms? She didn’t even want to ask the worst thing that could happen, because she was not okay with the results.
* * *
Georgia blinked awake, groggy. She’d been dreaming she was nestled next to a bonfire, roasting hot dogs, then the smoke plumed heavy and she couldn’t escape it. Even now it permeated her senses.
Yesterday afternoon and well into the evening, they’d dug into James Kreger. Was he a real person or a fictitious buyer who had purchased the land? Someone had ponied up twenty-five grand to purchase that property. Had Terry Helms skimmed the money from the bank? Taken out a fake loan somehow? It wouldn’t have been too hard to pull off as bank president.
They didn’t have enough for a warrant. Yet. But Mae and Rhett were working on it while Poppy tried to poke holes in families and get them to talk. Harry Benard was dead, so if he was the threat keeping them quiet, what did they have to fear? Nothing. Which meant he wasn’t the threat.
Man, it really did smell like bonfire smoke. So...real.
A warning struck her sleepy thoughts, and she bolted upright.
Orange flames flickered against the window.
Her house was on fire!
TEN
Georgia’s heart lurched into her throat as she bolted from the bed to the door. Colt burst inside as she reached for the knob.
“The house is on fire! Let’s go,” he bellowed and grabbed her hand. Smoke had enveloped the staircase, blinding them. Georgia tripped on the stairs and clung to Colt. When they reached the living room, she bumped into furniture, stubbing her toes and nailing her shins. Sooty air coated her throat and forced coughing. “Down low,” Colt said through his own wheezing.
Wood cracked and popped.
A rafter beam groaned then collapsed to the living room floor with a thundering crash. Embers lit the couch ablaze. Georgia fought inside her own skin to get out. Everything was closing in, and it felt like being cooked on broil in a dark oven.
Her lungs squeezed, and she panted and longed for fresh air.
Colt grabbed a blanket from a basket that had yet to be ravaged and draped Georgia as they slithered on their bellies. “Where do we go?” she cried. What if Colt couldn’t find a way out? What if he burned alive and she had to watch and hear his screams?
Flames licked up the sides of the house and the ceiling, daring them to escape its scorching anger. It had reached around her entire home like a garrison holding them hostage. Someone must have saturated every inch of her place with gasoline before lighting the match.
Charred wood fell sporadically. It was like playing a game of dodgeball, only instead of being nailed with rubber they’d end up impaled and burned alive.
Colt shielded Georgia. But who was going to shield him?
“Hang on to my shirt or pant leg so we don’t get separated. Let’s try the other guest room,” he said as he led the way on his stomach. “Maybe the back of the house isn’t as bad.”
If it had been equally engulfed, she and Colt were doomed.
Sweat poured from her face and down her back. This must be what eternity apart from God felt like. Fire and brimstone. So hot she could barely breathe. Her eyes watered and burned. Georgia crawled blind, unable to detect direction. How on earth was Colt able to lead them?
The house hissed and roared like a fire-breathing dragon. Colt had been using the neck of his shirt as a mask, but it didn’t ease his hacks and coughs. Georgia’s head went fuzzy. The ravenous fire ate up the oxygen with insatiable greed.
Colt ripped the blankets off the twin-size daybed and jerked the mattress from the springs, then shoved it in the door frame, buying them a few moments of time to try to get out the window—flames already swallowed the holly bushes underneath.
Georgia couldn’t swallow. Couldn’t move.
“I’m going to wrap you in the blankets and toss you out, Georgia. It’s your only hope.” Colt’s voice shook with urgency and dread.
“And what about you? I can’t leave you!” She trembled from head to toe as she strained through sti
nging eyes to see his sooty, sweaty face. A face she’d loved so much. What if he didn’t make it out? What if he was burned to ash? What if he passed out from inhaling the smoke before escaping? Her entire body convulsed with terror, and panic ate at the edges of her synapses.
“I’ll be right behind you. Promise.” He wrapped her in a knit blanket until she felt mummified, then he double coated her with a thick wedding quilt—even her face had been cocooned, leaving her in utter darkness.
