Fatal Burn

by Lisa Jackson

  Now what?

  He ran a hand through his hair and was about to leave when he noticed something. A movement. Near the corner of her house.

  A person or a shadow? He couldn’t tell.

  He crouched, automatically hiding. Had she spotted him and slipped noiselessly outside? He reached into his bag for his night vision goggles, all the while his eyes trained on the spot where he’d thought he’d seen someone beneath the trees.

  But the image was gone and as he unzipped his bag, pulled out his goggles and trained them on the area where he’d thought he’d spied a person, there was nothing, just a big water trough and a tall spigot.

  Sweating, he moved the glasses over her small compound. The sound of crickets chirping nearly drowned out the soft hum of the freeway a few miles off and the rumble of a train on distant tracks.

  He heard no footsteps, saw no one scuttling around the edges of the buildings or hiding in the trees.

  Just his own case of nerves getting the better of him.

  He took one more sweep through the goggles, then carefully put them into his bag. Rocking back on his heels, he wondered what his next step would be. Would he stake out her place, watch whoever came and went?

  What if she wasn’t in the least connected to Dani? That was certainly possible. Just because she was his daughter’s birth mother and Dani had been interested in finding her natural parents, might not mean much. Maybe it had been a gigantic leap to think that Shannon Flannery had somehow lured and nabbed his daughter away, the leap of a desperate, impotent man.

  Christ, he thought. Here he was, alone in a field, spying on a woman he didn’t know, a woman who was probably innocent. But what other option did he have? He’d called back to Falls Crossing six times since he’d left, talked to the authorities in charge of the investigation.

  No phone call had come in.

  No new clues had been found.

  Not a word from whoever had his little girl.

  Son of a bitch, he thought, son of a goddamn bitch!

  Standing, he turned away from Shannon’s house and zipped up his surveillance kit.

  What good would upsetting this woman’s life do? Just because he was desperate didn’t mean that—

  BOOM!

  An explosion blasted.

  The earth shook.

  Glass shattered.

  What the hell?

  Travis’s head whipped back, his eyes trained on Shannon’s house.

  It was intact.

  But a building near the cottage, a shed of some kind, was suddenly afire. Flames shot out of the roof, sparks flew high only to rain down on the tinder-dry ground.

  Travis started running.

  He yanked his cell phone from his pocket.

  Dialed 9-1-1 on the fly.

  One ring.

  “Nine-one-one, what’s the nature of your emergency?” the dispatcher asked.

  BAM!

  Another explosion blasted and the roof of the shed blew into a million pieces. Fire leapt to the sky. Darkness scattered in the wake of curling, wild flames crawling toward the heavens.

  Dogs howled.

  Horses screamed.

  “There’s a fire,” Travis yelled into the phone as he ran. “And two explosions at Shannon Flannery’s place.” He rattled off the address he’d memorized less than a week earlier. “Send trucks. Emergency vehicles.” Smoke billowed to the night sky. Flames crackled greedily. Sparks ignited in the dry twigs, leaves and grass.

  “Is anyone hurt?”

  “Don’t know yet. You got that address?” he yelled.

  She repeated it back to him.

  “Emergency crews are on their way.”

  “Tell them to hurry!” Travis clicked off the phone and using both hands on the top rail, propelled his body onto Shannon’s property and started running again.

  BOOM!

  The windows rattled.

  The doors shook.

  Shannon, climbing the stairs, grabbed the rail. “What the hell was that?” she whispered, her heart instantly pounding. Fear propelling her, she flew back down the steps.

  With a sharp bark and growl, Khan ran to the front door. Growling, scratching, the hackles on the back of his neck stiff, he started barking, sounding the alarm.

  Shannon peered through the windows near the front door.

  Her blood turned to ice.

  Shifting light and shadows chased away the darkness. From the corner of her eye, she caught sight of the tack shed, only a few feet away from the stable. Flames ascended through the roof and into the sky. “Oh, God, no!” she cried.

