Intent (21 page)

“Do you want me to drive you to work and pick you up?”

“No, I can drive. I promise to call you if I have anything remotely close to a labor pain.”

“You know me too well,” I laugh.

After Zoe leaves, I take my MacBook to the couch and stalk the nursery images on social media for the perfect color combination. Once I enter the site, time slips away into a black hole, unseen, unheard, and unfelt. Before I realize it, I’ve eaten a whole bag of chips and a container of dip, and I have twenty-seven dream nursery pictures saved on my laptop.

With my belly full and my heart content, I close the lid on my laptop and sink down into the soft, overstuffed couch. Within seconds, my eyelids feel heavier than cement blocks and I slowly drift off into a peaceful nap. Time suspends in my slumber. Reality and my dream world intertwine, making my dreams so vivid that I’d swear they were actually happening.

In my dream, I know I’m flying through the air and the feeling is exhilarating. Butterflies take up residence in my stomach and rapidly flutter up to my chest as my speed increases. It’s such a wonderful feeling of freedom that I don’t want to wake up and lose it. Off in the distance, there’s a shrill noise that’s disturbing my place of Zen and a voice that calls to me repeatedly. But I ignore them; it’s too nice here to give it up.

A
CE

T
he good thing
about working for myself is there’s no one giving me orders, watching every move I make, or making my workday a living hell. The bad thing about working for myself is there’s no one else to blame when everything goes wrong. I’ve spent the better part of the afternoon chasing a rogue horse around the pasture. He’s jumpier than Frankie ever thought about being and much harder headed.

Since my partner decided to take an impromptu two-week vacation, I had to take care of all the business paperwork by myself after I finally got the new horse in his stall. It’s after nine o’clock at night by the time I leave the farm. I’m exhausted, starving, and in desperate need of a shower. My only plan after taking care of those things is to wrap myself around Layne and fall into a deep sleep for the rest of the night.

When I round the last curve and Layne’s cabin comes into view, every plan I have for tonight flies out the window. My heart stops beating, my breath seizes in my chest, and my foot turns to lead as it floors the gas pedal. My world stops spinning when I see the orange flames leaping straight up into the air from the roof in the back of the house. Layne’s car is in the driveway but Zoe’s is gone. With a quick glance toward my darkened house, I know instantly Layne isn’t over there.

“Layne.”

My truck skids to a stop in the driveway, and I make a mad dash for the front door. Black smoke has already started to fill the room when I bust through the door, screaming Layne’s name. After covering my nose and mouth with my shirt, I rush toward the stairs, afraid she’s in the upstairs master bedroom. Movement from the couch catches my eye and I come to a complete stop.

“Baby, wake up!”

She looks like she’s fast asleep on the couch, but she’s not responding to my commands.
How long has she been inhaling this smoke?
I scoop her up in my arms and run as fast as I can for the door. The smoke is already affecting my breathing and my vision and it’s making me dizzy, but my sole focus is on getting Layne to safety.

Once we’re a safe distance from the house, I drop to my knees on the ground, cradle Layne in one arm, and grab my cell to call for an ambulance and the fire department with the other. After I hang up, Layne begins to stir and her eyes flutter open. She looks up at me, dazed and confused, then she glances around at our surroundings.

“Ace? What’s going on?” She sits up, still in my lap, and I keep my hand on her back to support her.

“Are you okay? Are you dizzy?” I ask while watching her face for any sign of problems.

She looks over her shoulder and sees the house, the flames growing, and her panic takes over. “The house is on fire!”

I manage to grab her just after she jumps up and before she starts to sprint toward the house. “Layne, it’s too dangerous. You can’t go back in there.”

The fire trucks and ambulance arrive and the men begin rushing to assess the scene. The paramedics approach us, and I insist that Layne allow them to check her out. When all her vital signs show normal, except her elevated blood pressure, the medic still encourages her to be checked out at the emergency room due to possible smoke inhalation. Showing her stubborn side, she refuses to leave until she finds out about the house.

The fire crews immediately get to work, pulling and attaching hoses before rushing to the back of the house. Layne and I follow them around the side of the house and freeze in our tracks when the full roaring fire comes into view. We wordlessly watch in horror and amazement as the fire is eventually extinguished.

The fire chief, Paul Baldwin, and one of the detectives, Matt Ledger, approach us when the firemen start to roll up the hoses and put their gear away. Paul is an old friend and is the first to greet us. “Hey, Ace. Sorry to see you under these circumstances. Were you inside when this started?”

