“How do you know that whoever was out there was looking at the house?”
She wasn’t sure why she’d said that either. She certainly hadn’t been able to see features of whomever she’d seen.
“I don’t. It just seemed to me that he was. Or that he had been.”
“I would think anyone who saw a house on fire around here would come to help.”
As a general comment about the community, that was probably accurate. Still, she knew what she’d seen. That kind of logic wasn’t going to change her mind about it.
“Whoever was out there didn’t come to help. I’d sent Maddie toward the woods after I dropped her off the roof. I wanted her away from the fire. I looked at the trees to see how distant they were, I guess. To judge whether that was a safe place for her. And…there he was.”
“Watching Maddie?”
She examined her memory, trying to see if that fit. “I don’t think so. I think he must have begun moving when she started that way.”
“As if he didn’t want her to see him?”
“I don’t know.” Unconsciously, she shook her head again, the movement slight. “I don’t know what he was doing out there. Or what he was thinking. I only know that I saw someone standing in those woods watching my house burn.”
The hysteria she’d managed to deny up to this point had crept into her voice, and she hated it. For as long as she could remember, she had considered any loss of control a failure of will. It seemed especially important now that she be strong for Maddie.
“Then there should be footprints out there,” Cade said, “as much rain as we’ve had.”
There should be, she realized, which would be proof of what she’d seen. To give Cade credit, however, she had detected no trace of doubt in his voice. No skepticism, despite her emotional outburst.
“That’ll have to wait for morning,” he went on. “I don’t want to go blundering around out there with a flashlight and obliterate whatever signs are there.”
“Thank you.”
She wasn’t sure he would understand her expression of gratitude. After all, he was only doing his job. The fact that he was doing it on her word alone meant more than she could say.
“I’ll need to make sure the area is taped off. After that, I can take you to the hospital. Unless you’d prefer to ride in the ambulance.”
“I’d prefer not to go at all. The paramedic doesn’t believe anything’s broken. I don’t either. I ran on my ankle to get to Maddie.” A hobbling effort, but still a run. “Surely if something were seriously wrong—”
“Adrenaline can mask injuries, even severe ones.”
He said that with the surety of someone who knew firsthand. Of course, an injury was why his football career had ended prematurely. Or so she’d heard.
“The safest thing to do is have it checked out,” Cade finished.
“I’ll get it checked out first thing tomorrow, I promise. Right now…Right now I just want to go to my grandmother’s. I need to get Maddie back to bed.”
Cade hesitated before he turned to look over his shoulder, probably searching for someone to drive them over to Ruth’s. His job was here, especially considering what she’d told him.
He turned back, looking down on Maddie. “I’ll take you.”
“Are you sure?”
“Doug can hold down the fort. We aren’t going to be able to do much out here until daylight, anyway. In any case, I need to go back to the office and call the state fire marshal.”
“The fire marshal?”
“Since someone was lurking at the back of your property, at approximately the same time a fire broke out in your home, we’re going to need to check for arson. That’s the state’s job.”
Despite the figure in the woods, the thought that someone might have deliberately set the fire that had destroyed the rental house had never crossed her mind. Things like that didn’t happen. Not in Crenshaw.
“Do you really think—”
“It’s a possibility we can’t afford to overlook.”
“Warm enough?” Cade glanced over his shoulder into the backseat of the cruiser.
“We’re fine,” Blythe lied.
Maybe he’d been right about the effects of adrenaline. Although the sheriff had insisted she keep the paramedic’s blanket, she had begun shivering shortly after they’d gotten into his car, and she hadn’t been able to stop.
Even Maddie’s solid warmth, still pressed against her body, hadn’t helped. Since there was no child restraint seat in the police cruiser, Blythe had fastened the seat belt around both of them. Hardly an ideal situation, but in light of everything else that had happened tonight, it seemed a small enough risk.
She hated to wake her grandmother. She glanced to her left, trying to gauge time by the sky. A thin tinge of yellow hovered just above the horizon, not yet strong enough to lighten it, but surely a precursor of dawn. By the time they’d driven the remaining five miles or so to the house, Delores would probably have breakfast started.
“You want me to call?” Cade asked, glancing back again.
“I’m sorry?”
“You want me to call your grandmother and tell her we’re coming?”
The offer was tempting. Even if Cade explained, Blythe knew she would still have to answer the questions of the two old women. It would be better not to worry them until she had to.
She shook her head before she realized he wouldn’t be able to see her. “She may not be up. Let’s let her sleep as long as possible.”
She wasn’t sure how her grandmother would react to the news of the fire. Right now, she wasn’t sure about anything.
She and Maddie had nothing left, not even a change of clothes. The little that had remained of John’s insurance had almost been expended in the move. Like it or not—and she didn’t—she would be dependent on her grandmother’s hospitality for a while.
There was no doubt in her mind that Ruth would welcome them without reservation. Her grandmother’s feelings had been hurt that Blythe had wanted her own place. And truthfully, that had been a decision Blythe herself had not been completely sure of.
Now that decision had been taken out of her hands. She had no choice but to move back into the family home. No choice but to allow herself and Maddie to sink back into the comfortable existence she’d known as a child. Her grandmother would pet and pamper them both. Delores would feed them, look after their clothes, and pick up after them if Blythe let her.
That was the thing she had feared most when she’d decided to come home. That the cocoon of family would again create the deadly inertia she’d had to struggle against after John’s death.
She had been determined to make her own way, even here. Although the idea of writing again had been only a cover story provided by Ada’s misconception, it had generated an undeniable sense of excitement. The thought of being able to make a living for the two of them by doing that…
“Is that where you got the idea to write about Sarah Comstock?”
Cade’s question