  She dove for her cell phone and yanked it from its charger. The horses! The dogs! She punched out 9-1-1 and was on her way through the kitchen. On the first ring, the dispatcher answered.

  “Nine-one-one dispatch. What is—”

  “This is Shannon Flannery,” she yelled into the phone as she yanked the fire extinguisher from the wall near the back door and gave her address, repeating it. “There’s been an explosion and now a fire in the shed at my house! It’s bad! Send help now!”

  “Is anyone injured?”

  “Not yet! You got that address?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Inform Shea Flannery with the police force. He’s the fire investigator and my brother!”

  She hung up and stuffed the phone in the pocket of her jeans.

  BAM!!!

  Another explosion rocked through the house. Oh, God, please not the animals. She thought of her trucks with their half-full gas tanks and the horses and dogs trapped in their shelters. Jesus, no! Please, no!

  She flung open the door. A great, roaring wall of flame was already chewing through the shed’s old timbers, shingles and insulation. Heat radiated in searing waves toward the sky. Thick black smoke surged upward in horrifying clouds, burning her nostrils, searing the back of her throat. Through it all the worried neighs and startled barks of the terrified animals split the night.

  If only Nate was here.

  If only the fire department was here!

  How far out was she? Five minutes? Ten? By that time every old wooden building on her property could be involved.

  She yanked on her boots and engaged the extinguisher, knowing it was too small to begin to snuff out the flames that were consuming the shed. But the pressurized carbon dioxide would be able to slow the fire’s advance, laying down a thin sheet of retardant that wouldn’t ignite.

  Khan growled and stuck close to her. Shannon forced him to stay inside, ignoring his worried whining. She could hear him barking and scratching frantically at the door as she ran the length of the porch.

  Never breaking stride, she swung the nozzle of the fire extinguisher at the ground where sparks were catching on the twigs, leaves and brush. A thick plume of retardant plumed outward over the ground.

  From the corner of her eye, she saw the man running toward her. She swung, CO2 spraying in front of her, and he quickly zigzagged away from her.

  “Hey! Watch out!” he yelled over the roar of the flames.

  “Who the hell are you?”

  “I saw the fire. Called 9-1-1. Thought I could help.”

  Camouflaged in dark jeans and gloves.

  Like hell.

  She swung the extinguisher at him again and he backed farther away. Hands over his head, he danced away from the freezing retardant. “You can go at me if you want, or you can trust me!” he yelled. “I’m here to help.”

  “I don’t know you!”

  “And I don’t know you, either, but you’ve got a helluva problem.”

  A ceiling beam in the shed gave way and with a groan the roof caved in. Sparks erupted into the night. The stranger was right. There wasn’t much time.

  “You’d better leave now,” he ordered, motioning to the extinguisher. “That isn’t going to do much.”

  “It’ll have to!” she declared, heading for the door of the stable. He was right on her heels, but kept his distance, aware that she could shoot him with
CO2 should she decide to.

  “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Getting the stock out.” She grabbed the handle of the door and yanked it open. From inside came the frightened sounds of horses whinnying and whistling. Hooves pummelled the straw-covered floor of the box stalls and over it all the fire raged hot and high, boiling loudly. “Who did you say you were?”

  “Doesn’t matter. Really, you should get out of here. This whole place, the buildings, the trees, the grass, could go up in a matter of seconds.”

  “I will.”

  “I mean now!”

  “I can’t!” She didn’t have time to argue. Rounding on him, she saw his features in the gold reflection of the flames and wondered again who he was, this tall man with broad shoulders, intense eyes and features that looked as if they’d been carved out of granite. He stared down a nose that looked as if it had been broken at least once. “We don’t have time,” she yelled at the top of her lungs. “Either you help me, or you get the hell out of my way.”

  “What can I do?”

  She didn’t think twice. “Go to the next building, it’s the kennel,” she ordered, pointing at the long, low building wedged between the stable and garage. “Let the dogs out, okay? I don’t care where they go, just get them the hell out of there!”