“Thanks, Paul. I wasn’t here, but Layne was. She’s been staying in the cabin for a few months. She was asleep on the couch when I got here, and I couldn’t wake her. I carried her outside then called for help.”

“Have the paramedics checked you out?” Paul asks.

“Yes. I’m fine. Even my oxygen saturation is good.”

She added the last part to remind me that she’s healthy. Or to shut me up before I had a chance to chime in.

“Layne, do you have any enemies in the area? Anyone who would want to hurt you?” Matt asks.

“Are you saying this was intentionally set?” I ask pointedly.

“Let me show you something. Come with me.” Paul walks to the back of the house where the garbage cans were kept. “I’ll have to send samples off to the lab to test for accelerants, but I’ve been at this long enough that I can tell you with ninety-nine percent accuracy that the fire was intentionally set right here. See the scorch pattern on the ground around where the garbage cans were?” He points to the semicircle of blackened earth that extends out from the house.

“Someone used way too much fuel, thinking that would make the fire burn hotter and faster. Lucky for us, they don’t know much about arson investigation because they’re actually making our job easier.”

“So, back to my original question. Do you have any enemies here?” Matt waits for Layne to answer.

“I don’t know if she wants to kill me, but Margot and I have had words recently. And my ex-boyfriend showed up here a couple of days ago wanting to reconcile, and just this morning I made it clear that wouldn’t happen. But honestly, even though I’d never take him back, I don’t believe he’d do this,” Layne replies.

Paul looks satisfied with her answer, and Matt quickly scribbles a few notes. “What’s the ex-boyfriend’s name? We can verify his whereabouts easy enough,” Matt replies. “And I already know the Warner family very well.”

“Bobby Shaw. He was staying in the Hideaway Hotel in Summerton,” Layne replies.

“The smoke damage was fairly extensive, especially on the back part of the house. It’d be best if you stayed somewhere else until the damage can be repaired. The smoke is still strong inside, even in the rooms the fire didn’t reach,” Paul adds.

“She’s staying with me,” I state matter-of-factly.

“You’ve finally moved on. Good for you,” Paul replies.

“Is that why you and Margot had words?” Matt asks. “Because you’re dating Ace?”

Layne recounts all the details of her run-ins with Margot for Matt, including what she heard Margot saying to Zoe before she even knew who Margot was. When she finishes, Matt nods and puts his notepad away. “Are you staying in our fair town for a while, in case I have more questions or updates?”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Layne’s reply is directed to Matt, but she’s looking at me.

“Hey, Chief,” one of the firemen calls out to Paul as he approaches. “We’ve finished clearing the house. No one else was inside. There’s no sign of any lingering heat in the walls or anywhere else. We’re heading back to the station now.”

“Thanks for the update. Tell your men they did a good job tonight. I’m proud of every one of them,” Paul replies.

After Paul and Matt walk us through the house to get Layne’s personal items, they both leave with promises to contact us with any updates. With the commotion died down and everyone else gone, I draw Layne into my arms and hold her tightly to me. “I’ve never been so scared in my life. Those few minutes when I thought I’d lost you… I don’t ever want to go through that again. Layne, I never believed I’d love someone the way I love you.”

“You saved me,” she replies, her voice thick with emotion. “I would’ve died if you hadn’t been here when you were. What made you come up here?”

“I ended up working late and was on my way home from work and saw the flames shooting up above the roof.”

“What time is it?” Layne’s head pops up from my shoulder, and her eyes are wide with concern.

“It’s a little past midnight. Why?”

“Zoe hasn’t come home yet. Something must be wrong. Something must have happened to her,” Layne cries.

“Relax, babe. Let’s try calling her cell phone before we rush off into the night. She may have a good reason for not coming home tonight.” Although, I don’t know what reason that could be since she’s due in a just a few weeks.

Her cell rolls to voice mail repeatedly over several calls. Even though it’s well past midnight and it’s entirely possible her phone is silenced, Layne and I strike out to find her. We drive every route she could possibly take from the grocery store to the house, but there’s no sign of her car anywhere.

“I’m calling the hospital,” Layne decides. “They may not tell me any specific info, but they can at least tell me if a young, very pregnant girl has been brought in for emergency services.”

After calling our local hospital and being assured that no pregnant girls or women of any age have been brought in tonight, Layne checks the hospitals in bordering towns, but Zoe is nowhere to be found. The anxiety level inside my truck is stifling and I can’t shake this feeling of being unable to fix everything.

When it rains, it fucking pours.

