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CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The anguish Grace felt as she helplessly watched the volunteer firefighters pump water from one of the creeks on Aidan’s property onto the inferno that was his cabin was nothing compared to watching Aidan.

He stood a good twenty feet away from Grace and the police, his face stoic as his personal belongings were consumed by the flames, everything except the eight-by-ten picture frame he cradled against his chest. He’d risked his life running inside the cabin when he and Grace arrived and he’d had to be forced outside by firefighters—all to save a picture of his wife and son. It broke Grace’s heart seeing him clutch that photograph, knowing he could have died trying to save it.

Everything he owned outside of his business was burning to the ground. Even the workshop on the far side of the cabin had been torched. The smell of some kind of accelerant was heavy in the air. This wasn’t an accident. Someone had purposely set Aidan’s home on fire. The only question was, did they know he wasn’t there? Or had they hoped to trap him inside as they’d doused the logs and lit them up?

Grace coughed, the air smoky and hot. But in spite of that, she longed to get even closer to the fire, because that was where Aidan was standing. She wanted him to know she was there for him, her career be damned. But other than telling the firefighters that no one else lived here and that he didn’t have any pets inside, he hadn’t even looked her way. But she didn’t have to see his eyes to know what she’d see: the same haunted look they’d had when she’d bumped into him on the sidewalk on her first day in Mystic Lake.

This land, this cabin and workshop, had been his fresh start, his chance to rebuild his life after a decade spent in prison. Now it was crumbling to the ground in front of him.

The firefighters shouted a warning. They hurriedly backed away from the structure moments before the upper floor crashed down onto the first floor. Seconds later, the rest of the building caved in. Nothing about the mass of broken, burning logs resembled the majestic cabin that had once stood in their place. All of Aidan’s hopes and dreams had just disintegrated.

Did he feel as if nothing he’d done in the past year mattered? Once again he was the felon, the ex-con with no home, nowhere to go. The road ahead must look bleak, an endless stretch of loneliness and emptiness. It broke her heart seeing him this way. There was no magical fix for his pain, nothing she could do but wait and be here if he should turn to her for solace.

“Malone.” Dawson moved close to be heard over the crackling roar of the flames. “We’re heading down the mountain to wash off this smoke and get a few hours’ sleep. We can’t work with the fire marshal on the investigation until the fire’s out and cold anyway. I recommend you do the same. You’ll be as busy as us in the morning trying to see if this is linked to our as-yet-unnamed bow and arrow suspect.”

She glanced at Aidan, still staring at the flames that were finally beginning to die down.

“Go ahead without me.”

“Malone.” He leaned even closer, his voice low, for her ears only. “It won’t look good if you stay here with O’Brien. The firefighters will notice. People talk. Don’t forget that reporter’s in town. She’ll be up here as soon as she can sneak around the roadblock our volunteers set up farther down this mountain.”

“I’m staying.”

He sighed heavily, then motioned to the others.

* * *

If it had been anything but fire, Aidan didn’t think it would have bothered him all that much to lose the cabin. It was insured. He was financially sound, easily able to bear the costs of living somewhere else during the process of rebuilding. But seeing his home engulfed in flames had hit him like a runaway freight train, catapulting him back to that awful night when he’d turned onto his street and had seen the fire engines, the police, his home burning to the ground. The pain of not knowing if his wife and son were alive or dead had ripped him apart. He’d been so relieved and overjoyed to discover that his son was unharmed and being taken care of by a neighbor. But then he’d learned about his wife.

Burned.

Her spine crushed by a falling beam.

Paralyzed.

On a ventilator the rest of her life.

Many months later, a small miracle had him overjoyed and full of hope. Elly had regained enough movement and control in her right hand to try writing. He’d hurried to position a pen between her fingers and set a pad of paper on her lap. For the first time since the fire, she’d finally be able to communicate with him. But his happiness had quickly turned to horror when he’d managed to decipher the painstakingly scrawled words she’d written.

Let me die.

