“Yes. There’s someone who’s wanted to punish my parents for what they did for a long time, but… Could you meet me?” Danny lowered her voice. “Out here at Lava Point, please? I just… I can’t talk about this over the phone in the middle of a scene.”
“Of course. Ping me the location to meet when you get the chance. I’m on my way.” Aslen started the car and shoved it into Reverse to avoid the scene of her and Danny’s house in flames. “It’ll be okay. Well figure this out when I get there.”
“Thank you, Aslen.” Danny ended the call.
In less than an hour, she pulled over along West Rim Road, putting Lava Point Overlook to her south. The picnic area Danny had pinpointed was a little less than a ten-minute walk, complete with devastatingly beautiful views. But no sign of Danny. She checked her phone for the GPS ping her best friend had sent then brought up Danny’s contact info and tapped to call.
A phone rang behind her.
Aslen turned, expecting her friend.
“Hello, Ranger Woods.” The arsonist who’d tried to drown her smiled with a phone pinched between his index finger and thumb. Every detail she’d catalogued during those frightening seconds of not knowing whether she was going to live or die stared back at her with a too-wide smile. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
He’d lost her.
Physically, emotionally. Murray had searched the entire neighborhood for her, noticing too late her vehicle was no longer parked on the street. She must’ve gotten access during the chaos of the scene.
Firefighters still worked to put out the blaze consuming Aslen’s and Danny’s lives. He’d watched her walk out of his life without so much as an argument. Damn it. The arsonist was still out there. He had some connection to Danny—Murray was sure of it—and he’d just let Aslen leave.
He shoved through the front door of his house, slamming it behind him. He had to get to her. Had to make this right. But no matter how many scenarios he played out, he couldn’t for the life of him pull himself together enough to figure out where she’d gone.
Are you ever going to love me, Murray?
Her voice wound tighter and tighter in his head. Cutting him apart with every round. Sooner or later, there wouldn’t be anything of him left, but he didn’t know how to fix this between them.
Because he’d lied to her.
No matter how many times he’d tried to convince himself otherwise—to convince her—he already loved her. He’d been in love with her the moment he set eyes on that know-it-all who satat the front of the class and refused to let anyone else answer the teacher’s questions. Those feelings had only grown in the weeks leading up to finding her bleeding on the pavement, had driven him to save her. He’d reached down to take her hand, giving her the choice to accept his offer. And then the invisible thread connecting his soul to hers had solidified.
He’d wanted to preserve that connection as long as possible, hiding her in his bedroom when her foster mother went off the rails, introducing her to his family and inviting her to dinners a few times a week. His parents had loved Aslen, especially her ability to bring his ego down a notch with a cutting remark or joke. In their eyes, she’d kept him on the straight and narrow and within a few months, they’d accepted her into the family as one of their own. As though she was always meant to be in his life.
He couldn’t feel that connection between them now though.
In its place, something hollow and empty spread. Something dark. Murray absently rubbed at his chest as though he could dislodge it with a few deep breaths, but this wasn’t acid reflux. A part of his soul had been severed and walked out the door with a request not to follow.
And now Aslen was gone.
As quick and as easily as his brother had disappeared, as his father had given up, as his mother had withered away. Everyone he’d ever loved had left him here to pick up the pieces alone, only this time he couldn’t blame illness or heartbreak. He couldn’t blame anyone but himself. His instinct to avoid any kind of relationship short of physical had failed him. Aslen had practically begged him to face his loss over the years, to lean on her for support and allow her to help him through it. Visits to his parents’ gravestones, treks to Kolob Canyons where Jackson had last been seen on the anniversary of his disappearance, but the idea of facing a pain that had compounded over years threatenedto shut him down entirely. And he couldn’t do that to Aslen. He couldn’t just disappear from her life to wallow in his self-pity and loss. He’d had to be strong for her. To protect her. The promise he’d made her as a teen had given him purpose, but now he saw it’d only been a distraction.
And the grief of losing his family—of not knowing how his brother had died or being able to provide Jackson a proper burial—had done nothing but eat at him until he wasn’t sure he could feel anything anymore. Least of all love. While he’d resented Aslen for trying to make him confront his own grief while she held on to the loss of her parents, he’d known as long as he kept his emotions close to the vest, the numbness couldn’t infect her.
Scrubbing a hand down his face, Murray grabbed for his phone and tapped Aslen’s number. She couldn’t be out there alone. The arsonist had already ambushed her once and most likely had been the one to burn her house down. The line rang. Over and over. Each time ratcheting his blood pressure higher. Until the call went to voicemail. “Damn it.”
He disconnected the call and tried again. No answer. “Aslen, I know you’re mad at me, but I need you to call me back. Tell me where you are.”
He sent a text message, and an immediate response came through. Driving with focus on. Navigating to her contact information, he tried using the GPS app that friends used to keep tabs on each other, but the data refused to load. She’d either turned her app off or she’d changed the setting so he couldn’t track her. Murray was betting on the latter, and he couldn’t blame her. Hell, he couldn’t blame her for never wanting to speak to him again, but this wasn’t about them. This was about a killer solely focused on ensuring Aslen didn’t survive this investigation.
His phone vibrated with an incoming call, the caller unknown.
Hope exploded behind his sternum as he answered. “Aslen?”
“Ranger Simpson, this is the ME’s office. I’m calling with a new update on your investigation of the two burn victims recovered in the park.” The distinct tapping of a keyboard echoed through the line. “I’ve finished the examination of both bodies, and we’ve got an ID on your second victim.”
This was what they’d been waiting for. Murray lunged for the kitchen junk drawer and scrambled to find a pen and paper. “The victim found in the RV? I thought all DNA, fingerprints and dental were inconclusive.”
“They were.” The earsplitting squeak of a chair in need of repair screeched in the background. “However, after an X-ray, I discovered this victim had knee surgery about ten years ago and had surgical pins implanted to keep the knee stable. From what I’ve found in the victim’s history, the damage after the physical assault was substantial. Without the pins, the victim never would’ve recovered use of the leg.”
