She offered him a faint smile. “As soon as you know anything, you’ll tell me, right?”

  “Sure. I imagine he’ll be in surgery for a bit and then it will take some time for him to be coherent enough to answer questions.”

  “Once everything is wrapped up, I’d like to come out and say goodbye to your mom. I’m glad we got to know each other again.”

  “Sure, no problem,” he said.

  She pushed open the door but turned back to face him. “Thank you for everything, Stewart. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

  His throat grew tight as he tipped his hat to her. He waited, watching her walk up the street to her house as a deep emptiness invaded his heart. He was happy for her. Once they got answers from Travis, she would have accomplished what she set out to do. Still he couldn’t let go of the sadness at the thought of her leaving. Selling the house probably meant she didn’t see herself returning.

  He drove away, wishing that things between them could have ended differently.

  * * *

  Lila unlocked the door to the home where her life had fallen apart and stepped inside. Her footsteps echoed on the floor as she moved to retrieve the keys to the garage and some trash bags.

  She let out a heavy breath. Probably before the week was over, she would be headed back to Seattle and the life she’d built there. Stewart was not the boy she’d left behind. He was a man who had grown into maturity and had become someone worth admiring once he was no longer in his father’s dark shadow.

  Though she sensed there was still that spark of attraction between them, they were both different people than they had been at eighteen. When she stepped outside, it had just begun to rain. Hurrying toward the garage, she shielded her head with her hand. She unlocked the garage and stared at the shelves that held memories of the person she used to be and of her mother and father.

  When she’d decided to rent the house out, she’d asked the property manager to simply remove anything from the house that appeared to be personal. She pulled the box nearest the door off a shelf and opened it up. The picture of her and Stewart at the prom was on the top of a pile of framed photographs.

  She lifted the photograph and studied it. Her eyes glazed with tears. For her and Stewart, theirs was a story of innocence lost by the choices of other people.

  Some things were just not repairable.

  She worked for hours sorting into keep, donate and throwaway piles. When she looked up through the dusty window of the garage, it was dark. She’d been working in dimming light this whole time. She tried the light switch but the single bulb hanging from a wire didn’t work. No surprise there. She found a camping lantern. The lighter in the camping supplies still had some spark. She hung the lantern from a hook in the middle of the garage.

  The rain was still coming down when she returned to the house to get something quick to eat so she could return to work. The sooner she finished this task, the faster she could put the house on the market and let go of her last tie to Trident and all the dreams she’d had at eighteen. When she reached the house, she was soaking wet. The wind beat against the panes of glass.

  She stepped inside, retrieved a clean bathrobe that was part of the service the property manager provided and tossed her wet clothes into the dryer. The kitchen was stocked with nonperishables and canned goods. She got herself a glass of water and put some peanut butter on crackers.

  She checked her phone. No call from Stewart yet.

  Finishing her crackers, she wiped the crumbs off the counter.

  An abrupt banging noise caused her stomach to tighten. She stepped through the silent, dark rooms trying to figure out the source of the sound, which was coming from the back of the house.

  Lila hurried through the laundry room where the dryer was still whirring. The back door was slamming against the frame in the wind created by the storm. She closed the door and pushed the handle to lock it. She had looked out at the backyard when she’d thrown her clothes in the dryer. The door must not have been fully latched when she closed it.

  The trees in the backyard bent and shook in the wind. Shadows danced across the yard.

  Lila waited until her clothes were dry. Using a garbage sack to shield her from the rain, she returned to the garage. She went inside and stared at the bags she’d already filled.

  Her parents’ furniture had been stacked in a far corner of the garage. This was the stuff that the property manager had deemed not suitable for the vacation rental. Her father’s desk, her mother’s sewing machine cabinet and beat-up wooden kitchen chairs precariously stacked. Other trunks, boxes and totes made up the remainder of the Jenga pile.

  A creaking sound caused her to take a step back as the chairs came toward her. She put her hand up to shield her face. An object hit her in the head, and she twisted around and crumpled to the ground on her stomach. A heavy object landed across her back. She was pinned from the shoulders down, unable to move. More weight was put on top of her.

  She heard footsteps but could not lift her head high enough to see who it was. Someone was moving things around. She struggled to get free of the trunk that had landed on her. One of the full garbage bags blocked her view. She could hear the person shuffling and moving the bags to create a wall. A door slammed. More banging noises. The sound of glass breaking and then the space grew darker. The camping lantern had been thrown or knocked on the floor.

  She screamed. “Help, someone, please help me.”

  The wind and rain rattled the single window in the garage. Then she detected another noise, a sort of whooshing crackle. But it wasn’t until she smelled smoke that she realized the lantern had been used to set a fire.

  Lila could only move one arm a few inches. The other arm was pinned from the elbow down. There was nothing within her grasp that she might be able to use to escape. She’d left her phone on the counter in the kitchen.

  Whoever had been in here intended for her death to look like an accident.

  The man lying in the hospital bed with a bullet wound was not who they thought he was.

  She coughed as the smoke grew thicker and darkness enveloped her.

