“Oh God!” She twisted the knob, flung the door open. Smoke greeted her in the hall. “Edward!”
No answer. Just the distinct crackle of wood burning.
She dropped to her hands and knees and crawled along the hall and down the stairs. The smoke was thicker there. The flames leaped and clawed at the kitchen walls. “Edward!” She coughed. Pulled her T-shirt up over her mouth and nose.
Go! You have to find him!
The living room was thick with smoke.
Sirens blared in the distance. Someone had already called 911. Good, because her cell phone was God only knew where.
“Dr. Patterson!”
Jenkins.
“Edward!” She tried to see. It was impossible. “He’s in here somewhere! Help me!”
She coughed. Crawled deeper into the room.
“I’ve got him!” Jenkins shouted.
Through the haze she caught a glimpse of blue—Edward’s shirt. Jenkins was dragging him from between the coffee table and the sofa.
CJ scrambled to her feet. “Is he okay?” A coughing jag followed the words.
“Let’s just get out of here.”
CJ grabbed Edward’s legs, helped Jenkins haul him onto the porch. She paused long enough to get a breath while Jenkins dragged him away from the house.
CJ rushed past him and opened the gate.
By the time they reached the sidewalk, the fire truck, sirens screaming, was skidding to a stop on the street. Then another and another.
“Anyone else in the house?” a firefighter shouted.
Jenkins explained there was no one else in the house as far as he knew.
A paramedic pushed CJ out of the way to get to Edward.
“Wait,” she argued. “I’m a doctor.”
“You’re also a victim,” the paramedic said as he examined Edward.
Victim.
CJ looked back at her house. The century-old wood fed the fire as if it had been soaked in gasoline.
The firefighters rushed past her, hoses in tow.
But nothing they could do would save the house or any of the memories ...
Or any possible evidence left inside.
Chapter Forty-Seven
The Ledges
44 Ledge View Drive, 10:05 p.m.