He squeezed his eyes shut, but it didn’t erase the image burned into his mind. His vibrant, beautiful young wife wrote that same thing on the pad of paper every day. And later, when he’d gotten her that special valve to allow her to speak, she’d verbalized what she’d been writing.

Let me die.

“Mr. O’Brien? Sir?”

Aidan’s eyes flew open. A fireman stood in front of him, his tan-and-yellow jacket blackened with soot.

“Sir, an investigator will be up here later in the day when the rubble is cool enough to allow an inspection. Please don’t try to search for any mementos yet. It’s too dangerous.”

Aidan glanced at the remnants of his life, shocked to see that the fire truly was out. He was equally surprised to realize that he and the firefighters waiting in the truck were the only ones who remained. Everyone else had gone. Just how long had he stared off into space, focused on the past and not even aware of what was going on around him?

“Mr. O’Brien? Did you hear me, sir?”

“Sorry, yes. Is everyone okay? None of your people got hurt fighting the fire, I hope.”

The fireman smiled. “Nothing that a hot shower and long nap won’t cure. I recommend you do the same. Standing around here breathing in the smoky air isn’t good for anyone. Do you have somewhere to stay?”

“I’ve got a room in town.”

“What about food? Money for clothes? We have a victim’s fund. It’s not much, but it can get you through for a few weeks until insurance kicks in.”

Aidan stared at him, shocked at the kindness he was offering when most people crossed to the other side of the street when they saw him coming. “Do you know who I am?”

“If you’re asking whether I’ve heard rumors about your past, yes. I have. I’m not here to judge. I’m here to help. All of us are.” He pointed over his shoulder at the firefighters waiting in the truck. “It’s why we do what we do. That victim’s fund is open to anyone in need. I can give you the information and you can submit an application. Approval in a situation like this is a guarantee. You’ll have some funds within a few hours of submitting the application and—”

“I don’t need the money. But thank you. I appreciate it. And thank you for keeping the fire from spreading and endangering anyone else.”

The other man clasped Aidan’s shoulder in sympathy. “I’d ask if you need a ride down the mountain, but it looks like you’ve got transportation over there. The sooner you get some fresh air, the better. Don’t stay up here much longer.”

With the fire truck slowly picking its way down the treacherous mountain road, Aidan took one long last look at what remained of the life he’d tried to build here. He had no idea what he’d do next, whether he really would rebuild or just sell the land as is and move on, perhaps to another town, or maybe a big city where people had never heard his name. Maybe this was fate’s way of telling him he’d made a mistake in coming here and that it was time to go.

As soon as that thought occurred to him, he rejected it. In the long run, he might leave Mystic Lake. But not yet, not until he discovered who had risked the lives of everyone living in this town by setting the fire. A few days ago, he’d have had no idea who that person might be. But when Grace had asked him about hate mail he’d received in prison, a name had popped into his head. He’d rejected it at first, but the more he’d thought about it the more it made sense. He’d called his lawyer the other night to ask him to hire an investigator to look into that possibility. If it panned out, Aidan didn’t know what he was going to do about it. He just prayed to God that his suspicions were wrong.

He shoved his hand in his jeans pocket for his truck keys, then frowned. He didn’t have them. But he’d driven up here by himself…no, with Grace. Did she take the keys and forget to give them to him before she left with the police?

He headed for the truck to see if maybe she’d left the keys in the ignition. But when he opened the driver’s door, he stopped in surprise. In the passenger seat, Grace was curled up like a cat, asleep. And in her arms, snugged up against her chest, was the one picture of his family that he’d managed to save from the fire. He didn’t even remember her taking it from him. And yet here she was, keeping it safe.

His throat tightened and he crossed to the passenger side of his truck. Careful to open the door as quietly as he could, he eased the picture out of her grasp and slid it under the seat. As he clicked her seat belt in place, she grumbled in her sleep and swatted at his hand, making him smile. Good grief, this woman had a hold on his heart. He didn’t want to care about her. It made no sense in such an incredibly short amount of time. But he did care. Not that it mattered. There wasn’t any way that he could be with her without ruining her life as she knew it.

