by Laura Scott
“What? Why would you say that?” Sandra cradled Jayme, then eyed Linc curiously as he joined them. “Do you know why Jayme thinks this is her fault?”
“My name is Lincoln Quade, and I’m the fire investigator.” He offered what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “There have been two other incidents, one at Jayme’s home and another involving setting her car on fire. We have reason to believe this recent incident is related to the others.”
“Whaaat?” Sandra pulled back and gaped at Jayme. “Why didn’t you say something?”
Jayme swiped at her tears. “There’s nothing you can do.”
“But you could have told me.” Sandra put her hands on her hips. “Or came to stay with us for a while.”
“And put you and George in danger?” Jayme sniffled and shook her head. “Not a chance.”
“She’s staying with me,” Linc said. “I’ll keep her safe.”
Sandra eyed him curiously. “I’ll hold you to that.” Then she looked back at the smoldering clinic. Her shoulders slumped. “Not sure what’s going to happen now.”
“It’s all my fault,” Jayme said.
“No, it’s the arsonist’s fault,” Linc corrected. “You’re the innocent victim in this.”
“The entire staff at the clinic are the true innocent victims.” Jayme pulled away and raked her hand through her hair. “I feel awful.”
“Linc?” He turned when the captain called out his name. He left the women and crossed over to join him.
“What’s up?”
“We’re going to clear the scene soon,” Captain Barstow told him. “You won’t be able to get in to investigate, though, until tomorrow.”
“I know. Did you hear about the other incidents?”
Barstow nodded. “The smoke bomb and the car fire.” He glanced at the blackened clinic. “This is a big step up from that.”
“No kidding. It’s a much bigger message, although interesting that he chose to throw the firebomb when the place was closed.” A conscientious firebug? Nah, he didn’t believe it. No, this was just another attempt to scare Jayme.
“Small blessings,” Barstow said.
“Yes, but the worst part of all is that he’s not finished. Not by a long shot.”
Barstow’s gaze narrowed. “You think her house is next?”
“Don’t you?”
Barstow whistled under his breath. “Well, if that’s true, you need to find him. Before he moves from torching empty buildings to those with people inside.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Like your friend Jayme over there.”
“That’s the plan.” As he looked at what was left of the physical therapy clinic, he made a silent promise to protect Jayme, with his own life if necessary.
She didn’t deserve any of this. No matter what she thought, none of these fires were her fault.
“Linc?” Jayme came over to stand beside him. “I’d like to go home.”
“Please don’t.” He took her arm and drew her toward his SUV. “I understand your concern, but I don’t want you to be anywhere near that house if he decides to target that next.”
“But the entire house will burn to the ground if no one is there to report the fire the minute it starts.” Her gaze implored him to understand. “Better that I’m there to sound the alarm than to lose everything.”
“Your life is all that matters.” He opened the passenger door for her. “We’ll talk about this later, but keep in mind all the items in your house can be replaced. You can’t.”
She sighed and climbed into the car. He shut the door behind her and resisted the urge to scream in frustration.
No way was he going to allow Jayme to stay at her house, lying in wait for the arsonist to show up.
If she had somewhere else to stay, though. Like maybe with Sandra and George, he could do that for her.
Anything to keep her safe.
Jayme couldn’t get the smell of smoke out of her nose, her clothes, or her head. Watching the flames had reminded her of the Preacher’s cabin all those years ago.
The fire had been terrifying, even though it had also provided the freedom she and the other fosters had so desperately needed. If the Preacher hadn’t tried to rape her, the fire wouldn’t have happened.
Yet looking back, she couldn’t help but be relieved things had turned out the way they did. The burn scars on her right hand and wrist were well worth the price of freedom.
Not just her freedom, but all of the fosters who’d escaped that night.
She couldn’t summon the energy to argue when Linc drove to his place. As much as she wanted to protect her house, she knew he was right.
A home, clothes, and other personal items could be replaced.
