"Yes." Mark let out a sigh. "I left a message for him this morning, but he hasn't returned my call. That's not unusual. We don't have a close relationship. But I'd like to speak to him before Mandy gets it in her head to go straight to Richard."
"Just keep trying," Ruth said. "Make him hear you. You're not close because of this secret. Maybe if it comes out, you'll be able to change the nature of your relationship."
"I hope so." Mark paused as his phone buzzed. "Maybe this is him. No. Dammit."
"What's wrong?" Ruth asked.
"It's a text from Mandy."
"What does it say?" he asked, his gut tightening.
"It's not over. You are going to feel my pain unless you pay up." Mark looked up from his phone as he finished reading the text, a grim look in his gaze.
Ruth frowned. "What does that mean? You're going to feel her pain?"
"I don't know. She makes a lot of threats like that. In the past, I've always paid. Maybe I should do that now since the police haven't found her. It might calm her down."
"Oh, I don't know," Ruth said. "Are you sure that's wise?"
"Honestly? I have no idea what the right move is. Maybe I'll send her half, just to tide her over. I'll do it now."
"You send it through an app?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Good. Then you'll be able to show the police a record of your payments." He waited as Mark completed the transaction. "Was it really just fear for your son that made you pay the blackmail?" he asked curiously.
"It was my guilt, too," Mark said. "I should have gotten my wife into psychiatric care before that fire. I knew she was spinning out. But she thought she could handle it. And I thought I could handle her. We were both wrong. Valerie wasn't a bad person; she was sick. I don't believe she went to the house to kill Gretchen. The fire was an accident. But I did blame myself for it when Valerie told me her story. Before that, I really believed Gretchen had been smoking. She was a smoker, so it wasn't unbelievable. Her family didn't question it, either. We all believed in the story."
"Well, it's done," Ruth said. "All you can do is move forward, Mark. Valerie took a lot from you and Richard, and Mandy has taken her share, too. You need to be free of both of them."
"I'm finally beginning to believe that might happen," he said, as he gazed into Ruth's eyes.
Mark and Ruth were clearly falling in love with each other. Dante could see it on both their faces. They'd found each other after having spent a lifetime apart. It was touching. It also seemed a bit tragic that they'd missed so many years together.
"I think you should stay at my house tonight," Ruth said. "I don't want you alone at the lodge if Mandy is going to cause you more trouble."
"And I would never put you in the line of fire," Mark said. "I'll be fine. I think the money will ease her stress. Part of her problem is that she's broke, so it's not just about revenge. She needs the money to live. She seems incapable of staying in a job for longer than a few months. Anyway, let's not think about her anymore. Let's watch the fireworks and then I'll take you home. No arguments, Ruth. Your safety is my primary concern."
"You're sweet." Ruth turned back to Dante. "If I don't see you again, it was lovely to meet you, Dante, and I hope you throw many more strikeouts."
"Thanks. I'll still be here for a few more days, so our paths may cross again."
"I hope so, but my daughter can be very stubborn. She also isn't the best mind reader. If you want her to know how you feel, tell her. If you have something you want to ask her, then ask. That's my advice. Take it or not."
"I'll think about it." As they moved toward the beach, he got into his car and slid behind the wheel. As he started the engine, Ruth's words ran through his head. He needed to talk to Keira, but she clearly didn't want to talk to him. How hard should he push? How much time should he give her?
He was still looking for some answers when he got back to the inn. He shut off the engine, but he didn't get out of the car right away, conflicted as to what he wanted to do. It was early. He could go to Keira's house, or he could let her have the space she wanted.
As a car cruised slowly through the lot, he stiffened, wondering if it was the press or Mandy, but then the car parked, and an older couple got out. He relaxed as they walked toward the front door. They were just guests, not crazy paparazzi or blackmailers.
Thinking about Mandy reminded him of the text she'd sent to Mark: It's not over. You are going to feel my pain unless you pay up.
