Winter's Fire (Welcome to Covendale #7) (9 page)

“On your knees. Lace your hands behind your head.”

“Please,” she whispered. “I haven’t—”

“
Now.
”

Shaking, Winter complied as quickly as she could.

“When you hear the door close, count to fifty before you move.” The pressure at her back vanished, and she heard footsteps moving away from her, then the click of the lock opening. “By the way, Miss Solomon, I wouldn’t recommend calling the police,” the man said. “Accidents happen. You should leave before one happens to you.”

She gasped as the impact of those words hit her.
Ben
. She closed her eyes, but tears still slipped from them as she waited, not daring to breathe.

It seemed like hours before the door finally opened and closed.

Winter stayed in place, breathing in shallow sips and trying to regain control of her trembling body. It was well past a fifty count when she lowered her arms, and another full minute until she dared to stand. At least her legs held. But her face was sore and stiff where he’d held her, and she tasted blood on her stinging lip. It must’ve cut against a tooth.

Her mind whirled as she tried to assess the situation. The assailant told her not to call the police, and for now, she wouldn’t. She had no doubt that whoever he was had arranged Ben’s death. He’d told her to leave, and she would. She’d leave The Whispering Rose right now.

But she refused to leave town. She wouldn’t let this guy get away with massive fraud…or with murder.

Adam. She’d call—no, she couldn’t call. If she tried to speak on the phone right now, she’d be an incoherent mess. She would go there, use her GPS to find his place. The drive would give her a chance to calm down a little. To put some distance between her and the assault.

She was packed in less than three minutes, and on the road in five.

* * * *

Adam didn’t even try to sleep.

He headed straight home after the diner, crushed beneath the weight of the day. The accident, Ben’s death, the interviews with the sheriff and the chief, breaking the news to Ben’s daughter Christina—the only one of his three children who still lived in town. He’d insisted on doing it in person.

And then, there was Winter.

Running into her at the diner had been startling, but he never suspected she’d been there to meet Ben—or would have, anyway. He was glad for the chance to apologize in a non-work setting. But his concern remained, and learning that Ben had wanted to talk to her only heightened it.

By now he should’ve felt a little better, though. So why was he more worried than ever?

Home was a small house in a quiet part of town, wooded and set back from the road. When he got there, he headed straight for the kitchen and grabbed a beer, and then camped out on the couch with the remote. If he could find something stunningly boring enough, maybe it would put him to sleep.

He was still flipping through channels half an hour later when the doorbell rang.

His heart stopped. He bolted from the couch and crossed the room to the front door, knowing it had to be Winter. Even Dom wouldn’t come over this late. He only hoped she wasn’t here because something awful had happened.

One glimpse of her dashed that hope and robbed him of breath.

She stood on the steps visibly trembling, her hands clasped together and her eyes too wide. Mussed hair, disheveled clothes. Blood on her lip.

“Adam,” she half-whispered. “It wasn’t an alley. He was in my
room…
”

Her words felt like a blow to the gut. Damn it, he should’ve insisted on not leaving her alone. Reacting on instinct, he put an arm around her shuddering frame and drew her inside, then kicked the door shut. “Okay,” he said. “You’re safe here with me. It’s over, and you’re safe.”

She collapsed against him with a wrenching sob.

Unable to find words, he simply held her. She didn’t make another sound, but her shoulders shook, and she clung to him like she thought he’d disappear any second. He rubbed her back, not wanting to ask her any questions until the storm passed.

Finally, her trembling stopped and she eased away. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I thought I was all right. I was fine driving here, and then…”

“Don’t be sorry,” he said firmly. “Whatever happened, it’s not your fault.”

She drew a slow, hitching breath. “I think I’d better sit down,” she said. “If you don’t mind.”

“Christ, I’m an idiot. Yes. Please.” He led her gently to the couch, and when she was settled, he grabbed the folded blanket from the back and draped it around her shoulders. Then he sat carefully next to her. “Can you tell me what happened?”

“Like I said, he was in my room.” She closed her eyes and shivered once. “I don’t know who, only that it was a man. He was kind of…growling, so I didn’t recognize his voice. And I never saw him. He grabbed me from behind.”

“Oh, God. Winter, I’m so sorry.”

