Lethal Legacy, page 13
A warmth that had nothing to do with burning logs filled his chest. The scene brought a sense of contentment that he hadn’t felt in a long time. The tree, branches heavy with fond memories. The woman he loved, even if only in friendship, sitting next to him. His dog—the dog they were now sharing—lying on the hearth, against a backdrop of dancing flames.
This exact scene had hung on his dining room wall for the past five years. The impact was like a boulder crashing into him, and he was left with an odd sense of having been caught in a time warp. Andi’s long-ago sketch had materialized right in front of him. Cooper was even curled up on the hearth, standing in for old Sport.
He closed his eyes, once again seventeen, sitting next to the woman he was sure he’d spend the rest of his life with. He curled his hands into fists, trying to capture and hang on to that moment in time, when the future was bright with promise and he hadn’t yet made the biggest mistake of his life.
“I really messed up.”
She didn’t ask what he meant. Her thoughts were probably following the same track his were. “Don’t worry about it. We’ve all made our share of bad decisions. When you broke up with me, I sort of understood.” She turned to look at him. “I knew exactly what I wanted. I was even ready to defy my mother by not choosing the son of one of her society friends.”
“Yeah, your mom wouldn’t have been thrilled.” His throat tightened with that same sense of inferiority he’d felt as the kid from the wrong side of the tracks falling in love with the rich girl.
“But we would have had my dad’s blessing.” She gave him a sad smile. “Anyway, even though you were the only boyfriend I’d ever had, I knew what I wanted. But I understand that you didn’t.”
“You’d seen the world. I’d barely been outside North Carolina. Your lifestyle seemed so worldly. I thought the only way I’d know you were the one was if I experienced life, dated some other girls.”
“I actually understood all that, even at eighteen.” She shifted her gaze to stare into the fire. “What I didn’t understand...”
He waited for her to finish her thought. When she didn’t, he finished it for her. “...was how I could move on so quickly.”
“Yeah.”
But he hadn’t moved on. It had only appeared that way. “As soon as I walked back home from your house, I started having second thoughts, wondering if I’d made the right decision. I kept thinking, what if I came to realize you were the one and you’d already found someone else.”
He heaved a sigh and continued. “An hour or two later, Carla showed up.”
She’d lived catty-corner across Ranger for years. They’d played together as children and sometimes hung out as teens. Other than her comments about how crazy he was to tie himself to a long-distance relationship when there were all kinds of girls in Murphy, she hadn’t made any moves on him. Or he’d been too dense to see them.
“We were sitting on the porch swing, talking. I told her I’d broken up with you so we could date other people but was afraid I’d made a mistake. She was determined to show me I hadn’t.”
Andi crossed her arms in front of her, pulling them tightly over her torso. “You looked like you were enjoying the lesson.”
“Of course I was.” He wasn’t going to lie to her. “I was an eighteen-year-old guy. But when I looked up and saw you standing there at the edge of the woods, eyes filled with pain, I knew I’d just sealed shut the door to any possible reconciliation in the future. And I wanted to rip out my own heart.”
He’d shoved Carla off his lap and hurried after Andi. Before he could catch her, she’d locked herself in her house and refused to come out. Thirty minutes later, she and Dennis were pulling out of the driveway, heading to Atlanta.
“I never got a chance to talk to you after that. I just want you to know what you meant to me and how sorry I am that I hurt you. Over the years, I’ve kicked myself more times than I can count.”
Her hands fell to her lap, and she looked up at him, searching his eyes. Was she looking for sincerity? If he was projecting one-fourth of what he felt, she’d know without a doubt.
He reached up to touch her cheek. “I never had any more to do with her after that. I couldn’t look at her without thinking of what I’d done to you.”
When he let his finger trail along her jaw, she closed her eyes. They’d agreed to be just friends. That was all she’d wanted.
And it was all he’d wanted, too. After everything Pam had put him through, he didn’t have the energy to fight his way past Andi’s barriers.
But he didn’t feel any of those barriers now. And he wanted nothing more than to kiss her.
When she opened her eyes, they were filled with uncertainty. But there was something else. A cautious hope.
He leaned closer, and her eyes drifted shut again. His lips brushed hers, the briefest touch before she turned away.
She crossed her arms again. “I’m sorry. I’m not ready for this. I don’t know that I ever will be.”
He sighed. Her walls had gone right back up. Thinking they’d ever have more than friendship had been nothing but a pipe dream. The scars ran too deep.
“That’s all right. I’m totally fine with just being friends.” He’d temporarily lost his head. It wouldn’t happen again.
A log shifted, sending sparks spiraling upward into the chimney. Cooper looked behind him, then settled back down.
“I made some eggnog.” Andi pushed herself to her feet and headed toward the kitchen. On her way past the CD player, she hit Play.
A half minute later, the refrigerator door opened and closed and glasses clanked against a backdrop of “Winter Wonderland.”
“I also made macaroons.”
She returned carrying a tray that held a platter of cookies, their glasses of eggnog and two small plates. As she bent to lay it on the coffee table, “Winter Wonderland” died mid-phrase, and the lights clicked off, leaving only the glow of the fire.
