The Secret

Copyright © 2025 by A.J. Rivers

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

Structure fire at nail salon. One victim trapped inside. Send rescue team inside.

Tom Clarence repeated the information silently in his head to prepare himself mentally. Fires weren’t the most common thing in Juniper Springs—maybe a handful a year—but he had seen a few memorable ones over the years. He hadn’t seen one this bad since the clinic had been purposefully set on fire some time back. Around the dinner hour, dispatch had received multiple calls concerning the nail salon with indications that the owner of the salon was still trapped inside. Before the truck even pulled up, he could see the smoke cloud curling into the sky and bursting out of the windows in thick, black rolls. The 360 around the building he did with Miles Lloyd, fellow firefighter and friend, had told him that the only way in and out was through the salon’s two entry doors. One set of doors led to where the fire seemed to be burning the hottest near the restrooms on the building’s south side. The other door led straight to the reception and waiting area on the north side. So far, the northern side had barely been touched by the billowing smoke. And that’s where they were going in.

Tom dropped to his knees beside Miles once they entered the north door of the salon. Visibility became zero to nothing as thick bands of smoke engulfed him. Tom sucked in a breath, relying on his SCBA breathing device to create a snout full of oxygen to fill his lungs. He was grateful for the ability to breathe, even though his chest still felt tight with the anticipation of locating the victim. Lily Carlson, the salon owner, had been heard screaming inside before her screams went terrifyingly quiet seconds before the fire truck rolled up. The heat slammed into his protective coat, and Tom tried not to think about why she had gone quiet. “Lily!” The muffled version of her name somehow made its way past the mask, as his arms and legs carried him forward, low on the floor.

Miles aimed a thick spray of water at the flames that ate at the floor beside the reception area; Tom was grateful that they hadn’t burned all the way to the other side yet. It was just enough for them to crawl through without the flaming fingertips leaping out and licking the edge of his coat. Tom focused on the hiss of his breathing and the way the fire moved.

He crawled past the reception area, and the salon opened up into a playground for the inferno to devour. While the front still boasted the thick smoke and small orange flames, the entire back room of the salon was covered in bright flames. The plastic on the chairs that once provided comfort for the patrons was now reduced to a hot, sticky mess that dripped onto the flame-covered floor. The flames crept toward the shelf where the nail polish was kept on proud display; it was as if they knew there was fuel in those bottles that could feed them, if they could just reach it.

And there.

Lying in the center of the room between a wall of flames and the shelf of nail polish lay Lily Carlson, on her side, one arm splayed under her head for a pillow and the other folded in front of her. Tom noticed the bright red of the fire extinguisher that lay abandoned at Lily’s side.

Tom lumbered toward her, plunging through the smoke that nearly concealed her from view. Another shattering of glass from somewhere nearby sent one of the shelves toppling into the flames with a crash that shook him to his core. The result was a ball of flames cascading, blowing a bulge of smoke right into Tom’s path, concealing Lily from view.

She’s there. I know she’s there.

He relied on the mask to protect his vision as he felt along the ground for her body in the direction he’d seen her.

“It’s spreading way too fast!” Miles shouted.

Tom agreed. The fire wasn’t taking its time but was rather sweeping across the ground like something was blowing it that way. But there was only one thing on his mind.

His fingers closed around something hard and round. The fire extinguisher. Which meant Lily was right behind it.

Tom knocked the extinguisher out of the way and reached for Lily’s arm. “Lily!”

He couldn’t get a clear view of her, but he could see her face, streaked black with smoke but not yet burned. Her eyes were closed, and her body was not responsive, but she was breathing. Which was both good and bad, since the only thing left for her to breathe was a deadly mixture of gasses produced by the fire.

Tom looped his arm under her armpits and drew her against him. He turned, locating the hose as their ticket out of this inferno. “I’ve got her! Let’s get out of here!”

Miles nodded, turned and started the crawl back. The time it took them to retrace their steps was painfully slow. He wasn’t even sure if they were making progress.

The smoke cleared to his side a little bit, and he offered a quick glance up. “Look out!” he shouted. The flames had crawled up the wall, reaching a mounted shelf that displayed different nail colors near one of the chairs. The fire managed to burn through the bottom portion of the shelf that bolted it to the wall. Tom just had enough time to cover Lily’s unprotected body with his own as a crash sounded next to him. A shelf full of nail polish and colors collapsed, sending a few bottles and burning pieces bouncing off where Tom was crouched, covering Lily, trying to shield her from the burns she hadn’t received yet. They had to get out. Now.

He shook the small debris off, grateful for his protective coat, and started his crawl again, confident that no burning debris was going to land on his victim. “I’ve got you, Lily,” he said to her, knowing she couldn’t hear him but feeling the need to reassure her nonetheless. “We’re going to get you out of here.”

Tom crawled along, dragging Lily’s entire body weight with him. Daylight—beautiful daylight—came into view, curtained by smoke but promising safety. Miles broke into the reception area with Tom close at his heels. Five feet from the door. The heat cloaked him, secluding him from view with billows of smoke. Four feet. Lily lay limp in his arms, her body bouncing and falling back as dead weight in response to each of his steps. Three feet. Another burst of flames behind him, hissing, dropping debris on the ground. Two feet. His ears caught the sound of another siren and the hissing of smoke.

This was it. Miles got to his feet outside the door, and Tom plunged through the front door, clinging tightly to the woman. And then it was over. The applause from the crowd that had gathered meant nothing to him as he gently lay Lily down in the grass far away from the dangerous fire. The medics took over for him, rushing in with equipment to bring her back to life, and the shouts of his fellow first responders reminded him that there was still work to be done. The rest was easy, Tom told himself. The victim was safe in the hands of the medics, and now his main focus was fighting the raging fire that was doing a fine job of gutting the inside of the salon.

Hours passed, and what was once a favorite building on the block had been reduced to ashes and charred boards that stuck up, refusing to collapse, blending in with the night sky as the only evidence that there had once been a building here. Exhaustion tapped at Tom’s mind, but he ignored it.

The captain walked up beside him. “You did it again, Clarence.”

Tom just shook his head. He didn’t do any of this for the accolades, the recognition, or the status of “hero” in Juniper Springs. All he cared about was saving a life. “Just doing my job, sir.” He echoed the response he’d given a hundred times, and would give a hundred times more.

Dallas Griffin got the call before he even had a chance to pour his morning coffee. A late-night fire that took hours to battle had reduced the nail salon to ashes. A sense of dread filled him, but not for himself; he owned too many properties in Juniper Springs to be thrown into financial ruin over one building being completely destroyed. But that wasn’t the case for Lily Carlson, the salon owner who occupied his building. He knew she’d struggled to make rent and payroll for a few months but was doing everything she could to keep her dream alive. Now, that dream was charcoal, along with the rest of his building, and he felt for her. She needed that income.

Armed with his morning coffee poured into the travel mug—his trusty companion to get him through each morning—Dallas drove his car out of the mountains that surrounded the small town and headed for the site of the salon. He knew it wasn’t always advisable to develop a heart-to-heart relationship with his clients, but it was hard not to. It wasn’t that he tried to live up to the labels that the town pinned on him like the Town Philanthropist and the Pillar of the Community, but somehow, it just happened. Almost without exception, he knew each of his clients personally, and that knowledge caused him to be concerned for Lily. Had she been in the fire when it started? And what exactly happened?

Dallas could smell the soot in the air seeping through his car vents before he even rounded the street corner to the salon. Once he saw the destroyed building, he sighed. “Aw, man.” The ground was carpeted in thick briquettes, charred pieces of Lily’s livelihood. There’s a certain shock that comes with being used to seeing a building occupying a place, and then it’s just gone—it’s an empty space.

Dallas parked his car out of the way of the workers and slipped out. His lungs cringed at the smoke that still singed the air. He strode toward the sidewalk where a few police cars, fire trucks, and other vehicles were parked. He swept his gaze over the damage but also looked for a familiar face. And he found it right away, standing by the firetruck. He didn’t have his breathing mask on, but his eyes looked like they’d been stretched beyond the point of exhaustion. He met Dallas’s gaze and sent a wave, then they started toward each other. Tom Clarence never complained about his job, but Dallas couldn’t deny that he had it easy compared to his firefighting buddy.

“Hey, man.” Tom nodded his head back toward the pile of rubble.

Dallas stopped a couple of feet from his friend and sighed, reading his troubled expression with ease. “You look beat.”

Tom breathed a laugh of acknowledgment. “You can say that again.” He turned on his heel, angling his body to survey the damage as if seeing it for the first time. “Fire was bad, man. The whole place went up in flames in a short amount of time. We’re lucky we got to Lily when we did.”

“So, Lily was inside?” Dallas wondered why Lily would be in the salon after hours. “The fire started after six, didn’t it?”

“It did, but she was there. A neighbor reported hearing screaming. We found her lying in the center of the main room, thank goodness. If she would have been in that back corner, she may not have been so lucky. The fire started somewhere along the southern portion of the building.”

“Is she okay?” Concern leaked into Dallas’s voice.

Tom nodded. “Last I heard she’s in a coma, in the county hospital. Her husband nearly lost his mind when he got the news, and he’s with her now.”

Dallas looked over his friend’s shoulder at the damage once more. A few firefighters—Miles Lloyd and a handful of others—lingered around the smolder near the southern wall Tom mentioned. “Do we know what happened yet?”

“O’Connell’s still doing the report on it.” A weary sigh escaped from Tom’s lips. He looked like he wanted to rub his eyes but also didn’t want to get soot in them, so he refrained. “You remember nights like this? One minute you’re enjoying dinner, and the next, you’re spending all night fighting a fire so hot that you think it’ll never go out?”

Dallas nodded, the gravity of the memories of his time in the Juniper Springs Fire Department rolling over him like the leftover smoke from the fire. “I do remember. That hotel fire was the prime example.”

“I didn’t think that thing would ever go out.” Tom shook his head. “I haven’t seen a fire this bad since the clinic. We’re lucky it didn’t spread.”

Silence smoldered between them as they examined the damage. Tom mentioned the unspoken after a few minutes of staring at the rubble. “We miss you on the team, man. I know it’s been five years, but you were one of the best.”

Of course they missed him. But Dallas wasn’t about to rejoin the fire department. Not after everything that happened. He tried not to react, but his face twitched a bit. He averted his gaze and instead focused on the charred boards sticking up like stripped trees in the desert. “I’m content to leave that status of being the best to you.”

