by Lisa Harris
Reid nodded, wincing at the pain.
She ran her hand across his side, then pulled back his coat. “You’re bleeding and your shirt is sticking. I’ll be as careful as I can.”
This couldn’t be happening. Owen was missing, but the arsonist’s objective had to be bigger. Reid watched her work, hating that he felt so vulnerable—that they both were so vulnerable. Because no matter how angry he was at Claire for what she’d done, he didn’t want anything to happen to her or Owen.
She aimed the phone’s flashlight closer to him as she examined his side.
“How bad is it?” he asked.
“From what I can see, it looks as if the bullet skimmed across your rib cage.”
“Then I’ll be fine.” He grabbed her wrist with his good hand. “We need to find whoever’s out there.”
“Forget it. You’re not going anywhere. Whoever is out there is armed and looking for us.” She pulled away from him, took off her scarf and wrapped it around him. “I need you to press this tightly against your side. It’s not bad, but it is bleeding.”
He caught her expression and knew, like him, she wasn’t simply thinking about sitting around and waiting. “You’re not going out there?”
“I am, and you can’t stop me. Whoever shot you could find us before help gets here. You said it yourself. We’re sitting ducks.”
“Claire...please. We’ll do what they said. Backup will be here in a couple minutes.”
She crouched down next to him and caught his gaze in the fading light. “I’m not going far, but the last thing we need is another ambush while you’re down.”
He tried to get up, but another sharp stab of pain followed. He bit the edge of his lip. The bullet might have just skimmed him, but it felt like his side was on fire. “Don’t go. Promise you’ll wait here for the cavalry to arrive.”
She pressed her lips together.
“Promise me, Claire.”
She nodded.
“This was a setup. He’s out there, searching for us now. This wasn’t just about Owen. It’s still about us, somehow, and the investigation.” Reid kept his voice low as he searched the thick woods for any signs of movement, but all he could see were branches, rustling in the breeze. “A second shot and he might not miss his target. All we have to do is lay low. Help is coming.”
“What about Owen? Reid, if anything happens to him...”
She was crying silently next to him. He could hear her breath coming in uneven spurts as she tried to hold back, but already tears were streaming down her face.
He grabbed her hand. “Deep breaths, Claire. Slow, deep breaths. We’re going to find Owen. We’re going to be okay.”
“I’m sorry. You’re the one injured, and I’m the one freaking out on you.”
“It’s fine. You have every reason to feel panicked. And I’m sorry. I truly am.”
“Me too.” She took in another ragged breath. “Though, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were a bit accident prone.”
“Seriously? You’re going to go there?”
She cocked her head, still keeping her voice low. “With your wrist brace and now my pink scarf wrapped around your side.”
“Please.” Reid shook his head. “Don’t make me laugh. It hurts.”
“I’m sorry.” She shot him an impish grin, allowing some of the tension between them to lessen. “If I don’t laugh, I’m going to completely lose it.”
“I know.”
A scattering of memories, buried years ago, shot to the surface. She’d always been able to make him laugh. It was something he’d loved about her—the ability she had to never take things too seriously and to always see the silver lining in a situation, no matter how bad. But today, finding good in any of this seemed impossible. There were too many unknowns, too many disconnected parts, and he had no idea how to bring order to what was happening around them. Even firefighting had specific techniques they used to get in control and stay in control while knocking down a blaze.
But this...he had no formula to combat this.
“I don’t know how to deal with this. I can’t face life without Owen.”
He took her hand and squeezed it. “You’re not going to have to. We’ll find Owen and whoever is behind this.”
“I keep praying, but the arsonist... I don’t know what they want or who they are, but there has to be an end to it, Reid.”
“We’re in this together now. Owen’s out here and we’re going to find him.”
He wanted to promise her that everything was going to be okay. They’d find Owen, and then the three of them could find a way to make things work. He pulled his gaze away from her. As much as he’d tried to fight it, he couldn’t deny that so many of the feelings he’d had for her all those years ago had never gone away. But the fact that she’d never told him about Owen...how was he supposed to forget that? How was he supposed to forgive her for that? He wasn’t even sure it was possible. In order for things to work, he would have to trust her again, but he wasn’t sure that was something he could do.
The snap of a branch jerked him out of his thoughts.
Claire started to stand up.
He pulled on her arm with his good hand, keeping her down. “Claire...don’t.”
“I won’t go far. I promise. I just need to see what’s out there.”
She grabbed a thick branch off the ground, then moved to the edge of the rock, despite his protests.
“It’s our backup, Reid,” she said a few seconds later.
Reid blew out a sigh of relief as two men in uniform hurried toward them.
“He’s been shot,” Claire said, “but it’s just a graze.”
“We’ve got all the teams searching for the shooter. We know he’s out there and we will find him. It’s just a matter of time.”
“But how?” she asked. “We don’t even have a description of our suspect.”
“True, but we do have good news. We just got an update. They found Owen.”
