My attention drops to the gasoline can.
Then to the side of Zain’s cabin.
The truth becomes horribly clear.
“You came here to burn this place too.”
Her eyes sharpen.
“This is Zain’s home. He is the fire chief. Did you really think you could burn another house and no one would connect it?”
“You should not be outside.”
The quietness of her answer frightens me more than shouting would have.
I stare at her.
She takes a step closer.
“You were supposed to be inside.”
My breath catches.
“What?”
“Asleep. Unaware. You were not supposed to see me.”
She knew exactly where I was staying.
Exactly when Zain left.
My skin goes cold.
“You followed me.”
“It was necessary.”
Her fingers tighten around the gasoline can.
“I should have finished it the first time.”
I edge sideways toward the open stretch of porch instead of letting her corner me near the door.
“Stay away from me.”
Her free hand slides behind her hip.
For one second, I think she is reaching for a phone.
Then she pulls a long garden knife from a sheath clipped at the back of her waistband.
Fear hits hard and immediate.
“Mrs. Harlan.”
“You should have died.”
She comes at me with the knife.
