Identity Withheld. Sandra Orchard

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СКАЧАТЬ attention snapped to his face. “You think tonight’s fire was the work of a serial arsonist?” An odd note of hope rang in her voice, as if she knew it was personal, but hoped it wasn’t.

      “Yes, didn’t the sheriff tell you? That’s why if you think of anything else you heard or saw tonight, we need to know.” He cocked his head. Something about her expression seemed eerily familiar. He blinked, recalling the day his mother-in-law had shown up on their doorstep, the first time she’d left her abusive husband.

      Was that why Kara had resisted being photographed?

      Jake’s concern for her ballooned. He pulled a card from his wallet and jotted his number on the back. “That’s my cell number. Call me if you think of anything that might help. Or if you need anything, okay?”

      Nodding, she tucked the card into her hip pocket. “Sure.” Her gaze strayed to a car pulling out of the parking lot—the car of the guy who’d seemed to be following her. As it disappeared around the corner, her shoulders relaxed. “I really need to go now. My friend’s still waiting for me.”

      Jake caught her hand. “Hey, let me give you a lift.”

      The wild-eyed look returned as she jerked free of his hold. “That’s okay. I can walk.”

      He raised his palms to assure her he meant no harm. “What kind of gentleman would I be if I let you walk in this weather?”

      Doubt flickered in her eyes.

      Had an abusive husband put it there? His gaze flicked to her bare ring finger. Except that a missing ring didn’t mean anything. He traced his own ringless finger, remembering the Thanksgiving night five years ago that he’d lost his wife. He drew in a deep breath.

      After he’d lifted Kara into the ambulance earlier, he hadn’t been able to walk away as he normally would have. Not when her gaze kept straying his way, as if he was the one person who made her feel safe. His wife used to tease him about his hero complex.

      Except in the end, of all people, it’d been her he hadn’t been able to save.

      “I prefer to walk, thanks,” Kara said, already backing away.

      “Are you sure you’re okay?”

      Her tiny smile nuzzled into his chest as palpably as his five-year-old son at bedtime. “Yes. Thank you for your concern.” With that she ducked around the side of the building and jogged toward the street.

      For half a second, he debated letting her go, but if he was right about Kara’s situation being the same as his mother-in-law’s, he couldn’t just walk away. Not when his mother-in-law’s fatal mistake had been agreeing to meet the abusive husband she’d fled from. Bracing himself against the staggering regret that piggybacked that thought, Jake hopped into his truck and followed Kara. He tried to stay far enough back to not spook her, but twice she threw a glance over her shoulder and quickened her pace. When she veered into the coffee shop’s parking lot, he pulled onto the side street flanking it.

      The rain had stopped, but that didn’t make the dimly lit shop, with its tired awning and ancient-looking specials scrawled on the front window, look any more inviting.

      A lone guy, shaggy hair, leather jacket, sat at a booth next to the window, his back to it as he chatted with the waitress. Was he the friend she was supposed to meet? What kind of jerk wouldn’t walk the two blocks to meet her at the hospital?

      Her steps faltered as she neared the door.

      Jake gripped his truck’s door handle, ready to move in if she needed help.

      The waitress and customer looked Kara’s way as she pushed through the shop’s door. Without moving any closer, Kara chatted with them a moment, then took a seat at the counter.

      Okay, not what he expected. Had she been feeding him a line about meeting a friend here? He scanned the deserted parking lot. Or had her friend given up waiting for her?

      Jake released his grip on the door handle and returned his hands to the steering wheel. Maybe he’d let his imagination get the better of him about the danger she was in. For all he knew, she’d been petrified that he was still trying to pin the arson on her.

      He could see only her back through the window, but there was no mistaking the way her shoulders slumped. If her friend didn’t show soon, he could happen in and offer her a lift. With her house burned, she was going to need to find a place to crash for the night. Hadyn didn’t have a hotel, and the only one in Stalwart was likely already booked solid for the holiday. And chances were she hadn’t escaped the house with her wallet to pay for a cab to get her any farther.

      His cell phone rang. “Hi, Mom. Is everything okay with Tommy?”

      “Yes, but he insists you said he could wait up for you. How much longer do you think you’ll be?”

      Jake blew out a breath. As much as he wanted to make sure Kara was really meeting a friend, his son was his first priority, especially tonight of all nights. “Not much longer. I have to check in on one of my men at the hospital and then I’ll head straight home.” He started his truck and gave Kara one last glance.

      The smile she’d given him when she’d thanked him for caring flickered through his thoughts. Given time, he was pretty sure he could coax her to be more forthcoming. Except they didn’t have any time to spare.

      Up until tonight, their arsonist had struck every other Friday, and he’d torched vacant buildings, abandoned sheds. The only lives threatened had been firefighters’. But tonight, the stakes had escalated.

      Kara could have died in that fire.

      With lights on in the upper part of the house and her car in the driveway, there was no way the guy who torched the place couldn’t have known that someone was in there. But did he know that someone was Kara?

      * * *

      Where was the marshal? Kara had almost lost her supper when two steps into the coffee shop she’d yelped, “I made it,” and the man who’d turned in the booth to gape at her had been a stranger. Part of her had wanted to bolt right back outside, but instead she’d shaken her hood off her head and griped about how wet it was outside, then sank onto one of the stools lining the long counter.

      The waitress pushed a coffee-stained menu her way. “What can I get you, sugar?” she drawled, sounding as if she belonged in Texas, not Washington State.

      Kara dug into her pocket and came up with a wrinkled buck and a couple of quarters. “Uh, just a coffee, please. Black.” She pushed the money across the counter as the waitress filled a white mug from a pot that had probably been sitting around all day. “I guess you haven’t had too many people in tonight?” Kara fished.

      “Not a soul until Bruiser—” the waitress hitched her elbow in the other patron’s direction “—stopped by to keep me company.” Returning the coffeepot to the burner, she glanced at the clock. “You only just made it. Be closing in twenty minutes.”

      Kara swallowed a mouthful of the bitter brew. Not a soul? She twisted on her stool and scanned the dimly lit lot through the main windows. Would Ray have waited for her outside? “No one all night?” she clarified.

      “Nope, not since before supper.”

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