Sheriff Raines’s shout ripped through the chaos. “Someone’s down. Just inside the doorway.”
Adrenaline surged through Isla, jerking her to her feet. She and Garrett sprinted toward him, the heat biting at their skin, debris tumbling all around them. Isla threw up an arm to shield her face as sparks peppered the air. The fire roared so loud it drowned out her heartbeat, but the smell of smoke and burning wood seared deep into her chest.
They skidded to where Raines crouched behind the car, using it as cover from the rain of embers. Isla followed his line of sight and her stomach clenched. A figure lay face down in the entryway, unmoving, half in shadow and half illuminated by the flames.
Her instincts screamed. She had to go. She had to drag the person out before the fire swallowed them whole. Her legs tensed to move—
And then the roof gave way.
The thunder of collapsing timbers shook the ground beneath her boots. Embers and shards of burning debris exploded outward, forcing her back. She covered her head with both arms, coughing against the thick, choking smoke as glowing fragments peppered the gravel.
The figure in the doorway vanished beneath the cascade of fire.
“Fire department’s on the way,” Raines shouted. “Already called it in.”
But Isla knew before he finished that it would be too late. The house was a torch, spitting sparks and heat into the night sky. It would be cinders by the time the trucks arrived.
She stared at the inferno, the flames clawing higher, the roof nearly gone, walls buckling. Her throat tightened. Whoever had been inside was gone. Dead. She had to accept that, no matter how much her instincts screamed to rush forward.
Raw frustration twisted inside her chest. They hadn’t just lost a life tonight. They had lost their chance at answers. Answers that might have been in that house. In that body. Clues, files, evidence—gone. Burned to ash before they could touch it.
Isla’s pulse kicked harder when her eyes landed on the car. The flames lit the metal in eerie flashes, the plates just clear enough for her to punch them into her phone. Her chest tightened when the screen gave her the answer.
“The car’s registered to Randall,” she said, her voice clipped.
Garrett’s gaze cut to hers, sharp, but before he could say more, Sheriff Raines pulled out his phone. He set it to speaker so they could all hear and punched in Randall’s number.
It rang three times before Randall’s voice came through, smooth but cautious. “Sheriff?”
Raines didn’t waste time. His voice cut sharp through the roar of the fire. “Your car’s at a property outside of Clearbrook,on Willow Bend Road. The house went up in flames not ten minutes ago. Care to explain why your black vintage Jaguar was parked in front?”
On the other end of the line, the silence stretched out, thick and heavy, for several moments. Isla’s grip tightened on her phone, her eyes locked on the fire spitting embers into the night sky.
Finally, Randall spoke, his voice even but strung tight. “That’s not a car I use very often. The Jag mostly sits in the storage garage behind my studio.” He stopped, cleared his throat. “Occasionally, Anais drives it. Sometimes, Leah. What was it doing there?”
The sheriff’s gaze never left the blaze as he answered, his jaw like iron. “That’s exactly what we’re going to find out. I want you at my office first thing in the morning. No excuses.”
Another pause stretched. “I’ll be there.” Randall’s voice came tight over the speaker. “You said there was a fire. Is Anais all right? Leah?”
Sheriff Raines kept his eyes on the burning wreck of the house. “I’m not sure. I don’t know if they’re here. Could anyone else have used the car?”
Randall drew a breath that hissed over the line. “Yes. I sometimes leave the keys with my receptionist. If a painting needs to be delivered or if art supplies need to be picked up.”
The sheriff’s stare shifted to the Jaguar parked like a ghost against the flames. “What about Paula? Has she ever used it?”
Another pause. Longer this time. “Yes.” The single word was thick, reluctant. Then Randall’s voice sharpened, quick, defensive. “But she wouldn’t have used it without telling me.”
Isla glanced at Garrett, reading the same realization in his eyes. If Randall wasn’t responsible for the car being driven out here, then it came down to three names.
Anais. Leah. Paula.
The sheriff didn’t press. He only added, “Remember to be at my office for the interview in the morning.”
Without waiting for more, he ended the call. The fire crackled in the silence that followed, spitting sparks into the night sky.
The sheriff tried to call Leah first. No answer. Then, Anais. Same result. Each unanswered ring seemed to tighten the knot already twisting in Isla’s stomach.
The howl of sirens rolled in, echoing across the wet, smoky air. The fire trucks were close now, but it was too late. Isla’s gut had been right from the start. The flames had already eaten their fill, the house little more than a collapsing skeleton belching smoke into the drizzle.
