Page 19 of Fire Bear (Return To Fate Mountain #1)
Chapter
Nineteen
Eliana woke with lingering images of the orchard fire in her mind. She rolled onto her side, spotting Ash’s form beneath the covers. He lay on his back, one arm stretched out, chest gently rising and falling.
So many times during the night, she had woken up in a start, convinced the orchard was ablaze again or that some new threat loomed. Each time, she had looked over at him and felt calmer. He was here.
Not wanting to disturb his rest, Eliana carefully eased the blankets aside. Her muscles still ached with tension, yet she forced herself to stand. She padded across the bedroom floor, the boards creaking under her bare feet.
It felt almost surreal that the previous day’s tragedy and chaos lay behind her, at least for now. The orchard had been spared further destruction, though not without losses. She wondered what the damage would look like in the light of day, but at the same time, she dreaded seeing it.
Stepping into the hallway, she glanced back at Ash, who had shifted slightly but remained asleep. The faint morning glow illuminated his hair. She felt a stirring in her chest, a mix of gratitude and sadness. He had saved so much, yet even his heroism could not stop all the flames that had ravaged her land. Her heart clenched at the memory of the outbuildings and forest reduced to blackened rubble.
She made her way to the kitchen, flipping on a small overhead light. She reached into the cupboard for the coffee. As she scooped grounds into the filter, her mind replayed the orchard’s near-destruction. The sickening smell of smoke still lingered in her nostrils.
But soon the rich aroma of brewing coffee filled the kitchen, providing a momentary respite. She stood there, hands braced on the counter, inhaling deeply as the machine dripped the dark liquid. Tension knotted at the back of her neck, so she tried rolling her shoulders to ease it.
When the coffee finished brewing, she poured the steaming liquid into a travel mug, filled it with cream and sugar, and took a sip. With a satisfied sigh, she hugged the mug to her chest and trudged to the back door. She slipped her feet into a pair of sturdy boots, though she wore only pajamas otherwise, pulling on a jacket to keep away the morning chill.
Outside, the sky was a soft wash of pale colors, promising a clear day. The orchard spread before her, rows of trees fading into the distance. At first glance, it seemed normal, a quiet scene of nature waking up. Then she reached the forest at the southern end of the orchard. That was where the flames had been fiercest.
Her coffee felt heavier with each step. The grass under her boots gave way to a stretch of scorched earth. Her heart hammered. In the light of dawn, the burned forest looked like an ugly wound. Two small outbuildings had been completely destroyed. She paused to stare at them, a lump forming in her throat.
She bit her lip, recalling how the flames had nearly leaped into the orchard rows. At least the majority of her apple trees had been spared. That knowledge gave her a tiny spark of relief.
Clutching her mug, she moved closer to one of the burned outbuildings, letting the reality sink in that this was not a nightmare she’d dreamed last night. It was all too real. She heard footsteps behind her, and when she turned, Ash was approaching, hair slightly mussed, his face reflecting concern. She felt a surge of warmth at the sight of him.
“Thought I’d find you here,” he said, stepping around a charred beam to join her. “I woke up and you were gone.”
She glanced at the remains of the outbuilding, then back at him. “I had to see it in daylight,” she admitted. “It’s… worse than I imagined, even though we saved most of the orchard.”
His gaze swept the burn site. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, moving closer. His arms enveloped her from behind, the heat of his body cutting through the chill in the morning air. She let out a slow breath, letting herself lean into him.
For a moment, they stood in silence. The orchard around them was still, the only sounds the distant rustle of leaves. She sipped her coffee, grateful to have him holding her.
Then her phone rang. Detective Parker’s name showed up in stark letters, and her pulse fluttered. She exchanged a glance with Ash and swiped the screen. “Detective Parker?”
“Good morning, Ms. Hampton,” came Parker’s calm, measured tone. “I’m calling because I’d like to review your orchard’s security footage from last night. Is now convenient?”
“Yes, of course.” Eliana swallowed, her mouth dry. “Now is fine. I’ll meet you at my office in the barn.”
“I’m on my way.”
“Parker wants to review the security footage,” she said, turning to Ash. She forced a tight smile. “Let’s hope we caught whoever did this on camera.”
They left the burned patch and walked back to her office. She tugged a chair away from the desk and sat down. Ash stood behind her, arms folded, but he kept close. She appreciated his presence—his silent offer of support.
