She nodded mutely, too shaken by the power of their lovemaking to say a word.
He bent forward to give her a firm kiss before reaching for the shampoo.
Chapter Twenty
Brad took Emma to the cabins still dressed in his sweats. That he checked out the cabin to make sure nothing was amiss made her feel more secure. Following a toe-curling kiss, he left her with the understanding she would drive to the police station in her own car after she’d dressed. She stood on the porch and watched him drive away. To say things had changed between them was an understatement. He hadn’t repeated his earlier declaration of love, and she figured maybe he was trying not to pressure her. She wondered what held her back, why she hadn’t told him she loved him. Could what he’d said last night be right? Perhaps her sneaky subconscious was waiting for him to let her down.
With unsettling thoughts bouncing around her head, Emma changed into loose-fitting pants and a cotton shirt. The scrape on her leg really didn’t hurt but loose pants wouldn’t pull on the new bandage Brad had insisted he apply before they’d left his house. She tidied her cabin, washed a few dishes, but then caught herself simply staring out the window. Did love turn a person into an idle dreamer? Maybe it was up to her to take the next step. With a mental shake, she told herself to get her act together.
Laptop case slung over her shoulder, Emma grabbed her purse and keys and went out to her car. She arrived at the police station parking lot a few minutes later to see Maddy and Dory crossing to the rear door. Emma grinned and waved a greeting. They stopped when they saw her and waited until she’d parked and walked over to meet them.
“Oh, Emma, that bruise. I’m so sorry.” Dory looked stricken.
Maddy took Emma’s chin to turn her face toward the sun so she could get a better look at her temple. “That’s a nice purple color. You could probably match it with a blouse or something.”
“How can you say such a thing,” Dory exclaimed, indignant.
Emma hadn’t tried to hide the bruise with makeup, but now she wished she’d made the effort if for no other reason than to ease Dory’s mind.
“Dory, really, it’s fine. I’m fine. It doesn’t hurt unless I touch it, so I don’t touch it.” She smiled reassuringly. “Don’t take this on yourself. Rodrigo did this, not you. You can take that guilty look off your face.”
“It is too my fault. I should have known he wouldn’t take being served divorce papers without flipping out. I should have been on the lookout for him and I wasn’t.”
“I keep telling her but she won’t listen to me,” Maddy said to Emma. She put an arm around Dory’s shoulder. “You should let responsibility lie where it belongs, and it belongs solely on Rodrigo.”
Dory nodded but Emma was sure it would be some time before she was able to put what had happened into perspective.
Maddy turned to Emma. “I’m glad we caught you. We’ve given our statements, and were going to get some breakfast at the café. Why don’t you join us when you’re done here?”
She nodded, beaming at her friends. “Sounds good. I hope this doesn’t take too long.”
When Emma moved to pass them, Maddy stopped her, her hand raised like a traffic cop. “Hold on.”
Emma lifted her brows at Maddy, who narrowed her eyes to study Emma with intense scrutiny. “Something’s going on. I’ve never seen so many smiles from you in such a short period of time. And Brad is in there about as cheerful and relaxed as I’ve ever seen him.” She sucked in a breath, eyes taking on a wicked sparkle. “You two have done it. You’ve had wild jungle sex and you weren’t even going to mention it.” She pointed an accusatory finger.
Emma felt fiery heat spread from her neck to her cheeks. “Jeez, Maddy. Why don’t you take an ad out in the paper?” She glanced around the parking lot glad to see they were alone.
“This is a small town. Everyone will know anyway.” Maddy grinned broadly, her blonde cap of hair shining in the sun. “But because you’re shy about it, and because he’s my brother and I really don’t want to know, I’ll let you keep the details to yourself.”
“Thanks,” Emma responded drily.
Dory reached out to give her an impulsive hug. “I’m so happy for you. Brad’s always been one of my favorite people and I’m glad you two are together.” She pulled back, but must have caught Emma’s hesitation. “You are together, aren’t you?”
“I think so. We haven’t made anything official yet. There’s been a lot going on.”
