If You Hear Her: A Novel of Romantic Suspense (39 page)

Hope shot a look at the sky. She didn’t know. It looked pretty ugly to her, and the rain looked like it wanted to hang around for a while. She was just glad they’d been almost home before it started. Driving from Lexington to here in this would have given her a nervous breakdown.

She’d had enough of those, thanks.

Peering through the rain, she said, “They’re waiting for us.”

“Then by all means,” Lena muttered. “Come on, Puck …”

T
HE HOUSE WAS DARK AND QUIET—TOO DARK.
L
AW
tried the light switch by the back door with no luck.

“You think you lost power?” Hope said softly, trying not to cling to his back, even though that’s exactly what she wanted to do.

Law shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ll check down in the basement, make sure I didn’t trip a circuit or something.”

Swallowing, Hope studied the dancing, flickering shadows cast on the floor as the lightning flashed. Another storm was rolling in. The thunder crashed and she had to bite her lip to keep from shrieking.

“You okay?” he asked softly, stroking a hand down her arm.

“Just jumpy,” she said, trying to smile. Trying, failing miserably.

“I’ll light a couple of candles before I go downstairs,” he said. “That will help.”

Normally, the soft golden glow of candlelight would have helped, but some reason, tonight that soft, golden glow didn’t seem so warm and welcoming—it was sinister, secretive, hiding something in its shadows.

Hope huddled by the counter, arms wrapped around
her midsection as she watched Law grab a flashlight from some junk drawer on the island.

As he left the room, that taunting, numbing fear wrapped a fist around her throat and tried to choke her.

She squeezed her eyes closed.
I can do this. I don’t have to be afraid … I don’t have to live like this, I don’t, I don’t … I don’t and I haven’t
.

As the lights came on, flooding the house, she sucked in a deep breath and sighed. “Oh, shit.” Light-headed with relief, she pushed off the counter and staggered a little with her first step.

Light. Sweet, bright light. Moving toward the arched entryway, she started for the stairs. “I’m going to get out of these wet clothes,” she called toward the basement.

From the corner of her eye, she noticed the door to Law’s office was open.

Frowning, she stopped.

He never left that door open.

Never.

Not when he was working.

Not when he was sleeping.

He didn’t leave it open.

Her heart bumped against her ribs and she backed up a step. As she did, she saw … something. Something spreading across the gleaming, golden wooden floors of his office. Red.

An ugly, red stain.

No.

Hearing the footsteps behind her, she spun around and saw Law.

He caught sight of her face and concern flashed through his eyes.

For a few seconds, just the sight of him made her feel better. But then his eyes flicked past her shoulder, landing on something behind her.

That dark, ugly red stain, perhaps. She didn’t know
and she couldn’t turn to look, because there was a shadow coming up behind him, huge and dark and looming.

Screaming out his name, she tried to knock him out of the way.

But she was too far away, and far too slow.

As his long, lean body went sprawling on the floor, Hope stumbled to a stop. With her heart knocking against her ribs, and her throat trying to close down on her, she stared at the dark, faceless shadow.

She was keenly aware of the fact that Law lay still, motionless at her feet. Too still, with a slow spread of red seeping out of his head to spill across the floor.

Law.

Law …

No.

As the shadow lifted a hand toward her, she backed away, one shaking step at a time.

The wind whipped her hair back from her face. Standing on the porch, Lena lifted her face to it. The rain was cold, cold enough to send a chill down her back despite the muggy heat still lingering in the air.

“What are you doing?” Ezra asked from behind her.

Smiling over her shoulder, she said, “Just standing here. I love storms.” She breathed in the air. She smelled the rain, the scent of grass. Faintly, she could smell Ezra. And … something else.

There was an acrid scent.

She took in another deep breath.

Acrid. Sharp.

Smoke.

“Something’s burning,” she murmured. “Wonder if lightning hit something.”

Warm, solid arms slid around her middle and she smiled, leaning back against him. “You and Hope shouldn’t have
been driving around in this,” he murmured, skimming his lips along her shoulder.

“Hmmm. Well, the rain didn’t blow in until we were a few miles away. They didn’t say much of anything about storms this morning, just a chance of rain.” She arched her head to the side and shivered as he shifted his focus to her neck. “By the time the rain decided to be a thunderstorm, we were almost here. Spending a thunderstorm on the side of a little Kentucky country highway? Not supersmart, in my opinion.”

The scent of smoke was getting heavier in the air. Thicker—thick enough to penetrate the fog that had begun to wrap around her. Easing away from Ezra’s arms, she asked, “Can you smell the smoke?”

Stroking a hand down her back, he said, “Nah.”

But then she heard him inhale. “Well, I dunno. Maybe.”

Ezra skimmed the skyline. Hard to see much of anything with the low, thick cover of clouds and the rain, and he couldn’t see anything a foot or two beyond the tree line—it was just too dark. Shifting his gaze to the west, he followed the road. It was darker there—smoke … maybe?

He squinted and then swore. Dread, low and ugly, curled inside his gut. It was smoke, he was almost sure of it. Hard to tell at first, the clouds were so dark, so thick.

But the longer he stared at them, the more certain he was—those black plumes curling against the sky weren’t clouds. It was smoke.

His voice gritty, Ezra said quietly, “Lena, I think that might be my house.”