Tom shook his head. “Just doing my job. I’m not trying to get you to come back.” His voice sobered with understanding. “I understand why you left. I’m just saying, we miss you around here sometimes. Fires like this… you knew what you were doing.”

Dallas had always focused on what mattered to him—whether that was his career as a real estate owner or taking a small vacation when he needed it. He sacrificed. He gave what was ultimately needed no matter what, and that’s what had made him a good firefighter. At least, until that day when no matter what, nothing was right. “Thanks, man.”

Dallas forced his attention back to the present. He had a job to do; that’s why he was there. Dallas dreaded the insurance paperwork and moving forward past this stage, but it was a challenge that had to be faced. “I better get to work. After I finish up here, I have a meeting with the owner of Bella’s Blooms.”

“What, she’s selling?” Tom readily accepted the change of subject. “My wife loves that little flower shop.”

“She’s selling to another florist, I believe,” Dallas assured him. “I’m meeting with them at three to discuss it.”

“Good. Good. This town needs that flower shop.”

Dallas clapped Tom’s shoulder, the cup of his hand making a puffed sound against Tom’s coat. “Thanks for all you did.”

“It’s what I do.” Tom turned to move back toward the charred building. “Listen, we need to catch up sometime. Don’t be a stranger.”

Dallas laughed in acknowledgment. “I agree. Send me a text sometime… when you’re not too busy being a hero.”

Tom’s laughter clashed with the somber situation at hand. “Same goes for you, my friend.”

This was it; this was the day.

Claire Bartlett had the reassurance that the flower shop would be hers, but it was getting there that unnerved her. She pulled her car into the slanted parking space in front of the flower shop and sat for a few breathable moments. The familiar brick overlay of the building and the large window that always had some seasonal display in it brought her a sense of nostalgia. To look at the flower shop, no one would guess that Bella had reached the age where retirement sounded better than running her dream business and was trusting it into Claire’s capable—she hoped—hands.

Claire knew how to design. Her bouquets had won awards back in Texas during floral competitions and had garnered the attention of anyone who received them. But running a flower shop? And this one, of all of them? She chose not to listen to the voices that told her how difficult this was going to be. She knew what to do. She’d sent her Letter of Intent ahead of her to pave the path to her success. And she knew Bella was always one phone call away if she ever needed advice. Armed with her business degree, Claire couldn’t go wrong.

She glanced at her reflection in the mirror, judging her appearance to be professional. She had brushed her blond hair until it framed her face perfectly, the edges of her hair looping around her jawline to make her oval face stand out. She studied her eyes for a few moments, wondering if she still looked as starry-eyed as she did in high school when she used to help Bella out around the holidays. She concluded that, although still a piercing blue, they weren’t quite as starry-eyed; instead, they spoke volumes as to how much she had learned and how much she was willing to bring to the table—which to her was everything, so long as she could grasp her dream in her hands.

Satisfied with her appearance, she gave a nod, grabbed her purse from the seat and exited her car. She walked the familiar set of three steps up from the sidewalk and pushed open the door to the flower shop. Upon entering, she was surrounded by the aromatic scent of lilies, stock, and other fragrant flowers combining together to sweeten the air of the small shop. The counter was concealed behind the various displays Bella had set up in the middle of the floor, making it a bit of a maze to get to the counter.

The more they see, the more they’ll realize how they need this gift or that gift while they’re here, Bella had told her once with a smile on her face, and Claire agreed that the marketing strategy wasn’t bad. But Claire didn’t like the obstructed view of the door.

“Hi, welcome in!” A cheery young voice greeted her, bringing her back to the memory of when she worked here in her high school years. “May we help you?”

Polite. Claire liked that. She rounded the corner of the kiosk of candles and came into view. Bella, and an older woman whom Claire remembered, scurried behind the counter. Flower stems littered the floor and crunched under the tennis shoes of the workers. “Yes, I’m here to see about a flower shop?” Claire couldn’t keep the smile from her voice.

Bella recognized her, and her head snapped up. “Claire Bartlett!” she cried. Her arms outstretched, she came around the corner and headed for Claire with joy. Claire smiled, returning her embrace, and couldn’t help but think that the feeling of being home again was just as good as the smell of the flower shop. “It is so good to see you.”

“It’s great to see you too!” Claire tightened her hug on Bella before pulling away again. “How have you been?”

“Oh.” Bella pursed her lips. “Busy, as always. There’s always a birthday, a holiday, a funeral, a wedding. We’ve just finished up a wedding, so we’re trying to figure out what to do with our time.”

Claire giggled. “Don’t say that too loud. I remember what you used to say when I worked here: Never, ever say the words it’s slow today.”

“That’s right! Because within an hour of speaking those words we end up so busy it looks like someone kicked over an anthill!” Bella put her arm around Claire’s shoulders and guided her around the front counter. The designing area near the front counter was separate from the rest of the store, with a swinging half door attached to another counter that formed an L-shape. Just as Claire remembered. Bella led her through the half door. “Come on back and meet the girls. Of course, you already know Jody.” She turned and pointed to the older woman, who followed right behind them, gray hair done up in a bun. Jody came forward, offering Claire a grandmotherly hug. “Claire, it’s been so long. Good to see you again.”

She still wore the same perfume, a hint of floral that matched the work she loved so much. Unlike Bella, the woman had retired, only to miss her job enough to come back a few weeks later. “It’s good to see you, too, Jody. You look good!”

“I feel great,” the older woman replied. “It feels good to be able to work.”

Claire agreed. Hard work was never something she ran from. It was something that gave her purpose, so she embraced it.

“These are some new faces since you went away.” Bella pointed to a woman who appeared to be in her mid-thirties, maybe early forties with short black hair. “This is Jenna.”

Jenna reached to shake Claire’s hand. Claire returned it with a handshake and a smile. “Nice to meet you.”

“And this is Eva.”

The bright-eyed blond looked like she was on her fourth cup of coffee the way she sprang over to Claire. Hesitation showed on her face as she offered her hand to Claire like she wasn’t so sure about having a new boss, since Bella was so great. “Hi. I’m Eva,” she repeated.

Claire hid a smile. Young and new to the workforce. What better way to be introduced to it than in this lovely family environment? “Very nice to meet you.”

“Come on over here—we’ll chat a bit,” Bella said to Claire, nodding toward the stools that lined the smaller counter. The women usually used it for their lunch break, and from the looks of the plastic forks and napkins, that hadn’t changed either. So far, no one’s lunch was out taking up counter space, so Claire had room for her papers and notes. “The realtor should be here at three, and you’re early, as usual, so we’ve got some time to catch up.”

“Of course!” Claire loved the idea. She chose the stool opposite Bella and set her purse and folder on the counter. She didn’t want to appear too eager to open it. She wasn’t even that ready to dive into their business; she just wanted to talk to her old mentor for a few minutes. “So, how have things been going?”

“It’s been the same ‘ole, same ‘ole.” Bella shrugged. “Plenty of new and exciting, but mostly just the new gossip. What about you?” She reached out, touching Claire’s upper arm as if observing her for the first time. “I got your Letter of Intent, and it sounded so well-worded. I was amazed at how my little Claire has grown up so much. School treated you well?”

“I graduated with honors.” Claire couldn’t be more excited. “While taking business classes, my mind drifted every so often. Ever since my parents moved away, I wondered if I really wanted to pursue my dream of owning a flower shop or try something else… but honestly,” she shrugged, “my heart has always been here. There’s nothing better than getting paid to make beautiful things.”

“I would have to agree.” Bella gazed at her flower shop with a thoughtful gaze that put a memory in each corner. “There’s nothing better than owning a flower shop in a small town either. It’s like being a part of everyone’s story in some small way. You get to hear all the gossip. You know before anyone else who’s dating whom, whose funeral is happening, what new business is opening up.”

Claire felt excitement bubbling inside her. After being gone for about ten years, she felt like an outsider having to relearn the town again. Her parents had retired for warmer pastures years ago, and her high school friends had probably moved on, but this was a great place to make new ones. “I can’t wait.”

Bella gestured to her as if pointing something out. “Two weeks ago we did a wedding ceremony for a couple, and it was beautiful. I have to show you. Look at this.”

She reached for a binder sitting under a pile of designing debris stashed in the corner of the counter and propped it open. Claire glanced through the pages. Her breath caught in her throat at the vibrant greens and elaborate flowers. “Where did you get these roses?” She had never seen a white rose with stripes of green through the petals before.

“Special order. Something I’ll teach you.” Bella’s eyes sparkled. “Tie-died roses are a huge hit because they’re so unique.”

Claire had never been a fan of tie-die roses. The genetically modified flowers never smelled as sweet to her, nor did they last as long as the other ones. Then again, most flowers were genetically modified in some way, so she kept her thoughts to herself. The roses were beautiful—she had to admit—and they went with the vibrant green of the bridal party so well. She flipped to the last picture where a young woman with layered blond hair stood next to a man with a piercing blue gaze and strict posture. Military, probably?

“The couple was Spencer and Emily Huxley.” Bella shook her head. “There was a whole story surrounding that one. We had fun with that wedding.”

“I can imagine so.” Claire flipped the binder closed and handed it back to Bella.

Bella’s smile faded into something a little more guarded as she switched gears in the conversation. “Well, I guess you’re here to discuss taking over my business.”

Claire nodded, somehow feeling a mixture of sadness at having to say goodbye to Bella but also excitement of being able to operate the shop of her dreams. “Yes, I am.”

Bella straightened her hands on the table, all business now. “Before we talk about selling the building, what is your vision for the flower shop?”

Claire’s vision? She had it mapped out—the next ten years, maybe more. She wasn’t caught off guard by the question but was ready to plunge right in. “I’m prepared to do what it takes to keep this flower shop going, including making some lifestyle changes. I have lined up an apartment close by so I can be close to the flower shop. I intend to keep the staff.” She smiled and nodded in the direction of the three women working at the design counter. “And I plan to include many of your ideas that made Bella’s Blooms successful. Although I have toyed with the idea of renaming it ‘Claire de Bloom’ because—you know—Claire De Lune, the classical piece.”

Bella burst out laughing. “It fits. You and your classical music.” She shook her head. “I’ll never understand it.”

No one did, and that’s why Claire felt alone in the world sometimes. That was fine. She was okay with just her, her floral designing, and her classical music. “But I haven’t decided if that’s too cheesy or not.” She laughed. “I will keep the small-town ambiance though. Like you said, there’s nothing like it. I want people to feel like family when they come in to order flowers. I was thinking about adding a coffee station, and some snacks or something, so that if someone comes in for a funeral, they can have some refreshments while looking through the options for flowers for their deceased loved one.” Claire’s eyes softened, as did her voice. “You know, it’s hard enough having to order flowers for someone you love; we can do what we can to let them know we care.”