Was it just another threat, like the one she'd left on the wall of the inn? But it had sounded a little different—you're going to feel my pain. What would make Mark feel that pain?
A bad idea suddenly came to mind.
Mandy's sister, Gretchen, had died in a fire. Her pain had come from that loss. The loss of someone she loved during a fire.
As he stared at the grand inn, he wondered if Mandy would try to set a fire there. But she'd already had that chance when she'd been in Mark's room. That would have been the perfect time to do it. Why would she do it now? Plus, she might have figured that Mark wouldn't stay at the inn after she trashed it.
His stomach began to twist and churn as he remembered that Mandy had been to Ruth's house, too. She knew Mark and Ruth were seeing each other. Would her next target be Ruth? Or Ruth's house?
He quickly reversed out of the parking lot and drove across town, his breath coming faster with each passing minute. He tried calling Keira on the way. But she didn't pick up. He left a message telling her it was urgent that she call him back. Then he swore as the light in front of him turned red. He told himself to calm down. He could be following a wild idea that had no basis in fact, but he had a bad feeling, and he couldn't shake it.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Keira heard a small crash, like someone had dropped something downstairs. She looked from the computer on her bedroom desk to the nearby clock. It was eight fifty. Fireworks would start around nine. Why would her mom come home before the fireworks?
She got up and walked to her door. She could hear someone moving around downstairs, but no voices. That seemed odd. Had her mom had a fight with Mark?
That didn't make sense. Her mom was solidly in Mark's corner even after they'd learned his secret. Her gut tightened as an odor wafted through the air. It smelled like gas. It reminded her of a terrible night only a few months after her mom's accident when her mother had turned on the gas stove to heat some water and then forgotten about it. The pan had been on fire when she'd woken up to the smell and ran into the kitchen to put out the fire. But that had been in the days when her mom's brain wasn't functioning right. She didn't have those problems anymore.
But the smell got stronger as she left her room and walked down the stairs. She could hear someone in the kitchen. She moved down the hall and threw open the kitchen door. "Mom?"
She froze in shock as she saw a red-haired woman pouring gasoline on the floor.
The woman dropped the can and lifted the fire starter in her hand.
"Don't do it," she cried, suddenly realizing she was standing on a gas-slicked floor and the liquid had formed pools around the room.
"It's too late," the woman said.
"It's not, Mandy. You don't have to do this. You can walk away."
"How do you know my name?"
"I know all about you and your sister, the fire, the blackmail. The police know, too. It's over, Mandy."
"I didn't think anyone was here," she said, her dark eyes cold and bleak. "But maybe you're supposed to be here, just like my sister was supposed to be at that house. Mark probably doesn't care about you, though. He just wants your mother. She should be here. But you're the next best thing. Her pain will be his pain."
"No! Mark's actions have nothing to do with me or my mother."
"He likes your mom. I saw them kiss. He's moved on. He found happiness again, but I never will. He took my sister from me."
"Wasn't it his wife who did that?"
"He knew about it."
"He said h
is wife was mentally ill."
"That doesn't excuse her. She killed my sister, but she never paid for it. And Mark kept her secret." The woman backed toward the kitchen door leading out to the patio.
The glass was broken. That must have been how she got in.
As Mandy lifted the fire starter, Keira bolted back through the door leading into the hall. She needed to get as far away from the kitchen as she could, but she slipped in the gasoline that had spread down the hall. As she hit the wall by the stairs, an explosion ripped through the house, and a tremendous wave of intense heat sent her flying through the air. She landed hard, with heavy, dusty debris raining down on her. She tried to move, but she was pinned to the ground by something very heavy. Terror ran through her as flames leapt down the hall. She only had a minute before they would reach her, before they would hit more fuel.
Coughing from the extreme smoke and heat, she tried to squirm free. She kicked out at whatever was holding her, but nothing was moving. She wanted to scream and cry, but that would be giving up, and she couldn't do that. She had to keep fighting.
