food to the door.” His voice brooked no argument, not that she was of a mind to. He took the bag from her, opened the car door and got out.
She locked the doors and watched him walk up to the front door, wondering if she’d made a mistake in insisting he take her home. She felt calm enough now that she could have just driven herself.
She frowned and rubbed the center of her forehead as a headache attempted to take hold. Had the man seen her well enough to know who she was? Did he know her name? Where she lived? Would he now come after her in an attempt to kill another witness?
She wished she had family in town. She wished she had somebody who could take her in for a few weeks, but if there was danger she certainly didn’t want to bring it close to any of her friends. At least she had the security system that would alert her to anyone attempting to enter her house.
She knew Flint and his team of deputies would be more determined than ever to catch Bittard with this new murder. Surely she’d be fine until they got the killer back in custody.
She watched as the door opened and light spilled out. Grace waved and then took the bag from Flint. As he started back to the car, Nina unlocked the doors.
“She said to tell you she was feeling a little better,” he said when he was behind the steering wheel once again.
“Thank goodness. She went home yesterday with a headache and a cough. I was afraid she might have caught...” She allowed her voice to trail off. She didn’t even want to speak her fear aloud. “By the way, how is your grandmother doing?” She knew that Dottie Colton had come down with the virus and had been in the hospital for the past couple of weeks.
“According to Dr. Rand, she’s stable, but she’s still unconscious.” He cast her a sideways glance. “Is it easier to talk about the virus than the fact that you just witnessed a murder?”
A chill invaded her despite the warmth inside the car. “I don’t want to think about that poor woman. I just wish I could have done something to stop it from happening. I wish I could have done something to force him to leave and run away before she died.” She clenched her fists in despair.
“Then I might be investigating two murders, Jolene’s and yours. You did the right thing by driving away, by not engaging with the man, especially if it was Bittard. He’s a cold-blooded killer and we now think he might possibly be armed again. There’s been some robberies in the past couple of days and among the things stolen have been a knife and a gun and rope.”
“Rope that he used to strangle Jolene,” she said flatly, fighting against another chill that tried to shiver down her spine.
“Forensics will tell us if the rope used to strangle Jolene is the same kind that was stolen. We’ll know more in the next couple of days after a full investigation is completed.”
In the glow from the dashboard, his handsome features looked slightly haggard, as if he hadn’t slept well for weeks. “You’ll catch him, Flint. You’ll catch him and that little creep, Jimmy, too. The doctors will find a cure for the virus and before you know it, Dead River will be back to normal.”
He slid her a wry look. “From your lips...” The rest of the sentence wasn’t spoken as he turned onto her street.
Nina looked out the front window of the car and gasped in surprise. The street was alive with the swirl of red lights from patrol cars and fire trucks that serviced the small city.
Firefighters in full gear ran with hoses toward the blaze that lit up the entire street and licked upward to the sky. Black smoke rolled up, creating a dark cloud in the otherwise clear night.
What was happening? What on earth was burning so fiercely?
Nina stared at it all in stunned disbelief. It was her house. Her house was on fire. A choking sob welled up inside her and released, followed by another...and another.
Flint pulled to the curb behind one of the fire trucks. “Stay here,” he commanded sternly. “Lock the doors and do not get out of this car under any circumstances for anyone but me.”
She couldn’t have moved if her life depended on it as she watched the window of her living room explode outward. She’d bought the house just a little under a year ago and had spent the past months making it into the home she’d always dreamed of, and now she watched as everything she’d worked so hard for went up in flames.
She’d hand-picked each and every item from the bright yellow throw pillows on the sofa to the little water fountain that sat on one of her coffee tables. Gone...they were gone.
She saw Flint talking to a man she recognized as Stan Burrell, the fire chief. She watched the two men for only a moment and then turned her attention back to the house in time to see the roof collapse.
Numb. She was completely numb as she realized she’d lost everything. The flowered pink lamp in her bedroom, the cheerful daisy arrangement that had greeted her each morning on her kitchen table...everything was destroyed.
Had there been a wiring problem? Had she accidentally left on an appliance that morning that had shorted out and started the fire? How on earth had this happened?
Her neighbors stood on the sidewalk. Thank God there was no wind tonight, nothing to aid a spark from finding its way to their homes. In any case, it appeared that the firefighters had given up attempting to save her place and instead worked to make sure the fire remained contained to her home alone.
It was probably easy to contain a fire that had already consumed everything inside, she thought in despair and watched an outside wall fall inward. She wasn’t even aware she was crying until she reached a hand up to her cheek and found it wet.
How had this happened? Her life was suddenly a scene from some crazy movie she didn’t want to watch. Her mind worked desperately to find the positives. Thank God she hadn’t been home and she didn’t have any pets.
Thank God she had good insurance. She could use the cot in the diner and live in the back storage room until she rebuilt. Thank God it was just things that had been destroyed and things could always be replaced.
Still, no matter how many positives she tried to make of the situation, she continued to cry silently. She’d thought she’d left all the bad things behind her when she left home. She’d believed that had been the worst time in her life, but tonight was right up there on the list of terrible things she had endured in her lifetime.
Flint returned to the car, a tense pulse in his jaw working overtime. “I’ll have a full report sometime tomorrow, but there’s no question in Stan’s mind that this was arson. The ignition points appear to be all four corners of the house, and he believes gasoline was used as an accelerant. Somebody intentionally set the fire, either as a warning to you or hoping you would be inside. If I were a betting man, I’d wager that the man you saw kill Jolene tonight definitely recognized you.”
She stared at him, the fear so great inside her she couldn’t find words to speak. He started the car. “You’re coming home with me,” he continued. “You’ll be staying at my place until I find Bittard and get him behind bars.” He said the words not as a suggestion but rather as a statement of fact.
She simply nodded, knowing that even though the last place she wanted to stay was Flint’s house, it appeared she was out of options. She couldn’t deny the fact that her life was in danger.
*