“That’s a wonderful idea.” Bella tilted her head. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

The chime above the door pierced the conversation as someone walked in behind the shelves. Claire knew the idea was to get the customer browsing on their way up to the front counter, but she wasn’t sure about not being able to see who was coming through the door.

“Hi, welcome in!” Eva’s cheery voice greeted the newcomer. A voice of deep resonance greeted her in return.

“Hello. I’m here to see Bella?”

Claire’s breath caught in her throat. She’d know that voice anywhere. She’d heard it saying the same lines over and over again on stage back in high school, ten or so years ago.

“That’s the realtor,” Bella said, standing to her feet. Claire stood, too, just as he emerged into view. Claire lowered her jaw in a smiling surprise. Dallas Griffin strode into view. Claire locked her eyes onto his. Oh, how he had changed from the charming, youthful face into the strong essence of masculinity he now embodied. A rectangle-shaped face swallowed by a dark beard served as a backdrop for the dark brown eyes she remembered as they lit up under the high school stage lights.

Like the way they were lighting up now with surprise and recognition.

“Dallas!” she warmly greeted him, and smiled.

“Claire Bartlett?” Dallas blinked for a few seconds. Then, he put a hand dramatically to his heart, adorning an overexaggerated performer’s face. “I will omit no opportunity that may convey my greetings, love, to thee.”

Claire giggled, surprised that he remembered after all this time. “Oh, think’st thou we shall ever meet again?”

“I didn’t think we would,” Dallas dropped his Shakespearean voice. “But here we are.”

Bella shot a glance at the workers behind the counter. “I take it you two know each other?”

How strange the conversation must have been to anyone who didn’t know. Claire laughed lightly. “Dallas and I went to high school together. We did a play together. He was Romeo, and I was Juliet.”

Jenna blinked in surprise. “Oh. That explains a lot.”

“I take it you don’t go around greeting people with thee’s, thou’s, and poetry?” Claire giggled.

“Not particularly!”

Dallas matched Claire’s laughter. “She was a very good Juliet. Should have been an actress.”

“Eh,” Claire shrugged. “Not when there’s flower designing.”

“So.” He pointed, just to be sure, somehow the surprise not dimming from his face. “You’re the potential buyer?”

“She’s the one.” Bella’s smile returned.

Dallas approached the counter, staying on the customer’s side of the lunch counter. Claire hadn’t seen him since she’d graduated, and it hit her how good it was to see so many old friends since she’d come back. “What are you doing selling real estate? Last I remember, you wanted to protect real estate, not sell it. Didn’t you want to be a firefighter?”

No sooner had the question popped out of her mouth than she saw a shadow eclipse his handsome features. A pain flickered behind his eyes before it was gone again. He cleared his throat, shook his head. His voice dropped to a lower level than she’d ever heard from him. “Things sometimes don’t work out the way you think they will.”

Claire could have kicked herself for asking in the first place. Whatever had happened, it seemed to be a sore subject with him. Who was she to bring it up? The sadness that flickered in his eyes brought the compassion out in hers. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” When he met her gaze again, the smile in his expression was trying to come back, hindered by whatever memory Claire had inadvertently unlocked. What had happened in this town since she went away? “I’ve been a real estate agent for four and a half years now, and I love my work. Gets me traveling around, seeing different people, meeting up with old friends.” He gestured to Claire. “Right?”

He was good at deflecting and replacing the negative with something positive. “Right.” She smiled.

Dallas hadn’t been convinced that his eyes were telling him the truth when he approached the counter at the flower shop. It was Claire’s eyes that gave her away, those same blue eyes that could read into whatever you were trying to conceal. She had unraveled him with just one question. Did she have any idea how smart she was?

She had to, Dallas thought as he watched her communicate with the ease of someone who had been in business longer than he had. Confidence radiated from her and somehow didn’t make her seem proud or arrogant. She seemed to be happy with where her life had taken her, and he loved that for her. Dallas still remembered the bright-eyed Claire from high school whose happiness spread to everyone around her. On opening night of Romeo and Juliet, she had donned a long wig of brown curls that reached to her waist and worn a cream-colored dress befitting her character. The confidence and charisma she’d carried with her onto the stage made the high school production a hit, but rehearsals with her had been even more fun. Dallas couldn’t help but notice how she’d kept that same charisma even today. She was going to do well. The laughter he’d shared with her countless times during those rehearsals came back to him now, and he couldn’t help but think how good it would be to have a friend back in town—not to mention a friend with her brains and confidence.

She wasn’t going to just take over this flower shop.

She was going to make it soar.

The shrill ring of the bell pierced Tom’s slumber. Since he had eleven years of experience listening for the bell while he was sleeping, his eyes shot open immediately. Without stopping to rub his eyes or yawn, he got out of bed and rushed to the bay where the fire trucks were kept, and the nightshift crew was tuning in to the instructions over the speaker.

Respond to structure fire…

Another structure fire? Tom listened for the address. A house on Maple Street was on fire in the middle of the night. His mind sprang into action as he expertly shoved his arms through the sleeves of his coat, heart pounding with the need to arrive at the scene. Beside him, Miles worked with the same determination to put on his coat.

Tom climbed into the engine, strapping the tank onto himself, as the truck pulled out of the bay. At two o’clock in the morning, the sound of the fire siren split the air, shattering the sleep of anyone nearby and alerting them that someone, somewhere, was in danger.

“What’s up with all the recent fires?” Miles asked into the unknown, holding on to the roof of the fire engine.

“Old water heaters,” the driver offered from the front seat. “That one at the nail salon was probably way overdue, and that’s what caused it to explode.”

Explode was the word they were using, was it? They weren’t in the fire. Tom fixed his gaze out the window, watching the sleepy town of Juniper Springs blast by at high speed. As the fire truck turned onto the residential street where the fire was located, he could see the yellow glow of the flames dancing on the buildings surrounding the burning house. Tom jumped out of the front seat.

Oh, boy. Another big one.

Tom wasted no time. He and Miles completed their 360 of the house, circling it and checking the conditions of the fire. As he rounded each of the four corners of the house, he noticed that the windows must have been cracked as smoke curled out from the bottom of each pane of glass. The inky blackness of the smoke also told him that the fire had found some sort of fuel inside. For anyone trapped inside, this thick, black smoke had probably caused smoke inhalation damage, but he wasn’t going to give up on them now. He raced back into the front yard where the captain confronted him.

“Just got the word, we’ve got one confirmed victim inside. You and Miles need to get in there now while we’ve still got a window.”

“Got it!” Tom yanked his helmet off and settled his SCBA mask over his mouth. A few life-giving breaths assured him that it was on and working. With the strap securely fastened, he plopped the helmet back on his head and shot a glance at Miles. “Let’s do this!”

He and Miles left the shouts of the fire crew behind as they headed toward the inferno. Tom inhaled a few times and nearly stopped at the front door. He felt suddenly overcome by some mild dizziness and lightheadedness. He shook his head. Should he really go into a carbon-monoxide-filled building feeling like this?

He heard a crash as some debris fell from inside, and his mind was made up. He was fine. He had his SCBA; he would be just fine. He was just tired, right?

Without wasting another moment, he allowed Miles to break the door with the axe. He and Miles dropped to their knees and began crawling through the house, staying under the billowing, black smoke.

Dallas’s alarm went off at 5:30 like it did every morning. He leaned over and turned the lamp on, feeling more rested than he had in a couple of days. One of the best parts about owning a home office was that he didn’t have to worry about the commute to work and could take some time to enjoy the early mornings before the day began.

As he went about his daily routine and scooped some coffee grounds into the coffee pot, he found himself thinking about his encounter with Claire the day before. He never thought he’d see her again after she left for some college in Texas with her dreams in tow. He figured she would have started a business anywhere but Juniper Springs, but it was good to have her back. Dallas smiled, thinking back on a few memories of her. Neither of them had wanted to pursue a career in acting, but a high school play was something everyone should experience, so they’d made it their project. Claire always had a passion for any kind of art, he remembered. Music, floral design, Shakespearean plays. Dallas himself had always been a straightforward kind of guy, so he had thoroughly enjoyed the camaraderie he’d shared with his cast members—including Claire—back in the day. If he were honest with himself, sometimes he missed the days when the only stress in his life was making sure he didn’t miss his cues from the wings of the high school auditorium.

As soon as his coffee brewed, Dallas poured it into a mug and walked out onto the deck. The morning was alive with singing birds, and the sun was just beginning to slip over the horizon. Dallas’s back deck overlooked a beautiful mountain scene, complete with a forest of pine and deciduous trees. He even spied a deer out there once in a while during the fall months, and of course, what could compare to the fresh mountain air that greeted him every time he stepped outside? His log-cabin-style home was the home of dreams for many. What more could a guy want? he often asked himself. He had peace, quiet, a stable job, a mountain home. But deep down, he knew there was still something missing.

His ringing phone drew his attention away from the scenery. Dallas raised an eyebrow. Who was calling him at this time in the morning? He stepped back inside, grabbing his cell phone from where he’d tossed it on his nightstand. The caller ID read Miles Lloyd; Dallas frowned as he answered.

“Griffin Real Estate.”

“Dallas.” Miles’s voice sounded heavy. Dallas gripped the handle of his coffee mug. Something was wrong.

“Miles? Are you okay, man?”

“I’m afraid I have some bad news.”

Dallas closed his eyes, withholding a sigh. That was a sentence no one ever wanted to hear. “What’s up?”

“There was a structure fire last night over on Maple Street.”

Maple Street? Dallas rented out a house on that street. He braced himself to hear the news that he’d lost two properties to fire damage in the last two months. “Okay?”

“I didn’t want you to hear this through the grapevine, so I wanted to call you. I’m sorry, but Tom Clarence was killed last night.”

What? The news sent a wave of shock through Dallas. He didn’t remember sitting down on the edge of his bed, but he found himself there. “Killed?”

“He and I went into the house. The smoke was bad, and somehow, we got separated. I found the victim, but Tom hadn’t made it out yet, and when I went back in to look for him, I found him. He was unconscious. We don’t know all the details, yet, but he didn’t make it out alive.”

Dallas shook his head. This couldn’t be true. Dallas had known Tom since they had started work at the fire station together nearly eleven years ago. Tom was one of the best firefighters Juniper Springs had to offer; he knew what he was doing and wouldn’t just die in a fire like this! Dallas set his coffee mug down on the nightstand and massaged the bridge of his nose. “Wow.”