THIRTEEN
“They found him?” The news slammed through Claire like a freight train.
Oh God, please, please let Owen be okay.
“Tell me he’s not hurt.”
“From what I understand, he’s fine,” the shorter of the two officers said. “He was found about a quarter of a mile from here at a cabin, straight back up this trail and to the left. A couple of the firemen from Timber Falls found him sitting on the porch, playing video games. Apparently he’d been told to stay put.”
“I don’t understand.” Claire’s mind fought to take in the details. “Why would someone take him, then leave him alone?”
“I wish I could tell you more, but I don’t have any other details. I’m sorry. I know Detective Kaufman is wanting to ask him some questions and hopefully get some more information, but for the moment let’s just get you back to him.”
“We’ve got an ambulance on the way,” the second officer said as he helped Reid onto his feet. “Can you walk?”
“My side still feels like it’s on fire, but yeah... I can walk.”
The hike back up the tail seemed to take forever with Reid’s injury slowing them down. She glanced back at him, knowing he was in pain, but at the same time feeling the urgency to get to Owen.
“Please don’t get too far ahead, ma’am. We have to assume we still have an active shooter out here.”
She knew their advice was sound, but she needed to see for herself that not only had they found Owen, but that he was really okay. An event like this was going to be traumatic, no matter what he’d gone through. She picked up her pace, leaving Reid and the two officers trailing behind her. She never should have left him, never should have put her job above his safety. She should have known that if she was a target, then he could be, as well.
This isn’t your fault.
Rei
d’s words came rushing back at her. Guilt, though, had become a constant companion over the past few years. Guilt over not telling Reid about Owen. Guilt knowing she’d deprived Reid of his son and his parents of their grandchild. Shedding that guilt wasn’t something she was good at.
She turned left at the trailhead, then started running when she caught sight of several officers standing outside one of the cabins that were scattered through this area. Owen was sitting on the front porch with a uniformed officer standing next to him. Someone had wrapped a blanket around him. With darkness quickly falling, he had to be freezing, with no hat and no gloves. Claire ran up the wooden stairs and pulled him into a hug.
“Mom...you’re squishing me.”
“I’m sorry.” She set him back down on the padded chair where he’d been sitting, then crouched down in front of him. “I was worried about you. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I had some hot chocolate with marshmallows.” Owen’s brow furrowed. “But I was worried. The man told me you were hurt.”
She glanced up at the detective. “What do you mean, Owen?”
“He said he was going to take me to you. That you were in an accident and we needed to hurry.”
Claire pressed her lips together. There were so many things she wanted to ask him. Like why he’d gotten into the car of a stranger. Why he hadn’t run back to her mom when approached so none of this would have happened.
“Mom? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, baby.” She brushed back his bangs. “As long as you’re okay, I’m fine.”
Owen cocked his head. “So you really weren’t hurt?”
“No. I promise.”
“I’m glad.” He pulled her into a hug, melting away all the frustration she was feeling. All that mattered was that he was safe and with her now. Nothing was going to diminish that.
“I’m glad too.” Claire rocked back on her heels.
“I want you both inside while we look for our shooter,” Detective Kaufman said, motioning them into the cabin.
“Of course.” Claire sat down on a worn couch next to Owen in the cozy living room. “Do you know where the man is that took you?”
Owen shrugged. “He said he was going to get you and bring you here. He made me promise that I would wait here, but he let me play with this game. But then he didn’t come back, and I was starting to get cold.”
She tugged the blanket tighter around his coat. “Well, this blanket should warm you up.”
“Do you think I can have some more hot chocolate?”
Claire wiped the tears away from her cheeks, then laughed. “I’m sure we can find you some hot chocolate once we leave here.”
“Mom...” Owen leaned forward, cupping her face with his hands. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
Claire swallowed the lump in her throat. “I know you didn’t, baby.”
“And I know I’m never supposed to talk to strangers, but he said you were hurt.”
“This isn’t your fault, Owen. None of this is your fault. I just missed you very much.”
“I missed you too.”
As much as she wanted to snatch him up and leave, pretending none of this had happened, she knew they needed answers. Whoever had taken Owen and shot Reid was somewhere nearby. “Do you know where the man is? The man who brought you here?”
Owen shook his head. “He just told me he was going to get you. Told me I needed to stay right here, and he would bring you to me.”
Shawn stepped into the cabin.
“That’s the man who found me,” Owen said, a smile back on his face.
“How are you doing, buddy?” Shawn asked. “I wanted to check on the two of you before the guys and I head back to Timber Falls.”
“He seems fine.” Claire stood, keeping her hand on Owen’s shoulder. “We both are now. And Shawn, I owe you for finding my boy. Thank you so much.”
“Of course. We were just doing the sweep of our section and found him sitting here. I’m just glad he’s safe. Glad this is over.”
“So am I, but we still need to find our arsonist, but we found Owen, and that’s all that matters for the moment.”
