Taking a step back from the stove, Lydia turned to look at Frankie.
She heard three popping sounds and then an intense hot energy picked her up and threw her backward. The kettle hit her shoulder. Her back rammed against a piece of furniture and papers fluttered around her. There was a giant black spot where her stove used to be. Her heartbeat drummed in her ears as shock set in.
River was lifting her, telling her something she couldn’t quite process. He all but carried her through the front door. Had a bomb just gone off in her house?
* * *
With his own heart pounding, River wrapped his arm around Lydia’s waist and rushed her through the front door. Frankie followed him. Though the explosion had been small only damaging part of the kitchen, it would have killed her if she hadn’t stepped away from the stove. Frankie’s warning growl had saved Lydia’s life.
He pulled his phone out.
He didn’t even wait for the 911 operator to talk. “There’s been an explosion at 407 Weston Street.” He went down on one knee beside Lydia. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
She nodded. “I don’t think anything is broken.”
“Let’s go sit in my patrol car.” He was concerned that there might be another explosion. The outside of the house hadn’t been damaged at all, but that didn’t mean they were out of danger.
Frankie settled between them in the car. After a few minutes, River saw flashing lights and heard sirens approaching up the street. The fire truck pulled up first. They waited in the patrol car until the ambulance showed up.
River escorted Lydia toward a waiting EMT. Several of the firemen were walking around the outside of the house, but none had yet gone inside. One of them came toward River and Lydia.
“Can you describe exactly what happened?”
Lydia sat on the bumper of the ambulance and pulled the blanket the EMT had offered her around her shoulders. “There were popping sounds right after I turned on my gas stove, then I was sailing through the air.”
The firefighter put his hands on his hips. “We’re concerned that there might have been a gas line explosion, which means there might be a gas leak. I’m not sending my guys in there until we know it’s safe to enter.”
“You mean there might be more explosions?” said River.
The fire chief turned back toward the house. “Looks like an old house. Was the stove recently installed? Have you had any work done recently?”
“No recent construction.” Lydia shook her head. “I have to tell you that there have been other attempts on my life.”
He stared at her for a long moment. “I’m not sure what’s going on, but we’ll figure it out.” The fire chief walked toward one of the other firefighters.
Lydia clutched the blanket close to her neck. “My house. My things. Elsie’s things.” The strain in her voice was like a knife stabbing his heart. One more thing had been taken from her.
After the EMT checked her out, River rested his hand on her shoulder. “You’re staying with me for now.” Dropping her off at a friend’s house might not be a good idea. At least with him, she’d be safe.
Lydia had a sort of dazed look on her face as she got into the passenger seat. River had loaded Frankie in the back seat.
“Do you ever feel like you’re living Job’s life? Now I can’t live in my house because of some kind of freak accident…if that even is what it was.”
Even if the explosion had been caused by a gas leak, he too wondered if it had been an accident or deliberate sabotage.
Either way, he wouldn’t leave her alone, and he certainly wouldn’t let her spend the night at some hotel when she was this vulnerable. She’d come to his place, where he could offer her his protection. With only a little arguing from her end, she agreed. She weakly mentioned that she could stay with her in-laws, but she seemed worried about causing them more stress.
River drove through town. Fully aware that they might be followed, he checked his mirror and took a circuitous route to his house. They stopped at a discount department store so Lydia could get toiletries and a change of clothes. Because he’d just moved to Ridge, he’d rented a house.
The house was small but on a large lot with a fenced backyard for Frankie. He didn’t have a guest room. The second bedroom was still filled with boxes. “You can sleep in my room. I’ll sleep on the couch.”
She glanced around at the bare-bones room. “Guess your favorite color is brown, huh?”
They both laughed. She put her newly purchased possessions on the bed.
“I need to let Frankie out so she can run around.”
“I’ll go with you,” she said.