“I know, man. I’m shocked too. I’m sorry I had to break the news to you like this, but I didn’t want you to hear about it some other way. I’m really sorry. I know you guys were friends.”

Friends, former coworkers, you name it. Dallas gripped the phone as if it were somehow Miles’s fault. “You said he was unconscious in the fire? Did he get burned or something?”

Miles sighed. “No, man. I think his SCBA might have malfunctioned.”

Dallas had to be dreaming. It had to be one of those déjà vu nightmares that came around every so often with different faces. This had to be a nightmare, and he’d wake up any minute. He stopped rubbing the bridge of his nose and thought about what Miles had just said. Breathing apparatus malfunction. “You’re kidding.” His voice was stone cold.

“Like I said, I don’t have all the details, but that’s what I know right now. I’m sorry, again.”

Dallas let the silence fill the seconds before Miles sighed. “I have to go now. I just wanted to let you know.”

“Thank you.” It was all Dallas could manage. “And I’m sorry, too, Miles. I know it’s hard to lose a friend to a fire.”

“Thank you.” With that, he hung up.

Dallas brought the phone down between his knees and just stared at the screen. His mind reeled. Wasn’t it enough that his old friend was no longer with him? That was painful enough. But the reason he was no longer with him?

SCBA malfunction? Dallas had heard it all before. He tightened a fist with anger, letting his phone drop to the carpet between his feet. This wasn’t just bad; this was all too familiar. It gave him a sickening, familiar feeling, and he hated that. It hit way too close to home.

He had to see for himself. Not that showing up at the scene of the fire would solve anything, but he couldn’t just stay away. He grabbed his keys from their place on his nightstand, picked up his phone, and headed out the door.

The whole atmosphere at the scene of the fire had a different feel to it. To stay out of the way, Dallas parked up the road, then walked toward the crew. The house was desolated, a pile of smoking charcoal where someone’s home had once stood. It wasn’t one of his properties, but he felt the loss as if it were his own home.

The fire chief, Will Stanley, stood talking with a huddled group of people. Some were firefighters with faces that showed distress and heartbreak. Near the group, Dallas spotted Ryan Blair, the owner of the Juniper Springs Times newspaper. Dallas wondered what sort of information Ryan was gathering and if he knew more than Dallas did at this moment. He glanced over, seeing Miles sitting on the sidewalk with two officers nearby, taking statements. Firetrucks and police cars still lined the sidewalk, but the grim feeling that hung over everyone was hard to escape.

Dallas stood in front of the burning pile of rubble. This. This was the house that had killed his friend. Tom had given his life in a search and rescue mission and had never made it out. Dallas always knew there was a possibility. Dangerous jobs always came with the risk that every call could be your last, but deep down, he had never expected it for Tom. He was just too good at what he did. He had a wife who should have been able to retire with him into their later years. He should have gotten to see his kids have grandkids. And all of that had just… ended.

He felt someone come over to talk to him and sent a glance in their direction. It was Aaron O’Connell, the fire inspector, with a metal clipboard in his hand. His face matched the solemn faces of everyone present, and his eyes were heavy with the burden of having lost someone at the scene. He approached Dallas, his voice lowered in compassion. “Hey, Griffin.”

Dallas reached and shook his hand in greeting. Aaron’s handshake lacked the usual spark of life it usually had. Dallas had crossed paths with the inspector on many occasions in the real estate industry and had shared many a concern over the past few years. “O’Connell.”

Aaron turned, following Dallas’s gaze toward the scorched house. He sighed and shook his head. “I hate these kinds of calls,” he said.

Dallas nodded his agreement. “So do I.” He sighed. “So, what happened?”

Aaron glanced down at his notes. “I need to investigate a little more, but it looks like the fire started from some faulty wires near the back of the house. The house is completely destroyed. That’s hard enough, but losing a firefighter on top of it all is terrible.” He lowered his tone, then lifted a heavy gaze toward the house. “I just hate this, you know? People’s lives destroyed because of something as stupid as faulty wiring.”

Dallas did too. “This right here is the reason I left the fire department.” And what’s worse? He still couldn’t get away from it.

The first week and a half without Bella at the flower shop had been a mixture of emotions for Claire. She would never forget that moment when Bella handed over the keys, a forlorn smile on her lips, and said, “The shop is yours now.” The older woman had stuck around long enough to show Claire some of the ropes, but as she went along, Bella assured her that she didn’t need her help anymore because she was doing beautifully. And just like that, Bella’s retirement began the same day that Claire’s official career did.

Claire placed the ladder against the back wall that faced the shop and glanced over her shoulder for a moment. The shop looked better in her opinion, having moved the display shelves a little closer to the walls to make a clear view of the door. She could see people walking by her shop outside and took note of whomever came into her shop. Now the fun part: redecorating.

“Why sunsets?” Eva asked as she held the ladder. Claire reached the top, leaning to pound a nail into the wall. “We’re a flower shop.”

“And people will see flowers when they come in.” Claire smiled, focusing the tip of the hammer onto the nail head. “What you don’t see in every flower shop are in-person photos of sunsets. Here.” She handed the hammer down to Eva’s waiting hands. Eva took it, then handed Claire a small 4x6 picture of a sunset. The picture was one of Claire’s favorites, taken one night after a storm. The rays of sunlight were poking above the giant cloud that cluttered the western sky, and the edges of that cloud were inflamed by a golden ray of sunlight. Claire chose to hang that one in the middle. She straightened it, tilting her head to make sure the picture looked straight.

The phone started to ring. “I’ve got it,” Jody said, then answered. “Bella’s Blooms, this is Jody. How may I help you?”

Claire focused on stepping safely down the ladder, strategically placing her feet on the rungs so she wouldn’t slip. “I think we have time for a few more.” She could tell by Eva’s face that she would rather be working on some flower designs, but they had enough in the cooler to satisfy any walk-in customers.

“No, she’s not,” Jody replied into the phone, “but the new owner is here. Would you like to talk to her?”

Claire paused, listening to Jody’s conversation. After a while, Jody nodded and approached her. “Let me put her on for you.”

Jody hit the mute button and handed the phone to Claire. “She said she wants to talk to the owner.”

“Thank you, Jody,” Claire answered, pressing the phone to her ear. “Bella’s Blooms, this is Claire.”

“Hi, are you the owner?” A distraught voice sounded on the other end. Claire felt anxiety prickle as she listened. Was something wrong with an order? Did she miss something, and it fell through the cracks?

“Yes, ma’am. I am.”

“I wanted to talk to someone who could do a spray for the husband of my best friend. Money is no object. I want something elaborate. He was a good man, and he deserves the best.”

“Well, you’ve called the right place.” Claire snuck around to a desk behind the flower cooler where they kept the baskets and balloons and plopped down. She picked up a pen and scooted an order pad to where she sat. “We only design the best for our customers. Why don’t you tell me a little bit about the spray you’re looking for? Is it going to be fresh or silk?”

“Fresh. And it’s for a firefighter. Do you know Tom Clarence?”

Claire couldn’t say the name rang a bell, so she shook her head. “No, ma’am. I’m sorry.”

“You must be new in town.” The woman sighed. Claire wasn’t sure if she should be offended or wonder if she’d missed out on something while she was gone. “Tom was the best firefighter in Juniper Springs. He was killed at the scene of a fire a couple of days ago.”

Claire held her breath. There were few things worse than someone being killed while trying to protect another person. “I’m so sorry for your loss, ma’am.”

“Tom was a guy who loved life. Loved his job, loved the community, loved his wife. Can I trust you to make the casket spray something that will honor that?”

Again, Claire bristled, but she softened herself with compassion. She was talking to a grieving person, and sometimes they could seem a little rough around the edges. Of course, they only wanted the best for their deceased loved ones. Besides, after hearing who it was, Claire connected with the story instantly and adopted it as her own. “Yes, you can. I will give it the very best we have to offer. What were his favorite colors? Favorite things in life?”

“Please stay away from orange and yellow.”

The colors of fire. Right. Claire scribbled that down. “Absolutely.” However, that left her limited options. “Does he have anything you would like to put in the spray? Maybe an award or something?”

“I think the wife wanted his helmet to go in the center. Is that something you can do?”

The line in her ear beeped, signaling that another call was coming in. She pulled the receiver away from her mouth. “Jenna, can you pick up on line two, please?”

After a good ten minutes on the phone and a few more calls coming in, Claire hung up the phone. She decided on a red and white theme for such a wonderful man. She gathered her notes, stood, and headed toward the cooler door, only stopping to see two people at the front counter. In the ten minutes she’d been on the phone, the flower shop had gotten busy.

Eva rushed up to her with an order pad. “Claire! This lady on line two wants a spray, but she doesn’t know the color scheme and wants to match it. She’s yelling at me for not knowing.”

Claire wasn’t too keen on having her employees yelled at, so she extended her hand to the phone. “Here, I’ll talk to her.”

“Claire?”

Claire was just about to pick up the line when the phone rang again, and Jenna called her name. “Yes?”

“We just ran out of peace lilies. Do you think we can get more before Saturday?”

Claire glanced at the calendar. “I’ll hop on the phone with the supplier right after I take this call. Eva, line one please?” She kept her voice calm and looked back to Jenna. “If I can’t, ask if there are any alternatives that they would like to send.”

She answered the second line. “Hello?”

“Finally! I’ve been on hold forever!”

Claire swallowed. “I do apologize for the inconvenience, ma’am. Our front desk is pretty swamped at the moment. How may I help you?”

“I need to order a spray, but I don’t know the colors, and I don’t want to be the odd person out at the service.”

“Of course not.” Claire pinned the phone to her ear and moved her order pad to the next page. “The colors of the casket spray are red and white. We are staying away from orange and yellow. Would you like a spray made out of red and white?”

The next hour felt like ten minutes as Claire balanced her time between answering calls and prepping orders. Her head was spinning, and she hadn’t even had time to look at the online obituary from the funeral home. Whoever this Tom Clarence was, he was well-loved by the community.

As 4:45 rolled around, Claire shot a glance at the clock. It was her first moment without a ringing phone or a customer walking in since that first call, and all they’d had time to do was to put a few bows on some plants. As the staff began to gather their things, Jody approached her. “Well, talk about a trial by fire for your first week by yourself!”

Claire laughed and shook her head. “I thrive on multitasking. Sometimes I feel like I’m better managing a hundred tasks at once than just one.”

Jody studied her, nodding. “Young, ambitious. It’ll catch up to you.”

