“I’ve got to call the fire in.”
He took the dog from her arms. “Do that. But do it while we’re headed the other way.”
Chapter 39
Laurie Ann reported the woods fire from her cell phone. Wyatt marched behind her. Another idea occurred to her as she hurried through the night, the miasma of smoke clinging to her like a blanket. “We could circle around behind the pump house. I’ve been slowly hacking back the vines and bamboo to use the cleared area for compost. No one knows about that but me. There isn’t a path from here to there, but that route would be shorter than going through the swamp. I’m pretty sure I could get us there.”
His gaze was flat. “Pretty sure isn’t good enough. We need a sure thing. Head toward the swamp.”
“Why should we do that? I know these woods.”
“But I’m the one who knows fires and arsonists. This fire is no accident. The dog in the woods was no accident. We’re pawns in a deadly game.”
“I agree that it’s unlikely Gabby put a leash on himself or hurled himself into that thicket. But your arsonist isn’t trying to kill us. We already know he’s used a gun before, and a gunshot wound would be much more lethal. He’s trying to scare us.”
“When the shooting starts, you’re in charge. As long as we’re dealing with fire, we do it my way. Make no mistake. This guy is playing for keeps. If we perish in the fire, it might look accidental, especially if there are no bullet holes in our bodies.”
“Lester wouldn’t hurt me.”
“This arsonist will do anything to save his hide. He might have a moment’s indigestion over killing his relatives, but he’ll think it’s worth the sacrifice. He’s fighting for his freedom. So are we.”
It was pointless to argue with Wyatt. He had such a blind spot about the arsonist. That’s why she knew it couldn’t be Lester. He’d brought her firewood last week. Why would he do that if he meant to kill her?
It had to be someone else, and she’d prove it to Wyatt as soon as they got out of the woods. They passed Gabby’s thicket again and made it to the ditch that drained the swamp. Up ahead she saw flames.
Her feet stopped moving. “Wyatt. Look.”
“Damn.”
Flames danced along the ground. Worse, flames ignited the treetops. The fire on the other side of the swamp was larger than the one they’d turned away from. Cold sweat broke out in her palms. Moisture rolled down her spine.
She reached down, placing her hand on her pocket, feeling the rounded outline of her lucky St. Christopher medal under the thin cotton fabric. Wyatt was right. The arsonist meant to trap them in the fire. He’d covered the two known exits. Only someone who lived around here would know the woods like this. Only someone who knew her dog would’ve been able to put a leash on Gabby without him going nutso.
Only Lester fit that bill.
The revelation shook her so badly she reached out to steady herself on the nearest pine. Despite the fire’s heat, an icy blast chilled her marrow. Her racing thoughts skidded to a halt.
Lester meant to kill her.
Lester meant for her to die in these woods tonight.
Wyatt shone his light on her face. She blinked against the brightness, but not even blinking could hide the tears glistening in her eyes.
“You were right,” she said woodenly. “An outsider wouldn’t know where to place those fires to trap us. An outsider couldn’t pull this off. Lester is the arsonist. I feel so stupid.”
“I’m sorry.”
His sympathy undid her. She let the tears fall. “Don’t be. You were doing your job. You followed the evidence. I couldn’t see the truth.”
“Not everyone is brave enough to see the truth. You see it now.”
“Now that we’re trapped between two fires. Yeah, I see it. For all the good it’ll do.”
“The Laurie Ann Dinterman I know is a fighter. She doesn’t give up. She wouldn’t let a killer beat her.”
She swiped the moisture from her cheeks. “You using psychology on me?”
“I’m sticking to the facts. It isn’t over. I’m not giving up. Lester knows fires, and he thinks he knows you. But he never understood what made you tick. He doesn’t have your self-esteem or a strong moral compass, and that lack has eaten at him from day one.”
“Sounds like you’ve settled on a profile for him.” She gazed down the creek bed back the way they’d come. Something rustled in the leaves nearby. Her pulse spiked. “We have one shot at getting out of here, but I can’t promise it won’t be painful. The brush is thick behind the pump house. And any critters out here running from the fire might head the same way.”
“Critters?”
“Gators. Snakes. Rats.”
“If they know another way out, why wouldn’t we follow them?”