Bryce reached for Andi, tension spiking through him. “Stay here.”
He pulled his flashlight from his pocket and clicked it on. There were no storms in the area. He’d stepped from his car under a clear sky, an almost half-moon casting its soft glow over the landscape. No reason for the power to go out.
But seemingly unexplainable power outages happened occasionally. Sometimes someone hit a power pole on the four-lane, or a transformer burned up, or a limb came down across a line.
“What happened?” Andi’s voice was paper-thin, with an underlying quiver.
“I’m going to look out the side and see if there’s light in my direction.”
Leaving her sitting in the living room, cookies and eggnog untouched, he darted down the hall to the master bedroom. When he swept aside the curtains, his uneasiness ratcheted up several notches. A soft glow shone through the trees—his own porch light. His power was on.
So what happened to Andi’s?
Out front, glass shattered, followed by an almost simultaneous scream. A long string of fast, ferocious barks punctuated the wail of the alarm. He dropped the curtains into place and ran from the room, panic pounding at his heels.
At the end of the hall, Andi yanked a blanket from the back of the couch, her frame silhouetted against the flames still dancing in the fireplace. But a glow seemed to come from somewhere else, too.
He ran into the room. Cooper was nowhere to be seen. Flames engulfed the love seat that separated the living room from the dining area. Andi swung the blanket down hard, and the fire spread over the front of the small couch to lick at the living room rug.
He grabbed the blanket from her. “Start a pan filling with water, then call 911. The alarm system might not do it.” Although the battery backup was supplying power to the alarm, he wasn’t counting on the phone lines not being cut.
As water ran in the kitchen, he beat the sofa over and over. When the blanket caught fire, he dropped it and stomped on it, along with the rug, which also had flames working their way across it.
“No dial tone.” Andi’s words were laced with panic.
A fair share transferred to him. Someone hadn’t just cut her power. He’d also broken off contact with the outside world.
She ran around him to snatch her cell phone from the coffee table. They’d knocked both glasses of eggnog over. The cream-colored liquid spread across the table and dripped to the floor.
Andi straightened. “One bar.” After frantically punching the screen, she pressed it to her ear.
When Bryce had the last of the fire beat out, Andi lowered the phone. “Not enough service to get through.”
“We need to go to my house.”
“I’m not leaving my place unattended.”
“And I’m not leaving you here alone. After we make that call, we’ll come back and keep watch until they arrive.”
He hollered for the dog, who slunk into the room from the direction of the kitchen. Before leading Andi out the door, he hooked on Cooper’s leash and drew his weapon. Outside, faraway sirens wailed. As he crossed his yard and climbed his porch steps, they grew closer.
Bryce locked the three of them inside and pulled out his phone. Maybe the emergency vehicles were for them, maybe not. He wouldn’t leave it to chance. He dialed 911 and soon had the confirmation he wanted. The alarm company had picked up an interruption. Not getting an answer on Andi’s cell number, they’d dispatched the police.
Bryce pocketed his phone and stared at Andi, preparing himself for a battle. The cat pajamas made her look relaxed and playful. But he wasn’t deceived. She was going to be as adamant as she’d be wearing a power suit. “You’re not going to be able to stay at your place.”
“I know. I’ve got to get the window fixed, clean up the damage from the fire.”
“You’re not going to be able to stay after that, either.”
She flung up her hands. “Why keep the house if I can’t use it?” Her volume was several decibels louder than normal.
He raised his voice to match hers. “And what good is the house if you’re dead?”
She drew in a breath, the action seeming to calm her. “If these creeps wanted me dead, they’d have already succeeded.”
She sank onto his couch. “Somebody doesn’t want me here, and he’s trying to scare me off. Maybe it’s Matt. Maybe it’s Drysdale. Maybe it’s someone else entirely.” She crossed her arms. “Whoever it is, it’s not going to work.”
He heaved a sigh and sat next to her. “Andi, come on. This isn’t the time for stubbornness.”
She stood and started to pace. When she spoke, her voice was low and controlled.
“All my life, my mother has tried to dictate everything I’ve done, from what I wore to the jobs I held to who I married. I’m through.” She pointed toward the property next door. “That’s my home. It’s been in my family for four generations. No one’s going to take it from me, and no one’s going to make me leave. Eventually, they’ll see that and give up.”
“Or eliminate the obstacle.”
“No one is going to try to kill me over it.”
“What about your parents?”
She stopped her pacing. A shadow crossed her features and worry settled in her eyes.
Then determination pushed it aside. “Monday, I’m meeting with Angie to discuss the terms for buying her business. I’m not going to back out. I’m here to stay.”
Bryce shook his head, anger rolling in his gut. He was faced with an impossible situation.
A very determined woman.
A possible killer.
And neither of them willing to step away.
* * *
Andrea’s gaze circled the dimly lit room, and she sought out a clock. It sat on the nightstand next to her bed, one of those older-style ones with hands. Almost 9:10 a.m.
Wait, that wasn’t her clock. Where was she? And why was she still sleeping at 9:00 a.m.?
She pushed herself upright, and the events of the prior night slammed into her with the force of a tidal wave. Someone had tried to burn her house down. If Bryce hadn’t been there, they might have succeeded.
