Chapter 7

CHAPTER

SEVEN

Stephen's adrenaline pumped as he realized something was on fire.

Heidi trembled beneath him, her eyes wide with terror.

"Stay here!" He stood from where his body had covered hers on the floor.

Staying low, he darted toward the living room.

Flames consumed the area rug.

He grabbed a blanket from the back of the couch and began to smother the flames.

As he did, the truth hit him: Someone had thrown a Molotov cocktail through Heidi's front window.

The person responsible was probably long gone.

Why hadn't Beau stopped them? Where was Beau now?

Stephen stomped out the last of the flames.

The rug was ruined. The coffee table charred. He wasn't sure what the floor looked like underneath it. Clearly, the window would need to be replaced.

But all things considered, he was grateful no one had been hurt. This could have been so much worse.

He strode to the window and nudged the curtain aside.

Beau's car still sat across the street out front.

But he didn't see Beau anywhere—not running toward the house or after the perpetrator.

Something was wrong.

"Stephen?" Heidi's voice sounded shaky as she called to him from the dining room.

He turned his head toward her. "I need to check things out outside. You should be safe in here—for now. Just stay where you are, okay?"

"O . . . okay."

She didn't sound certain, and he couldn't blame her in this situation. There were too many unknowns.

Drawing his gun, he stepped out the front door.

He knew exposing himself was risky. Someone could be trying to draw him out, for all he knew. But he had to see what was going on, even if that meant coming out of hiding.

He glanced around, searching the darkness for any signs of the person who'd started the fire. A row of high-end townhouses identical to Heidi's stood across the street. Several cars were parked in driveways.

He saw no one.

Most likely, the perpetrator had sped away after throwing the bottle through Heidi's window. The person was probably long gone, not wanting to be seen.

He eased closer to Beau's black Ford Explorer.

Was his former colleague inside? If not, where was he? What was he doing right now?

Stephen crept closer, remaining cautious.

Finally, he got a glimpse inside the car. The windshield was shattered.

Beau sat behind the steering wheel. His head leaned against the seat, and his eyes remained closed.

A bad feeling brewed in Stephen's gut as he peered closer.

It was just as he feared—a bullet hole pierced Beau's forehead.

Stephen's heart sped several beats.

Then he heard the sirens in the distance. One of Heidi's neighbors must have heard something and called the police.

But Stephen didn't want the police to find him. Nor did he want to leave Heidi.

He had to make a quick decision on what he would do.

Heidi remained huddled against the wall in her dining room, her knees pulled to her chest. She'd only moved enough to grab a knife from the kitchen. She gripped it, praying she didn't have to use it.

What was going on out there?

Finally, she heard the door open and someone step into the house.

Was it Stephen? Beau? Or someone else entirely?

She had no idea.

When Stephen entered the room, relief washed through her.

Based on the quickness of his steps and the tight set of his shoulders, he knew something.

She set the knife on the floor and straightened. "What is it?"

"Beau is dead. One of your neighbors must have called the police. I hear sirens."

She gasped, and her hand flew over her mouth, unsure if she'd heard correctly. "What?"

He nodded. "I'm sorry, but it's true."

"But who . . . what . . . ?"

"I don't know." He lowered his voice. "I don't want to do this to you. I really don't. But I need to leave before the police arrive."

"You're going to leave?" Panic filled her. "Right now?"

He grasped her shoulders as his gaze locked on hers. "Whoever did this is long gone. You'll be okay, and I'll stay close. I just can't be on record right now as being here with you. It's too risky."

"But . . ." The thought of being alone right now terrified her. She hadn't realized until this moment how much comfort she found in Stephen's presence.

The sirens came closer and closer.

He leveled his gaze with her. "I promise you'll be okay."

Something about his tone reassured her. She took a deep breath and nodded. "You'd better get going."

"I'm going to slip out the back door and take that camera with me. I have to make sure my face isn't recorded. I'll be in touch."

Her thoughts continued to race. "How?"

"I have your number. I'm not going to leave you, I promise. I just need to step into the shadows for a while."

With those words, he disappeared out the back door just as the lights from a police car and a fire truck appeared out front.