“Following this ditch will get you dead. It doesn’t empty anywhere. The water percolates through the sandy soil to recharge the groundwater. The bed goes dry about halfway back the way we came, and vegetation fills in the swale. Lester will have run his fire across the swale if he truly means to trap us.”
Gabby squirmed in Wyatt’s arms. “The pump house route gets my vote. It beats standing here and roasting to death.”
“I can take the dog.”
“I know you could, but I need you to get us out of here, so I’ll hang onto the Gabster. Let’s go.”
She hurried back the way they came. Smoke blanketed the forest. Her eyes watered. She coughed to clear her lungs. “I wish I had a machete.”
“I wish I had a bulldozer and a pumper truck. A team of smoke jumpers would be nice while we’re drawing up wish lists.”
Her flashlight beam grew thinner. How much battery power did she have left? Would it be enough?
The narrow track bent hard right, and she stopped cold. A stout alligator lumbered across the path, heading toward the swamp. “Whoa.”
Wyatt plowed into her back. They both went down, Gabby barking at the top of his lungs. Pain shot up her leg. Her ankle. Something gave way in her ankle.
“Sorry,” Wyatt said. “Why’d we stop?”
“Gator. He’s bigger than we are. Thought he should have the right-of-way.”
“Good thinking. How close are we to the turn off?”
“We might as well angle in from here.” She flexed her ankle and winced from the sharp pain. She covered the sound by sitting up in the rustling leaves. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you about the thicket.”
Still holding the quivering dog, Wyatt rose. He extended a hand to her. She stood cautiously, keeping most of the weight on her right foot.
“You’re hurt,” he said.
“Hurt, but not dead.”
“How can I help?”
“I can make it. I won’t let Lester beat me.”
“That’s the spirit.”
She twisted sideways to get through a knot of vines and briars, scratching her arms on the sharp barbs. “Careful,” she instructed as he followed her lead. “Lots of thorns in here.”
Wyatt did his best to part the briars with one hand, protecting her dog with the other. He must hate her crazy family.
“Lester won’t beat me either,” he said.
Satisfied he’d made it, she focused on a familiar notched palmetto dead ahead. If she stayed on this heading, she was going the right way. It was the palmetto flanked by a crepe myrtle and a pine covered with Virginia creeper vines. She was about to step her good foot to the right, when Wyatt caught her arm. She stopped. A fat rattlesnake shook its tail in warning.
She backed toward Wyatt. He put his arm around her shoulder. “We’ll go a different way,” Wyatt said.
Her ankle throbbed more with each step she took. It still worked, so she hadn’t broken the ankle. A sprain, then. She could ice it when she reached home. If she got them home. This route was a long shot. The saving grace was that flames were now far behind them and distinctly off to the left. There were no flames in the direction of the pump house.
Only sheer black night.
She limped around a thick clump of palmettos, intent on reaching her goal. Her skin itched. Both of them were probably loaded with ticks. They’d nearly run afoul of a gator. She’d narrowly missed being snake bait. All she needed now was to have a rat run over her foot to have her absolute fill of critters.
A vine caught her injured foot, and she toppled to the ground.
“This isn’t working,” Wyatt said. “Let me carry you.”
What would it be like to let someone else take charge? Someone strong and heroic like Wyatt. Laurie Ann allowed that fantasy to play out for a nanosecond before reality intervened. These were her woods. She was responsible for their safety. And regardless of what he said, he had a hurt arm. “No. I’m okay. Just took a wrong step.”
She stood up and gazed around. The notched palmetto she’d been aiming for. Where was it? She turned in a circle, trying to get her bearings. They’d orbited the squatty palmettos, so if she veered left, they should be back on track.
“Lost?” he asked.
“Not lost,” she gritted, touching the treasured talisman in her pocket. “Almost found.”
Chapter 40
Minutes later, Wyatt lunged at the thicket like a frenzied wild boar. Briars and thorns grabbed at his clothes and skin, ripping at his flesh. Blood oozed from his scratches. He no longer cared. They had to get out of these woods, or Lester would win. That crackle of fire behind them and the thick blanket of smoke enveloping the woods was the real deal. It was already hard to take a full breath.
They’d die in these woods if he didn’t force an opening in the vegetation.
He wasn’t ready to die.
