Deanna fixed her gaze on the road’s center yellow line, the old truck’s vibration lulling her into a strange sense of quiet. Or was it shock?
Her stomach growled. When had she eaten last? The orange of the smoky sky outside the passenger-side window had deepened to neon tangerine. It must be getting close to dinnertime, but she didn’t wear a watch, so she didn’t know the exact time.
The adrenaline that had sustained her all afternoon was gone. Exhaustion pulled at her eyelids. If she leaned her head back, she’d give in to sleep, but what kind of nightmares might follow if she did? She allowed her eyelashes to rest against her cheeks briefly, but images of Rex Turner’s somersaulting pickup truck made them flutter back open.
So many questions and theories bounced inside her brain. She should talk to Sean about them, but she couldn’t organize her thoughts into individual words, let alone a conversation. Besides, shouting above the wind coming through the shot-out window behind them felt like too much effort.
It was Sean who finally broke the silence. “I don’t think we’ve met the man behind this yet.”
Deanna shifted away from a sharp piece of ripped upholstery that was poking her in the back and then turned to face Sean. “You don’t think Rex Turner was in charge?”
“No.”
“What about Greg Martin?”
He shook his head. “Not him, either.”
“Explain,” she said.
“They all acted scared, like they were trying to clean up a mess before they were blamed for letting it happen. There’s always a hierarchy in these kind of things, and I don’t think any of those men were the boss.”
Sean listed off all the men they could identify. “Do any of them fit the profile of a leader?”
Deanna slumped back against the seat. Admitting she agreed with him meant accepting that they still weren’t safe. Who knew when they’d ever be safe again? His theory did match her own impressions, though. She replayed the events of the past few hours, and she could come to only one conclusion: Sean was right.
“We can tick Rex Turner and Nathan Reid off the list of suspects,” she said. She didn’t elaborate further, trying to keep her voice matter-of-fact. Their deaths had been so horrible. She didn’t even want to think about that yet, let alone talk about it. She was thankful Sean moved on quickly.
“And Greg Martin has always been the sidekick type. I can’t see him calling the shots on something like this,” he said.
“So if not them, then who?”
“Nathan Reid talked about that Pritchard guy as if he was in charge. Maybe it’s him, whoever he is. I don’t know. But we have to find out who is calling the shots.” Sean sighed heavily and leaned his head against the window next to him. “Until we know exactly who it is we are dealing with, we won’t be safe.”
As he spoke his concerns, a new thought dawned in Deanna’s mind. It unfolded slowly, giving her time to adjust to its enormity. If it had taken shape any faster, the weight of the fear the thought brought with it might have crushed her. They wouldn’t be safe. And the people they loved weren’t safe now, either.
Gram.
Greg Martin knew them too well. He was familiar with her family and Sean’s, too. He would know what would hurt her the most. Deanna sat up straight, the blood draining from her face. She felt ill. “You have to take me to Gram.”
“I told you I would,” he said. “After the sheriff.”
She shook her head. “No, I changed my mind. That’ll take too long.”
“But we agreed. After we report the fire, we can go home.”
She should have thought of Gram sooner. Gram would have put her first, no matter what. She always did.
Sean pleaded his case. “We have to get help, if not for those men, then at least to stop the spread of more fire.”
And then he said the worst thing possible. “It’s the right thing to do.”
Her cheeks burned. Sean thought she didn’t care as much as he did, but that wasn’t true at all. She cared too much, more than she wanted to let herself feel, but who was he to dictate her conscience? To tell her what was right or wrong? It reminded her of Blake Ransford. He was always doing that to her, too.
“I understand that people just died back there. It’s horrible, and I don’t want to see that fire spread any more than you do. But Gram.” Deanna squeezed the seat’s edge and closed her eyes. Just saying Gram’s name aloud made her sick with worry. “Sean, Gram is my whole world.”
A choice dangled before her. Maybe her father was onto something with his flying-solo philosophy. It might be a lonely life, but at least he got to call the shots. That’s all Deanna wanted. To have a little control for once, and nothing said she had to stay with Sean. She hadn’t considered separating from him—at least not until they’d seen this thing through—but now that they faced an impasse, it was probably time to leave him so she could take care of her own issues.
“You’re quiet,” Sean said. “What are you thinking about?”
