Tomorrow, the fire marshal and his entourage would sift through the rubble in hopes of uncovering the cause. More than likely, an accidental malfunction from a leak in a gas line or a faulty pilot light coupled with some type of spark.
At the far side of the grassy knoll Becca stopped and glanced over her shoulder at the blaze.
Colby heard the sharp intake of air as she shook her head.
“Was it Jacob?” she whispered.
He leaned closer, not sure if he had heard correctly.
“What did you say, Becca?”
Her eyes widened as if she had forgotten he was there.
So much for making a positive, first impression. Something his sisters would have teased him about mercilessly, if they found out.
Which they wouldn’t.
“Did you say ‘Jacob’?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I didn’t say anything.”
But she had. A man’s name. Did she associate Jacob—whoever he was—with the explosion?
If so, Colby would keep watch in hopes she would eventually reveal more information. Maybe then he’d know what secrets she kept hidden behind her hauntingly hooded eyes and tantalizing reticence.
TWO
Becca hesitated for a moment before she stepped into Colby’s BOQ and flicked her gaze over the leather couch and matching chair bathed in soft light from a floor lamp. A newspaper and stack of fitness magazines were arranged on the coffee table next to a collection of framed photos. She moved closer, her eyes drawn to a picture of a group of girls standing around a much younger Colby in uniform. The family resemblance couldn’t be ignored.
“These must be your sisters?” she said.
“All five of them.” She could hear the smile in his voice as he headed for the kitchen. “They insisted on a picture before I deployed to Afghanistan the first time.”
A bittersweet moment for sure. Pride for their brother was tempered by the reality that he might not come home from war. Photos were something tangible to hold on to when all else was gone.
Graven images, the Amish called them. Her father had railed when she and Katie had come home with a snapshot a friend from town had taken of both of them. Her father had torn the picture into tiny pieces that Becca had tried to glue together later that night after he had gone to bed. If only she had that picture now. Instead, she had to rely on memories that faded with time.
“How do you take your coffee?” Colby called from the other room.
“With a little milk, if you’ve got it.”
“Creamer okay?”
“Perfect.”
A biography of General George S. Patton sat on a side table along with a number of training manuals. Military plaques and memorabilia hung on the wall next to citations for an army commendation medal, a meritorious service metal and two bronze stars. Impressive to say the least.
Not only was Colby good-looking but also competent, although she’d realized that the day they’d met. He’d been focused on business and not with making idle chitchat, for which she’d been grateful. Coming into a new unit was stressful. Having to keep up a flow of chatter made it even more so.
Turning, she noticed an open laptop on a desk in the corner. A plasma screen TV and two bookcases, stacked with three-ringed binders, filled the corner of the room and balanced the rather stark but comfortable furnishings. She approved of his uncluttered decorating style. Her own preference leaned to basic needs with few extras, which probably stemmed from her upbringing.
She accepted the coffee Colby offered and wrapped her hands around the mug, thankful for the warmth of the thick stoneware. After taking a sip, she gazed through the window at her own quarters visible in the distance. The once-sizable structure was now only a shell of steel support beams and charred debris.
Her hold baggage, containing the majority of her household items, wasn’t due to arrive from Germany for another two weeks. The fire had destroyed only what she had brought in her luggage. All of which could be replaced.
“These might help.” She turned to find Colby holding out a pair of heavy socks.
“Thank you.” Accepting the offering, she quickly settled into a nearby chair and slipped the thick woolen coverings over her bare feet. “I didn’t realize I was so cold.”
“You were bordering on shock, which worried me.”
“I appreciate your concern and the coffee.” She smiled. Yet her attempt to remain upbeat was only halfhearted. The reality of what had happened tonight clamped down on her shoulders and wouldn’t let go.
“Give me a minute to thaw out, then I’ll head back to my BOQ,” she told him.
“You won’t be able to salvage anything tonight, Becca.”
“Except the clothes that are still in my car.” She laughed at her own foolishness. “I stopped at the commissary after work and lugged the groceries inside when I got home, but I failed to go back for the laundry I had picked up earlier. My gym bag’s also in the trunk along with a pair of running shoes.”
“What about your weapon?”
She ran her fingers over the purse still strapped to her shoulder. “I grabbed my Glock and purse before I ran. CID badge, military ID card, car keys. Everything I need is inside.”
“Sounds as if you were expecting trouble.”
Colby’s comment struck too close to home.
When she didn’t respond, he raised his brow expectantly.
Becca stood, needing to distance herself from his penetrating gaze. She walked into the kitchen and placed her mug in the sink.
“I’ll drive you to your car,” he said when she returned to the living room.
“Thanks, but I can walk.”
“Not in this weather.” He glanced at her feet. “I’ve got a pair of slippers that should fit you. They were a gift from my grandmother, but they’re too small for me. The leather soles will protect your feet until you get the gym shoes from your car. You’ll also need a jacket.”
He disappeared down the hallway and returned with sweatpants and a hooded sweatshirt she pulled over her flannel pajamas. The slippers were roomy but warm.
“Maybe the fleece will be enough,” she said, regarding the bulky coat he offered.
He shook his head. “You need more insulation if we’re going to be outdoors for any length of time.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll wear my Gore-Tex. It’s with my training gear in the back bedroom.”
She shrugged into the jacket that smelled like sandalwood and lime and waited as Colby located his military outerwear and car keys.
Although she appreciated Colby’s help, she needed to keep up her guard. No matter how nice or how good-looking he was, she didn’t want anyone to complicate her life.
Her gaze returned to the window and the smoldering ruins beyond. Involuntarily, she shivered, regretting her youthful infatuation with Jacob Yoder when the Amish drifter had first stumbled into her life. How eagerly she had given her heart to him, not knowing