It wasn’t like she had anything with strong sentimental value. Living on the streets, the sleazy motel, and then the dilapidated trailer did not encourage dragging a lot of personal stuff along with you.
Especially because of the roaches.
Jayme followed Linc into the house. The urge to return to her own space was strong, but she told herself to get over it. One thing she’d learned over the years was never get too attached to things. Although she’d worked so hard for that house, to provide a home for Caitlyn.
“Jayme, will you please sit down for a few minutes?”
One glance at Linc’s serious expression had her sinking into the closest kitchen chair. “I know what you’re going to say.”
“You do?” He arched an eyebrow.
She curled her scarred hand into a fist. “You think the fire thirteen years ago is part of this. And I would probably agree with you, if not for the fact that the Preacher and his wife died that night.”
“The Preacher?” Linc stared in shock. “Maybe you should start at the beginning.”
Swallowing hard, she nodded. He deserved that much, although she’d rarely spoken of that night. After she and Caitlyn had escaped, they’d pretty much left the past behind. Nothing to be gained by ruminating over it. “I lived with a total of six other foster kids, including Caitlyn, with a horrible man who called himself the Preacher. He physically and verbally abused us, ranting and raving about how we were all terrible sinners who were going to hell.”
“That’s not like any preacher I’ve ever heard,” Linc said gently. “God isn’t vengeful. He is loving and patient and kind.”
“Yeah, well, that’s not what the Preacher pounded into us on a daily basis.” When it looked like Linc was going to argue, she waved a hand. “Whatever, that part doesn’t really matter.” She forced herself to meet his gaze. “One night, the Preacher decided he was going to rape me. I could tell it was coming, he used to touch me . . .” She looked away, unable to put the revulsion she’d felt at his touch into words. The weird little circle thing he did with his index finger around her elbow had made her want to throw up. “I’m not sure what set him off that night. He was acting weird, worse than usual. He grabbed at me, pinning me against the sofa, whispering about how it was time for me to make him happy. When he began unfastening his pants, I reached over, grabbed the oil lamp, and swung it at his head, hitting him with all the strength I possessed.”
“Dear God, Jayme.” Linc reached over to take her hands in his. “That’s how you were burned?”
“Yes. The Preacher screamed in pain, trying to get away from the burning oil, while I took the opportunity to get the other fosters out of the cellar.”
“He . . . forced you to sleep in the cellar?”
She pushed on. “The cabin filled with thick smoke very fast; it seemed to go up in flames faster than I thought possible. We barely had time to escape. But all of us managed to get outside. We watched the cabin burn.” She paused, then added, “The Preacher and his wife didn’t make it out.”
Linc tightened his hands around hers. “I can’t even begin to tell you how sorry I am that you had to endure such an awful event. No one should have to go through such a thing, especially not a child.”
“Thanks. But Caitlyn and I
survived and thrived.” She tried to smile. “With the help of wonderful people like Remy Edgar.”
“I know you won’t want to hear this, but God was watching out for you, Jayme. Watching out for all of you.”
She wasn’t ready to admit that, although getting away had seemed like a herculean task. “I was the oldest of the fosters. Sawyer and Hailey were the second oldest, then Darby, then Cooper and Trent. Caitlyn was the youngest. When we decided to split up to avoid getting caught and thrown back into the foster system, I kept Caitlyn with me.”
“You’re amazing, Jayme. I can’t imagine it was easy for the two of you to overcome that horror.”
“Well, after you’ve been in hell, you learn to appreciate having a roof over your head.” She smiled. “Even that of a roach-infested motel.”
“I had no idea. What you went through makes my life seem like a cakewalk.”
“Losing your wife and daughter was far worse. It’s not like any of us grieved over losing the Preacher or Ruth.”
“Jayme, I appreciate you trusting me with this story.” Linc’s dark eyes clung to hers. “But I have to ask, how do you know for sure the Preacher and his wife didn’t survive the fire?”
