Sheriff Dalton?
No. Even hunched over against the heat and flames as he made his way toward her, she knew from the slimness of his build that it wasn’t the sheriff.
Cain?
She took a long, hard look. It wasn’t Cain. She’d know his build, his gait, anywhere.
When she realized it wasn’t either man, a lone tear slid down her cheek.
It must be a member of the crime family.
They’d kept their promise. They were here to finish the job. The image of the headstone flashed through her mind.
Sophia Joy Gimmelli…Time’s Up…R.I.P
By now flames engulfed most of the living room. Fingers of fire danced across the ceiling, but still the man lumbered toward her.
Idiot. Why risk your life? Won’t I be dead soon enough for you?
The man held a white rag against his nose and mouth in an obvious attempt to protect his lungs from the thick black waves of smoke billowing throughout the cottage. He leaned forward, bending low at the waist. With the other arm extended to protect his head from falling debris, he dodged the furniture in his path and continued moving toward her.
Sophie didn’t know if the tiny puffs of air she was able to pull into her lungs could even count as breath. Her chest constricted with pain as her lungs fought back against the lack of oxygen. The acrid odor coated the inside of her nostrils. Her tongue thickened and the back of her throat burned.
Seconds. Although it seemed like an eternity, Sophie knew only seconds had passed from the first time the flaming bottle had come through the window until now. Seconds—stretching in slow motion to minutes.
Still unable to move, she watched helplessly as the man reached the sofa. As he towered over her, Sophie looked up and stared into his eyes.
Oh…Lord…
SEVENTEEN
T
hank you, Lord.
Sophie’s father was alive. Dominic Gimmelli was here, standing over her, trying to save her. But was it too late for both of them?
Her father stooped down to pick her up when a large chunk of ceiling broke away, collapsed onto his back and knocked him to the ground.
No! Please, God, no!
Her mind screamed and her eyes widened as she searched the rubble for signs he was still alive.
A shift of debris. Then another. Dominic struggled from beneath the burning material and sat up. His hair and shirt were on fire. Immediately he rolled back and forth against the floor to extinguish the flames licking at his shirt. He slapped out the wisps of fire in his hair with his bare hands. Coughing and weakened but still alive, he got back on his feet and quickly scooped Sophie into his arms.
She wanted to wrap her arms around his neck. She wanted to hold tight and never let him go. But her useless, paralyzed arms hung lifelessly at her sides, weighing her down.
The roar of the fire was deafening. The flames crackled and spit almost like a living, breathing animal as the wooden walls and floor became nothing more than kindling to the already out-of-control fire. The entire front of the cottage, engulfed in an impenetrable wall of flame, loomed before them, blocking their exit. Their only hope of escape was through the back of the house.
Dominic struggled with Sophie’s cumbersome, motionless body. He tried to carry her and, when he buckled beneath her dead weight, he clasped her against his body, half pulling, half dragging her with him. He staggered, knocked into a table, caught himself and took another step.
As they passed the bookshelf, Sophie saw him spot her treasure box, the childhood possession he’d hand-carved for her and which he knew she’d cherished. Sophie had filled that box with bits and pieces of memories and dreams, and it was the only constant that had stayed with her throughout the hundreds of moves through hundreds of small towns. Now she didn’t care about the box. All she cared about was her father.
Her father snatched it from the shelf.
Let it go, Dad! We need to get out of here. I don’t care about the box. Please.
Her mind screamed the words but she knew she hadn’t uttered a sound.
Still paralyzed from the drugs and succumbing quickly to smoke inhalation, Sophie drifted in and out of consciousness. She fought with every fiber of her being to remain conscious, as though somehow staying awake would be the emotional support her father needed to save them.
Her father was alive…and back in her life. They couldn’t die now.
Please, God. Not now. Not yet. Please.
The hard edges of the box now nestled between them cut into Sophie’s rib cage. She winced as a sharp point pierced through her clothes and into her skin.
Why didn’t he drop it? Why didn’t he concentrate on just getting the two of them out of this inferno?
