Chapter Six

Creed stiffened and Trinity reached for her discarded gown.

“Be careful,” she warned as Creed stood up. He fastened his pants as he stepped across the floor.

With one hand he tested the knob, and with the other placed flat on the wood he tested the door itself. It must have been cool to the touch because he opened it.

Smoke immediately began to roll into the room, sucked into the vacuum of oxygenated space from the choked hallway.

“Quick,” Creed urged.

Trinity ran to his side and took his outstretched hand. He pulled her into the hall. Through the windows, she could see the roof of the wing where it stretched out behind them. Flames had already eaten their way up through the attic spaces and they now scaled the night sky.

“This wing is burning!” Creed shouted.

As they ran down the hall to the doors she’d left open to the landing, they left smoke behind. Creed had grabbed his phone. He yelled into it as they ran, summoning help.

Trinity coughed. Acrid smoke had been sucked into her lungs and moisture trailed down her cheeks as her body sought to clear her vision. She stumbled, but eagerly tried to suck fresh air into her lungs as they ran down the stairs, farther and farther from the fire.

Creed felt her falter. He lifted her, easily taking the stairs in a rush. Soon she was breathing outside air between coughing fits. The smoke they’d encountered had been enough to re-aggravate her airways.

Already, Trinity could hear sirens in the distance. Horrible memories assailed her. Screams and pain and the stench of her own burned flesh. There was no one left in the house. No one to save.

* * *

Sheriff Constantine asked only a few questions. Hillhaven was old. Its wiring hadn’t been updated as it should have been. She allowed him to go down that path without protest. He would have thought she was crazy if she’d brought up The Girl in Blue. Although, as they talked, she could have sworn his piercing blue eyes had narrowed in his handsome face. He was more perceptive than he seemed, at first. Scarlet Falls’ sheriff would have to be.

He stood watching the fire department wet down the old wing for a long time before he finally turned back to Trinity. Creed had gone inside to see what he could salvage. She was alone with Constantine and he looked at her for a long time, assessing, maybe summing up the difference between integrity and discretion. He was a tall man, more muscular than Creed and maybe only a year or two older. The love of outdoor sports was written in his tanned skin and sun-kissed hair that showed in waves from the edges of his broad-brimmed trooper’s hat. He wore a pressed khaki uniform with a shiny badge even at thishour, but Trinity thought maybe he wore deck shoes and shorts on weekends with that hat off and ropes in his large calloused hands. Something about the crinkles around his eyes spoke of sun reflected off of water and a sail pointed to the horizon.

But, here now, he stood in the darkness with Trinity as if he didn’t shy from it. On the contrary, the coiled energy of his presence seemed to hold the shadows at bay.

“We’ll comb through the debris tomorrow to make a definite assessment. It’s probably safe to gather some things, but you’ll want to wait for an inspector to deem it habitable again,” the sheriff said.

She wanted to tell him it wasn’t safe, but she didn’t. He already knew it. She could read his frustration in his tight jaw and his narrowed eyes.

“Thank you,” Trinity said instead.

He nodded. He didn’t tip his hat or call her ma’am. In spite of his uniform and his hat, he gave off an air of being ultra-aware and not given to meaningless gestures. In fact, at 2a.m. with the fire out and everyone as safe as could be expected in Scarlet Falls, Sheriff Constantine seemed on edge, prepared even if he also seemed like he knew he could never be certain of what it was prepared for.

With one last penetrating look, he turned away and walked back to the large SUV he’d left by the curb. Trinity watched him climb into the vehicle, slam the door and rev its idling engine to life.

“He’s in over his head,” Creed said. He’d silently come up behind her. Now, he draped an old trench coat over her shoulders.

“I don’t know,” Trinity replied. “He’s pretty damn tall.”

She smiled slightly at the man beside her who was even taller.

* * *

There were firefighters milling around, winding hose and politely not staring at the outline of Trinity’s legs through thin satin. The fire hadn’t touched her room, but smoke had. She would definitely have to stay elsewhere for the night and possibly longer.

Creed disappeared again while she shoved a few things into her backpack. When she came out the front door, she was surprised to see a late model sports car come around the side of the house to pick her up. It was low and silver and sexy—so like Creed—but a far more modern choice than she would have expected from him. Yet, when she sank down into the passenger seat, he was very at home behind the wheel.

“Don’t worry. I don’t drink while I’m writing,” Creed said.

Trinity hadn’t thought to ask. His eyes were bright. His movements brisk. At times, he might depend on the Scotch more than he should, but it was obvious this wasn’t one of those times.

They drove away from Hillhaven.

She would have to call her parents, and once the damage was assessed in the daylight, she would. For now, she struggled to hold back memories of another fire. She also fought the feeling of being hunted and flushed from one shelter after another.

“I have a cottage by the lake. We can stay there until it’s safe to return to Hillhaven,” Creed said.

By the lake?

Trinity looked up and out the window. She recognized the road and the ascent. Sure enough, the town was below them and the black waters of High Lake gleamed, getting closer, ever closer.

She looked at the man behind the wheel.

Creed’s eyes gleamed, too, black and deep, as he drove them to the place that had nearly killed them both.