  FIFTEEN

  The whole time he did ranch chores, Stewart had been anticipating the call from Deputy Swain, but it did not come until after dark.

  “Yes,” said Stewart.

  “We got a problem,” the deputy responded.

  His stomach tightened. “Something’s happened to Travis?”

  “He was breathing when I left my post to go to the bathroom. I was gone less than five minutes.”

  “The wound wasn’t that bad.” Stewart leaned against a fence post. “What happened?”

  “Medical staff are trying to figure it out. The coroner is on his way,” said the deputy. “Sir, I don’t think he died of natural causes. What are the chances of him stopping breathing in the brief time that I’m not at my post?”

  “You think someone slipped in there.” Stewart stalked toward his truck.

  “I do. I’m going to start questioning the staff to see if they saw anyone.”

  “Keep me posted. I gotta call Lila. This means she is still in danger, and Travis was probably just hired muscle who knew too much.” Stewart swung open the door to the truck he’d borrowed from his brother as he ended the call. He pressed in Lila’s number. It rang four times and went to voice mail.

  He shifted into Reverse and headed toward town, trying to quell the dark thoughts that invaded his awareness. He didn’t know anything yet.

  The drive through town seemed to take forever.

  He pressed the gas pedal to the floor. Lila’s house was on a large lot on the edge of town down a dirt driveway.

  He arrived at her house, jumped out of the car and ran up the stairs to her house. The door was unlocked. He stepped inside calling her name. Her phone sat on the kitchen counter.

  His heart was racing by the time he made it to the back of the house where he had view of the garage. She must still be out there sorting through things. He hurried down the back stairs and ran toward the garage. As he drew near, he smelled smoke. The only window was cloudy with it.

  When he tried the door, it didn’t budge. He slammed his whole body against it. This time it moved a few inches like a weight was pressed against it. Thick smoke rolled out and he stepped back coughing. The smoke had been contained within the garage. The nearest neighbor may not have seen the fire to call it in. The rain from earlier must have soaked things enough so it didn’t spread to the outside of the building.

  He dialed 911 and reported the fire.

  But he couldn’t wait for the fire department.

  Remembering there was a spigot and a hose on the side of the house, he ran to turn the water on, then grabbed the hose and hurried back toward where the smoke still billowed out. Using his shirt to filter some of the smoke he put his weight against the door so it moved even more. Then he sprayed into the open doorway until it cleared enough for him to see. It looked like someone had stacked garbage bags against the door. The fire itself was contained by the garage door. Still using the hose, he stepped inside, hoping to clear more of the smoke.

  Calling Lila’s name several times, his heart squeezed tight when his cry was met with only silence.

  She can’t be dead. Dear God, let her be okay.

  The hose would reach only a few feet into the garage. Though heat from the flames was intense, it was the smoke that was more of an obstruction.

  He sprayed in a wide arc hoping to be able to see into the depths of the garage. Then he heard coughing.

  His spirits lifted. He dropped the hose, covered his mouth with his shirt collar and moved toward the sound.

  He found Lila on the floor, facedown and buried beneath a trunk and some garbage bags. He lifted the bags, coughing so bad that he bent over. Nearly collapsing from smoke inhalation, he got down on his knees and pushed to get the trunk off her.

  With the smoke and the lack of light, he couldn’t see much. He gathered her into his arms and stumbled toward the door. Twice he had to lean against shelving to keep from giving in to the weakness that inhaling so much smoke caused.

  He stepped through the open door. Still holding Lila in his arms, he fell on his knees and drew her close, kissing her forehead and thanking God that she had not succumbed to the smoke.

  In the distance, he heard the sirens as the fire truck approached.

  This fight was not over yet. Whatever had happened ten years ago was still worth killing the one person who had always cared about finding the truth.

  The firefighters, ambulance and city officers all arrived at the same time. Lila remained unconscious as she was loaded into the ambulance.

  “I want to go with her,” said Stewart.

  While they got Lila set up in the ambulance, one of the paramedics gave Stewart a quick look-over and offered him an oxygen mask. Stewart slipped in beside Lila. Her face was turned toward him. He brushed her hair off her cheek.

  How could he let this happen? At the back of his mind, he had thought that it didn’t make sense that a man their age with no connection to them had been involved in the robbery. Travis must have been hired by someone to stop Lila from digging for the truth by killing her. His drug history and his transient lifestyle made him a great candidate for such an ugly job.

  They arrived at the hospital. The paramedics whisked Lila into the facility through the ER, handing her off to the waiting physician after reciting her condition and the circumstances that had led to it.

  Stewart walked up to the front desk to talk to the receptionist. “The second there is a change in her condition, I want to know, for better or worse.”

  Maybe it was that she knew he was the sheriff even out of uniform or the way he spoke with such authority, but the lady behind the desk didn’t argue with him or ask if he was a family member.

  “Will do, Sheriff.”

  Deputy Ridge came up the hallway. They were in the same hospital where Travis had died only hours before.

  “Any news?”