  He was already turning.

  “There’s an extinguisher by the door. After you set the dogs free, use the extinguisher on whatever you can, then crank up the garden hose. It’s attached to the west wall of the house!”

  “Got it!”

  She stepped through the door into the pandemonium of the stable.

  Horses were rearing, screaming in terror as the smoke blew into the stable. Through the windows she saw the fire, growing and billowing higher, reaching toward the sky with wild, hellish fingers, casting blood-red shadows that leapt and jumped inside the stables. Its sound was a distant, background roar.

  Still carrying the extinguisher she slapped at the light switch. Nothing happened. “Damn it!” She swatted it again, to no avail. Sweating, she jogged the length of the corridor that separated the two rows of stalls.

  The horses were in a froth, legs striking the stalls, eyes wide, white-rimmed and rolling. The odors of urine and dung mixed with the scents of sweat and fear and the overpowering, ever-present smell of smoke.

  “Shh,” she said to the animals in a soothing voice, the lie coming easily, “it’s all right.”

  Where the hell were the fire trucks?

  She flipped the light switch at this end of the building.

  Again nothing happened.

  “Hell.”

  She’d just have to work in the dark. She didn’t have time to try and find a flashlight, knew the building like the back of her hand anyway.

  Hurry! Hurry! Hurry!

  She eased along the wall. By feel, she unlatched the wide, double doors to the paddock and shoved hard. They flew open. Banged against the exterior walls.

  Shimmering reddish light from the fire crept inside on a cloud of black smoke. Quickly she wedged the doors open to the protected side of the stable where the paddock was long and deep with a gate at the far end, should she need to evacuate the animals.

  She started back inside.

  BAM!

  She jumped.

  The door at the far end of the building, the one through which she’d entered minutes earlier, slammed shut.

  “Hey!” she shouted, but there was no answer. Her heart, already thudding, kicked more frantically. Either the wind had caught the door or the stranger, whoever he was, had shut it.

  But why?

  Oh, Jesus, she couldn’t worry about that now. She had to get these damned horses to safety.

  Holding the extinguisher under one arm, she started working her way along the corridor, retracing her steps. Unlatching first the stall on her right, the box that housed Nate’s black gelding, she said softly, “Come on, boy,” but the big horse needed no further coaxing. In a blur of lathered black hide, he shot out of his box, steel-shod hooves echoing on the concrete, black tail billowing behind him.

  One down, seven to go!

  Sweat ran down her face and arms. She unlatched the stall across the corridor and a feisty little roan bolted. So frantic was the mare that she scrambled on the concrete, getting out of the stall, scraping her side and almost losing her footing as she, too, galloped outside.

  So far so good.

  The air was thick and Shannon was beginning to cough, but the horses were escaping. As she reached the next stall she heard the dogs barking and hoped fervently that the stranger who had appeared in the parking area was releasing them.

  Who in God’s name was he?

  Why was he here, seemingly waiting for her in the parking lot?

  Had he set the fire?

  Oh, for the love of St. Mary, Shannon, don’t think about that now. Just get these animals out!

  She unlatched the stall on the left side and a white mare with a gray muzzle and stockings flew through the opening. Two more followed quickly.

  Adrenaline pumping through her veins, she kept at it, unlatching the stalls one at a time, avoiding a stampede or getting run over by the horses. Two bays, plus a black and a gray shot out of their boxes, horseshoes clanging on the cement over the crackling roar of the fire.

  Just one more!

  Thick clouds of smoke roiled inside and she was coughing—half-blinded as she reached the final stall. She opened the door and expected the frightened mare to bolt through, but the horse cowered in the corner, backing up and trembling, her dun coat awash with sweat, lather flecking her hide.

  “Come on, girl,” Shannon said, slipping inside and setting down the extinguisher to free both hands. She could always come back for it. Right now it was crucial to get the horse out of the building. “Time to get out of here.” The mare snorted and shook, ears flicking nervously, eyes wild. Softly, Shannon clucked in encouragement, easing forward, intent on reaching for the mare’s halter.