She shook her head and went on in flat tones. “He took my bag. My interview notes, the copies of the missing files. He had a gun. He told me to close the investigation and leave town, and not to call the police.” Her head turned slowly toward him, and there were fresh tears in her eyes. “Adam…he killed Ben,” she whispered.

“
What?
”

“He didn’t come out and say it. He just said, ‘Accidents happen.’” She fixed him with a haunted gaze. “And he said I should leave, before one happens to me.”

Fury swelled in him, pushing the fear aside. Losing Ben in an accident was hard enough to take—but this was murder. “We’re calling the sheriff,” he said. “I want this son of a bitch caught, right now.”

“No,” Winter said quietly. “We can’t do that.”

“Watch me.”

“Adam, he was serious. If the police get involved, I’ll have an ‘accident’—and you will, too.” She took his hand, and her own was pale and cold. “In fact, it’ll be easy to arrange your death. Your job is already dangerous.”

“I guess it would,” he conceded reluctantly. “But I’m not going to stand back and do nothing. I won’t let this guy get away with it.”

“Neither will I.”

He stared at her, holding her cold hand in both of his. “Winter…you should leave town,” he said. “I’ll take you anywhere you want. But you have to get away from this guy.”

“I’m not going to run.”

“It’s not safe—”

“No!” Her eyes glittered with determination. “I should’ve listened to you in the first place, but I’m not running away from this. It’s still my investigation. And now I
really
want to bring him down, because he’s a murderer. He killed a good man.” She exhaled sharply, like a boxer just before a match. “We’re going to find him, and stop him.”

He couldn’t help smiling. “You really are fascinating, Winter Solomon.”

“No, I’m just stubborn.” The small smile she gave him in return warmed him. “And…I’d really like to take a shower. If that’s okay.”

“Of course.”

He showed her to the bathroom, found her a fresh towel, and went to the kitchen to make coffee. He had a feeling it was going to be a long night for both of them.

Chapter 10

Winter sat at the kitchen table, a steaming mug of coffee between her hands. The shower helped clear her head. Unfortunately, she was wide awake and restless, not sure what the next step should be.

She watched Adam fix a cup for himself and sit down across from her. “So you don’t have any idea who it was.”

“No.” She shook her head, as if it would dislodge some clue she’d overlooked. It didn’t. “He was careful not to let me see him,” she said. “And that voice could’ve been anyone.”

“Well, at least we know he works at the fire station.” Adam stared at his coffee. “I can’t believe one of ours would do something like this. Not just the fraud, but…Christ, he killed
Ben.
I mean, I didn’t even think Ethan was capable of that.”

“We don’t know it’s Ethan,” she said.

Something flashed dark in Adam’s eyes. “We don’t know it wasn’t,” he growled. “And I swear to God, if he’s the one who touched you—”

She shivered, but not from his anger. He hadn’t said Ben. Not that time.

He said if he touched
her.

“We’re going to find out,” she said, hoping her voice didn’t shake too badly. “Get me to a computer at the station in the morning, and I should be able to find those files. There has to be something there, or he wouldn’t have taken them.”

“Yeah. But whoever it is will be at the station too.”

“Maybe,” she said. “Or maybe he’ll be the one who doesn’t show up for work tomorrow.”

Adam nodded and sipped at his coffee. “I guess there’s nothing else we can do tonight,” he said. “If you want to get some sleep…”

She smiled weakly. “I wish I could. Right now, I feel like I’ll never sleep again.”

“I hear that.” He gave her a long look, and said, “Let’s talk about something else. Tell me about your job.”

“I see. You want me to bore you to sleep.”

Once again, his laughter didn’t feel mocking. “No, I’m really interested,” he said. “I know insurance is your thing, but there’s a ton of insurance jobs in all different fields. And you chose working for the fire marshal.” He flashed a disarming smile. “There has to be a reason for that.”

For just an instant, the images and sounds exploded in her head. Fire. Smoke. Flashing lights. Screaming. “It’s a job,” she said, pushing the memories away. “I’m good with numbers, and I needed money. That’s about it.”

“I’m not buying it.”

She glared at him. “Why not?”

