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His dark penetrating gaze examined her face for what seemed like infinity. Then he quietly said, “I know.”
She continued to survey the fire's destruction, wandering from room to room, when something piled in a corner caught her attention. Kneeling down to what appeared to be burnt wooden crates she reached out and took hold of a small broken piece of porcelain, melted beyond recognition. A funny sound escaped her throat as she sunk down on a dejected note.
Dexter frowned. “What is it?”
“Christmas,” she murmured. “These were my Christmas boxes. All my decorations, all my family's heirlooms.”
His frowned deepened. He wasn't one much for Christmas, so he couldn't understand the deep torture etched across her pretty features. But the obvious pain this sight invoked in her was real making him wish he could eliminate her suffering.
“My mother's village. It's gone.”
“They're only material items. They'll be easily replaced.”
Shaking her head, obviously fighting back another onslaught of tears.
“The important thing is, no lives were lost.” Especially yours, he silently added.
She nodded, then turned to look up at him. “Do you know how it happened? What started the fire?”
“They believe one of the girls might have started it.”
“That's ridiculous.” She immediately got to her feet. “You're just trying to shift the blame, Dexter, to prove you’ve been right all along. I can't believe any of those girls would deliberately—”
“I didn't say deliberately,” he angrily interrupted, perturbed by her accusation. “They found marijuana ashes in a trash can they believe came from the attic.”
Laura's face froze, void of any emotion. Poppy's angry voice the night before came back to haunt her. She had been arguing with Ingrid, demanding she inform Laura of the truth.
“Ingrid,” she whispered, then sunk down on her haunches. “How could she? I gave her everything, a home, care, nurturing. Love.”
He shook his head, not comprehending why she would have given that much to begin with. But watching her sitting there, her face blank and staring into oblivion, he knew now was not the time to scold her.
“I'll give you a few minutes and then meet you down at the car.”
She didn't respond. He didn't need a response. He left her sitting numb and detached. As he walked away, he recognized the look in her somber eyes and knew the sort of pain she felt. The same sort he felt fourteen years before. Instantly, he recognized her symptoms and knew before long she would become a dispassionate and uncaring individual. In other words, he realized with a start, she would become him.
Instead of being pleased, he felt horribly disappointed. Laura Witherow as a cold heartless person was an unsettling thought.
CHAPTER 6
“Where are you taking me?” Knowing she sounded irritated and ungrateful, Laura didn't care. She was beyond feeling anything.
“Mother's.”
A flutter in her chest, akin to the rousing of joy, began to tingle within, however, she quickly stomped it out. “Why?”
“She's been so generous as to offer you a place to stay until the situation with the insurance company is cleared up.”
Aghast, she spun around in her seat. “Dexter, I—”
Ever since this horrible incident happened she had been left feeling utter misery and grief. With him only did she feel any semblance of tranquility. She wanted to tell him not to send her away, to let her stay with him, but one look at his inscrutable gaze had her biting her tongue.
“If it’s not too much trouble for her,” she blandly stated instead.
His jaw clamped tight. He could see it happening already. Cursing, he swung the vehicle sharply down a nearby street. The faster he got to his mother's the better. For her own sake, Laura needed to get as far away from him as possible.
He took her to a ritzy neighborhood where houses were lavished in luxury. Adell Cameron's home was one of the last ones on the street, set back from the road on an immaculately landscaped cul-de-sac, with a dynamic backdrop of the woodlands.
In the entrance, his mother stood waiting. “Laura dear, Dexter told me about the fire. Are you all right? What am I saying, of course, you’re not all right. Come, I'll show you your room and you can rest. Dexter, get yourself something to drink and I'll meet you in the kitchen.”