He wanted to live.
The thicket held fast.
He could go no further.
Frustration welled inside him. Laurie Ann had gotten them this far. He couldn’t let her down. He glanced over his shoulder at her. She stood propped against a tree, holding her struggling three-legged dog, her face pale as copy paper.
“We’ll try a little further down,” she said.
This was the third place they’d tried.
She shouldn’t be walking on that ankle. Plus, with the fire on their heels, they didn’t have the luxury of wandering around out here all night.
“I can do it,” he said, yanking at the thick mat of vines. A primal roar ripped from his throat as he surged forward again, using his arms to shield his face. The vines held. He pulled and tugged, trying to create a person-sized opening, but they were too firmly rooted into the ground.
He reached overhead and found some play in the vines.
Was it enough?
He couldn’t give up. He had to get them out of here. But he’d given it his all. His strength was fading. It would be so easy to sit down and give up.
A roar of outrage welled in his throat.
Quitters gave up.
He was no quitter.
This was fourth down with one yard to go for a touchdown.
No margin for error.
He had to step it up.
He reached deep and surged into the thicket again, bouncing off imaginary blockers and muscling over the thickest vine of all into the opening he’d made.
Soft ground cushioned his landing.
He brought a handful of the crumbly earth to his nose and savored the rich aroma. He’d done it. He’d found a way out. Relief and gratitude threaded through him like the vines he’d fought in the thicket.
He found his voice. “I’m through! I found your compost pile! Laurie Ann, we made it!”
“Thank God.”
He heard vines rustling behind him and scrambled to his feet. “Wait. I’m coming back to help you.”
“Thanks. What was that last move?”
He reached over the thicket for the flashlights, his helmet, and the dog in her arms. “A cross between a high jump and an act of desperation. It worked. That’s what counts.”
Gabby licked his arms and face. “Just a minute,” he said to Laurie Ann. He didn’t trust the dog to not run off again, so he tied Gabby to a vine. The thorny barrier jerked and held.
“Wait, Laurie Ann. Do what I did. You can’t go through this stuff. It’s too thick. You have to go over the top as I did.”
He body-slammed the top of vines again, creating a little more sag. Her worried face looked like a ghost in the dark forest. “Remember that last scene in the movie
Dirty Dancing
?”
“The lift?”
“Yeah. See if you can get some momentum and come right at me.” He propped the flashlight in a nearby vine so that it shone on the lowest part of the vines. “I’ll catch you.”
“Bad plan. Your arm. My ankle.”
“My arm is fine. Don’t focus on the ankle. Focus on getting out of there. I’ll smash the vines again with my body weight to create a lower obstacle. You have to do this.”
She backed up a few strides, coughing. “Easy for you to say.”
“You can do it.”
The determination on her face pulled on his heartstrings. She drew in a deep breath and bolted toward him like she had two good ankles. Timing was everything. He leapt onto the vines before she went airborne, flattening the barrier with his body weight. He reached for her, but she soared over him like a hawk on a thermal, landing with a soft thud in the compost heap.
Wyatt pried himself off the thorny briars and went to her side. “You did it.”
Tears streamed from her eyes. “We did it. Without you, I wouldn’t have gotten through or over that maze of vines in the bamboo. You are a walking bulldozer.”
Emotion roughened his voice. “Let’s get you up and inside. You need ice on that ankle.”
Sirens wailed in the distance. Laurie Ann’s head cocked to the side, and she nodded. “Music to my ears.”
He lifted her to her feet, but she couldn’t do much with her ankle. “One second,” he said, grabbing the dog leash and picking Laurie Ann up.
“I can walk,” she said.
“Not until you’ve had that ankle examined.”
She kissed his cheek. “Thanks for helping me, but promise me, no more heroics tonight. I want peace and quiet, and I don’t want to think about fires or Lester or anything dangerous. I want to disinfect our cuts and scrapes and sleep until noon tomorrow.”
With two fires raging in the forest around them, the chances of Laurie Ann having a peaceful night were slim. At a minimum, they’d have to evacuate her home for safety reasons. “I’ll do what I can.”
He strode around the pump house, intending to cut through her flower garden to reach the kitchen door, but the house looked wrong. His feet stopped moving, while his pulse ramped back into overdrive.