Do not panic. You are safe. God is your shield. Your protector. Your rescuer. He walks with you through fire. He’ll walk with Colt, too.
“It’ll give you some cushion, but I can’t promise you won’t feel a few bumps. I’m gonna toss you away from the fire. Clench your teeth to keep from biting your tongue.”
She nodded in the thick covering to let him know she’d obeyed and was ready, but her heart was about to beat out of her chest, and she was as far from ready as one person could be.
“We have to move fast,” he said. “Now.” He lifted her into his arms and swung her like a baby. “God, help us. Direct her landing and keep her safe inside the blanket. Like when You were in the fiery furnace—don’t let a single flame touch her!”
Then she was flying.
Whooshing.
Hissing.
Popping.
Her body met the ground with a thud that reverberated through every bone, but nothing appeared broken. Were the flames nearby? Coming for her? She couldn’t see!
Her fingers and toes tingled as a panic attack revealed its reckoning. Her insides felt like a bull bucking to get out of the stall. She thrashed and rolled, fighting for freedom from the blanket and quilt.
A piercing cry broke through the atmosphere.
Colt! Oh, God, let him be okay. But the sound was tormented. Had he succumbed to the flames?
She shoved and pushed until she unfolded from the blankets, her pulse pounding in her temple, and then she spotted Colt rolling on the ground, his blanket on fire.
Utter shock slammed into her, but she quickly grabbed her quilt and ran for him. No. No! She beat out the flames with the quilt before it engulfed him, then dropped to her knees, shaking uncontrollably.
“Colt! Are you burned? Injured?” She touched his sweaty, blackened face. He coughed.
“I’m okay,” he groaned, but his scrunched face revealed the pain. “My ankle... I burned my ankle, but I’m fine. Are you?” He pulled to his feet, favoring his right foot over his burned left foot. “Let’s go. Too much smoke,” he said as he coughed.
Colt had almost died. He was badly burned—worse than he was letting on. She was losing breath. Losing her mind. A full-blown panic attack came on and sank her to the ground.
“Oh, Georgia. Hey. Hey,” Colt said and forced her to look at him. “Breathe. You gotta breathe.” But she couldn’t. Colt had been injured. Twice. And her fear and distress proved she cared more about him than she ever meant to. Ever intended to.
“We have to get to the woods. To fresh air. Look at me and breathe.”
She turned away from him and watched in horror as the raging inferno consumed her home. It groaned and protested as it fell to ash, and inside Georgia mourned with it. Where would she go now that her sanctuary was destroyed? A monster had burned her out and isolated her. She’d faked bravado, then gotten indignant and angry over Colt, and one of those men had settled the score. Everything was burned to the ground.
A wintry chill swept over her fevered skin as it dawned on her that the killer had taken enough reckless chances by shooting her inside her home. Now he’d forced her to leave, which gave him more opportunities to kill her in other places.
“Georgia, look at me. Not the house. Look at me.” He patted her cheeks and forced her to peer into his eyes, surrounded by dirt and soot and sweat. “Breathe.”
She was no help to anyone in this state. But it was out of her control. Colt prayed, stroking her filthy hair and rocking her in his lap, his bad leg sticking out while she fell to a heap against him. At least her dogs were unharmed.
He kissed her forehead and coughed again. “We need help,” he said through a strained voice. “You work on breathing.” Colt called 911 and his team.
Georgia had lost track of time, but sirens sounded in the distance. The cold case unit arrived, running alongside the paramedics. Firefighters went to work dousing the fire to contain it, but her house was lost.
She was peppered with questions, medical care, oxygen masks. Surrounded by law enforcement and first responders. Everything moved like a whirlwind. And all she could imagine was Colt dying in that fire. He hadn’t just risked his life for Georgia—he’d have done this for anyone—strangers. It was his job. He’d chosen this.
“There’s a search going on now for evidence or the perpetrator,” Rhett said. “If he’s in these woods somewhere, we’ll find him.”
Colt shoved the oxygen mask from his face. “Let’s get to work.”