She swung her feet over the side of the bed. The scent of smoke wafted upward. She needed to wash her pajamas. They reeked. But since it was the only pair she’d brought, she’d worn them, smoke and all.
Bryce had offered to loan her a T-shirt and some sweatpants, but she’d turned him down. Sleeping in his clothes felt too...intimate.
More memories rushed forward, and she stifled a groan. He’d tried to kiss her. And she’d almost let him. What had she been thinking?
She hadn’t been. She’d let all the emotion that went with Christmas muddle her brain.
Throughout the afternoon, she’d pulled one memory after another from the dusty old boxes. No wonder she’d been a puddle of mush by the time he’d arrived.
Then he’d piled that apology on top of her already volatile emotions. It had been so heartfelt, it had just about done her in.
Until last night, she’d never given him the opportunity to explain. She’d run inside the house and told her father that she wanted to leave. Now. It wasn’t until they were on Spur 60, headed toward home, that she’d opened up and spilled the whole painful story. Her dad had listened, offering sympathy but no advice. Another way he’d been the polar opposite of her mother.
In the next weeks, Bryce had tried. But she’d ignored his calls and deleted his texts without reading them.
His apology last night had touched her. But it didn’t change anything. They already had a meaningful friendship. As far as anything deeper, it wasn’t just a twelve-year-old wrong that was keeping her from falling in love.
Phil had never apologized. No sorry-I-hurt-you-but-I-don’t-love-you-anymore sentiment. He’d said she was overreacting, that a lot of successful men slept with other women.
Maybe so. But she wasn’t willing to share. As long as she remained single, she didn’t have to worry about it.
She gathered some clean clothes from the bag she’d brought over a few hours ago. A hot shower would be pure bliss. Hopefully Bryce wouldn’t mind her tying up his hall bath for a while.
When she opened the bedroom door, the scent of coffee lured her toward the kitchen. The shower could wait. She padded barefoot down the hall.
Bryce smiled at her over the top of his computer screen. He sat at the table, nursing his own cup of coffee. “Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.”
She wrinkled her nose. She was so not Sleeping Beauty. “What are you up to?”
“Checking out the headlines.”
She opened a cabinet door, then closed it and moved to a second one.
“Left of the sink.”
“Thanks.” She took down a mug painted with a whitewater rafting scene and filled it. After adding some half-and-half from the carton in the fridge, she joined him at the table. “Did I make the news?”
“Not this news. I’m sure there’ll be a story about the fire in next week’s Cherokee Scout.” He closed the laptop. “What’s on your agenda for today?”
“Laundry, for starters. It was time anyway, but I’ve got to wash these pajamas before I wear them again.”
“You won’t be allowed back in your house until the investigation is finished.”
“Wonderful.”
“They may let you get some more things out of the unaffected rooms. But you’ll need to wash your clothes here.”
She took a sip of coffee, the heat warming her from the inside out. After calling 911 last night, they’d gone back over to her house to wait. Bryce had immediately figured out what had happened to her power. The shed door was open, the padlock snapped with bolt cutters. Inside, the fuse for the house had been pulled. The instant he pushed it back in, the lights came on. The phone wasn’t as easy. Someone had cut the wires in the box mounted on the side of the house.
With the lights on, they’d been able to check out the damage. Charred remains of something lay in front of the love seat. Based on how quickly the fire had spread, Bryce suspected someone had soaked an object with gasoline and thrown it through the broken window.
The love seat itself was burnt beyond repair. So was the rug. She’d strip and refinish the hardwood floor. It needed to be done anyway. But there’d probably forever be a large area darker than the rest of the floor, a permanent reminder of how blessed she was not to have lost her home.
As far as who had set the fire, the list of suspects was short—Matt Langman and Melvin Drysdale. Would Matt go to that extent to try to scare her off? If he burned the house down, he could come onto her property anytime he wanted. There’d be no one there to stop him.
But that scenario seemed off. Leaving threatening notes, putting dead squirrels in mailboxes—that was Matt’s style. Trying to burn down houses, especially with people in them, didn’t fit. According to her dad, all Matt’s crimes had been petty.
That left Drysdale as the more likely suspect. She drew her brows together.
Bryce studied her. “You look like the wheels are turning.”
“Yeah. The last time Drysdale came by to try to push me into selling, he told me to hang on to his card because I’m going to find that this place isn’t worth it. I thought he was talking about all the work. Now I think it was a warning.”
“The investigators will be checking him out.”
She nodded. She’d thrown his card away but had retrieved his number from the call log on her phone.
She finished her coffee, then washed her cup and put it back in the cabinet. If she was going to crash at Bryce’s for a few days, she could at least be a neat houseguest. She snagged the clothes she’d laid on her dresser earlier and crossed the hall to the bathroom.
Thirty minutes later, she emerged, wet hair wrapped in a towel and all traces of smoke removed. When she reached the kitchen, Bryce was standing at the stove, stirring scrambled eggs. The toaster had been pulled away from the wall, and waves of heat rose from the two slots. A knife lay propped up on the edge of a butter dish. A plate already held two finished slices.
