Page 143 of Noel Secrets

He ran and didn’t stop until they were clear—well away from the house, now fully engulfed as Hercules followed.

Darby coughed violently in his arms, eyes fluttering open. “The dogs …”

“They’re okay. You saved them.” His voice cracked with relief.

She managed a weak smile and uttered the words, “They saved me,” before her head lolled back against his shoulder. Sirens wailed in the distance, but to Clay, everything was already burning.

The front of her house was gone, nothing but a skeletal frame by the time the last flames were snuffed out.

Twisted metal, blackened wood, and ash-stained grass stretched out in a grim mosaic where Darby’s living room had once stood. A police line cordoned off the property, flickering in the late afternoon sun, while investigators picked carefully through the wreckage in heavy gear and soot-covered boots.

Darby sat in the back of another ambulance, a blanket draped around her shoulders, her skin pale and smudged with soot. Her left arm wrapped, the burn beneath it still raw, and her head pounding. The paramedics had wanted to take her to the hospital, but she’d refused—at least until she knew what this was.

Clay sat beside her, silent, his jeans torn, and a deep bruise was already blooming along his jaw from a beam that had clipped him on the way out. He hadn’t left her side since he’d carried her from the house.

Hercules and Scout lay at their feet now, heads on their paws, watching every movement with quiet vigilance, Fish and Mace having already been retrieved by their owners.

“Do you remember anything else?” asked Detective Rios, standing at the bumper of the ambulance. Her voice was calm, but her eyes were sharp as she tried to pull some—any—information from Darby.

A red Charger screeched to a halt, and Brent hopped out. He looked at the house, his hands pressing against his head in disbelief. He scanned the area, his gaze landing on Darby. He ran over. “What happened? Are you okay?”

She groaned inside, not feeling up to dealing with him tonight. “What are you doing here, Brent?”

“I heard about the fire. I wanted to make sure you were safe.”

“I’m fine.”

“We’re both fine, thanks,” Clay retorted, smirking.

Darby turned her attention back to the detective who stood waiting for her response. She tried to remember the package. “The handwriting was strange. All uppercase. Neat. Almost … clinical. No return address. I looked out the window and saw the postal truck pulling away, so I didn’t question anything about it.”

Darby spotted Chief Dean pacing in her yard, and her eyes narrowed in anger. Was he surveying his handiwork?

Detective Rios followed her gaze and spotted him too. “Excuse me for a moment.” She headed over to speak with him.

After a moment, she returned. “The fire marshal believes someone wired explosives to a motion sensor meant to detonate when you opened the lid,” Rios said. “You’re lucky the dogs gave you a warning.”

“Not luck,” Clay said, his voice hoarse. “It was instinct.”

Darby’s hand trembled as she reached down to touch Scout’s head. “They knew. They always know.”

Rios nodded. “We’ll pull neighborhood security footage, see if anyone dropped the package off on foot. In the meantime …” She paused, weighing her words. “You should think of a different place to go. It’s not safe here.”

“You can stay with me,” Brent insisted.

“No, she won’t,” Clay said, standing to face off with Brent.

“I already told you I had nothing to do with this. She’ll be safe with me.”

Darby wanted to stand and step between them, but she wasn’t sure of her footing. “Stop it. I’m not going anywhere with you, Brent. In fact, I’d appreciate it if you would just leave me alone,” she whispered. Her voice cracked like glass and she took solace back inside the ambulance.

He gaped at her then his face twisted the way it did when he felt slighted. “Darby, please.”

She couldn’t listen to his pleas again, not now when everything she’d been fighting so hard for had just gone up in flames, and she didn’t know who to blame.

She was certain Clay was going to try to hold him off again, but Detective Rios spoke instead, addressing Brent. “Mrs. Foster doesn’t want you here. It’s time for you to leave.” She walked him to his car to drive home her insistence.

The ambulance shook with Clay’s weight as he stepped up into it. He slid on the seat beside her. He placed his hand on her shoulder.