AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Turning back toward her bed, she grabbed the toy soldier off her nightstand and raced for the door. Fire consumed the walls of the hallway. Her attacker hadn’t been lying. He must’ve doused the entire house with gasoline.
She couldn’t see anything.
Smoke built along the ceiling, stealing precious oxygen. There wasn’t anywhere for her to go. The heat was so strong, she could feel the burns spreading. His screams had drowned out. Whether because her attacker had gotten out or died, she didn’t know.
Leigh got onto all fours to stay below the smoke line, but a bubbling cloud of flame took over the ceiling. Like it’d come to life and started hunting for her. She could almost hear its whispers begging her to come closer. Or maybe that was her oxygen-deprived brain. She army-crawled down the hall toward the living room. There was a fire extinguisher under the kitchen sink. If she could get to it, she might have a clean shot out the back door. The house had intensified from groaning to flat out shattering. Sweat slicked across her skin, blisters catching on the matted carpet. A sob forced its way up her throat, but she wouldn’t stop.
Strong hands latched on to her bare feet.
Her scream filled the house as she turned to throw off her would-be killer. She kicked one foot into his face. Once. Twice. He wouldn’t let go. Bloodied and blistered skin shucked free from his palms and stuck to her. His grip was hot and sticky and refused to budge. He was trying to keep her here. “No!”
The flames were closing in. Leigh latched on to the nearest doorframe and pulled with everything she had left. She slipped free and climbed to her feet. Fire singed her fingertips as she hobbled into the living room. She was surrounded by flames. The porch had been engulfed. The windows were blocked by furniture that’d caught fire. The ceiling would fail any second. And the burn… She wasn’t sure she could take much more. She just needed to get to the kitchen?—
A bullet ripped past her arm. She pulled up short, her back to the shooter.
“I’m beginning to think you don’t know how this works, Agent Brody.” His voice sounded garbled. Broken. “Did you really think you’d be the one to walk out of here alive?”
She didn’t have any other choice. Clutching Troy’s toy soldier in one hand, she turned to face him and raised her hands out as though they’d protect her from the next bullet. Her childhood house was burning to the ground around her. She was going to lose everything, but she wouldn’t give up her life.
Leigh inched toward the hammer she’d left out on the dining room table after patching Troy’s bedroom window. Any second now, the fire would eat through the wood as it had everything else. She had to make a move. Now. “It doesn’t have to be this way. We can both make it out. Just put down the gun.”
“You did this. You know that, right? Coming here. Acting like you belong. This is all your fault. You’re nothing but a cancer.” His hand wobbled as he centered her own sidearm on her. “And I’m the cure this town needs. Goodbye, Agent Brody.”
“Goodbye.” Leigh wrapped her hand around the too-hot steel and attacked.
A second bullet grazed her rib cage, but her strike had found home. She smashed the face of the hammer down onto the bastard’s wrist. The gun fell to the floor, out of reach. Arcing the heavy tool back, she planted the claw in his shoulder. He lurched backward with another ear-numbing scream, and she drove the metal deeper. A right hook slammed into her temple, and she hit the ground. Darkness encroached around the edges of her vision. Get up. She had to get up. Another punch took the fight out of her as her face met the floor. The hammer thudded beside her.
“There’s no shame in giving in, Agent Brody.” He panted above her. “We all do in the end.”
Footsteps bled into her awareness. Getting closer. She uncurled her fingers from around the toy soldier. This wasn’t over. Leigh rolled to her side. His shadow hovered above her, taking in every moment of agony. “There you go. Let the fire do what it does best. Cleanse everything in its way.”
“Let me know how that goes for you.” Leigh grabbed for the hammer and slammed it into his ankle. He buckled, collapsing down onto one knee. She shot to her feet and swung again. Metal contacted bone and ripped his face away from her a split second before his body hit the floor. The fire was closing in around the back door. She sprinted for the fire extinguisher under the kitchen sink, removed the pin, and aimed. Thick clouds of fine yellow powder exploded, smothering the flames climbing up the door.
She burst out the back door and into the yard. Cool air caressed her skin and cleared her lungs as sirens echoed down the street. On the verge of doubling over, Leigh tossed the extinguisher and stared at the last remnants of her childhood.
It was gone. It was all gone.
EIGHTEEN
Lebanon, New Hampshire
Sunday, March 14
10:45 p.m.
Officer Pierce hadn’t come to her rescue this time.
Leigh sucked oxygen out of a mask at the back of the ambulance. The fire was mostly under control with help from Lebanon Fire and Rescue, but the memories of what’d occurred within the house couldn’t be doused as easily.
Firefighters battled the last of the flames, leaving nothing but smoldering ashes and broken structure behind. The roof had caved in and kicked up a stench that collected in her nose. One of the shutters hung diagonally away from the window it was supposed to protect. Everything that’d connected her to this wretched town had gone up in flames and accelerant in a flash.
It was a miracle the fire hadn’t spread to the neighboring houses.
Towels soaked in cool water had been compressed round her shins to stop the burning process. It didn’t make sense at the time EMTs had pulled her from the backyard, but the pain had numbed a bit. The blanket draped over her shoulders was meant to keep her from going hypothermic, too. Funny. She didn’t think it was possible for her body temperature to drop after nearly being burned alive.
“You didn’t see anything that would give you an idea of who did this?” There was Boucher with his damn notebook. Only she’d never seen him in his civilian clothes since she’d joined the investigation. She hadn’t recognized him at first. Then he’d opened his mouth. He’d already asked her this question. Twice, but no amount of repeating would change her answer. She wasn’t suffering from a bump on the head this time. She remembered every second of what’d happened. “What was he wearing?”
“A ski mask, jeans, a jacket. I could’ve sworn he had a vest.” The oxygen mask muffled her answer. “I didn’t notice any jewelry or tattoos. If there was, they were covered up.” Almost like he’d gone out of his way not to be identified. Her attention was drawn to the officers at the scene, the ones asking her neighbors what they’d seen, if they were safe, and their versions of the story. Still no sign of Officer Pierce. Perhaps it was his night off.