The drive didn’t take more than eight minutes. He knew that. But the seconds dragged on forever and by the time he and Lena pulled to a halt in front of his house, he felt like he’d aged two decades.

Halfway there, they’d heard the wail of sirens, but he already knew it was pointless.

By the time the fire department arrived, the only thing they’d be able to do was extinguish the blaze.

“Ezra?” Lena murmured.

Sitting behind the steering wheel, his hands gripping the plastic, he said, “Yeah?”

“I … I don’t know.”

She felt like there was something she should say. Something she should do. But what? Reaching over, she sought out his hand, found it resting in a fist on his thigh. It was rigid under hers, bunched and hard. For a long moment, he did nothing and then, he opened his hand, gripped hers so tightly, it almost hurt.

A few seconds later, they pulled up in front of the house.

“I want to make sure there’s nobody here,” he said softly. “Will you stay in the truck?”

“I’d like to come with you.”

“No.” He took a deep, slow breath. “Please don’t. It looks like the fire’s contained to just the house, but the fire department’s going to be scrambling around. It will be easier for them to do their job if they aren’t worrying about anybody else. I can stay out of their way, get back here quicker if it’s just me.”

She bit her lip, told herself not to take it personally. She could feel the pain in his voice, the anger. “Okay.” She forced a smile and said, “Just hurry back.”

“I will.”

The door to the truck closed quietly and she suspected he had to restrain himself to keep from slamming it.

He stayed out of the way.

Even when a couple of sheriff’s cruisers arrived, he kept out of the way, circling around the perimeter of his property, staring at the blazing remains of his grandmother’s house.

Her house—not exactly his. At least not yet. He’d been
working on making it that way, but he hadn’t exactly put his mark on it yet. Other things … like Lena … had kept getting in the way.

Not that he minded having Lena in the way.

A muscle pulsed in his jaw and he barely resisted the urge to hit something—anything. Not that he had a lot of targets just then. Kicking at the muddy ground, he stared at the flames. Rain dripped down his face, into his eyes, but he ignored it, the same way he ignored his sodden clothes, the same way he ignored the few glances that drifted his way.

Who in the hell had done this?

Lena had said lightning, but that didn’t settle quite right in Ezra’s gut. Too neat. Too easy. Caught in the middle of a fucking mess, there wasn’t going to be a neat, easy answer.

“Shit,” he muttered. He glanced toward his truck. Through the rain, he could barely make out Lena’s silhouette behind the glass. He needed to get back to her—needed to be there, but he had to cool this hot, burning anger first.

Was this connected to the body? To the screams? Why? What was the point? Shit, burning his house down wasn’t going to get him away from Lena, if that had been the intention.

Spinning around, he scrubbed his hands over his face, then hooked them behind his neck. Lowering his head, he stared at the muddy ground.

Something caught his eye.

It was muddied, almost buried.

If he hadn’t been standing exactly where he was, he wouldn’t have seen it.

As disgust curled through him, he crouched down on the ground.

He could have left it. He probably should have. The cop inside him knew that.

But for reasons he couldn’t explain, he reached down and scooped it out of the mud and tucked it inside his pocket.

When he rose, he looked back at the house, and then at Lena.

The anger continued to bubble and burn in his gut, but it eased enough to let him start his way back to the truck. Back to Lena.

Halfway there, the sheriff intercepted him.

“You know, before you showed up, Ash used to be a pretty quiet town.” Nielson scowled at Ezra.

Frowning at the blazing ruin of his house, Ezra said, “You figuring I’m to blame for this?”

“Shit, no. But it sure as hell looks like you’re a magnet for disaster, sometimes.” He jerked his head toward Lena. “What is she doing out here?”

“Wasn’t about to leave her alone, not until I knew what was going on.” Ezra shifted from one foot to the other and shoved a hand through his dripping hair. “Do we really need to stand here in the pouring rain and chat right now?”

“Actually, no. What we need to do is swing by and check on Law Reilly and his visitor.”

Cocking a brow, Ezra said, “Hope? Why?”

“Because of that,” Nielson said, gesturing to the fire. “Right now, I’m operating on the basis that when one weird thing happens with one of you, it affects all four of you. So we’re going to drive out there and talk to those two.”

Ezra knew the fire had nothing to do with Lena, Hope, or Law.

But there wasn’t any way he could point that out. Not unless he wanted to share with the sheriff what he’d found just a few minutes ago.

Shit.

“Fine. Let’s get it done. I want out of the rain.”

The tension coming from Ezra was thick enough to choke her. Resting a hand on his thigh, she rubbed it, wished she could think of something to say that would make it better. Make him feel better.

But what could she say?

“The sheriff doesn’t think they’re in trouble, does he?” she asked, cutting into the silence as it started to weigh too heavily on her.

“I don’t know,” Ezra said, his voice quiet. Distracted.

Lena bent down and felt around the floor for her bag. The cell phone was tucked into a pouch on the strap and she pulled it free, punched in Law’s home number. He wouldn’t answer, but if he or Hope was in the kitchen, maybe they’d hear the answering machine come on.

After the fourth ring, the machine came on.

“Hey, it’s Lena. We’re on our way over … ah, the sheriff is going to get there before we do. He’s just a few seconds ahead of us. But, well, I wanted to give Hope a heads-up. I know how she is with cops and stuff.” She paused, wondering if either of them would answer, but no such luck. Sighing, she disconnected and tucked the phone away again.