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It took a moment for all of that to sink in. Not only was this an elaborate scheme to do something dangerous, I had not been informed of anything—not Flynn or the plan. And it irritated me much more than it should.
“This is ridiculous,” I said. “What if you got hurt?”
Her eyes narrowed, and her lips pursed into a tempting, albeit irritated, pout. “Flynn knows what he’s doing. Now let’s go back and get him.”
The door to the shed opened and a man in dark clothes and a ball cap exited. She could go get Flynn, but if we waited any longer, the man might be miles away before he finally gets out here.
I tore off down the small incline leading to the shed. I made it about ten yards from the man before he realized someone was after him. He sped off toward the woods surrounding the property, but I tackled him to the ground within seconds.
We struggled for a minute or two. I wasn’t entirely sure how much time had passed. All I remember was the look of pure confusion and terror on his face when he saw me. He muttered something in a foreign language, either frantically attempting to clear his name or issuing a prayer to the heavens.
I didn’t recognize him. Not that I would know everyone in Lyndsey’s life. The man appeared somewhere in his late forties, clean shaven, and wearing something closer to a uniform than a night-stalking outfit.
“Yehven?” Lyndsey’s voice sounded behind me.
Flynn stood beside him, along with Kyle and some other man who looked like a cop. Being a firefighter, you get a feel for those kinds of things after a while.
Yehven rattled off another series of incomprehensible rants in his language, appealing to people completely clueless about how to help him. I lifted up onto my knees, still holding him in place with my hand.
“Does anyone speak Spanish?” Kyle asked, looking from person to person with unfettered irritation. “I can’t understand a word the man is saying.”
“He doesn’t speak Spanish.” Lyndsey ground the words out between her teeth. She slid a sideways glare in Kyle’s direction before pinning Yehven with a softer, gentler gaze. “He’s from the Ukraine.”
“Well, who the hell is he?” Flynn asked.
“Our groundskeeper.”
“Formergroundskeeper,” Kyle corrected.
“A decision I clearly was not made aware of.” Lyndsey’s glare remained hot over Kyle, whispering warnings far too dangerous to be voiced aloud. She was pissed. And I made a mental note to never get her that angry. She turned her attention back to the groundskeeper. “Yehven, calm down. We just want to know what you’re doing here.”
Yehven inhaled a few calming breaths, before speaking in almost perfect English. “I have a call from Miss Lyndsey this morning wanting me to put in some torches on the grounds.”
“Right now?” Kyle snapped. “In the middle of a party? In the dead of night?”
“I did not know there was a party,” Yehven explained. “And this was the time she told me to come. I thought, this would be an opportunity to get my job back after…”
His eyes fell on Kyle, growing cold and anxious as if terrified my brother-in-law might harm with another word.
“Yehven, I never called you,” Lyndsey said.
His eyes widened, another burst of fear leaping across his already trembling features. “Miss Lyndsey, it sounded just like you. I saw the party, and I just left all the stuff in the shed. I did not want to bother anyone. I thought, I come back in the morning.”
Lyndsey remained silent, assessing Yehven’s rapidly shifting facial expressions with a hint of unease. Her chest hiked a notch higher, and she moved her attention from one person to the next. When she landed on me, the questions there broke my heart. Did she believe him? Hell, I was even tempted to believe him. Though, none of it was making any sense. Were you supposed to trust a supposed criminal on their word?
Though, if anyone were to be presumed innocent on the spot, it would have been this man. He wasn’t shaking because he’d been caught. He was just sincerely terrified, disoriented even.
The assumed cop and Flynn made their way to the shed and back, in a few minutes that seemed to stretch like hours. Flynn held up a small bottle of something in one hand and a bundle of cloth and rope in his other. “We found kerosene, matches, cloth, and some rope.”
“Yes.” Yehven nodded, reaching out to the articles. “For the torches.”
“Then where are the torches?” Flynn asked.
Silence.
No one spoke, everyone rapt and ready for the spectacular answer. Even Yehven didn’t seem to know how to answer that.
“They are...here. No?” he said finally.