Even if she was willing to give up her career, she shouldn’t have to. And being with him would set her up for ridicule and strangers judging her and slighting her. She didn’t deserve that. She deserved so much better.

She grumbled in her sleep again, hugging her arms against her chest. With the fire out, the chilly mountain air was moving in. Grace had likely retreated to the truck to keep warm, and here he was standing with the door open making her cold. He eased it shut until it clicked, then crossed to the driver’s side. After one last look at what used to be his home, he started his truck and began the slow descent down the mountain.

It turned out that Grace was an incredibly deep sleeper. In spite of all the bumps and turns, she didn’t wake up during the drive back to town. She didn’t even awaken when Aidan parked his truck behind the B and B. If he didn’t have to worry about her reputation and how people would judge her, he’d scoop her up into his arms and carry her to her room. But people would judge her. So he leaned into the passenger side of the truck and gently shook her.

She swatted at him again and said a few salty phrases, making him laugh. She might look like an angel, but there was a bit of a devil in her, too. In other words, she was pretty darn perfect.

“Grace,” he whispered, not wanting to startle her. “Wake up, Grace. Come on. You can’t sleep all night in the truck.” He shook her again, harder this time, and her eyes finally fluttered open.

As soon as she saw him, she blinked, then looked around in confusion. “Aidan? What…where…” Her eyes widened. “We’re at the B and B? I don’t—”

“The fire was out. You were already in the truck so I buckled your seat belt and drove you home, or, well, to the B and B. Come on. Let’s get inside. We both need a shower and some sleep. The sun will be up in a handful of hours. I’m sure it’s going to be a long day for both of us.”

She nodded, still not seemingly firing on all cylinders. But as she got down from his truck, she suddenly grabbed his arm. “Wait. The picture, it’s—”

“Right here.” He pulled it out from beneath the seat. “Thanks to you it’s safe and sound. I guess I was kind of out of it up on the mountain. You must have realized I was going to drop the frame and you took it to make sure it didn’t get broken. Thank you for that. It means a lot. That’s the only picture of Elly and Niall that I have. Most of the others burned up in the first fire, twelve years ago. And now, well, that’s it unless I can find something in the ruins when I head up later today.” He locked the truck. “Do you think you can walk inside on your own?”

She blinked again and shook herself. “Yes, yes. I’m fine. Sorry. Once I get in a deep sleep it’s hard for me to wake up. My mom is the same way. I have to put my alarm clock on the other side of my room or I’ll turn it off in my sleep. Once I’m on my feet, I’m okay.”

“If you say so.” He grinned as he followed her inside. She was wobbling like a drunk.

Luckily, there was no one around to see her as they went inside or rumors might have started about her being out late drinking with the town ex-con. But the danger was still very real to her reputation. The reporter was likely in her room. The two of them had to be very quiet as they headed upstairs.

Once Grace’s door was open and she stepped inside, he nodded good-night. He was about to turn away when she pressed a hand to his chest, stopping him.

She glanced toward the reporter’s room, then leaned in toward him. “Aidan, I’m so sorry for your loss tonight,” she whispered. “I know a house can be rebuilt. But the personal items you had can’t be replaced. I promise that I’ll do everything I can to find out who did this and bring them to justice.” She motioned toward the frame he was holding down at his side. “Remember that it’s the pictures in your mind, the feelings in your heart, that no one can destroy. The love you have for your family can never be taken away, no matter what anyone says or does.”

She started to close the door, but this time he was the one who stopped her.

“Grace,” he whispered, his throat tight with emotion. “Thank you for tonight. You were there for me at my darkest, with no concern for what it might cost you. I don’t ever want to be the cause of anything bad happening to you. But it means more than you’ll ever realize that you were there for me.” Unable to resist the impulse, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss against her lips.

When he pulled back, the melting look she gave him had his body instantly hardening. It was all he could do to leave before he did something they’d both regret.