After getting assurances they’d wait at the café for her, they parted. Emma was struck at how hopeful Dory felt about relationships despite how horribly her own had turned out. It was a lesson in resiliency Emma could learn from.
An hour later Emma pulled into the small lot next to the Hangman’s Best Café and Bakery. At the police station she’d gone over the events of the night before with two uniformed officers, answering all their questions. On her walk toward the exit Brad had opened his office door and pulled her inside. He’d slammed the door shut and then gathered her in his arms before proceeding to kiss her brainless. Emma’s insides had slid into meltdown as the heat had threatened to blow the top off her head. When she’d left him ten minutes later, she’d had to stop in the women’s restroom to run cold water on her wrists and splash her face in an attempt to cool down.
With her laptop in its case, Emma stepped into the café. Spotting Maddy and Dory, she crossed the room and slipped into their booth.
Maddy rose to her feet. “What do you want to eat? I’ll get it while you relax.”
“A cinnamon-raisin bagel with cream cheese and a coffee.” She pulled her wallet from her purse but Maddy waved her off.
“It’s my treat today. You two wounded warriors deserve a little something after what happened last night.”
When Maddy returned with Emma’s bagel and a pumpkin spice muffin for Dory, Emma booted up her laptop. Turning it so the other women could view the screen, she said, “Here it is, ladies. The Hangman’s Loss Resort website is operational and ready to accept reservations.”
“Cool,” Maddy exclaimed. She and Dory spent several minutes checking out the website, browsing through the pages and testing links. Emma jotted a few of their suggestions onto a notepad as they assessed the ease of navigation and general accessibility of the site. The bell over the door jingled and she lifted her gaze to see Frank Singleton enter the café. He hesitated when he spotted her before ambling over to their booth. He stopped next to Emma and peered at the bruise on her forehead.
“Well, now, Ms. Kincaid. Seems you got yourself into a little scuffle.” He paused, expression shrewd. “Can’t be too safe these days.”
“Hard to argue with that, Singleton,” Emma said coldly. Despite assurances he hadn’t been behind the vandalism to her property, she sensed he used false affability to mask a ruthless side. She didn’t trust him.
With Dory and Maddy shooting him unfriendly looks, Singleton shrugged. “I don’t want to interrupt your breakfast, but I’ll want to talk with you again soon. I think you’ll want to hear what I have to say.” He nodded to the other women, then turned to make his way to the order counter.
“I don’t like him.” Dory’s statement was matter-of-fact. “Despite what he said, I think he’s the one who took a hatchet to your office.”
“He sure is creepy,” Maddy added.
“I think he’s desperate to get me to sell. I wonder why.” Emma looked thoughtful. “But Brad questioned him and says he has an alibi. He was out of town on Saturday.” She narrowed her eyes. “He could have paid someone to do it, though.” Then she shrugged and shook her head. She really had no concrete evidence to know who was behind the vandalism.
Emma swallowed the last of her bagel and finished her coffee, listening to her friends chat. The café was getting busier so Maddy stood, giving her friends quick hugs before hurrying off.
Dory sat for a moment, a worried expression on her face. “I wonder if Rodrigo could have done it.”
&n
bsp; Emma raised a questioning brow. “Done what?”
“Hacked up your cabin,” Dory went on. “He doesn’t like strong women. He could have gone after you because you helped me out. I wouldn’t put it past him.”
Emma shook her head. “I don’t think it was him. Brad dusted for prints and he would have said if he’d found Rodrigo’s. Besides that, why go after only me? Your parents have helped you out, so has Brad.”
“Yeah, but he’s known them all his life. You’re a stranger here. He has anger issues and maybe you’re an easier target for that anger. And he could get at me through you.” Dory shrugged. “It’s possible.”
“Brad will figure it out. And Dory? If it turns out to be Rodrigo, it’s still not your fault.”
