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Then she headed to Paul Quaid and knelt across from Jeremy beside him. The guy was moaning and moving his head back and forth very slightly.
“This wasn’t an accident, Jere,” she said softly, and she ran a soothing hand over the victim’s cheek. “Somebody dragged him into the cabin, already unconscious. See his head?”
“I see it.”
“They poured gas around and dropped a match.”
“You witnessed that?” He met her eyes and she nodded. “From inside?” Again, she nodded. “Did the arsonist see you in there?”
“No. Absolutely not. We were hiding under the desk.”
“Where’s your car?”
“We parked at the trail head and hiked in. Been camping,” she nodded toward their site, “over there.”
He studied her face, nodded once, then said, “Do you want to tell me what you were doing inside Quaid’s house when he wasn’t home?”
“No. And I’d prefer not to have to tell anyone else, either.”
The sirens grew louder. Jeremy twisted his lips to one side, which he did when he was wrestling with a problem that needed a quick solution— like he was wringing the answer from within. It was just one more of those little quirks she loved about him.
And then he said, “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Okay. I don’t want some crazed arsonist coming after you. Are you sure you’re okay?” She nodded. “Then you and your friend get the hell out of here. Take a roundabout route back to your campsite and clear out. Quietly. Do not be seen. Don’t leave anything behind to say you were ever there. And then get back to the Springs so Rachel, Mason, and Christy can stop worrying about you.”
“Aunt Rache is there?”
“Where else would she be?”
She sighed, lowering her head. “I didn’t mean to set off a full family panic, you know.”
He softened his tone, reached across to stroke her hair off her forehead. “I’m really glad you’re okay.”
She covered his hand with hers. “I’m sorry I put you in this position, Jere. It’s the whole reason I—” She stopped talking and instead, leaned up and pressed a kiss to his mouth. “Thanks, Jeremy.” Then she hopped to her feet and ran back to Zig, reached into the car and grabbed the towel-wrapped computer. “We have to go, Zig. The dude’s still unconscious and Jere’s got our backs. Come on.”
Chapter 12
RACHEL
“Jeremy? What’s wrong?” I answered on speaker because Mason was driving.
“Nothing’s wrong. Misty is okay,” Jeremy said. "But you didn’t hear it from me, because I never saw her.”
“Never saw her where, Jeremy?” I closed my eyes, so I could feel him. I saw fire, and my eyes flew open wide.
“I’m at a crime scene north of you,” he said, not knowing we were already on our way to him. “Paul Quaid’s house was torched with him inside, unconscious from a blow to the head, I surmise. Apparently, he came around long enough to stagger outside where he collapsed.”
“That’s a lot of surmising, son.” Mason looked like he’d heard the missing parts of the story as clearly as I had.
“He was… lucky,” I said.
And Inner Bitch said, Luck had nothing to do with it.
Jeremy said, “She’s heading back your way, getting us a motel room. It’s late. We can have the family reunion tomorrow, she needs some sleep. But she’s okay.”
“Is Quaid going to be okay?” Mason asked.