“Thanks for the reassurance.” Claire playfully rolled her eyes.

Jody laughed, lightly. “Would you like me to stick around and help you get a head start on these orders?”

Claire slipped her hands into her back pockets and looked around the flower shop. She could use the help, but she also preferred to work in peace and quiet, alone with her thoughts. It wasn’t going to be every day that she could work peacefully by herself. “I appreciate it, but you can go ahead and go on home. Get some rest, it’s going to be busy until Saturday. I’ve got this. Shouldn’t take me long to finish up.”

“Are you sure?” The older woman’s eyes shone with a willingness to help. Claire admired that about her. Jody was a gentle spirit, always willing to go out of her way to help and never complaining.

Claire returned her gentleness with a smile. “No, really, I’m good. You go home, Jody. You deserve it after helping me run things around here.”

The door chime alerted her that someone had come through the front door, and Claire shot a glance toward the sound. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw Dallas Griffin walking toward her, his gait slower than it had been when he’d come by to talk to her and Bella. Claire cast a farewell look at Jody. “See you tomorrow.”

“You, too, Claire.” Jody gathered her purse and slipped out the employee’s door in the back.

Claire smiled as she approached the front counter, keeping her voice warm to greet Dallas. “What brings you in today, sir?”

A small smile lifted the corners of his mouth, but it was more like he was acknowledging her rather than matching her tease. “Hey, Claire.”

What was wrong? His voice even sounded heavy, like he was carrying some type of burden. Claire instantly dropped her smile and looked up at him. “Are you okay?”

Dallas sighed. “A good buddy of mine, Tom Clarence, passed away. I was coming by to see if I could order something special for his service this Saturday.”

Claire’s face fell. Tom was a friend of Dallas’s? “Oh, no.” She breathed. “I’m so sorry.” In times like these, Claire wasn’t entirely sure what to say. She wanted to comfort him, but she knew words were often not the most comforting. Sometimes it was better to just listen. So, she tried that approach. “I didn’t know he was your friend.”

Dallas nodded. “He was.”

Claire’s soft response to Dallas’s news prompted him to say something else… he just wasn’t sure what. One look at her and he felt like she was not only sympathizing with him but also feeling his loss right along with him. She had always been good at that. Happy as a lark all the time, until she lowered herself to share someone else’s sorrow. She nodded backward to the mess that scattered the floor of her flower shop. “I was just about to lock up, but I’m staying late to work on some orders and get a head start on sprays. I have a coffee machine over there. Do you want to stay and talk for a few minutes?”

Her invitation warmed him. She wasn’t in a hurry to get rid of him so she could go home. Her friendly gesture looked more than inviting as it wasn’t just Tom’s death that had Dallas’s mind so occupied. He couldn’t really share this with anyone else, so maybe staying and talking with an old friend would do him some good. He offered her a small smile. “If I’m not going to be in your way?”

Claire shook her head. “Let me just lock up, and I’ll be right back.”

Dallas watched Claire bring an arrangement to life from his place on the stool. He sat near what Claire called the “lunch counter,” his arm propped up on the hard surface. Claire seated herself in front of a pop-up table where she had laid out a colorful blend of reds, whites, and greenery. Her long fingers worked to poke the stems of greenery into the oasis foam that held the casket spray together, and she glanced up at him every so often to acknowledge she was listening.

Dallas couldn’t help but notice how she used her left hand mostly to guide the greenery into the foam she was working with or to adjust something. He also couldn’t help but notice how empty that left hand was, and he chided himself for even noticing. So what that she didn’t have a ring on her finger? What should that matter to him?

Pushing these strangely random thoughts aside, Dallas watched her work, finding himself telling her the whole story.

“I knew Clarence back from my days as a firefighter. We were all on the same shift together.”

“So, you did become a firefighter?” Claire sounded hesitant to ask her question.

Dallas nodded. “I did. For a good four and a half years, I did. Then something happened, and I left.”

“Mm.” Claire nodded, her eyes focused on placing a stem of leather leaf into the side of the arrangement saddle, giving it a more spaced-out look. She didn’t press, and he didn’t offer. “Tom seemed like a very well-liked guy. The phone’s been ringing off the hook for him, and I know I’ll have messages in the morning. I sent the girls home early today because tomorrow is going to be nothing but funeral arrangements. I haven’t seen a flower shop this busy when it’s not Valentine’s or Mother’s Day.”

Dallas glanced around at the plants and buckets of flowers that were placed all over the floor. It made him happy to think that all these people were coming together to honor Tom’s memory the way he deserved. “Tom was a good guy. Saved a lot of lives.” Dallas found a pen with the name of the shop engraved on the side. He picked it up and idly started playing with it while he spoke. “Something’s just not right.”

Claire finished with one stem of greenery and looked up with a frown. “What do you mean?”

“Something is off.” Dallas focused his attention on the pen, not wanting her to see the doubts that had plagued him since he got the news.

Claire stopped designing for a moment and shifted forward on her stool. “What makes you say that?”

She wouldn’t know. She would have no idea that the reason for his leaving the firefighter world was for something too similar to this. He sighed, flipping the pen back up onto the counter. “Claire... my brother died the same way Tom did.”

Claire’s lips formed into an “o” shape, and her blue eyes rounded in shock. “Oh, Dallas, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

She didn’t know. And that’s why he felt free to tell her. He lifted a heavy gaze off the counter and looked out over the flower shop. “I became a firefighter when I was twenty. My little brother, Collin, followed in my footsteps. Always wanted to be like his big brother, you know?” Dallas breathed a sad laugh and looked back at her. Her eyes welled with compassion. “He also died at the scene of a fire. SCBA malfunction, they said.”

She lowered an eyebrow. “SCBA?”

“Self-Contained Breathing Apparatus. The mask we—” He caught himself. “The oxygen mask firefighters wear into a fire. They said Collin’s malfunctioned.”

“Just like Tom?” Her voice was low, soothing him somehow.

“Just like Tom.”

Claire lowered her gaze, looking around her workstation as if the answers were somehow found between the leaves of the greenery or the stems of her flowers. “Goodness. Someone really needs to look into that breathing gear.”

That was it. Everyone blamed the breathing gear. Just like they would blame the SCBA for Tom’s death. Dallas felt a spark of anger ignite and shook his head with force. “I don’t think it’s the problem with the gear, Claire.”

“Surely, you don’t think that someone tampered with it, do you?” The horrified look on her face indicated that the idea was unthinkable to her. That no one would ever do something like that to hurt another human being. It wasn’t innocence; it was more like her kind heart couldn’t bear to consider the idea that someone could be so cruel to another person. “This was an accident, right?”

He wished he had her confidence. “I’m not so sure,” Dallas replied.

Claire spent another moment or two thinking about what he had confided in her. Then, as if realizing that she wasn’t getting any work done, she picked up a fireman’s hat. Dallas stared at it, realizing what he was seeing. Tom’s helmet. The one he wore into countless fires, relying on it to protect his head. Someone must have dropped it off for Claire to utilize for the casket spray. They had done the same thing for Collin… made beautiful arrangements for him, grieved for him, had a nice little graveside service for him… and that was it. That’s all that ever happened. The town moved on after his death, and the possibility of foul play leaked away over time. Well, with everyone else in Juniper Springs perhaps.

But not Dallas.

“My brother’s death never sat right with me.” He spoke again, studying the careful way Claire attached the helmet to the center of the spray. “That’s part of the reason I left the station. The whole thing just seemed off. And now the exact same thing happened, some five years later?” No, he didn’t believe that one bit, and he shook his head to prove it. “I can’t help but think it wasn’t an accident on both accounts.”

“So, what are you going to do?” Claire may have been focused on her work, but she was still listening to him.

Dallas sighed. “I don’t know. But I’m determined not to just let this one slide. Somebody has to think the same way I do, right?”

Sure, they did. After Dallas had confided in her, Claire tucked his secret away in her heart to treat it with kindness now that she knew the softer side of Dallas that his handsome, strong exterior would never show to others. Her heart broke for him; she’d had no idea that his brother had died. She’d been away at college and locked everything from her life in Juniper Springs away—not that she and Dallas had ever been more than really good friends who laughed and worked on a play together. Romeo and Juliet on stage didn’t make them Romeo and Juliet in real life, and she had all but forgotten the way he’d made her feel. Now that she was back, she couldn’t help but admire the way he had grown into that strong man she remembered. He had the face of a hero, she admitted to herself. The eyes that were dead set on making things right, the strength that radiated from his expressions… oh, yes, he had the face of a firefighter who could have been just as good as Tom. If not for the one thing that had broken him.

Just like when Claire had first received the call about Tom’s death, she wanted to make the story her own. But this time, it wasn’t about putting together a few flowers to honor someone’s memory at a service, only to have them wilt by the graveside. If she, a florist, was the only one to believe Tom’s theory that none of this was an accident, then she would offer to help if she could.

“I should get out of your hair.” Dallas stretched his long legs out, pushing himself up from the stool. “I’ve taken up too much of your time, and you don’t need to hear my sob stories.”

“No.” The word was out of Claire’s mouth before she could stop it. She rose to her feet and faced him directly. “You’re not bothering me in the least. I was happy to hear your story. Well…” She shrugged one palm by her side. “You know, not happy, but…”

“I know.” Dallas fixed his gaze on her and exhaled long through his nose. “Thank you, Claire. It means a lot that you were willing to listen.”

She nodded. “That’s what I’m here for. If there’s anything I can do to help?” No, she wasn’t going to offer. She was going to tell him what she was going to do. She closed her eyes for a few seconds. “You know, being a florist gives me advantages.”

“Hmm?” He tilted his head a bit, trying to figure out what she was saying.

“I may be new here, but my employees aren’t. Bella always told me that a flower shop is the go-to place for gossip. Maybe I can, you know, casually ask around about Tom… see if anything sounds amiss, you know?” She shrugged. “If I hear anything, I’ll pass along the information to you.”

He let a small laugh escape. “Well, don’t go out of your way, Claire.”

“I’ll be standing right here.” Claire pointed down at the spot where she was standing and brought laughter back to the conversation.

Dallas managed a laugh, and Claire felt good about bringing it out of him. He glanced around the flower shop, noting the work she’d already done. “I like what you’ve done with it so far.”

“Why, thank you.” Claire was pleased with it herself.

Dallas looked up at the wall near the designing area and studied the twenty-plus pictures of sunsets that lined the wall. “Where did you get all the sunset pictures?”

He turned to face the wall, examining each one, and Claire came up beside him. “I took them.”

“All of them?”