  She reached up.

  Crash!

  A window blew, spraying glass.

  The horse squealed and lashed out with a foreleg. Shannon sidestepped the blow. “Nuh-uh, Molly. Calm down…come on now.” She talked low and evenly, showing no fear, when inside she was screaming for the buckskin to get out, to run with the others, to follow the damned herd! “Let’s go,” Shannon said, her boots crunching on the shattered glass, the heat searing her skin.

  In the background, over the ghastly roil of flames she heard the first faint shrill of sirens. Emergency vehicles! Thank God! Hurry! Before it’s too late!

  Moving slowly but steadily, she held the horse’s gaze, then lifted her hand to the halter. She didn’t have time to find a lead, she just had to get the frightened mare out of the damned box and outside. “Here we go,” she said and grabbed hold of a leather strap.

  The horse flung her head up.

  Shannon didn’t let go.

  Pain scorched through her shoulder.

  The mare reared, nearly pulling Shannon’s arm from its socket.

  “No!”

  A heavy black foreleg lashed out.

  Shannon, still holding the halter, tried to twist away.

  One hoof grazed her temple.

  Pain exploded behind her eyes.

  She started to fall backward but didn’t let go.

  Then a hoof pounded her already-wrenched shoulder, and scraped down her body, seeming to hit every rib before crunching against her hip. Pain careened down her side and blackness curled at the edges of her consciousness.

  “Stop it,” she muttered and held onto the halter as if her life depended upon it. If she let go now, she’d never be able to grab hold of it again, never be able to save the horse. “Come on, now,” she insisted, ignoring the pain searing through her body. Fingers clamped over the leather straps, she gently pulled, fighting the urge to black out, leading the balking, sidestepping mare through the open stall door.

  Outside the fire ro
ared. She saw the ever-growing blaze through the windows, snapping and crackling as flames spread their vile heat.

  From the corner of her eye, she saw a shadow.

  A figure of a man inside the stable. Oh, God, had that idiot who’d appeared a few minutes ago not gone to save the dogs?

  She turned her head to face him, but there was no one there, nothing but her own imagination playing tricks on her.

  The mare sidestepped and tried to rear again, but Shannon, arm screaming in pain, held fast. She had to focus, couldn’t be distracted. Her first priority was to get the horse outside to the paddock away from the fire, then she’d check the kennels. Concentrating on the open door at the far end of what seemed an impossible distance, she kept moving. If she could just make it outside, if she could fight the blackness starting to surround her. Her shoulder screamed in pain and she felt a stream of blood, where the mare’s hoof had scraped her skin, flow down her side.

  “Come on, come on,” she whispered, more to herself than the mare, “you can make it.”

  The yawning entryway loomed ahead of them. Just a few more feet! Beyond the doorway the night sky was an ominous orange. Smoke brought tears to her eyes and made her cough, but she placed one foot in front of the other. She heard the baying of the dogs and prayed that they were safe, that the stranger had set them free.

  Who was the guy who’d appeared out of nowhere? Angel of mercy? Good Samaritan who’d just happened to be in the area? Or was he somehow involved with this horrifying blaze? What had he said his name was?

  He hadn’t. At least she didn’t think so. Her mind was fuzzy, she could barely breathe. She forced herself to keep moving. They were so close…so close…

  She didn’t have time to wonder further who the stranger was, didn’t even want to consider that he might somehow be related to the conflagration that she saw through the windows, now burning wildly, flames leaping into the heavens, sparks threatening the roof of the garage and Nate Santana’s apartment.

  Nate! If only he was here, she thought again, nearly deliriously. If only she could fall in love with him…if only…Her thoughts were confused…she thought she heard her name as if through a tunnel…Keep moving! Focus! It’s the pain and smoke. You need air! Just get the damned horse out of here!