“Okay.” She wasn’t entirely sure that she was the one who’d said that or some disconnected part of her that’d taken control. A crack physically split down the center of her heart as she moved to stand. The pain tried to rip her to shreds, but she wouldn’t let it. Not yet. And not for him. Not ever again. Tears burned hot and thick down the back of her throat, almost choking her as thoroughly as that damn reservoir water. “Don’t follow me this time.”
Murray rocked back on his heels, keeping the distance between them as he got to his feet. She couldn’t read his expression—this one was new—but he’d always gone out of his way to keep her at a distance, hadn’t he? “Where are you going?”
She wasn’t sure, not entirely sure if she was making the decision or if that eight-year-old girl who’d killed her parents and survived her first fire had. Aslen clutched her phone with everything she had. Danny. She had to find Danny. She had to make sure her best friend was okay, that the arsonist hadn’t used her roommate in his sick game to get to her. “It doesn’t matter. You don’t have to protect me anymore. Consider your promise fulfilled. You’re free, Murray.”
Away. She needed to get away. Out of this house that smelled like him, away from the memories of that kiss, of the feel of him holding her last night. Away from him. Because if she didn’t, she would spend the rest of her life waiting for him to change hismind. Holding on to those scraps of affection he granted her at the oddest moments. And she couldn’t wait anymore. Every time he reached out, she held on with everything she had, but when he pulled away, she was left a little bit more broken. Empty. Sooner or later, there would be nothing left for him to love.
So she had to save herself. Before it was too late.
Murray broke into her peripheral vision but thankfully kept his hands to himself. “Aslen, I can’t.”
The metal of the doorknob warmed under her palm. It wasn’t an attempt to stop her from leaving. It was the truth. He’d lost so much in his life—his parents, his brother—he didn’t have the strength or the courage to risk his heart again. Not for her. Maybe someday with a woman he didn’t have any obligation to or a history filled with so much loss. But not for her. “I know.”
There was nothing left to say, was there? No combination of magical words that could fix years of wanting to be loved and accepted by the wrong person. She wasn’t mad. She wasn’t going to scream at him for wasting precious years of her life leading her to believe they could’ve been something more. Because he hadn’t. She’d been the one to believe the fantasy she’d built up in her head, to see bits of love where there were none.
Crossing the threshold, she closed his front door behind her. Cutting off the possibility for either of them to go back. She could only see the plumes of smoke rising from her house this far back into the neighborhood, and the heartsickness hit all over again. She’d lost everything. And not for the first time. Except there wasn’t going to be a foster mother or a handsome teenage neighbor to take her in. She was going to have to do this on her own.
Aslen forced one foot in front of the other. Find Danny, submit her resignation to Chief Higgins, get the hell out of Zion.
Her phone pinged with an incoming call, and a sob clawed up her throat as she read Danny’s name. Swiping her thumb acrossthe screen, Aslen threaded her free hand through her hair as another fire truck turned into the neighborhood. “Danny? Thank heavens. Where are you?”
“Hey, I’m out at Lava Point. The reception isn’t great, and I missed your many calls. The chief has me going through the RV scene to identify the explosive that was used.” Static popped over the line, taking Danny’s voice with it for a moment. “Do I hear sirens? Aslen, what’s going on?”
Alive. Danny was alive. The relief alone hit her hard enough she couldn’t stop the tears from escaping then. Plugging her opposite ear, Aslen tried to get an idea of where firefighters might’ve moved her car. It’d been parked in front of her house, but they would’ve moved it to get better access to the scene. “Danny, it’s gone. The house. Everything. It’s all gone.”
“What are you talking about?” Shuffling broke through the line. Danny was on the move, probably trying to get better reception or privacy. “What happened?”
“Our house is on fire. We lost everything.” Aslen caught sight of her crappy four-door sedan that’d somehow managed to last since her college days—smelled like it, too—and patted her slacks for her keys. Fire and rescue had towed it down the block, out of the path of the fire. At least one thing had gone right because this was where she would be sleeping for the foreseeable future. Her heart urged her to turn around, to go back to the safety of Murray’s house and his protection, but the traitor had done enough damage. Aslen wasn’t sure she could ever trust it again. “It’s my fault, Danny. The arsonist… He found out where I live.”