“Because you’re dedicated,” he said. “And I don’t mean that in a bad way. If it was just a job, you wouldn’t be so thorough. You wouldn’t work after hours.” His smile sent her heart flipping. “I know you have passion. I’ve seen it.”

A rush of heat filled her, and she had to look away. “I thought we were talking about work,” she muttered.

“We are.” He waited until she looked at him again. “You’re the most intriguing person I’ve ever met,” he said. “I want to know what makes you tick.”

She sighed. “I just don’t like seeing people get hurt. Safety first and all,” she said. “That’s really what my job is about. Not numbers and reports—safety. Making sure procedures are followed, and…lives aren’t lost.”

“Who did you lose?” he said softly.

She wasn’t going to talk about this. Not with him, not here and now. It was over and done. Accidents happen.

Her breath shuddered from her, and she heard herself say, “My sister.”

“Oh, no,” he said. “Winter, I’m so sorry.”

“Her name was Autumn.” She stared into her coffee cup, scarcely aware of the sad smile on her face. “Our parents had a strange sense of humor. She was a redhead, and I’m…well, this. Pale, bland, and boring. But Autumn—she was so alive. Funny and smart and beautiful. Everyone loved her.” She lifted her gaze to him. “Even me,” she whispered. “Especially me.”

Adam’s blue eyes shone with emotion. “What happened?”

She wasn’t sure she could go on. But somehow, the words kept pouring out. “We lived in a second-floor apartment, in a building that was…not great. To the landlord, fire codes only applied to other people. I found all this out later.” She stared away for a moment, squeezed her eyes shut. “I was at a party that night, some stupid middle school thing,” she said. “Autumn had just started high school that year. I begged her to go with me, but she didn’t feel up to it. So I went alone. And while I was gone…”

When she didn’t continue, Adam reached across the table and took her hand. “It’s okay,” he said. “You don’t have to talk about it.”

“No. I want to finish this.” She took a deep breath. “The fire started in the wiring, in Autumn’s room. She must have been asleep. Our parents got out, but they thought she’d gone with me to the party. I got back when the fire department had just arrived, and…” A hard shudder gripped her. “I could see her in the window, burning,” she whispered. “I could hear her screaming.”

She was unaware of the tears until Adam reached across the table and caressed her face, wiped them away with his thumb. “You never should’ve seen that,” he said hoarsely. “Didn’t anyone keep you back? The firefighters, your parents…”

“They still didn’t know,” she said. “I pointed, and screamed, and they wouldn’t listen. I think they didn’t want to understand. And then she fell.” Speaking was suddenly a tremendous effort. “She broke the window and jumped out. Burning. Screaming the whole way down. They listened then.”

He didn’t speak, and she appreciated that. There was nothing anyone could say to change what happened. No going back. “Anyway, that’s why I work for the fire marshal’s office—for Teddy,” she said. “He’s known my parents for a long time. After we lost Autumn, I pretty much lost them. They stopped caring. But Teddy stepped in, and now here I am.”

After a long silence, Adam said, “Thank you. For telling me all that.”

“Just so you know, I didn’t mean to,” she said with a smirk. “But I’m glad I did.”

“So am I.”

The intensity of his gaze was getting to her again, heating her blood. She cleared her throat and drank some of the cooling coffee. It was still far too warm in here. “Could I trouble you for a glass of water?” she said.

“No problem.” He squeezed her hand briefly and stood, heading for the sink. When she heard the water running, she leaned her head back and closed her eyes.

It was going to be a very long night.

* * * *

Adam took his time getting the water so he could compose himself. He was furious, and he didn’t want Winter to think the anger was directed at her. Everyone involved in what she’d just told him—the landlord, the Greenway fire department, and especially her parents—had handled everything wrong. And Winter had suffered for it.

She was in middle school, so she couldn’t have been more than twelve. Someone in emergency services should have seen her, heard her screaming, and removed her from the scene. A firefighter, a paramedic, a cop.
Anyone.
Yet she’d watched her sister dive out a window, burning to death, and no one had done a damned thing.

He’d never met her parents, but he wanted to strangle them. What they’d done to her went far beyond negligence. Even before the tragedy with her sister, she’d obviously been the less wanted child. The way she described herself, compared herself to Autumn, made that painfully clear. It must’ve been so much worse after the fire.