36

Logan rapped on the door, took a deep breath, and stepped inside. Amy lay on the bed, an oxygen tube around her pale face, an IV tube snaking along her arm and into her hand.

Her eyes blinked open, and she gave him a faint smile. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you. And to bring you these.” He placed a vase of pink roses on a nearby table. “I seem to remember you like pink.”

“They’re lovely.” Her voice was soft, almost ragged. “Thank you.”

He pulled a chair close to the bed and leaned as close to her as he could. “I still can’t believe you were involved in that fire. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. At least I’m alive.”

“But what were you doing there? What happened?”

“I don’t know. We saw the smoke and . . .” She turned her face away.

“It’s okay,” Logan said. “We don’t have to talk about it.”

Except he needed her to talk about it. Since she had been there, on the scene, she could give him the details the news reports left out.

“It’s nice that you came,” Amy said sleepily.

“Of course I came.” He gently stroked her arm. “Can I get you anything? Do anything for you? All you have to do is ask.”

“Can you make it yesterday again? Make it so the fire doesn’t happen?”

“I wish I could,” he said with as much sincerity as he could muster.

They sat in silence for several minutes as Amy dozed. Logan watched over her, his thoughts a mishmash of guilt and satisfaction. He hadn’t intended for anyone to get hurt. Somehow his best-laid plans had gone awry when it came to the timing of the fire. But at least Amy would recover. If Kendall didn’t, well, so much the better for Logan.

For now, he needed to prove to Amy how much she needed him, that they belonged together. And to be sure no one linked him to the arson.

Late that afternoon, Amy leaned against the chilled window of her hospital room as windswept rain cascaded from dark clouds. No lightning. No thunder. Only drenching, dousing rain. If the torrent had come yesterday instead of today, scorching flames couldn’t have destroyed the stables. AJ would be home with Shelby and their girls. Gabe might have dropped by the cottage with a Crock-Pot of chili made with Conecuh sausage.

Tess would still be alive.

A knock sounded on the door, and she heaved a heavy sigh. She’d had enough visitors traipsing through her room today. Dani had brought a hearty to-go breakfast from the Dixie Diner, which Amy dutifully ate. She’d eaten nothing since.

Well-meaning neighbors, friends of AJ’s who Amy hardly knew, had dropped in throughout the afternoon, and so did a couple of the paramedics who’d treated her yesterday. Just checking to see how she was, they said.

Cassie Owens came too, bringing garden flowers and homemade cards from Jonah, Elizabeth, and Tabby. Jason had kept the kids so Brett and Dani could visit AJ.

The knock sounded again. Heavier this time.

“Come in,” Amy said rudely.

“Ms. Somers?” The man who entered wore a black polo shirt tucked into pressed jeans. “I’m Ken Abbott, a fire investigator with local law enforcement. I don’t want to take up too much of your time, but I’d like to talk to you if you think you’re up to it.”

“I’m not.”

“I only need a few minutes.” He joined her at the window. “My daughter goes to Glade County High School. Coach Sullivan is one of her favorite teachers. Do you know how he’s doing?”

“He’s been better.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll survive.”

“How long are they keeping you?”

She glared at him. “Why are you here?”

“Like I said, I need to ask you a few questions.”

“Can’t this wait until I get home?” She eased into a nearby chair. “My mind’s a little fuzzy from the drugs.”

“Usually, I’d say yes.” He stuck his hands in his pockets, leaned against the windowsill, and crossed his ankles. His relaxed stance exuded friendly confidence, and he clearly didn’t want her to feel intimidated. But his posture was a little too deliberate, too practiced. “But because of the circumstances surrounding this fire, it’s vital that we don’t delay our investigation.”

“You mean because Tess died.”

“Were you and she close?”

“I think we could have been. Given more time.”

“I am sorry.”

Amy nodded but said nothing. Too late she had realized that spending time with Tess was the next best thing to being with Gran. If she hadn’t shut Tess out of her life as a teenager, she’d have had the older woman’s wisdom and strength to rely on when Gran died. In the few short days they’d had, Tess shared stories about the neighborly things they’d done together. Now those memories were lost, and Amy hadn’t heard enough of them.

“Ms. Somers, were you the first one to arrive at the scene?”

“I saw it first, but Gabe got there before I did.”

“That’s Gabe Kendall, right? Mrs. Marshall’s nephew.”

“Yes. No.” She shook her head to clear her muddled thoughts. “Yes, Gabe is Tess’s nephew, but he wasn’t there first. Tess was already there. She was inside the horse barn.”

“Where were you when you saw the fire?”

“Gabe and I were on our way back from Boyd’s.” She explained how the truck had conked out, about climbing into the truck bed and calling AJ. How Gabe had raced across the pasture toward the stables.

“When AJ and I got there, Gabe was coming out with Casper. One of the horses. That’s when . . .” She leaned forward, sucked in air, and felt her chest tighten like a vise. “It was my fault,” she gasped. “My fault that he . . .”

She could not go on. The room tilted, and she swayed as the blood rushed to her feet. Abbott caught her by the shoulders and gently pushed her back into the chair.

After hitting the call button, he handed her a cup of water. “Drink this.”

She obeyed, sucking the cold water through the straw and into her parched throat.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” The words came out in short gasps, as if the smoke were once again clogging her lungs, preventing her from breathing. “No more.”

Her legs burned, her feet and ankles sizzled in pain, and a heavy weight pressed against her chest.

If she hadn’t asked about Tess, Gabe might not have gone back into the stables. She was to blame for his injuries.