Claire reached out and straightened one frame that hung crooked. “I chose a college in Texas, you know, flat plains Texas. They allowed me a beautiful view of the sunset every day. So, every day, I would go out and take a picture of the sunset. It became my little tradition to keep my life beautiful and simple. I never missed a day.” It was her favorite part of the day, she admitted quietly. She loved nothing more than to race outside with her camera or her cell phone and snap a picture of the sunset. She had even hung her pictures according to the date last taken, and had made a full circle of the sun cycles as the seasons changed, the sun setting in a different spot from summer to winter. It was the most peaceful time of her day as she sat outside, listening to the ground-dwelling birds and letting the world hum to quiet her.

“Do you still do it?” Dallas’s voice brought her out of her memory.

She had no right to be sad. She was living her dream—getting paid to design beautiful things—but she did miss her sunsets. They were always different, one vibrant color one night, a simple orange hue the next. Trees and flowers were all the same after a while. “No.” A bit of melancholy leaked into her voice. “Since I moved back to Juniper Springs, I can’t see the sunsets anymore. Too many trees. And I live in town where there are too many buildings.” Another thing she hated. She would rather wake up to the song of birds or the sound of a river than the honking of horns or teenagers blasting their radios at two in the morning. Maybe one day when her flower shop did well enough, she could move to a mountain home or something… “Oh well. At least I’m surrounded by beautiful mountains, and I work with flowers, right?”

Dallas studied her, and she’d give anything to know what he was thinking. Still, he nodded after a while, and the thoughtfulness in his gaze had all but disappeared. “Right. Juniper Springs is a beautiful place to live. We’re happy to have you come back to us.”

And I am happy to be here, Claire thought. Sunsets or not, she was still a part of a small-town community that embraced the beauty of nature and seemed to care about one another. Nothing could compare with that.

As Claire scurried from one end of the shop to the other, she thought about how she preferred the quiet after-hours instead. She and her staff worked tirelessly to put together arrangements for Tom’s service, the constant noise creating a buzz in her head that made it difficult to concentrate. This is what she thrived on, she reminded herself. The busy days that seemed to have no end in sight nor perfect solutions for everyone, but they always worked things out somehow. Claire liked that.

As Friday afternoon peaked, Claire had to stagger each employee’s lunch to keep two people on the phones at all times. She put Eva in charge of all the funeral plants while she and the others worked on the flower arrangements and sprays for the service. As Jenna hung up the phone with yet another customer, Claire asked, “Another arrangement for Tom’s service?”

“A plant, actually. An ivy.” Jenna looked up front by the window where all the plants were kept. “I’m afraid we’re going to run out of plants before this service is over.”

“We’ll be just fine,” Claire assured her, a spring in her step. She worked on plucking flowers from a bucket and sinking them into the oasis that formed a wreath, leaving a space in the middle where Tom’s picture would go in Dallas’s arrangement. For some reason, Claire found herself treating that one with almost more care than any of the others. She wanted it to be extra special. Maybe it was because Dallas had such high respect for his friend that she wanted his arrangement to reflect that. Or maybe it was just one of her favorites because it showcased who Tom was. “So, did everyone in town love this guy, or what?”

“Oh, yes.” Jody picked a few roses out of her pile to arrange into a vase. “Everyone knew Tom and liked him. He was a great firefighter.”

“He also was just an all-in-all good person.” Jenna set down her order pad. “My daughter works at the café, and she says that he was always just so pleasant—so kind to the waitresses and anyone who approached him. He was just a super guy.”

“We’re all going to miss him.” Eva returned from lunch and picked up a ribbon to put a bow on a plant. The girl was punctual and cheery, which Claire admired. “I didn’t know him, but I knew of him. He helped a friend of mine when she got into an accident one time.” A look of remembrance passed through her eyes. “It was a bad wreck. Someone pulled out in front of her on that curvy back road that leads out of town, and she wound up rolling or something?”

Claire sucked in a breath through her teeth. “Oh, goodness!”

“Yeah, it was bad. Tom got her out, though.” Eva’s voice dropped into a monotone as if she were mourning the loss of her own hero. “Saved her life. We’re going to miss him around here. He wasn’t afraid to do the scary stuff, ya know?”

“That’s right.” Jenna pulled the door to the flower cooler open, and a wave of cold air hit Claire from her position at the table. She sat there, judging her next question carefully. “Sounds like everyone has a story of how great Tom was. Did anyone around town—I don’t know...” She shrugged, smiling innocently. “Dislike him?” She added a laugh to make it sound less obvious that she was probing.

Eva shrugged, her fingers already stretched out like a pianist’s as she formed the loops on her bow. Jody’s eyes were set on the roses she was arranging, but she answered anyway. “Well, there was this one guy. Phillip Duffey.”

Phillip Duffey? Even the name sounded like someone who would be a troublemaker. Claire tilted her head, settling the picture of Tom into the center of the wreath. “What’s the story there?”

By now, Jenna returned from the cooler, a bundle of carnations in her hand. “Oh, Phil? The creep?”

Jody nodded. “I guess Tom’s wife, Becca, used to be Phillip’s girlfriend or something back in high school. Shortly after they graduated, Phillip and Becca broke up, and then Becca got together with Tom. There hadn’t been an affair or anything, but Phillip never believed it for a second.”

“The guy had some real narcissistic tendencies from what I hear.” Jenna checked her order form again. “So naturally, her showing any attention to another guy made him super jealous. You know the type?”

Well, not personally, but Claire had heard of them. She nodded. “That’s crazy. If I were her, I definitely would have run the other way too.”

“It’s a good thing she did.” Jody finished with her arrangement and sat back to examine it. “I guess she works at the Juniper Springs clinic as a receptionist or something. So, she’s had a good life. Happily married.” She sighed with sorrow that Becca no longer had her good husband around.

Claire nodded. “Mm. And this Phil guy? Is he still around?”

“Oh yes.” Jenna rolled her eyes. “I’m sure you’ll see him by and by. He works for the gas company.”

Interesting. The gas company? Claire quietly pondered whether or not the fire that had taken Tom’s life was an accident or not. She hadn’t heard the report yet. And this guy? A possible rival for Tom? She decided to ask Dallas about it as soon as she could.

Jody changed the subject, which was fine. Claire didn’t have any more questions. Jody took her arrangement up in her hands. “Eva, are you ready to run another load to the funeral home?”

“Oh, yes! Let me just finish this one really quick.” Eva sprayed a little too much Green Glow—the spray that made the plants seem to shimmer—and the strong scent wafted over to Claire’s side of the table. She coughed, waving her hand around. “Don’t get that in my coffee!”

“Do you know how much Green Glow I’ve drank over the years?” Jenna laughed. “I’ve probably ingested more of that stuff than the plants have.”

Claire shared in the laughter with her employees. She let her mind be occupied with what she had learned and made herself a mental note to not forget the name. Phillip Duffey. And sweet Becca, to whom so many of these sympathy notes were addressed.

Dallas was grateful for the sunshine on Saturday, although the happy sunlight didn’t seem to fit the mood very well. The service at the funeral home for Tom had been a lengthy one, and practically every inch of the place had been filled with plants and flowers. Dallas could not be more pleased with the arrangement Claire had made for him: a red and white wreath with a picture of Tom in his uniform nestled into the center. Dallas had joined the funeral procession to the cemetery, noting that they didn’t have to worry about too much traffic. Everyone seemed to be at the funeral. Oh, how Tom was loved!

Tom’s wife, Becca, and her sons gathered under the canopy. She looked like she’d been crying for days as she held a tissue to her eyes. Her two sons looked forward with blank stares as if they hadn’t fully grasped the fact that their father was gone. Dallas understood. It hadn’t quite hit home with him either. Any day he drove past the fire station, he felt like he could pull in, walk into the bay, and strike up a conversation with Tom. After seeing him lying in the casket, reality struck his heart.

Dallas glanced around at the people filling the cemetery and cramming into a huddle so they all could hear the officiant’s final comforting words. At the edge of the crowd, Dallas caught sight of Claire. She and one of her employees had helped transfer the dozens of flowers and arrangements to the graveside service. She had respectfully chosen to dress in all black out of respect for the mourners even though she didn’t know Tom from anyone else, and that struck Dallas as deeply thoughtful.

“Let us pray.” The officiant lowered his head. Every head bowed, taking part in the prayer for comfort and strength for the family and gratefulness for Tom and his life. Dallas could barely hear from his position way in the back, but he added a small prayer of thanks for the difference Tom had made in each life in the community.

“That concludes our service.” With the final announcement of the officiant, the crowd began to dissipate.

Dallas waited in the line of mourners for what seemed like forever to get to Becca; when he finally stepped under the canopy, he gazed at her with compassion. “I’m so sorry, Becca.”

Becca’s face crumpled into tears, and she threw her arms around him. Dallas held her for a few moments, letting her cry, and felt her warm tears soak through his black dress shirt. The burden of grief was heavy, but Dallas was willing to shoulder it for her in that moment. He didn’t pull away until Becca did and set a hand on her shoulder. “Listen. If you need anything, reach out to me. Okay?”

Becca sniffed and nodded. Dallas moved on to shake the hands of her two sons. Just eight and ten, they were too young to lose a father, and Dallas couldn’t help but feel the weight of the years ahead that Becca would face raising her two sons. “Johnny, hang in there, man. Sean, be strong, okay?”

He knew there were still people behind him who wanted to offer their condolences, so he turned, casting one final look at the grave. All he could think of was having seen him lying so peacefully in the casket, one would never know that he had come to such a seemingly violent end. His body had showed no signs of what had happened; he had just looked like he was peacefully asleep.

“Farewell, buddy,” Dallas whispered before stepping out from underneath the canopy. The crowd around him drifted aimlessly, but he glanced up in time to see Claire quietly waiting at the edge of the crowd. When she saw him leave the canopy, she stared toward him, her face as grave as the gravestones that surrounded them. Dallas walked toward her. “Hey,” she murmured softly to him.

“Hey.” He returned her greeting.

Claire glanced back at the grave, then turned to face him. “This must be so hard. Seeing your friend like that. I know I can’t say anything that will make you feel better, but I’m sorry anyway. My heart’s breaking with yours.”

She had such a tender heart. He offered her a smile of gratitude for her kindness. “Thank you, Claire.” He sniffed and glanced around. Even though he knew why she was there, he wanted to strike up a conversation with her, so he asked, “What brings you here?”