And then she felt air hit her face. There was so much smoke and fire she didn't know if the windows had burst or if the front door had opened, but she gasped, hoping for some clean air to breathe. It might be the last breath she would get to take.
"Keira?"
She heard his voice through the crack of the fire. Was she imagining it? "Dante?" she said, her voice thick with smoke and far too low. She yelled more loudly. "Dante. I'm here."
He came into sight, his features illuminated by the growing fire. "Are you all right?" he yelled.
"I'm trapped. I can't move. Something fell on me."
"Half the ceiling, it looks like." He started grabbing pieces of wood and plaster and tossing them to the side. But there was a portion of a large beam pinning her legs down. "Dammit," he swore, as he tried to budge the beam.
"You have to get out of here," she said. "The fire is too hot. Call 911."
"I already did, and I'm not leaving you." He grabbed the wood with both hands and pulled as hard as he could, screaming in frustration, or maybe it was pain.
"Your arm," she cried. "You'll hurt your arm."
"I don't care about my arm. I care about you."
As another small explosion rocked the house, he used his arms, his body, his power for leverage and, somehow, he was able to move the heavy beam enough for her to scramble out from under it.
"I'm free." She tried to stand up, but pain shot through her foot.
"I've got you." He swept her up in his arms, moving swiftly through the smoke and debris, until blessed fresh air hit her face.
The loud booms and flashing lights confused her until she realized the fireworks were going up over the lake. It felt surreal: the fire behind her, the explosions overhead. In the midst of it all, the fire engines arrived, and two paramedics raced over to meet them. After assuring the firefighters that no one else was in the house, they were taken to the back of the ambulance, where they were given oxygen and checked for injuries.
Her left foot was swollen, and it looked like she would need an x-ray to see if anything was broken, but that was the least of her concerns. Watching the firefighters attack the blazing fire made her suddenly aware that she and her mom were going to lose their home. Everything they owned would be gone. So many years of memories were going up in flames. But they were alive. That was all that mattered.
When the paramedic suggested that they take her to the hospital, she refused. "I don't want to leave yet," she said.
"I can take her to the ER when she's ready," Dante told the medic, as he handed back the oxygen mask.
"All right," the EMT said. "Definitely get that foot checked."
"I will," she promised. She slid off the back of the ambulance onto one foot. Dante put his arm around her and helped her hobble over to the short brick wall that ran around the edge of the property. As they sat down, he put his arm around her, squeezing her close to his body. She looked into his face, which was streaked black from the smoke. There were white specks of plaster in his brown hair, and his face was sweaty, his clothes also covered in ashes and dust. But he'd never looked better to her. "You saved my life," she said. "How did you know?"
"I didn't know, but I had a bad feeling after I ran into Mark and your mother at the beach."
"What do you mean?"
"Mark got a text from Mandy telling him he was going to feel her pain. He sent her some money after reading the text to try to calm her down until the police could find her. But as I was driving home, I thought about what she'd said, and I remembered that she'd been here at the house. I called you, but you didn't pick up."
"I had my phone on silent."
His lips tightened. "Because you were avoiding me."
"Yes, I was avoiding you and everyone else. I didn't want to go to the beach, and my friends kept calling, so I stopped answering."
"You should have gone to the beach. You should have been with your friends. They all missed you."
"You saw them?"
"Yes. I was hoping to run into you." His lips tightened. "What happened here? Did you see Mandy?"
"Yes. I thought I heard someone downstairs, and it seemed odd that my mom would come home before the fireworks show. I went into the kitchen and caught Mandy pouring gasoline on the floor. She dropped the can when she saw me. She said she didn't think anyone was in the house. But then she added that Mark was in love with my mom. If my mom lost her daughter, then she'd be in pain, and he'd feel her pain. Plus, my mom would blame him for what happened. I tried to reason with her, but she wasn't listening. When she headed toward the back door, I ran in the other direction, but I wasn't fast enough. Everything blew up around me. I guess the ceiling came down."
