She was safe. That was all that mattered.
Really. Send her home, safe and sound, keep his promise.
“We’re going to need to let the barn burn itself out,” Deke said, standing back from the flames, watching as the barn caved in on itself. Black smoke darkened the air, ash and cinder falling on the snow, melting it. Deke was right.
They’d have to wait until it burned to the ground before they could root around for a body.
Unless ... and that was just the thing—Dawson couldn’t help the feeling that the barn didn’t explode by accident.
A Sorros brother haunted the woods. He could nearly feel the man’s gaze on him now from the snowy forest, laughing.
Winning.
A voice came over Deke’s radio—Dodge, in his chopper, stillscouting the area for a fugitive. “I’m at Bingo. Returning to Copper Mountain.”
Deke glanced at Dawson. “You want to hop a ride?”
He frowned.
“Dude, you spent the last twelve hours unraveling over this woman, and you’re going to just let her get away? I’m not a detective, but even I can see that doesn’t add up.”
“We’re not done here,” Dawson said.
“You’re limping. And we need a statement from her, if you need an excuse.”
“Yeah,well,I don’t needa hero,Dawson.”
“She made her intentions pretty clear. And my knee is fine. I’m going to walk a perimeter around the barn, see if I can find tracks.”
Deke glanced at him, then pulled out a walkie and handed it to him. “Don’t get dead. I’m going to check on what my guys are finding in the house.”
He took the walkie. “Any update from Vic?”
“No. But she’s made of leather. She’ll be fine.” He headed toward the house, and Dawson didn’t disagree.
Flynn had left with her over an hour ago, and shortly after, Keely peeled out of his life. Maybe he should have gone with them—his kneedidache. But the sting of Keely’s words kept him from getting in the car and giving in to the temptation of running after her.
Mostly because she was right. He had wanted to be a hero. Had totally seen her leaping into his arms and holding on.
She had, in fact, for a moment there.
The fire turned the snow soggy and hard around the blaze, now dying as the barn walls collapsed in on each other. He headed into the snowy banks around the structure, breaking through the surface of the glistening layer, now littered with char and ash. The air stank of burned oil and wood, rubber from whatever they’d kept in here.
Reminded him of the fire at the community. Clearly an MO.
Dawson reached the back of the barn, where it sat near the forest. Here, the tall birch stood blackened, but not burning. He looked for footprints, but fallen logs and animals marred any sign.
Maybe the shooter really had died in the fire.
Still, his senses buzzed, something not quite—
Movement in his periphery. He turned, scouted the forest. Nothing—so maybe the wind had moved a branch.
Or he could be stalked by a moose.
He stood, quiet for a long moment, then kept searching. Worked his way around the barn and stood at the edge of the forest. In the distance, he made out the faint hush of the river, half frozen, running along the back of the property. Overhead, the smoke had turned the sky hazy.
Deke’s voice came through the walkie. “Anything?”