“I had to help move the flowers here for the service.” Claire glanced around at the garden that surrounded Tom’s burial site. “Still have to make some plants and get them to family members. One of my employees has a friend who Tom saved from a car wreck.” She nodded her head at the blond youth, the only girl in blue jeans and a dark blue T-shirt who stood at the edge of the crowd looking as forlorn as the event called for. “She wanted to stay a while.”

“You did an incredible job.” Dallas nodded to the sprays of flowers that lined the grave.

She offered a small smile that showed she took pride in her work. “Thank you.”

There wasn’t a single person that Tom hadn’t touched in some way, Dallas realized. Not in Juniper Springs and probably outside of it too. One of the last victims he’d rescued from the fire, Lily Carlson, lay in the nearby county hospital, trapped in a coma. “His legacy is gonna be hard for anyone to live up to.”

Claire felt tired from the countless hours of putting together the flowers for the service, but she tried not to let it show. She studied him, turning her head to the side. “You look tired.”

Dallas shook his head. “Not so much tired. More like deep in thought.”

“I can imagine.” Claire looked like she wanted to say something but was holding back. She chanced a look up at him. “I know you’ve probably got a lot going on, but if you want some company,” she shrugged her palms down by her sides, “I’ve got some stuff to finish up, and then I’m off the rest of the night.”

Asking him if he wanted some company… so sweetly, like a friend asking to be there for a friend. Dallas was surprised by how quickly he wanted to accept her offer. For a man who knew practically everyone in town, he couldn’t boast of many friends. Tom had been one, certainly, but now he was gone. And Dallas couldn’t talk to Miles about any of this. Miles looked simply miserable; he hadn’t said a word, and his face hadn’t changed from that hardened mask of grief since the funeral started. If Dallas were honest with himself, spending some time with Claire sounded good. Her tender heart had brought him out of his melancholy last time, and he was sure she could do it again. Not to mention, he wouldn’t have much of a chance to see her now that the funeral was over. He had no reason to stop by the flower shop unless it was to order flowers for another service, and he hoped he’d not have to do that again for a long time. “Some company sounds nice.”

She smiled up at him. “Okay.”

“There’s a cafe on the street corner behind your shop,” he said. “Do you want to meet up there?”

“Sure.” She nodded. “I’ll text you when I’m done here.”

Despite the grief that still lingered in the air, Dallas could feel his spirits lift as he sat across the table from Claire. She looked more relaxed than he’d seen since she’d come back to Juniper Springs, and she was probably settling into her weekend off.

“So, how has life been treating you since you went away?” Dallas snatched up the cup of coffee he’d ordered. “I’ve already taken up too much time talking about me. It’s time to talk about you.”

Claire let a gentle laugh loose and glanced down at the herbal tea steaming in her cup. “You know I don’t mind talking about you.” She made that clear before she went on. “I’ve been good. I went to school in Texas, which wasn’t so bad. My parents took the opportunity to immediately set off to Florida.”

“Did you always know you want to come back?” he asked.

“I kept going back and forth. I had some opportunities down there, but… Juniper was always going to be home for me. It is home. So I polished my designing skills and learned a few odds and ends about business, with the idea that some day, I’d make my way back.”

“A few odds and ends.” Dallas chuckled. “I’d say you run your business better than I run mine.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” She aimed him a teasing glance. “It seems like you’re quite the pillar in the community.”

“I know a few people.” Dallas sat back, letting a smile light his face. “Maybe own a few properties around town.”

Claire snorted a laugh. “Own a few properties? How about the whole town of Juniper Springs?”

“Not the whole town!” Dallas chuckled. “Maybe, er, half.” He half closed one eye as if agreeing with himself. “One quarter. No, half.”

Claire didn’t hold back her laughter. “Well, however much it is, I see the name ‘Dallas Griffin’ on more real estate signs than I do anyone else’s. You must really enjoy what you do.”

Hearing her say his full name gave him a thrill of excitement. Dallas wasn’t sure why, but it sounded sweet to him. “And you seem to enjoy your new role.”

“I do.” Claire nodded. “Even when it’s hectic and chaotic, those are the days that I love. I hate being bored. You know? Those slow Wednesdays when the phone isn’t ringing and no one is coming in and you’re thinking of all the stuff you could be doing at home, but you’re not because your sign says you’re open until five. Ugh! That’s the worst!”

Dallas laughed. “I remember those days from the fire station. Luckily, I don’t have them anymore. I have a home office.”

“Lucky.” Claire sent a semi-teasing glare in his direction.

“So, you made it through college and then what?” Dallas sipped his coffee and stared at her over the rim of his mug.

“I worked for a while at a local flower shop, but it wasn’t great.” Claire sat back in her seat. “It didn’t have that tight-knit closeness that small-town flower shops do. And the drama!” She rolled her eyes. “We were there to work—to make people’s orders—and there was so much drama! It was a staff of five women besides me, and there was always something going on.”

“I believe it.” Dallas laughed. “Some people never seem to realize that they graduated high school.”

“And that life isn’t one big high school auditorium,” Claire added, gesturing to him in acknowledgment. “That’s so true.”

They shared a few seconds of laughter before she went on. “And then I decided I wanted to own my own business. I do better owning something than working for someone else. When I heard that Bella was thinking of selling, I couldn’t resist snatching up the shop that I worked in as a teenager. So, I sent that Letter of Intent, made the phone call and, well, here I am.”

“You always did have a good head on your shoulders,” Dallas mentioned. “I remember that about you. You went for that part of Juliet with everything you had, and none of the other girls stood a chance.”

Claire blushed a bit. “Ah, well, I was just being myself.”

“So,” Dallas took another sip of his coffee. “You’ve got this great business mindset. I can tell you don’t take nonsense from anyone or take no for an answer. If you don’t mind me asking, why flower design? Why some small shop in an unheard-of town when you could be off in New York or California making the big bucks in some fancy skyscraper shop?”

“Because that job is boring!” Claire raised her hands in defeat. “Who wants to go to the same office every single day, do the same thing, and never have any variety?” She shot a glance out the window as if pondering a distant dream. “I love designing flowers. Because for the most part, when you deliver a flower arrangement to someone, you’re delivering a smile. Flowers make people’s day, and I love making people happy.”

Dallas watched her. Having a job where you get paid to make people happy… it fit Claire so well. That light in her eyes told him that she had a love for people that seemed very rare nowadays. This was the perfect job for her.

Claire planned to wait for the right moment to bring up what she had learned about Phillip and Becca. She didn’t want to change the subject, so the mention of the flower shop seemed the perfect time to mention it. She sat back, adjusting her tone to something gentler, not wanting to reopen any wounds he may have covered during the past half hour.

“So, while we were working on the funeral flowers, I learned something interesting. Kind of along the lines of what we were talking about the night you kept me company at the shop.”

“You didn’t tell me you were a detective.” Dallas aimed her a smile that told her he was okay with the turn in the conversation, then took a sip of his coffee.

Claire shrugged. “Well, it’s kind of a secret. Too bad I don’t get paid for it.” She laughed, then grew serious again. “Do you know anybody named Phillip Duffey?”

She could read his eyes; he was trying to think if he knew the name. “Rings a bell, but I can’t place it.”

Claire leaned forward and lowered her voice. For all she knew, Phillip Duffey could be nearby; neither of them knew what he looked like. “I guess this guy, Phil, dated Tom’s wife, Becca, at one point. The guy was a narcissist, from what I understand, and Becca broke up with him. Shortly after, she started dating Tom and, well, you know the rest of the story. I guess Phil got really jealous. He accused her of cheating on him and everything. Do you think that could mean something? Do you know anything about that?”

Dallas tilted his head thoughtfully. Claire noticed how handsome he was when he was thinking hard… how his eyes seemed to narrow on a solution only he could see. After a while, Dallas shook his head. “Not really. Tom and I were good friends, but I didn’t see much of Becca or know much about her. We weren’t the kind of friends to spend time at each other’s houses, you know? I never knew her story about breaking up with someone before she and Tom got together. I just knew that Tom came to me one day, announcing that he’d found the woman he couldn’t live without, and that was that. They were married shortly thereafter.”

The words struck Claire as romantic. The thought of someone thinking of her with that exclusive type of love—claiming that they couldn’t imagine living life without her—reminded her of why she hadn’t dated too many men. She wanted something just as deep as what Tom and Becca seemed to have had. She hadn’t met anyone she couldn’t live without, so she pushed the thoughts aside and kept her gaze on Dallas.

He didn’t seem to notice how she hesitated, thinking too deeply into his words. “It is a little odd though. I wonder if Phillip’s been bothering her lately. Surely, he would have let it go by now?”

“There’s another thing.” Claire leaned forward even more, feeling her hair tickle the edges of her face but paying no attention to it. “Phillip works for the gas company.”

Dallas raised an eyebrow. “He does?”

“Yep. Do we know how the fire started?”

Dallas nodded. “Last time I spoke with the fire inspector was at the scene, the morning after the fire. He mentioned something about faulty wires. I suppose,” Dallas leaned back, folding his arms over his chest, “that if a spark ignited from faulty wires, if there was some sort of gas leak somewhere, that would explain why the fire burned so well. I’ll have to get in touch with O’Connell or read the papers next week and see what it says.”

The bell above the door to the cafe clanged, and Claire let her gaze drift over. She’d had to listen to the chime at her flower shop for the past two weeks, so her response was automatic. Even when she wasn’t at work, she couldn’t ignore it. A man strode into the cafe and instantly, Claire felt her skin prickle. The man had to weigh no more than 120 pounds, and his baggy clothes were stained with some kind of grease or black residue. It looked like he hadn’t bathed in a month since he had splotches of the same material smeared across his face. His hair shone with oil and dirt, and he walked with a slightly sideways gait. Claire frowned. “It’s sad. Everywhere you go, someone is hurting.”

Dallas glanced over his shoulder, taking in the sight of the man. A frown creased his mouth. “Huh. I’ve never seen him before.”

The man glanced in their direction, and Dallas pretended to be looking at something on the back wall. Claire lowered her gaze, but not before noting the shifty way the man looked about. It seemed like he was agitated or maybe paranoid, thinking that someone in the cafe was going to jump out and attack him. He leaned in close and whispered something to the waitress behind the counter. Something about the man’s presence made Claire uncomfortable.

Dallas turned back and said loud enough for the man to hear. “That picture’s been there since I first started coming here.” He then lowered his voice and shook his head. “Yeah, I don’t recognize him. A drifter, maybe.”

“Do you know everyone in town?” Claire challenged with a small giggle.

Dallas grinned and nodded his head toward the staff. “I know the owner, Paula.”

