Page 31

“I’ll stay with her,” Amy said immediately.

Kelsey nodded. “That’s settled then. I’ll send you home with an inhaler and something for the pain.” She turned back to Kaitlin. “No talking more than necessary for at least forty-eight hours. And absolutely no exposure to smoke or dust for a while. I’ll check in on you in the morning.”

Kaitlin’s mind raced despite the fog of exhaustion. The records, how much had been lost? And who had she seen in that room? The figure had been just a shadow, impossible to identify in the smoke and confusion.

“The fire was deliberate. Accelerant was used.” Matt stepped forward. “What did you see?” The question was direct but still gentle.

Kaitlin reached for the notebook and pen Kelsey had left her on the nearby counter. Her hands trembled as she wrote: Someone escaped through window. Average height.

“Male or female?” Matt pressed.

She shook her head. Too dark. Too much smoke.

He nodded, a muscle working in his jaw.

“Can we discuss this when she’s not recovering from smoke inhalation?” Amy interrupted, placing a protective hand on Kaitlin’s shoulder.

“Sorry, of course,” he said. “There’ll be time to talk later.”

An hour later, fortified with prescriptions and stern instructions from Kelsey, Kaitlin found herself bundled into Amy’s car. The painkiller was beginning to dull the sharp edges of her discomfort and leave her floating in a hazy middle distance.

“Matt’s going to keep watch tonight too,” Amy continued. “He insisted.”

Through her medication-induced haze, Kaitlin registered this with mild surprise. She turned to look at Amy, raising an eyebrow.

Amy caught her glance and smiled faintly. “Don’t read too much into it. He’s staying on site to provide security, in case whoever set the fire comes back, and gather evidence. We’ll stay on your couch, so you can rest in your own bed. No arguments.”

Kaitlin didn’t have the energy to protest. The cottage that had felt like a haven now seemed exposed, vulnerable. The thought of being alone with the memory of that shadowy figure still fresh in her mind sent a chill through her that wasn’t caused by the autumn air. Someone had wanted to do damage.

When they pulled up to Kaitlin’s cottage, Matt’s cruiser was already parked in the drive. He stood on the porch, a thermos in one hand, alert despite the late hour.

“I’ve checked the mansion,” he said as Amy helped Kaitlin from the car. “Everything’s secure for the rest of the night.”

His eyes met Kaitlin’s, and she was struck by the concern evident in his gaze, so different from the suspicion she’d grown accustomed to seeing there.

Inside, the cottage felt both familiar and strange, as if the events of the night had somehow altered its dimensions. Amy bustled about, turning up the heat, filling a glass with water, and setting Kaitlin’s medications on the bedside table while Matt checked windows and doors.

“I’ll take first watch,” Amy said as she settled into the armchair in the corner of Kaitlin’s bedroom. “Matt will take over at sunrise. You just focus on resting.”

Kaitlin wanted to protest that she didn’t need babysitters, but the effort of speaking seemed monumental. Instead, she nodded and sank gratefully into the pillows. The last thing she remembered before drifting off was Matt standing in the doorway, his expression unreadable in the dim light.

The scent of coffee pulled Kaitlin from a dreamless sleep. Pale morning light filtered through the curtains, casting the room in a gentle glow. For a moment, she felt disoriented. Her mind struggling to piece together where she was and why her throat felt like she’d swallowed glass.

Then it all came rushing back. The fire, the shadowy figure, the acrid smoke filling her lungs.

She pushed herself up on her elbows, wincing at the soreness in her chest. The chair where Amy had been sitting was empty. Instead, the sound of movement came from the kitchen, along with the rich aroma of brewing coffee.

Kaitlin glanced at the clock, just past seven. She reached for the glass of water beside her bed and took small sips to ease the burning in her throat. The simple act of swallowing was painful, but the cool liquid provided some relief.

Wrapping herself in her robe, she padded quietly toward the kitchen, curiosity overriding her discomfort. She froze in the doorway.

Matt stood at the counter, his back to her, sipping coffee from a mug as he gazed out the kitchen window. He’d shed his uniform jacket, and the crisp white shirt he wore beneath it stretched across his shoulders as he moved. Sleeves rolled to the elbows to revealed corded forearms. His hair was slightly rumpled, as if he’d run his hands through it multiple times during the night.

He looked solid, dependable, and strangely at home in her kitchen. The realization sent an unexpected warmth through her chest that had nothing to do with smoke inhalation.

Sensing her presence, Matt turned. For a brief moment, his guard was down, and the look he gave her was one of genuine relief.

“You’re up,” he said, his voice low and morning-rough. “How are you feeling?”