"You were so lucky, Keira." He leaned over and gave her a kiss.
She savored the heat of his lips, a different kind of fire than the one taking down her house. This heat was solid, comforting, and a reminder that she was alive. "You're the reason I was lucky. I don't think anyone is around. The houses nearby are all dark. The neighbors must be down at the beach. If you hadn't come by—"
He put his hand against her mouth to stop her. "I did come by. Don't think of the alternative."
"It's impossible not to. I could have died."
"But you didn't. You're okay." He brushed the hair off her face and kissed her again. "I was terrified when I pulled up and saw the fire. And then seeing you trapped under all that rubble—"
This time she was the one who put her fingers against his lips. "We both need to stop thinking about the bad stuff that didn't happen."
"You're right." His gaze narrowed as she shivered. "Are you cold?"
"Probably just a little shocked."
He wrapped both arms around her, bringing her into his chest. As he did so, she couldn't help but notice the wince of pain that ran across his face. She pulled back to give him a searching look. "You hurt your arm, didn't you?"
"No, it's fine."
"I don't believe you. I knew you shouldn't have moved that beam. It was too heavy. All the progress you've made—"
"Stop. I don't care about my arm."
"Yes, you do."
"No, I don't," he said firmly. "I care about you, Keira. I'm in love with you. I would have cut off my right arm to save you."
She stared at him in amazement, feeling too rattled to believe him.
"I'm in love with you," he repeated. "I ran into your mom earlier, and she told me that I needed to tell you how I feel, so I'm telling you."
"It's too soon for love."
"No, it's not. I love you, Keira, and if my arm never works again, I don't care, because you are more important to me than baseball."
She shook her head in bemusement. "How can that be?"
"It just is. You have to believe me. Everything snapped into place when I saw your house on fire. Baseball is not the most important thing in my life anymore; you are. I'm hoping you feel the same way, eve
n though you haven't said anything, which is strange, because you usually talk a lot."
She smiled, overwhelmed with so many feelings she didn't know where to start. So, she began with what was most important. "I'm in love with you, too, Dante. I've been trying to fight it, telling myself this was just a fun fling. But it was more than that."
"A lot more," he agreed.
"But being in love doesn't change our problems with geography and responsibilities."
"We're going to have to find a way to work that out. I want to be with you, Keira, and I usually get what I want," he added with a small smile.
"I like your confidence, as misplaced as it might be."
"We have to try to make things work." He paused as Adam came toward them.
"Are you two all right?" Adam asked with concern.
"Yes," she said. "I just hurt my foot, but otherwise I'm okay."
"Tell me what happened."
She repeated what she'd already told Dante, noting Adam's expression growing harsher by the minute.
"We'll find Mandy," Adam assured her when she was done. "I promise you that. I honestly thought she was out of town. I should have made sure you and your mother had protection."
"You couldn't have known Mandy would go from vandalizing a hotel room to setting our house on fire, Adam."
"Well, she won't get away with this. I'll make sure of that."
"I know you will." As Adam walked away, she turned to Dante. "I need to call my mom. I don't have my phone."
He took his phone out of his pocket, then said, "But you don't need to call her; she's here."
Her mother came running across the grass, followed by Mark. There was terror in her eyes. "Are you all right, Keira? Adam said you were in the house when it caught fire."
"I'm okay," she said quickly.
Her mother gathered her into a tight hug. "I was so worried. When I heard my house was on fire, I couldn't believe it. What happened?"
"It was Mandy." Her gaze moved from her mother to Mark. "She poured gasoline in the kitchen and then set it on fire. I confronted her, but she got away."
Mark drew in a shaky breath. "I'm so sorry, Keira. I thought she left town. I should have realized she would go after Ruth, after this house. How can I ever…" Words failed him as he gasped for breath.
If We Never Met Page 25