Shawn shoved his hands into his back pockets. “So you think this is connected to the Rocky Mountain Arsonist?”
“I do.”
Reid walked in behind Shawn, shifting Claire’s attention. Her heart stirred. No matter what had happened between them over the past few hours, no matter how hard she fought it, there was a part of her heart that would always be his.
“We just heard you were shot, but didn’t get any details,” Shawn said.
“I’ll live. Thankfully, it was just a graze.”
“Have the paramedics checked it out?” Claire asked.
“Not yet. I wanted to make sure Owen was okay first.”
“He is.” Claire tousled Owen’s hair. This wasn’t how she’d ever pictured the two of them meeting. But they were both okay, and at the moment that was really all she cared about.
Claire nodded her thanks to Shawn, then turned back to her son. “Owen... I want you to meet someone else. This is Reid O’Callaghan. He and I used to be friends a long time ago.”
“It is very nice to meet you, Owen,” Reid said.
Owen held out his hand and shook Reid’s. “Are you a fireman like Mr. Shawn?”
“I am.”
“I think I wanna be a fireman when I grow up.”
“I have a feeling you’ll make a great fireman.”
“Well, I have to grow up first.”
Reid chuckled. “That’s true.”
“Is that my mom’s scarf?” Owen asked.
“It is.”
“You got shot?”
“It’s just a scrape,” Reid said. “Your mom patched me up.”
“She’s good at stuff like that.”
“Yes, she is.”
Claire glanced at Reid, then Owen, then back to Reid again while the two of them kept talking. It was uncanny the similarities she saw in father and son. At some point, she was going to have to tell Owen the truth. Hopefully, he’d forgive her for not telling him sooner. But that wasn’t something she could worry about today.
Detective Kaufman came in from one of the bedrooms. “Claire... Reid... I need the two of you to look at something we just found.”
“I can wait here with Owen,” Shawn said.
“I...” Claire hesitated, not wanting Owen out of her sight.
“We’ll be right here,” Shawn said. “He’ll be fine. I promise.”
Claire knelt down in front of Owen. “The detective needs to show me something, but I’ll be right back. Shawn is an old friend. He’ll wait here with you.”
“Okay.”
Claire hesitated, trying to convince herself not to worry, then followed Detective Kaufman into the bedroom where two other officers were standing, including Griffin O’Callaghan.
“Griffin,” Reid said, walking toward his brother. “I didn’t know you were here.”
“This cabin is under our jurisdiction, so we were called in.” Griffin’s gaze dropped to the pink scarf and the bloodstain. “Reid...what happened?”
“It’s just a graze. I’ll be fine.”
“A graze? I heard there had been shots fired, but I didn’t realize—”
“I’m fine. Really.”
“Maybe, but you still need to have someone look at it,” Claire said.
“And I will. But first, what’s going on?”
Griffin hesitated, apparently not convinced his brother should be there. “We’ve got teams searching now for the shooter, but I thought you’d want to see this. The room was locked when we got here.”
The room was decorated simply, with just a bed, a dresser and a desk. But it was the desk covered with stacks of papers and photos that caught her
attention. Behind it was a bulletin board filled with more black-and-white photos.
“I don’t know as much as you do about the Rocky Mountain Arsonist, but I’m pretty sure these are all pictures of the related fires,” Griffin said.
“And over here,” Detective Kaufman said, “there are a dozen lighters on the dresser.”
Claire walked across the room to the desk, fighting back nausea. There was no doubt that this was connected and they’d found their arsonist, but there was one thing that terrified her more than anything else. Owen had been here, at this cabin, with a murderer.
* * *
“Claire?” Reid stepped up beside her. “What do you think?”
“Griffin’s right.” Her hand shook as she pulled on a glove Griffin handed her, then picked up one of the photos. “These photos are definitely from the fires we’ve been investigating,” Claire said. “I recognize them. Breckenridge, Aspen, Montrose... It looks like our arsonist has been using this house as a base.”
Photos of the remains of a dozen burned buildings were pinned to a bulletin board. News articles had been printed off and clipped together, and there was another pile of printouts that looked like reactions to the fires on social media.
“What’s the point, though?” Reid asked. “Why would he keep them?”
“Some kind of trophy?” Griffin asked.
Claire nodded. “That would make sense. He didn’t find the notoriety he craves on the local news or online, but this way, he has photos of what he’s destroyed. It gives him the illusion of power and control over the situation.”
Mixed with photos of the burning buildings were photos of the crowds.
“Some of these look familiar. Some of them I haven’t seen,” Claire said. “We dug up as many photos and videos on social media as we could. There was a man in a hoodie we believe to be the same person, but we were never able to get a clear enough photo to ID him.”
“We found a printer, but no computer,” Detective Kaufman said.
“What if he’s in these photos?” Griffin asked.
“It’s possible, but we’ve gone through the photos we have over and over and so far never found a connection between the different fires other than the lighters that were left at the scene and the way the fires were started.”