“It means I brought it on you after you were kind enough to give me a job and a place to live.” She lifted her shoulders again. “But he’s behind bars now and my divorce is started. At least for the time being he can’t hurt any of us.” She rose from the table and Emma could sense the weight she carried. Dory paused. “I have a meeting with my lawyer this afternoon, and then I’ll pick up Adrian from my parents. I probably won’t be back at the cabins until this evening. See you later.”
Emma sat for a few minutes after her friend had gone and drank the last of her coffee. Out the window she watched the townspeople of Hangman’s Loss, a mom in sneakers holding the hand of a redheaded toddler, and an older couple peering in shop windows as they strolled hand in hand down the boardwalk. These were her people now. She had yearned her entire life for a place to belong and now she did. She belonged to a town that had community picnics and where people helped each other when there was trouble. She had friends like she’d never had before. And, outshining all the rest, she had Bradley Gallagher as a friend and lover. Her life had taken a wonderful curve and she wanted to hold on tight. Despite the unknown danger stalking her, her spirits rose, and she felt wonderfully optimistic about the future.
After completing a few errands in town, Emma returned to the resort. Her afternoon chore was to inspect and organize the boathouse. She wanted to offer her guests use of the canoes and kayaks and basic fishing equipment. An examination of the interior showed her that the pulley system her grandfather had rigged to raise and lower canoes and kayaks onto racks still functioned, though the ropes needed replacing. The boats would need to be cleaned and checked for lake-worthiness. She sorted life vests into two piles, those too old to keep and the others still functional. Some of the fishing rods had tangled lines, and the tackle boxes were a mess. Most people would bring their own poles and tackle, but if a guest wanted to try fishing for the first time, she would be able to offer the basics.
Her mind filled with plans, Emma looked up sharply when she heard heavy footsteps approach. She frowned at Frank Singleton, sweat plastering his floral shirt to his body.
He must have finally gotten the message he wasn’t her favorite person because he held up his hands in a placating gesture. “Don’t shoot the messenger, now, Ms. Kincaid.” He paused a bit dramatically, perhaps thinking to give his statement more weight. “Great Mountain Development has authorized me to enhance our offer for your property.” His smile showed the gap between his front teeth.
“I already told you I’m not interested. You’re wasting your breath.”
“Mine to waste. Now, my company has agreed to raise the offer by ten percent. Mind you, that’s ten percent of what was already a generous offer. You like this little town so much? You could take the money and buy yourself a nice place in town and not have all the work and worry that goes with keeping up with a load like this. Relieve yourself of the burden.”
“I don’t see it as a burden, so no. I’m declining your offer.” Emma turned to use fishing pliers she’d found to cut snarled line from a reel. She could feel Singleton’s hard stare, but he finally turned on his heel and stalked off. Emma heaved a sigh of relief. It wasn’t like him not to argue or try to persuade her, but maybe he had finally gotten the message.
She finished sorting through the equipment and began to organize the boathouse. Her shoes creaked over the raised wood floor. A single low-wattage bulb hung from the ceiling, but with the door propped open she could see well enough to line up the rods, nets, and oars along racks at the back.
Footsteps approached once again and Emma moved toward the door, only to have it slam violently shut in her face. “Hey. I’m in here.” The rasp of metal followed by a clicking sound told Emma the padlock had been snapped shut.
“Singleton, is that you?” She pushed against the door. A frisson of alarm snaked up her spine.
With an ear pressed to the door, she could make out the sound of footsteps moving around the corner of the building. She yelled as she pounded against the door. “Hey, unlock the door.” A rustling sound came from the other side of the wall. She held still, trying to hear over the thunder of her heart. Long moments later, feet pounded back up the path, away from the boathouse. Wishing desperately she hadn’t left her cell phone to charge in her cabin, Emma pushed at the door. It was old and the hinges were loose, so she tried a hard shove, jarring her already bruised shoulder. She heard a fluttering sound and frowned. The footsteps had retreated, so what was making the noise? It grew louder, and then she smelled it, an insidious little smell. Just a whiff, but enough to know that whoever had locked her in had set fire to the building. Fear grabbed her by the throat.