She couldn’t blame him for doubting that part of her story. The minute she’d learned of the contained fire outside her house, she’d fleetingly considered the Preacher. “The cabin was deep in the woods outside Cherokee, North Carolina. Far enough from others that no one would know what went on there every day. We all huddled outside the cabin, watching as it burned. None of us tried to go inside to save them.”
“No one would blame you for that,” he hastened to reassure her.
“The point is, the Preacher stumbled toward his bedroom, I assume to get a blanket to douse the fire. His wife was already asleep, she didn’t seem to hear the commotion as we got out of the cabin, so maybe she was drugged. It wouldn’t surprise me, I wouldn’t put anything past the Preacher.”
“But there was more than one way out of the cabin, right?” Linc pressed. “How do you know they didn’t escape out the back?”
“Because we went out the back door. The cellar was in the kitchen.” She drew in a long breath, forcing herself to tell him the rest. Every last, awful, detail. “As I told you, the fire started in the living room. In a very short time, it spread from the sofa onto the chair, reaching all the way to the wood-paneled walls.” She could see how the flames had raced upward, like tiny fiery fairies. “There was a fire in the stone fireplace too, although that was emitting more smoke than usual.”
“Why was that?”
“I’m not sure, I think the logs might have been wet.” She remembered how the smoke had burned her eyes, making them water. And how strange it had been that the Preacher hadn’t noticed. Maybe he was too intent on what he’d wanted to do to her. She shied away from that thought. “The front door was in the living room. The last time I saw the Preacher, he was headed into his bedroom and”—she swallowed hard—“he was still on fire.”
Linc surprised her by lifting her scarred hand to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss to her rigid, bumpy skin.
She told herself not to read too much into his sweet gesture. Linc was a very nice guy, he’d care about anyone telling this story. “The entire time we were outside, we watched for any sign of the Preacher or his wife. We expected them to come out, but they never did. Frankly, I don’t see how they could have escaped.”
“But you don’t know that they didn’t,” he insisted. “What if they went out a window?”
“We would have seen them. Even though it was nighttime, the fire lit up the entire area so that we would have seen them staggering away from the house.”
“How long did you watch?”
Forever. Or so it seemed. She thought back, then slowly shook her head. “I can’t say for sure, but we didn’t take off until we heard the fire truck sirens. At that point, we huddled together, discussing our options. We all agreed to never go back into the system, but we also knew that seven kids hanging together would be too noticeable. So we decided to split up and disappear into the woods. Sawyer, Cooper, and Trent went south. Hailey and Darby went west. Caitlyn and I headed northwest.” She met his gaze. “Living out in the wilderness made it easy for us to disappear, never to be heard from again.”
He nodded slowly. “I can understand that goal. And that’s why you didn’t get proper treatment for your burned hand.”
“Yes.” She shrugged. “Remy was a retired physical therapist. He noticed the scars and gave me exercises to do. He also sneaked me into the clinic for other treatments. I owe him a lot. My hand is much better now than it was when we first met.”
“There aren’t enough words to describe how much I admire you.” Linc’s low, husky voice sent tingles of awareness down her spine. “You’re the strongest woman I’ve ever known. And what you’ve done for your sister Caitlyn is equally amazing.”
“Anyone else would have done the same thing.” She wasn’t used to this kind of attention. Then again, she’d never told anyone the details of her past.
“Does the Preacher have a real name?”
Linc’s question caught her off guard. “I—yes. I believe his name was Simon. At least, that’s how Ruth referred to him at one point. Simon and Ruth Penske.”
“Give me a few minutes to do a quick search on them.” He released her hands to get up from the table. He grabbed his computer and returned, opening it and jiggling the mouse to bring it to life.
“You’re not going to find them.” She knew in her bones they’d died that night. If they hadn’t, she firmly believed the Preacher would have found her long before now. Or maybe he’d been burned so badly he couldn’t do much of anything. Which would include coming to Sevierville and starting fires to scare her.
