far from where she’d first seen him, and Kerri nodded her head, praying his memory hadn’t been altered by shock or fear.
“Lock the door behind me and don’t answer it for anyone.”
Her son’s pale eyes grew wide.
“I have to go find it. I don’t want anyone to know you were there.”
“Why?”
“Because,” she answered, knowing her reply was unsatisfactory even for a nine-year-old. “Just because,” she repeated.
A long while later, Kerri continued to pick her way through the foliage behind the houses, choking on the stench of burning lumber. The billowing smoke had shifted from black to white and she knew the operation would soon switch from fire fighting to investigation. She had to move quickly.
Relief surged through her when she spotted the wild swirls of cobalt-blue and lime-green paint that covered the board. She knew her sense of urgency was partly irrational. If questioned, she could easily say Tom had lost the board on another day, at another time, but she wasn’t taking chances.
Kerri had no sooner wrapped her fingers around the edge of the board and tucked it under one arm when she heard deep voices. Two unfamiliar, but one as familiar as a long lost friend.
Wade Sorenson.
The deep timbre reached into her heart and squeezed. Tears blurred her vision, but she blinked them back. She had no time to relive the pain she’d felt three years earlier, when Wade had betrayed her husband—his best friend.
She dropped into a squat and waited for the men to move farther away. The two strangers walked toward the one unburned home, and Wade turned back toward where a dark car had been parked.
Without looking back, Kerri took off in a sprint, praying she reached the deep cover of the pines before Wade spotted her.
Whatever mess Wade Sorenson had gotten himself into this time was no business of her son’s. No business of hers. Sorenson could take care of himself.
All Kerri had to worry about was taking care of Thomas, and she wasn’t going to let the man she’d once considered one of her closest friends inflict any more heartache on her family than he already had.
WADE STOOD BACK, arms crossed, and watched the tendrils of gray and white smoke wind their way up into the air. Emotions battled deep inside his gut. Anger. Disbelief. Denial.
The red lights of the emergency vehicles flashed like strobes, but the sirens had stopped now, the paramedics and police escort having left over twenty minutes earlier.
The township inspector had been in bad shape. Unconscious, burned and barely responsive. The poor guy had come to do a routine framing and electrical inspection, and instead he’d left fighting for his life.
Guilt spiraled in the pit of Wade’s stomach. Had one of his guys installed the gas line incorrectly? Had a blowtorch been left on? What?
Pine Ridge Estates had been the culmination of a dream for him. He’d worked for years to build his company into one with a reputation home buyers would seek out. Sure, he’d almost lost it all after the Flamingo accident, but once the investigation had cleared him of any liability, he’d moved forward, rebuilding his reputation project by project. Until now.
Wood splintered and voices cried out as part of a framed ceiling gave way and crashed into the burned-out shell below. He winced, muttering a string of expletives.
Only one of the six houses remained untouched. Intact. The fire investigator, Charlie Forbes, emerged from the partially constructed building and walked toward where Wade stood. Wade moved to close the gap between them, anxious to hear the man’s take on what had happened.
Was it possible the township inspector had done something to cause the series of explosions? Wade drew in a deep breath, then sighed. Not likely. What had happened here today was no accident. He’d been targeted. Wade knew it in his gut, as much as he wanted to deny it.
Once they were within earshot of each other, Forbes spoke. “The sixth incendiary device didn’t blow.”
Incendiary device. Sonofa—
“Signature’s consistent with Project Liberation,” the investigator continued. “I’ve called in the Feds.”
Project Liberation.
Ecoterrorism.
Wade’s stomach did a slow sideways pitch. He’d known developing this community on the fringe of the South Jersey Pinelands might affront certain ecologically minded types, but he’d gone through the proper channels, including community meetings and hearings. His plan had been approved with flying colors, to the liking of everyone he’d met.
Obviously, not to the liking of the powers within the Project Liberation organization.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
The investigator nodded, then gestured for Wade to follow him. They made their way around the houses until they stood close to where the third shell smoldered.
Forbes pointed at a portion of the home’s back wall.
Two words had been spray painted in black. No Sprawl.
“I’ve read about this.” Wade uttered the words on the heels of a frustrated breath. “I didn’t know they’d developed an interest in the Pine Barrens.”
“Apparently, they have,” Forbes answered.
“Can I go inside?” Wade jerked a thumb toward the only unscathed home.
Forbes shook his head. “Can’t do that. We need to keep the specifics quiet. Chain of evidence. That sort of thing.”
Wade frowned. “Surely you don’t think I had anything to do with this?”
The other man shrugged. “Don’t take this personally, but one of the first things we look at is possible insurance fraud.”
Wade pointed to the spray-painted graffiti. “Even with this?”
“Anyone can buy a can of spray paint.”
Forbes’s attention was pulled away as a dark sedan eased to a stop behind a ladder truck, its tires sinking into the now thick mud. “Task force is here,” he said as he walked away from Wade, making it clear their discussion was over.
“Wade. Long time no see.” The driver of the car raised his hand in greeting. “Forbes.”
“McCann.” Wade and Forbes spoke simultaneously.
Detective Adam McCann was one of Wade’s oldest friends. He was also the newly appointed head of the county task force on Homeland Security.
“What have we got?” McCann asked as he stopped next to Wade, momentarily clasping a hand on his shoulder. “You doing all right?”
Wade nodded and Forbes jerked a thumb toward the smoldering houses behind them. “Clean evidence in the sixth house. Matches the devices in the other five.”
“Liberation?”