She could hear his heavy grunts and labored breathing as he continued to slowly move toward the back of the cottage.
As they approached the kitchen, the gases in the ceiling materials ignited creating a flashover. The sudden explosion of flames knocked them backward. Sophie’s face slammed into the kitchen doorjamb. She didn’t need the thick, wet stream of blood flowing over her lips to tell her she’d broken her nose. Crushed against the wood, her face slid down the jamb, splinters deeply imbedding themselves in her cheek, until her body collapsed onto the wood floor.
Dad?
Unable to raise her head to look for him, panic seized her heart.
Where is he? Where?
Two arms snaked around her from behind and hefted her up.
Still alive. Oh, thank you, Lord, he’s still alive.
A wave of flames radiated down on the room in front of them, trapping them, blocking all possibility of making it out the back door. Their only means of escape now was through the bedroom. As though he could read her mind, her father immediately turned toward her room, stumbled, righted himself and stumbled again.
Twenty feet to freedom.
The next stumble dropped them both to the ground. Dominic Gimmelli rose to his knees and stayed there. Critical seconds ticked by but the man seemed unable to move. Finally, shoulders heaving as he struggled to take in air, he got to his feet, wrapped his arms around Sophie and moved toward the opening he had crashed through where her bedroom window used to be.
Fifteen feet.
He fell again. This time unable to get up. Dominic began to crawl. He dragged and pulled them both across the hardwood floor.
Ten feet.
Her father was a brave, fit man but the fire was proving to be an insurmountable opponent that he could not conquer. Sophie sensed the moment he gave up. He stopped crawling, stopped moving. Then, slowly, as if his movements took massive effort, he sat up, wrapped her in his arms and simply waited.
Sophie felt an inner calmness, a peace wash over her as she accepted the inevitability of their death. Her heart offered up a silent prayer.
Heavenly Father, I sense Your loving presence even now. I thank You, Lord, for returning my father to me and allowing us to find solace in each other’s arms as You prepare to bring us both home.
Sophie’s face rested against her father’s cheek as he cradled her in his arms. Their eyes caught and held. His face, covered in black soot and ash, glistened in the firelight with sweat and tears. She tried with every remaining ounce of strength she possessed to send him a message with her eyes. To let him know how much she loved him…how grateful she was she’d had him for a father…to say goodbye.
Unable to cling to consciousness any longer, Sophie slipped into the darkness.
Smoke. Thick black plumes of smoke funneled from the ground to the sky like a tornado touching earth.
Cain leaned his chest against the steering wheel so he could get a better look at the horizon through the car’s wind-shield and couldn’t believe his eyes. It was definitely smoke—and it was coming from the direction of Sophie’s house. He slammed his foot on the accelerator, pushing the speedometer to its limit and, as his car lurched forward, he grabbed his cell phone and dialed 911.
Cain’s heart hammered in his chest and his pulse raced as he turned off the main highway onto the dirt road leading to Sophie’s cottage. Even from this distance, the acrid smell of smoke seeped into the car and filled his nostrils. He coughed repeatedly against the noxious fumes and, in a panic to get to Sophie, drove faster.
Within minutes, he’d pulled in front of the cottage and jumped out of his car the second he had slammed it into park.
Cain looked in horror at the scene before him. Sophie’s porch and the entire front wall of her home were now an angry, burning, yellow wall of flame. Dense inky smoke billowed to the sky and swirled in poisonous vapors around him.
Sophie.
He saw her car parked by the shed.
Oh, Lord, no! Please…don’t let Sophie be inside that inferno.
“Sophie!” He screamed her name but his voice was lost in the overwhelming roar of the fire.
Cain, yelling her name with every step, raced to the back of the cottage. He sprinted around the corner of the house and his legs almost collapsed beneath him when he was confronted by an equally destructive, impenetrable wall of flame.
He was too late. There was no way anyone could still be alive inside that inferno. And on the outside chance she was alive, he prayed she’d be unconscious and not aware, not terrified as the fire approached—because there was no way anyone could rescue her.
