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“What?”
Out of Firelight Ridge? As if they were all in danger…as if he wanted to make sure they were safe…
Suddenly all her resentment at being booted out of this adventure vanished. He was afraid for her, for all of them.
And then it clicked, the thing that he’d figured out, and that scared him so much he wanted her gone.
“The incendiary device. They want to blow up the Ice Falls,” she whispered. “The seracs are already unstable. All they’d have to do is put enough charges in the right places. That note in Daniel’s cabin. Check for ED. He meant check for explosive devices. Oh my God.”
She grabbed Sam’s arm.
“We were right. Daniel saw evidence of explosives out there, like the device you saw. It was a test. They triggered that avalanche as a test and they got rid of someone who knew something at the same time. Two birds with one bomb.”
Sam was nodding along grimly. “I didn’t think of that, but you could be right. They’ve been using the new barn to test them, but they needed a real-world test.”
“But why? Why would they want to do that?”
“Maybe they want to destroy a tourist attraction. Keep people from coming to Firelight Ridge.”
Molly felt sick at the thought of such a stunning natural wonder getting blown to pieces. “We have time to stop them, right? They won’t do anything until Luke is back.”
“The fuck if I know.” He slammed his fist against the driver’s side door, and she realized he was absolutely furious…but not with her.
“I’ve been watching those motherfuckers for a year, and still didn’t see it. What if they have a plan all ready to go and they’re about to press “play?” How would I know? I feel like I’m fucking blind.”
35
Sam’s jaw was clenched so tight it hurt. That was the truth—he felt not just blind, but blindsided, and that hit really close to home.
It wasn’t the first time he’d been blindsided. When Liza had surprise-dumped him and told him not to come back from Alaska, she’d eviscerated a piece of him. Not his heart—the truth was, they hadn’t had the same feelings for each other anymore, and had put no energy into reigniting them.
No, it was the part of him that believed he was on top of things, the part that was alert and in charge and able to act quickly and effectively. The part that was needed—among other things—to be a good wildland firefighter. That part had been gutted.
Now he was getting that same helpless, blindsided feeling. As if the truth was right in front of him but he’d missed it. Damn Chilkoots.
“Are you blaming yourself right now?” Molly asked softly. Her hand was on his arm, grounding him back in their current crisis. His current crisis. She was an innocent bystander, and he wanted her out of danger. That part, he was rock solid on.
“If something happens in Firelight Ridge, I sure as hell will. I texted Bradley but he’s not answering.”
“Then we should?—”
“Stop. There’s no ‘we’ here. I’ll take you back just to pick up your friends, and that’s it.”
He knew perfectly well that Molly Evans wasn’t someone who backed down easily. But he would go to the mat on this. She was a lawyer, not a trained field agent, and she didn’t belong in the middle of an FBI and ATF raid. He wasn’t either, but he had firefighter training and knew how to handle weapons.
A plan to blow up Ice Falls was so beyond anything he or anyone else had speculated, that all bets were off now.
Molly launched into a series of arguments that sounded reasonable, the kind of things a lawyer would come up with. He listened, because he owed her that, and because he respected her. She pointed out that she’d come up with several ideas that had pushed the investigation forward. That two people were always more effective than one. That if this was truly an urgent situation, he needed all the help he could get. That this wasn’t about him, or her, but about Firelight Ridge.
But nothing was going to change his mind.
By the time they reached the Blackbear Airport, a cold silence had fallen between them. He hated it. The vivid aliveness that he always associated with Molly had turned into stony aloofness, and he knew it was his doing. But that was how it had to be.
“If you and your friends need a place to stay in Blackbear—” he began as he parked his truck, but she waved him off and grabbed her travel bag from the backseat. It was red leather, glamorous and vivid, just like her.
“Not your concern.”
“Hey, listen. I’m sorry. I wish it didn’t have to be this way.” He touched her gently on the arm, but she shook him off. “I don’t want anything to happen to you. Can’t you understand?”