“Layne, it’s nearly three in the morning and we haven’t found her yet. She’s probably at a girlfriend’s house. Maybe they fell asleep watching a movie or something. Let’s get some sleep and we’ll start again tomorrow. I’ve already called Matt, but since she’s an adult, they officially won’t list her as a missing person for twenty-four hours. He said he’d do some checking around unofficially. He’ll call if he finds her anywhere.”

“There’s really nothing else we can do at this point. I probably won’t sleep at all tonight from worrying about her. Is this what it’s like to have kids? Do you constantly worry about River’s safety and live in fear of what she may have to face?”

“Every damn day.”

H
er bloodshot eyes
and quiet demeanor are dead giveaways she barely slept last night. She’s sipping her coffee, sitting at the kitchen table, and staring off into space in deep thought. I felt her get up several times, walk to the back door, and look up at the charred cabin she and Zoe currently called home. During one of her many rounds, I quietly moved in behind her, wrapped my arms around her, and did my best to comfort her.

She whispered, “They said they checked the whole house, right? Zoe wasn’t in there?”

“That’s right, babe, she wasn’t in there. They would’ve found her if she had been. For that matter, we would’ve found her when we went inside. That’s at least one scenario you don’t have to worry about.”

“I just don’t understand any of this.”

What could I say? I don’t fucking get it either. Even in the morning light, nothing is made clearer except the damage that was done to the cabin. And what would’ve happened if I hadn’t arrived exactly when I did. One minute later, Layne could’ve been exposed to so much smoke inhalation that she would’ve gone to sleep forever.

The elephant in the room that we haven’t talked about yet is how Zoe fits into the equation. It was extremely out of character for her not to come home last night. Did she surprise the arsonist and get taken because of it? Or was she perhaps a party to it and disappeared to save herself? Her love for Layne never seemed fake or forced, and that’s what worries me the most.

A knock on the front door makes both of us jump, and Layne rushes to see who’s here, to find out if there’s any news on Zoe. She swings the door open and freezes in place for a second before I reach her.

“Zoe, where have you been? We’ve been so worried,” she cries and pulls Zoe into her arms.

“I’m sorry,” Zoe replies, returns the hug, and steps back. “I tried to call the house over and over, but there was no answer. Now I know why. What happened?”

“What happened to
you
? We’ve called your cell repeatedly,” Layne replies.

“I either left my cell in the house or someone stole it out of my cubbyhole in the break room at the store. All my numbers are in that phone, so I couldn’t call your cell. When I got off work, my car wouldn’t start, so I had to wait on the wrecker to have it towed,” Zoe explains.

“Who’d you call? Tommy?” I ask.

“Yeah, Tommy Anderson. His daughter Ava and I used to be good friends. She’s a couple of years older than I am, but she’s home from college for summer break. She offered to drive me home, but I couldn’t let her do that with how late it was by then. I spent the night with her, and we had a slumber party like we used to when we were kids. Spent half the night just catching up on life. I’m sorry you were worried—I did try to call you several times once I got the cabin number from information.”

“No, you don’t have to be sorry. It’s okay, Zoe. You’re eighteen—you can stay at a friend’s house if you want to. After the fire, I imagined all kinds of terrible things happening to you. My imagination went a little crazy, I guess,” Layne replies.

“What happened with the fire? I went by the house and everything is taped off. I was scared to death when I saw it. Are you okay?”

The three of us each take a seat and Layne describes the events of last night. Zoe listens intently and interjects several times, asking questions and clarifying events. When Layne tells Zoe that she would’ve died if I hadn’t driven by exactly when I did, all the blood drains from Zoe’s face. She grips the arm of the couch and her hand flies to cover her heart.

“You were still inside the house when it was burning?” Zoe gasps.

“Yes, I guess I was even more tired than I realized because I was completely knocked out on the couch,” Layne answers.

“And the smoke you were exposed to would’ve put you in an even deeper sleep than normal,” I add. “I couldn’t wake her,” I say and turn my gaze to Zoe. “She didn’t wake up until we were outside and she was breathing in clean air.”

“Layne, I should’ve been there with you,” Zoe cries and grabs Layne’s hand.

“You were safer where you were. There’s a reason why you weren’t home last night. It could’ve been much worse than it was. What if you’d been there asleep and I was here with Ace? We wouldn’t have known anything was happening until it was too late.”

Layne has a good point there. It could’ve just as easily been Zoe who was asleep in that fire, and she probably would’ve been upstairs where it’s harder to get to her. But since my suspicious side has already reared its ugly head, I have to follow up on a few things with Tommy before I’ll be completely satisfied. My first priority in all of this is to protect Layne.