“Drop me off on your way,” she said. “I’ll walk to The Hangar.”
Sean flinched as if she’d slapped him. “I’m taking the last exit off the highway to go to the courthouse. Taking you downtown first would add too much time, and we need to stick together.”
“Why do we have to stick together?” she demanded. It sounded cold, but she had to be tough for Gram. That mattered far more than Sean’s feelings right now. Besides, they were getting too cozy anyway. She would only end up hurting him in the long run. This was for the best.
He rubbed his eyes, battling with some internal debate. Finally, he spoke. “I’ll do whatever you want. I still believe we need to get help first, but if it means splitting up, I’ll go downtown first.”
Gripping the steering wheel, he looked up at the truck’s roof. Then he turned to her. His voice was gruff, almost a whisper, but she could still hear it above the wind when he asked, “Please, Deanna?”
Her heart lurched at how much feeling was behind his request. Another reason to make a clean break now rather than later.
Sean continued, “You wouldn’t be in danger if I hadn’t gotten you into this mess. Let me make sure you’re safe before you go off on your own.”
They wouldn’t be in this danger if Sean hadn’t hired her.
They wouldn’t be in this danger if she hadn’t insisted on landing in the meadow.
They could play the blame game all day long, but truth stared her in the face: the actual threat of spreading fire took priority over the perceived threat to Gram. That ravine was full of flash fuel and Deanna’s conscience spoke for itself. With no cell service, they had a duty to deliver the news in person. Taking her to The Hangar first really would add too much time. If she insisted they do this her way and then the fire spread, all the blame would land on her and her selfishness.
“Okay. We’ll go for help first,” she acquiesced and then turned to stare at Sean, determined to deliver her next message loud and clear. “But Gram better be okay.”
He nodded slowly. “She will be.”
* * *
Sean parked next to the courthouse annex and turned to Deanna. “Hopefully, this won’t take too long.”
“It better not.”
He read her rigid body language. She wasn’t giving him an inch. Anything that went wrong would be his fault, and keeping her with him wasn’t going to be easy, either. She could change her mind and bolt at any minute.
“We’ll be in and out, I promise. Report what we know, then we’re out of there. Maybe they can send someone to check on your grandma while we fill out reports,” he said.
The laser-sharp look she shot him was impressive. “I don’t want them to send someone. I want to see she’s safe with my own eyes.”
It was fear that was making her mean. He understood it. Sean worried about his family, too, but it was different for him. Uncle Paul could fend for himself, and his mother and grandmother had moved to Spokane a few years ago after his grandfather passed away. His loved ones were almost a three-hour drive away from this danger. He understood Deanna’s urgency. Arlene Jackson was right here, and she was alone with no way for them to warn her.
He tried to put a hand on her shoulder, but Deanna flinched away from it. He let his hand drop back to his lap, his face flushing. What had he thought would happen? That after their harrowing afternoon together, she would somehow suddenly be swept off her feet?
Without looking at her, he said, “Making sure your Gram is safe is our next step, I promise.”
“Let’s stop talking about it, then, and get this over with,” she said.
He was so terrible with women. What should he have said to her? Even if he’d had all the right words, it wouldn’t have mattered anyway. Deanna wanted only one thing right now. The best thing he could do for her would be to get in and out of the sheriff’s office as quickly as possible.
Walking through the parking lot, they passed a hodgepodge of the department’s fleet of vehicles—a few Ford sedans, a couple of Suburban SUVs, a diesel pickup—all of them displaying the same sheriff’s department logo. Deanna stopped and stared at the final car in the lineup.
She flipped her arm out, catching Sean across the gut. “That’s it.”
“Huh?” Now what?
She kept her arm against him and pointed with her other hand at a forest green Jeep Cherokee. “That’s the car I saw by the shed in the meadow.”
Disbelief froze Sean in place as he stared at the Jeep. Had someone from the sheriff’s department really been up there? Everything had happened so fast it was possible that Deanna was mistaken. Jeeps were common enough. Sean hoped that was the case because the alternative was too scary. Sheriff Johnson was his best friend. Sean had always known Jim to be a man of integrity and moral conviction. If his department was somehow compromised, or—Sean shuddered at his next thought—if Jim wasn’t the man Sean thought him to be, then there was no one else left to help them. He needed Deanna to be wrong.