She woke up her computer and brought the orchard’s security software up on her screen. A small box requested a password. Eliana typed it in, pressing Enter. The system took a moment to load, showing a grid of camera feeds from all around the property: the main orchard rows, the barn entrance, the storage sheds, the fence line.
Moments later, Detective Parker entered the office, wearing a light jacket, notepad in hand. His expression was subdued. “Good morning,” he said quietly. “Shall we take a look?”
Eliana nodded. “Yes, please come in,” she said, scooting the chair so Parker could stand beside her. Ash shifted closer too, completing a small circle around the desk. The detective’s sharp eyes flicked over the monitor.
“All right,” Parker said, motioning to the screen. “Could you load up the footage from last night, maybe the two-hour window before the fire?”
Eliana clicked through the software’s menu. “Yes, it should be recording around the clock,” she explained, tension building in her chest. “Let me pick the time period from about six in the evening onward. The orchard staff left around that time, so we might see if anyone was sneaking around afterward.” She double-checked the date and time on the playback bar, then clicked “Play.”
The screen went dark for a moment, then a scene from earlier in the evening flickered into view. It showed one angle of the orchard near the barn. She recognized Talia and a couple of other staffers finishing up, carrying tools to the barn. The timestamp read 5:48 PM.
“Looks normal so far,” Parker said, leaning in. “Keep going.”
She fast-forwarded slightly, scanning the smaller thumbnail feeds in the corners, each representing a different camera: the orchard rows, the fence line, the main barn door.
For a few minutes, everything seemed routine: employees tidying up, exchanging waves, and eventually heading off-camera as they left for the night. The orchard grew quiet with the fading light, the cameras capturing just the gentle sway of trees.
She paused the playback around 7:10 PM, switching to the fence line camera. “Here we should see if anything odd happens,” she murmured, pressing Play again.
The footage advanced. For a few seconds, nothing. The orchard appeared empty in the darkness, though motion-triggered floodlights gave the cameras enough light to record. Eliana’s heart hammered, waiting to see a suspicious figure cross the fence. But the screen froze. She blinked in confusion, then tried to click the timestamp again. The software didn’t respond.
“Something’s off,” she said, shifting in her chair. She tried to exit the playback screen, but it remained frozen. “Let me reboot the timeline.” She closed the window and reopened it, selecting 7:15 PM. A small loading icon spun at the center of the black screen. She waited, pulse rising. Five seconds. Ten seconds. Still black.
Parker’s voice was tight. “Does the system usually freeze like this?”
She frowned. “It’s new, but I’ve never seen it do this.” She clicked forward an hour, then two hours, but the result was the same: a black screen with no video. The feed didn’t resume until she’d logged on this morning.
Eliana’s stomach sank. She scrolled in smaller increments, hoping to find something. The same thing happened every time. At 7:10 PM, the recorded footage abruptly ended, and it didn’t come back on until the system’s real-time feed that morning.
“It’s not there,” she said quietly, frustration burning in her chest. “All the time between last night and early this morning is missing from the archives.”
Detective Parker’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “That’s a serious gap.” A short silence followed, tension thickening in the small room. The detective rubbed his forehead. “It seems we have a case of deliberate sabotage. The question is how they got in and shut it down. Do you leave the barn office unlocked at night?”
“Absolutely not,” she said, placing a hand on the desk as if seeking stability. “We lock everything. Plus, the system has a password. Only a few of us know it. Talia, me…” Her words trailed off as her mind supplied another name. Her heart lurched. “Mateo. He helps with orchard technology. He’s the one who set up the schedule for updates. He has the admin login.”
Detective Parker raised an eyebrow, turning to face her fully. “Mateo is your missing apprentice. The one who disappeared.”
She nodded, a swirl of guilt and fear tangling in her chest. Mateo had the system codes. He knew the orchard’s entire security layout. “He has remote access,” she mumbled, voice catching. Tears pricked at her eyes. “What if that’s why they took him?”
A hush settled over the office. Ash laid a hand on Eliana’s shoulder. Detective Parker scratched a few notes in his pad.
“This is significant. They must have forced your missing apprentice to sabotage the orchard’s security. Or, at the very least, they compelled him to give up the codes.”