His stomach lurched. He bent at the waist and retched. He’d lost two women he loved. He failed them both—Lucy, Sophie—gone because he failed them. Pain seized his chest like an iron fist had clamped onto his heart, and he dropped to his knees.
Sophie. Forgive me. I should never have left you last night.
Cain heard a siren in the distance but the sound offered him little solace. They were too late. He was too late. Tears fell freely down his face and, in a fleeting moment of weakness, he contemplated rushing into the flames, because without Sophie he would be dead anyway.
Stop thinking with your emotions and think with your head!
A strong voice inside his head commanded his attention.
Keep looking. Circle the house. Find a way in.
Cain immediately circled the house. The incredible heat seared his face. His clothes felt like they were melting on his body but still he crouched close to the perimeter of the house, looking, searching for even the tiniest spot not engulfed in flame—and then he saw it.
A hole in the wall, remnants of broken glass indicating it had been a back window. The opening had not yet been consumed by the quickly encroaching fire. Cain leaned from the waist up through the hole and, again, screamed Sophie’s name. He cupped his hand against his eyes and tried to peer through the smoke. At first, he couldn’t see much of anything, but once his eyes adjusted he could make out a chest of drawers and a little farther inside the room a double bed. Crumpled in a heap beside the bed was a lump of—something.
“Over here.” A man’s voice, hoarse and barely audible amid the crackling of the fire, reached Cain’s ears. He didn’t need a second invitation to clamber inside. He ignored the broken shards of glass slicing his skin and ran toward the sound.
Cain found two bodies huddled together on the floor beside the bed. The man—someone Cain had never seen before—shifted out of the way and weakly gestured toward the body on the floor.
Sophie.
Cain’s body doubled uncontrollably with coughing spasms and the acrid smoke burned his eyes but nothing could stop him from drawing her into his arms. Eyes closed, she hung lifelessly in his arms. Barely able to breathe, he knew he had mere seconds to get her out of here before both of them would be lost forever to either the smoke or the flames that were now eating away at her bedroom door.
His eyes met those of the older man on the floor, who was too weak to stand or even speak but managed to gesture with his hand for them to go. Cain stood up, lifting Sophie in his arms and ran with her toward the bedroom window.
Just as he reached the opening, Sheriff Dalton appeared in the window. He reached out his arms to take Sophie. Cain transferred her into the sheriff’s arms and then turned and raced back inside to try and rescue the man. The bedclothes were aflame and sparks had fallen on the man’s body. Small fingers of fire began eating at his clothes, but the man was too weak to care.
Cain slapped his hands up and down the man’s arms and legs, extinguishing the fire. He grabbed him under his arm pits and dragged him to the window. Sheriff Dalton helped Cain lift the man through the opening and not a moment too soon. The three men had barely cleared the structure when the ceiling of the bedroom collapsed and a whoosh of flame shot through the window and flashed up into the sky.
Sheriff Dalton, the rescued man and Cain collapsed beneath a tree a safe distance from the blaze.
Fire trucks barreled up the dirt road and pulled in front of the roaring inferno. The house was a lost cause. Now it became imperative to keep the flames contained and not allow them to reach the woods surrounding the property.
Cain’s eyes darted around him until he saw Sophie lying a few feet farther away. He scrambled to her side, lifting her head and cradling it with his left arm while his right hand felt for a pulse in her neck. All the air gushed out of him in relief when he felt a slow, but steady, beat beneath his fingers.
“Sophie?” He called her name but she remained unresponsive.
A paramedic dropped to his knee beside them. “I’ll take over now, sir.” The paramedic reached out to lift Sophie from his arms but Cain found he couldn’t let her go. He’d come so close to losing her forever—too close.
“Hey, buddy, you’ve got to let go and let us help her.”
Reluctantly, Cain released his grasp. Within moments, she’d been transferred to a gurney. One paramedic had fastened an oxygen mask to her face and was taking her vitals while a second paramedic left them to check on the condition of the sheriff and the rescued man.