“His would be one of the new ones.”
“What exactly are you trying to say, Petal?”
“I’m saying where did you find this?”
“At the edge of the woods by the latest fire.”
“This was Frank’s pin. He got it right before he was arrested for arson and murder.”
The breath whooshes out of me and spots dance in front of my eyes. My chest aches and I reach out to clutch it, like I can hold it inside.
“He knew?” I whimper.
“He did. He probably wanted to keep you as far away from him as possible. If this is Frank, he wants revenge on Reed. He pulled him out of that fire when he tried to kill himself so he could stand trial for his brother’s murder. But Frank wound up with massive scars and he blames Reed for it.”
“That wasn’t Reed’s fault!” I snap.
“Of course not! But try telling a psycho that.”
Right. “Why would he do that? Push me away.”
“Reed blames himself for his brother’s death. Blames himself for not being there and protecting him. He’ll never forgive himself for that.”
“And he doesn’t want me to get hurt.”
Petal smirks and points at me. “Bingo.” Then she glances at her watch and swears. “I’ve got to get to poker or the girls are gonna be pissed. But at least you know what’s going on now.”
“Yeah, thanks,” I say absently. But what the hell am I going to do with this?
I lock the door after Petal and wander into the living room, the baggie in my hand, staring at it.
It looks so innocuous. Couldn’t hurt anyone.
But the person who owns it sure as hell can. And I need to make sure that he never gets that chance again.
Pulling out my notes, I slip off my boots and cross my ankles in a pretzel on the couch. There has to be something, some little clue that will tell me where the firebug will strike next.
I pull out a pencil and chew on it absently, my mind focused. One in the northeast, one in the south, two in the west…
The room goes dark and I jump, my pulse spiking so fast my vision blurs. I reach out and carefully move off the couch, staying as low as possible, trying to keep away from the windows.
Slipping down the hall, I open my bedroom door and pull my phone out, the screen giving off a soft glow. I slowly, carefully open the bedside table where I left my gun and then pull it out.
A soft sound on the other side of the door makes my heart jump and I clench my jaw to keep from screaming.
My bedroom has a door that connects into a bathroom that connects into the hall.
If Frank is out there he’ll expect me to be in here. Going that way may buy me a few minutes and hopefully give me enough time to get the hell out of here.
I slip inside the bathroom and then carefully open the hall door. I can’t see anything and I’m hoping he can’t either.
One foot in front of the other down the hall, away from the bedrooms and out into the living room, I hug the wall.Barely breathing, I take every step slow and easy, fighting the overwhelming urge to run.
The blackness presses against me and sweat drips down my shoulder blades and back, pooling under my shirt.
My eyes adjust to the dark and I can faintly see the outline of the door to the back of the house. Gulping, I inch along the wall, so close…so damn close.
A board squeaks and I stop, frozen, my heart stopping. I can’t breathe.