“Let’s make sure you’re cleared to go,” Poppy added, and the paramedic frowned and shoved the mask back on Colt’s face.
“You’re not,” the paramedic said.
Georgia sat, stunned. Colt laced his fingers with hers and squeezed. She peered into his compassionate eyes and saw the flicker of emotion that had also been burning since his earlier kiss—a kiss that had cracked open places she purposely kept sealed. It begged for her to swing it open wide. To stop fighting tooth and nail to avoid it. For a moment, she had given in and believed she might be able to do that. Wanted to or she’d never have allowed that kiss.
But it was reasons like this—like him being shot—that she kept herself locked tight. To avoid these triggers and keep this kind of torment at bay.
He’d been burned and could have been injured further or even died.
This was all too much. Her mind replayed what had happened and what could have happened and might happen over and again.
It all ended with Colt dying and her losing her mind.
God, help me. Heal me!
“My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness. Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me.”
Second Corinthians 12:9 once again saturated her heart. It had been God alone getting her through these trials. Literally through the fire.
And they had made it out alive. God had used Colt to spare them.
“Georgia, talk to me,” Colt said.
“I’m so glad you had a good throwing arm and played football in high school,” Georgia breathed, using dry humor to help her cope.
“Me too. I could have thrown you straight into the wall or worse—the fire.” Colt winced as they examined his burns. Puckers of red flesh covered his ankle and some of his shin. “I’m sorry. I should have stayed awake. I would have realized we were in trouble sooner.”
“Colt, you’re a human being. You have to sleep. Do not blame yourself.”
“We’ve cleaned the wounds, but you need to see a doctor,” the EMT interrupted.
“I don’t want to see a doctor.”
The paramedic frowned. “You want it to get infected and end up in the hospital for days instead? Okay. Sounds good to me.” Her sarcasm landed with a one-two punch. Colt’s lips turned south.
“Fine.”
She looked at Georgia. “Both of you to the hospital.”
“I’m—”
“Happy to go,” Colt offered. “Fair is fair, Georgia Jane.”
“Fine.”
At the hospital she was treated for a few minor abrasions and to make sure her oxygen levels stayed normal before they released her. Colt entered her curtained room on a crutch. His face was still sooty and streaked. Ash littered his hair, and he reeked of smoke. She no doubt mirrored his appearance and scent.
“Well, aren’t we
a pair for sore eyes,” she said.
“My eyes are sore. And I lost a contact, so I can only see clearly out of my left eye. I feel like Popeye, but closing my right is the only way I can actually see anything.”
She laughed as he hobbled to the hospital bed and perched beside her, leaning his crutches against the wall.
“At least I always keep a spare pair of contacts in my travel bag. Which happens to be in my truck and not your house. Bright side.”
They were alive. Bright side. For now. “I hate that the pain you’re experiencing is all because of my big mouth.”
With one eye in a consistent wink, he grinned. “While I agree you have a big mouth, this is going down because someone killed Jared Toledo.” He ran his fingers through her gritty hair. “I don’t know if I’ve ever been more terrified. I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to get you out.”
“I was afraid you wouldn’t be able to get you out.”
“Don’t worry about me. This is what I signed up for. I’m happy you’re safe.”
His job.
Safe for now. But no home. She breathed deep. In and out. The worst that could happen is she would live with Susan or Amber awhile or in the back room at the newspaper. She could live with that. Except until the danger passed, she couldn’t afford to risk their lives.
“We have to talk about what to do next, Georgia.”
“I know.” He was going to put her in the motel like he originally wanted.
“First off, you need to bunk with Mae and Poppy at the Magnolia Motel.” A dozen years hadn’t spared her from knowing him so well.
“They can protect you. Right now, we need to see the Wilcox family. If Jared took the SD card out of his camera, then it might be in his old belongings. If not, then where is it? Did someone else know about it and take it? That brings me to Alice Parker. She might have had motive and she had access to the car while Jared and Chance were inside Rascal’s.”
Georgia agreed—it was better to work on the case than worry herself sick over Colt. But she couldn’t control it. Worry was the name of the game at the moment—and the loser lost their life.