  “The coroner thinks there was foul play. Everything is still speculation at this point, but the petechial hemorrhaging suggests strangulation.”

  Stewart opened his mouth to respond but ended up coughing.

  A look of concern crossed the deputy’s face. “Don’t you think you should be checked out, sir?”

  “I’ll be all right. Minor smoke inhalation. Lila got the worst of it. I don’t know how long she was passed out inhaling that stuff before I found her.”

  “A bit of good news before all this went down. Your contact at the FBI phoned the office, said with what you uncovered concerning Mrs. Inman, they are going to reopen the case and work it from a different angle.”

  “I suppose that’s good news.” The man behind this had to know that he would be caught eventually. Stewart patted his deputy’s shoulder. “You’ve put in a long shift. Why don’t you go home and rest?”

  Deputy Ridge nodded and headed through the lobby toward the exit.

  Feeling exhausted, Stewart found a comfortable chair in the lobby. He closed his eyes but remained awake, his thoughts bouncing around from worry over Lila to what the events of the night meant. Travis must have been killed because he knew who had hired him and would talk.

  A hand rested on his shoulder. He opened his eyes to see the doctor who had taken over Lila’s care. “She’s in a room now, resting.”

  “How bad is it?”

  “She suffered from smoke inhalation.”

  Stewart rose to his feet. “I want to be in the room with her even if she isn’t awake.”

  The doctor ushered Stewart down a hallway to a dim room where Lila slept in the hospital bed. Stewart found a chair, intending to stand guard over Lila.

  If the man behind all this had killed Travis in this hospital, there would be nothing to stop him from going after Lila here as well.

  * * *

  Lila awoke in a dark room. Light streamed in from the hallway. The sound of soft snoring caught her attention. Stewart sat in a chair, head tilted to one side, arms crossed.

  Her spirits sank. In the hospital again. She was achy, and her chest hurt every time she took in a breath. Coughing made the pain even worse. A sense of despair invaded her thoughts as she recalled what had happened. Travis could not have been well enough to leave the hospital. Someone else was involved.

  Staring at the ceiling as the tears streamed down her cheeks, she felt like this nightmare would never be over. How many more times would the man behind this come after her? Next time, he would succeed. At this point, even returning to Seattle might not stop the attempts on her life. They’d uncovered so much already. The attacks felt more like revenge for her snooping around in the first place, done by someone with deep anger and bitterness.

  The nurse came in to check her vitals. Stewart stirred awake. Once the nurse left the room, he cleared his throat. “I have some bad news. Travis died. It looks like foul play.”

  Lila was so numb she couldn’t think of what to say. She sat up with much effort. The tears flowed again, this time more intensely.

  Stewart gathered her into his arms. He smelled like smoke as her cheek brushed the soft cotton fabric of his shirt. He rubbed her back and swayed until she stopped crying.

  His hand glided over her hair. “I know this is a lot to deal with.”

  “It feels like too much right now, Stewart,” she said. “I want to give up. But I don’t think this man, whoever he is, will stop even if I go back to Seattle. It’s like he’s driven not only to keep us from finding out what really happened with that robbery but for shear vengeance. If I die, the FBI might be able to find him. It feels personal.”

  He pulled away and sat back down in the chair. “The FBI has reopened the case based on these attacks and Mrs. Inman’s theory about her husband.”

  “That’s good news.”

  Stewart didn’t answer right away. He must be trying to think through all that had happened.

  She reached for the call button. “You know, I’m kind of hungry. Do you suppose they have anything to eat at this hour?”

  A few seconds after she pressed the button, a nurse popped her head in.

  “Could I have something to eat and maybe some ginger ale to settle my stomach?”

  “The cafeteria is closed at this hour, but I can rustle you up a snack.” The nurse looked at Stewart. “How about you, sir?”

  “I could use some hot tea with lemon and honey.” He touched his neck. His throat probably felt as scratched as hers.

  “Give me a moment,” said the nurse. “I’ll be right back.”

  Lila listened to the woman’s soft-soled shoes pad down the hall.

  “I’m glad you’re here with me, Stewart,” she said. She felt safe in his arms, but there was some deeper connection there that she had to admit to when she looked into his eyes.

  Stewart glanced away and then stared at the floor. “I was worried that he might try to come after you while you were here since he got to Travis that way.”

  The feelings she was having were brand-new—different than they had been ten years ago. What she felt for him now wasn’t some soft-focus romantic idea born out of naivete. It was something much deeper. Maybe selling the house and leaving so quickly was too dramatic a step.

  But Stewart’s response indicated that he was acting out of a sense of duty. The feelings probably didn’t go both ways. Yet she thought she had sensed something shift between them.

  The nurse returned with a tray that held some prepackaged cookies, a ginger ale and a steaming mug.

  Stewart thanked her, grabbed the tea and sat back down.

  Lila sipped the ginger ale. “You want one of these packets of cookies? Fig Newtons always were your favorite, right?”

  After sitting the tea on the windowsill, he leaned forward to grab the packet she held out to him. “Yes, they are. Some things never change.”

 

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