“But you’re okay, right? You’re not hurt?” The words were rushed, like Danny was now in a run. “If you are, I will personally castrate Ranger Simpson for you, and I have two years’ worth of grudges against him to suffer for.”
Her laugh breached through the hollowness. It would’ve been so much easier if she’d wanted anyone other than Murray, but she’d always wanted him. Long enough she wasn’t exactly sure where to go from here, but whatever future she’d imagined hadn’t really existed. Not for him. And she was so tired of not having what she wanted.
Wiping at her face, Aslen shoved her keys into the driver’s side door and collapsed into the seat. “No. I’m all right. Murray and I were checking in with the medical examiner.”
Danny seemed to absorb that for a moment. Her voice evened out. “Did the ME have anything new to add about the victims or figure out who they are?”
“No. DNA, fingerprints and dental were inconclusive considering how much damage the bodies had sustained.” Which had most likely been strategy on the arsonist’s end. This killer, whoever he was, wasn’t following the rules she’d studied over the years. This wasn’t a show of power or an effort to get attention from the media, police or the rangers. This felt like…punishment. “But he thinks the photos found with both victims might be the same.”
“Whoa.” Danny’s favorite word in the English dictionary. “Higgins isn’t giving us much information to go off of here. Were they able to recover the photos?”
“A little. That’s something else I wanted to talk to you about. I don’t think the arsonist chose the victims at random.” Movement registered at the perimeter tape. He was impossible to miss, standing at over a foot above everyone else on the scene. Murray scanned the street, the scene of the fire, grabbed for one of the firefighters. Looking for her. He was looking for her. Aslen sank a bit lower behind the steering wheel. Didn’t he understand? She didn’t want an apology. She didn’t want to hear his reasoning why she wasn’t enough for him or how much he needed her in his life. Not out of love. But out of purpose.To give him something to focus on other than the life-altering losses he’d sustained. Because then she would be right back where she’d started. Waiting for a life that would only ever be one-sided, and she couldn’t do it anymore. She deserved more than protection. She deserved to be with a man who loved her as much as she loved him. And through his own admission, Murray Simpson couldn’t be that man.
“What do you mean?” Danny had always given her the grace to work out whatever thoughts Aslen needed to get straight in her head, but there was no perfect way to explain this…connection between her roommate and the man who’d tried to kill her.
“Murray is convinced he’s seen the photo recovered with both our victims before.” She surveyed the street, failing to pick Murray out of the crowd this time. He was gone, but she’d been losing him for a while, hadn’t she? And this time was her choice. A new kind of hollowness—deeper, more significant—threatened to break into the moment, but Aslen didn’t have time to think about what came next. Just the present. Neither of them had asked for the loss and grief they’d survived, but they could make better choices. He could choose her if he had the courage to let go of his fear. “On your nightstand. The one of your family.”
“I don’t… I don’t understand.” Danny’s voice wavered. “The arsonist has a picture of my family?”
“Yes. Both victims were in their fifties or sixties. We found evidence their wedding rings had melted due to the high temperatures of the fire, but the medical examiner believes the deaths were connected, that they were a couple.” The pieces were adding up if Murray had been right about that photo, but who in their right mind would want to hurt Danny? And why try to kill Aslen? “Have you heard from your parents recently?”
“We aren’t… We aren’t really on speaking terms. Haven’t been for a while. Not to say I haven’t tried.” Danny hadn’t ever really gotten into why, only that her brother was the only one still talking to her. “I don’t remember the last time I talked to either of them. Years, maybe. They didn’t like that I left the church I grew up in. Told me I wasn’t their daughter if I wasn’t God’s. My mom, she was more open, but I think my dad kept her from reaching out.”
Her heart hurt all over again as Aslen considered the possibility of being cast out by the very people who were supposed to love you the most. “Danny, I need you to think. Is there anyone who might want to hurt you or your parents?”
Her roommate didn’t answer.
Aslen checked her screen to make sure the call hadn’t been disconnected, but the clock was still ticking off seconds. “Danny?”