“Help,” Emma shouted, beating her fists on the door. But who would hear her? No one was near. If she didn’t want to burn with the building, she had to get herself out. In the dim light she looked frantically for something that could act as a lever. If she could wedge it between the door and the frame, or maybe against the loose hinges, then perhaps she could pry open the door.
She grabbed an oar. The flat end of the paddle might work. The stench of burning grew stronger as the fire caught and smoke began to filter inside. Willing herself to remain calm, Emma tried to wedge the flat end into the narrow space around the door. It was too thick. Flames licked up from gaps in the floorboards near the wall, smoke spiraling up to the open rafters. She tried to keep her breathing shallow. In desperation, she used the grip end of the oar to bash against a hinge on the door. At the first few tries the metal held, but by the third hit screws stressed by age and use gave a bit. She hit the weakened hinge again and again, her ears filled with the hissing and snapping of the growing fire. The metal gave and the hinge came loose. Without pause, she went to work on the lower one until it, too, broke loose.
Suffocating smoke filled the small space, sending Emma into a fit of coughing. Fighting a swell of panic, she pushed at the bar that was the door handle, even as she heard a muffled voice called out, tone harsh. “Emma, are you in there?”
“Brad,” she yelled his name, choking against the acrid smoke filling her lungs.
“Get away from the door, I’m going to kick it in.”
“Wait.” She pushed on the door again, and this time it crashed forward.
Brad filled the square of light and Emma ran to him. The fire intensified with the fresh blast of oxygen, and heat seared her back. Brad wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her free. They ran up the slope toward the cabins, away from the burning building. Emma stumbled, coughing uncontrollably. She pulled clean air into her lungs, and after a couple minutes the coughing eased. “We need to call in the fire,” she rasped.
Brad stood with a hand gripped on her shoulder. Eyes alert, he scanned the terrain. “I reported it.”
“How did you get here? How did you know I was in there?”
Brad’s jaw clenched, and the arm holding her was coiled with tension. He continued to look intently around them before bringing his gaze back to her. “A hunch. I’ve been following a theory about who is behind the garage fire and the vandalism. Do you remember Van Horn on the city council?” At her nod he continued. “I’ve had a tail on him the past several days, and today I brought him in for questioning.”
At Emma’
s expectant look, he continued. “He wasn’t cooperative at first. But when I told him what we already have on him, he spilled it.” He took Emma’s hand to lead her up the path toward the cabins.
“Did he admit he hired Randall to start the garage fire? Was he the one who used an ax in my cabin?” Emma also scanned the area. What if her attacker was close by? Nerves jittered at the thought. “Randall’s out on bail now, isn’t he? Do you think he locked me in the boathouse and started the fire?”
“Van Horn hired Randall. But he’s not behind the vandalism and he didn’t start this fire.”
“Then who did?”
An indistinct whisper of sound followed by the louder snap of a twig had Brad swinging around, pushing Emma behind him as his hand went for the Glock at his side. Emma’s attention focused immediately on the gun pointed level with Brad’s heart. Painted red nails contrasted vividly with the dull metal. Everything that had happened to her since she’d arrived suddenly clicked into place. The effort to get her to leave Hangman’s Loss, the personal nature of the attack in the office—it all made sense now.
“Don’t pull that gun, Bradley. Keep your hands up. Don’t force me to shoot you.” The gun turned its ugly eye from Brad to Emma as Marla Banks stepped from between a group of trees and a large boulder. “Or her.”
Brad stilled and then slowly raised his hands. “Put the gun down, Marla.” He kept his voice calm and nonthreatening, but the authority was evident.
Marla gave a nasty little laugh. “Aren’t you the smooth one? Do you really think I’m going to set down my gun and let this little bitch win?” Her voice dripped venom. “Now both of you, step back toward the boathouse.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Emma glanced over her shoulder. Fire, hissing and crackling, engulfed one side of the building, black smoke billowing into the cloudless sky. Neither she nor Brad moved.
“You won’t get away with it, Marla,” Brad went on. “I’ve already called it in. There’ll be cops and firefighters crawling all over this place in about three minutes.”
Flash Point Page 18
