Shane scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “I don’t know. I haven’t thought about that case in over two years.”
“Was there a description of the intruders?” Rory suddenly realized why he was so hung up on this case. If the intruders—perps—had looked different from the ones who attacked her and killed Pete, he would have said that, and the other case wouldhave been irrelevant. “They were wearing masks just like the two who came into the cottage, weren’t they?”
Shane looked anywhere but at her. “Yeah. They were. Ski masks. Gloves. All black, just like you said about that night.”
Rory’s lips trembled. “Is there anything else about that case that’s similar to mine?”
He shook his head. “Not that I know about.”
Chance had his phone out. “I’ll need the names of the victims.”
Shane provided the names of the two women. “You can google them, and you’ll find some information. But not everything. There was a lot that was never released for, you know, the purpose of protecting the investigation.”
“But if you could find out this case existed,” Rory argued, “anyone could.”
“Sure. Like I said, Fowler agreed with the detective who investigated the case in Henagar. It was a hate crime. Not the same thing as what happened to Pete.”
Except every cell in Rory’s body screamed otherwise.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Kindred Residence
Tupelo Pike
Scottsboro, 5:00 a.m.
“Rory.”
Sleep held her deep in his clutches…there was a dream but she couldn’t quite hang on to the pieces of it. Pete was there. Chance too. She was running…
“Rory!”
Her body shook. What was happening?
Arms were suddenly cradling her. “Rory, wake up!”
Her eyes fluttered open. It was dark. Had she imagined the voice…the arms going around her?
“We have to get out of here!”
She tried harder to focus. Chance was holding her in his arms…against his chest. Why was he holding her that way? She coughed…something was wrong.
“…fire!”
Her mind cleared, and the coughing started again. Chance was rushing through the darkness…through the house. There was smoke.
The gold glow of flames snatched her attention.Fire.The house was on fire.
She tried to get free. Wiggled against the barriers. Had to run.
“Hang on,” he urged, his arms tightening around her.
Suddenly they were outside. Rory didn’t remember going through the door…across the porch or down the steps. Chance lowered her feet to the ground. Stuck his cell phone in her hand. “Call 9-1-1.”
Then he was gone…back into the house.
No. No.That was a bad idea. Her father had gone back into the house…
