Rory stood there, unmoving. The image of her father rushing back into their burning home to find her mother expanded in her mind, blocking her ability to do anything but stand there like a statue.
“Chance!” Oh God. What did she do?
Call for help. He’d said she should call 9-1-1. Fingers fumbling, she managed to enter the necessary digits. The dispatcher came on, and Rory spewed out her address and the situation.
The house was on fire. Lulu’s house. And Chance was inside.
She dropped the phone and ran for the door. She had to find him. What if he’d succumbed to the smoke? What if he were injured?
Just as she topped the final step to the porch, he burst through the door. Safe.Not lost and confused in the smoke. Not overcome.
He ushered her back into the yard, away from the danger.
“I’m sorry.” His gaze rested on hers. “It was too out of control by the time I woke up. I couldn’t stop it.”
She shook her head, her eyes burning from tears or the smoke or maybe both. “Doesn’t matter. We’re okay. That’s all that matters.”
He thrust a white cloth bag at her. “I grabbed a few things for you.”
Pillowcase, she realized. She accepted the pillowcase and looked inside. Her cell phone. The photo from her weddingday. The wallet she’d found in her closet and had a few dollars in it. She looked up at him, her body feeling numb…her brain whirling. How did this happen? What did she do now?
Somehow her lips cooperated enough to say, “Thank you.”
He dropped his own bag on the ground. The case file was in there. Thank God he’d thought to grab it as well.
Then he put his arms around her and pulled her against him. For a second she wondered why he was hugging her. Not that she minded. His arms felt good. Strong. She needed him…because… She suddenly realized then that she was sobbing.
Lulu’s house was on fire. All her things…all the memories…they were lost. Just like her childhood home…her parents…all their things.
Rory wasn’t sure how much time passed. She only knew that the thought of withdrawing from this man’s arms was more than she could bear at the moment. He was speaking to someone. Sirens were blaring…lights were throbbing.
The fire department had arrived, and she hadn’t even noticed. She turned her head, keeping her cheek against his solid chest. They were preparing to put out the flames. The back side of the house was being eaten by the fire. Regret and sadness swelled in her chest. Then she spotted another uniform. The police. Not Fowler. A uniformed officer from Scottsboro PD. Chance was still talking to someone nearby. None of the words made sense to her.
Her knees felt weak. She didn’t dare pull away from him.
Movement in her peripheral vision had her lifting her cheek from his warmth. A figure had stepped into view.Fowler.He was here too.
Rory drew away from Chance then. Her body swayed, and he steadied her. She refused to look at the house. Instead, she glared at Fowler. Why wasn’t he doing his job? If he had done his job when Pete was murdered, none of this would have happened.Damn it. Now everything was gone. Taken from her when she had done nothing wrong. Pete. The home they had shared. Lulu’s sweet cottage. Everything.
Except Austin, she reminded herself. She still had her little brother. He too would be devastated by the loss of the home where they had grown up. At the loss of the mementoes that could never be replaced. She glanced back to Chance. Thank God she hadn’t lost him.
How had this happened?
Chance was talking to Fowler now. Giving his statement, she assumed.
“The sound of something breaking woke me,” he was saying. While he explained this new nightmare, she scanned the ground for his phone. She spotted it and tucked it into the sheet with her things.
Chance had slept in Lulu’s room. Rory hadn’t wanted him stuck on the couch again. He was kind enough to stay here to ensure she was safe. The least she could do was see to it that he was as comfortable as possible.
She stared at the house…the water now dousing the flames. He had saved her life.
“I sat up on the side of the bed with the intention of getting up to ensure there was no intruder or any new vandalism happening, and I smelled the smoke. I got Rory out of the house and went back in to see if I could get the flames under control, but it was too far gone.” He gestured to the pillowcase she carried. “I grabbed a few things and rushed back out.”
“Could you see where it started?” Fowler asked. “Appears to be at the back of the house.”
Chance nodded. “In the kitchen area.”
The kitchen was at the back of the house. Made sense. Whoever did this would want to be behind the house, not in front where someone passing by might see them up to their dirtydeeds. By sticking to the kitchen area, no chance of anyone in the bedrooms hearing the heinous work either.