Still, curiosity won out, and she went over to sit beside Linc while he worked. Seeing their names in the search bar brought an idea. “Maybe you should search for their obituary. Someone may have held a funeral for them. They certainly had the people at the department of health and human services fooled, otherwise they’d never have been given seven foster kids to care for.”
“The Preacher didn’t have his own church or congregation?” Linc asked.
“He did, but it was very small. One year we received Christmas gifts from the parishioners.” She shrugged. “The Preacher made us attend Sunday service, it was the only time we were seen in public, dressed nicely as we were told to. But we were warned that if we disobeyed or tried to get someone’s attention, we’d be sorry. Having lived through his beatings, kneeling for hours as he ranted and raved was bad enough. None of us were anxious to experience the full extent of his wrath. Besides, once Caitlyn came to live with us, he threatened to hurt her as a way to make the rest of us behave.” She grimaced. “That worked better than anything because she was only seven years old at the time.”
Linc paused to look at her. “Seven years old and he threatened to hurt her. What kind of monster was he?”
“The worst kind.” Reliving the memories wasn’t fun. “Now you can see why I don’t pray. The Preacher went on and on about how God would punish us, and truthfully, his words struck home. After all, we must have been sent to live with him for a reason, right? We were there as punishment for everything we did wrong.”
“No, that’s not true.” Linc turned in his seat to face her. “He lied to you, Jayme. Children are innocent; God was not punishing you. Not then, and not now. That madman was a liar, and I’m glad you hit him with that lantern. Although I wish you wouldn’t have suffered a burn in the process.”
His declaration was sweet. “Maybe.” She couldn’t deny that it was easier to believe that now than back then. But she still didn’t quite believe God existed. And if He did, then why had He waited so long to help set them free?
“I know the Preacher was lying to you, and I wish you could come to know God the way I do. It hurts me to know how much you and the other kids suffered at that man’s hands.” Linc turn
ed his attention back to the computer. “Okay, let’s see what I can dig up on these two. Just so that I can cross them off the suspect list. This happened thirteen years ago, in Cherokee, North Carolina, right?”
“Yes.” She didn’t harbor any illusions about what Linc would find. She watched him work for a few minutes but couldn’t concentrate. Feeling restless, she stood and moved over to look out the window. For the first time, she noticed Linc’s house had a nice view of the forest.
The trees, the caverns she and Caitlyn had found back when they’d first escaped had been her sanctuary. But living in the cold without shelter from the elements soon wore on them. Especially Caitlyn. The caverns had worked for a few weeks, but finally, they’d been forced to move.
To find civilization.
Yet they hadn’t wanted to go far. Something about the Smoky Mountains called to her. If she had her way, she’d never leave.
But Caitlyn? That her sister had gone to Nashville with Annette made Jayme wonder if Caitlyn was getting restless being confined to such a small town. Maybe her sister longed to live somewhere else. Someplace bigger, with more action. Lots of young people.
Easy to understand if she did, but not as easy to let her sister go.
She leaned her forehead against the glass, thinking about Caitlyn’s future. Maybe she should sell the house, use the proceeds to help pay for more college. Caitlyn insisted she would be happy as a veterinary tech, but Jayme felt certain her little sister would really prefer to be a full-fledged veterinarian.
Yet even getting the bachelor’s degree would be tough, and getting into the program was highly competitive. While Jayme had done everything possible to keep Caitlyn enrolled in school during the past thirteen years, the two years of being homeschooled by Ruth had caused Caitlyn to fall behind. It was all her sister could do to keep up even with the teacher spending extra time with her.
But was it fair to put a price on her sister’s dreams?
No, it wasn’t.
“Jayme? Take a look at this.”
She turned and hurried over to see what he’d found. Linc turned the computer so she could see the screen head-on.