Claire glanced at the woman standing at the register on the phone. “Of course you do.” She smiled and shook her head.

She watched the front counter from behind the rim of her teacup as the waitress came by after a while, setting down a plate of bacon and hash browns in front of the stranger. He started eating with military speed. Claire tried not to stare and instead, fixed her gaze on Dallas’s handsome eyes. “How are you doing after today?”

Dallas’s gaze softened, and gratefulness filled his expression. “Thank you for asking. And thank you for this.” He tossed a look around the cafe before returning it back to her. “It’s been nice. I’m fine. Tom was a friend, but in time, all will be well. I’m worried about Becca though. He was her whole world.”

Having finished her tea, Claire set her cup at the edge of the table. “I hate that for her.”

After about fifteen minutes, enough time for Dallas to down the rest of his coffee, the stranger with the shifty behavior had polished the plate of food clean. He paid for his meal, then left the cafe as if he didn’t want anyone to notice him. Claire frowned, watching him leave. “He seemed to be in a big hurry.”

Dallas eyed the door over his shoulder. “Did he pay?”

Claire nodded. “I was watching him to make sure he did. Maybe he’s just shy.”

The woman that Dallas pointed out as Paula came over to the table with the tickets in her hand. She put them before Claire and Dallas. “There you are, whenever you’re ready.” She aimed a smile at Dallas. “I should start a punch card tradition just for you. You get coffee here often enough.”

Dallas laughed. “I’m just fine with this. Hey—” he nodded his head after where the drifter exited. “Who was that guy?”

Paula drew in a long breath and shrugged. “I don’t know. No one knows where he came from.” She looked out the window where he had walked by. “He just showed up one day looking ragged like he does. We don’t even know his name, but he comes to the diner twice a week and orders the same thing, eats, then leaves like he’s in a hurry. Always eats just bacon and hash browns. Strange guy.”

Claire and Dallas both nodded in agreement. Claire decided it wasn’t her place to judge, so she refrained from saying anything else.

“He never causes any trouble, does he?” Dallas inquired.

“No, he doesn’t.” Paula smiled. “You really should leave the patrolling to the police, you know.”

Dallas looked down, a guilty chuckle emitting from his lips. “I know. Can’t help it. I just like to keep an eye on things.”

After Dallas and Claire had each paid for their drinks, he held the cafe door for her, letting her step outside before he walked her out to where she’d parked. Claire couldn’t help but notice how the time she’d spent with him had boosted her mood despite the sorrow that had stained the morning. It wasn’t every day she got to meet up with a high school friend and have them cheer her on in her life’s endeavors and to do the same for them. “It was fun catching up with you,” she admitted.

“It was fun to catch up with you too.” Dallas paused by her car.

Claire fumbled with her purse, searching for her keys, and pulled them out. She glanced up at Dallas who had a knowing smile.

“Maybe I’ll stop by the flower shop from time to time,” he remarked, “just to check on things.”

The thought thrilled her, and Claire couldn’t figure out why. Maybe it was just good to see a familiar face and to have them stop by and see her in action. A handsome, familiar face at that. “I’d like that.”

“See you around, Claire.”

She lifted her hand in a wave. “See you, Dallas.”

They exchanged a smile, then she slipped into her car and closed the door behind her.

Dallas drove the familiar winding road back up to his mountain home. The day had been a whirlwind of emotions, from his friend’s funeral to catching up with an old friend. The time with Claire had been incredible, something so enjoyable that he hadn’t been quite ready for it to end. But they were friends, so he could hardly ask her to stay longer. He smiled as he thought back on their conversation. She was still the same, spunky, happy girl that he knew in high school. She had made good on her promise to help him discover some information about Tom.

If Dallas were honest with himself, he would admit that looking into Tom’s death probably wouldn’t do any good. After all, if the police had never found anything about Collin’s death being an accident, and the same thing happened to Tom, then he certainly wouldn’t pick up on anything they missed. But what Claire said about Phillip Duffey and Becca made sense. If Phillip was a raving narcissist who was enraged by the idea of Becca being with someone else, what would stop him from plotting some sort of revenge? Dallas couldn’t point fingers; he wouldn’t accuse someone until he had hard evidence. But he could hardly dismiss the idea either.

Monday morning at the flower shop felt like the days between Christmas and New Year’s. Without the rush of fulfilling dozens of orders for the funeral, the three arrangements they had scheduled for that day seemed quiet and slow-paced. Not that Claire was complaining. She didn’t want to be as busy as last week.

“What do we do with our time?” Jenna stirred a pot of glue they kept for silk flowers on the design table.

“Don’t say that!” Jody held a finger to her lips and laughed. “Remember to never say those words, or it’ll get busy again.”

As if on cue, the phone rang, and the three women burst out laughing. “You see!” Jody gestured to Jenna.

“I’ll get it.” Claire rolled her eyes playfully and answered. “Bella’s Blooms, this is Claire, how may I help you?”

“Hello, Claire,” a smooth, warm voice replied on the other end. “I would like to order some flowers to be delivered to the hospital.”

Claire picked up her pen and set it against her order pad. “We can help you with that. Who are they going to?”

“They’re going to Lily Carlson.” The man rattled off her room number. “She’s still in a coma, I hear, but I’d like to keep flowers by her bedside for when she wakes up. I’d like to order the usual.”

Claire forced a smile. “Unfortunately, I’m still new here, so I’m still learning everyone’s usual orders. What is the usual for Miss Lily?”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” He chuckled. “I thought I didn’t recognize your voice! I usually do a seventy-five-dollar arrangement with stargazer lilies and white roses. Pink and feminine.”

Seventy-five dollars? He spared no expense, did he? “Do you have a card message in mind?”

“Yes. I’ll just do a regular get-well-soon card with the words, ‘Guess Who?’ on it, please. If it can be delivered tomorrow, that would be great.”

“You got it.”

“I have a charge account under Cain Hogan. You can bill my account.”

Claire’s fingers typed over the keyboard and pulled up the account. Sure enough, he did have a charge account, and it looked like he paid his bills regularly. Good. She didn’t want to deal with any late fees during her first month as owner. “You got it. We’ll be sure to make something beautiful for her.”

“Thank you. You always do.”

With that, he hung up. Claire took the order pad in her hands and walked over to her design table. She heard the back door open and glanced at the clock. Eva. Prompt at nine o’clock every single morning.

Instead of her usual slow gait, Eva came bursting into the design area. “Guys, guys, guys! I have the best news ever!” Her voice came out rapid and had a higher pitch than normal.

“What’s the news?” Jody leaned closer to her. Claire glanced over, encouraging her to go on with a smile. Eva’s face was radiant like she had just seen the stars up close.

Her left hand snapped upward, backward, revealing a ring with a tiny, sparkling diamond on her ring finger. “I got engaged yesterday!” She squealed with delight.

At the news, Claire, Jenna, and Jody all flew into celebration. Claire hung back a bit, but Jody and Jenna swarmed Eva, grasping her hand to hold up the ring in the light. “It’s beautiful!” Jenna cried.

“Congratulations!” Jody scooped her into a hug. “Oh, I’m so happy for you!”

“Yes, congratulations, Eva.” Claire moved in and hugged her. Eva’s grip was tight, pushing all the breath from Claire’s lungs, but she didn’t care. “I’m so happy for you.”

“Thank you!” Eva cried in delight and released Claire.

“Is he a good guy, then?” Claire shot her a teasing glance.

“The best! Oh, Miss Bartlett, he’s amazing! His name is Hunter, and he’s just the most gentlemanly, funny, kind guy you will ever meet!”

For some reason, at the terms Eva used for her fiancé, Claire could only think of Dallas. Handsome, funny, kind? Yes, that described him very well. She surprised herself with these thoughts and pushed them aside. “I’m so happy. You deserve someone like that.”

“When is the wedding?” Jody teased.

Eva playfully rolled her eyes and walked up to her space at the design counter. “We haven’t set a date yet, but I want a spring wedding, next year!”

“We can help out with some discounted flowers,” Claire winked at her. “That is… if you still want to stick around and work with us.”

“Of course!” Eva squealed. “Hunter’s not moving out of Juniper Springs as of right now, so I can stay here as long as I need to. We’re going to have the most beautiful wedding. String lights, fairy lights in jars—it’ll be so beautiful!”

Claire worked on putting the arrangement for Lily together while Eva gushed about her wedding. The girl had the dreams of a princess, dreaming about the lights and a fairytale wedding. Claire enjoyed listening to her go on and on about her special day and was delighted at how joyful Eva was about it.

As the laughter died down, Eva slunk over to where Claire was finishing up the stargazer arrangement. The girl wasn’t going to get a single thing done today, but Claire didn’t mind. She deserved to have a day to float around on cloud nine, so long as it didn’t go longer than a day or two. “So, Claire? Do you have a boyfriend, or a husband, or anyone special in your life?”

A smile tugged at the corners of Claire’s mouth. “I don’t.”

Eva blinked and gasped, as if surprised. “You don’t? But you’re so nice! I’m surprised that no one has snatched you up yet!”

“Eva!” Jody chided gently, adding some laughter into her rebuke. “That can be a touchy subject for some women.”

Eva blushed. “Sorry, Claire.”

“No, it’s fine.” Claire winked at Jody, then returned to occasionally glancing at Eva while she worked on placing the bow into the arrangement. “I’m single because I’m waiting for the right one to come along. I haven’t found him yet, so I’m just waiting right now. And I’m happy.”

The sparkle was back in Eva’s eye. She inched forward, gently elbowing Claire. “Well, what is the right one? What’s your dream guy look like?”

Dream guy? Probably someone found only in a romantic novel. Claire let a laugh escape from her lips. “My want list for a husband is pretty high. I have a lot of standards—you’d think I’m crazy.”

“No, I won’t!” Eva chimed in. “Everyone has a dream guy!”

She really wanted to know?

Claire’s dream guy. She sighed in thoughtful contemplation and sat back, her hands falling idle into her lap. “Well…” She reached out, turning the vase to examine the already-perfect arrangement as she thought. “He has to be a gentleman, but not too smothering. He has to be stronger than I am. I’m a strong woman, but I need someone to be strong when I can’t be. Someone who sees the beauty in life, not just living life with no dreams or ambitions.”

“There’s nothing wrong with those standards,” Jody gently offered from her place beside Claire at the square-shaped table. “No one wants to be smothered or with someone who isn’t a strong man.”

Claire giggled, heat rising to her cheeks. There was one more thing “Oh, and someone who loves classical music as much as I do and enjoys the same things I do.”

Jenna tilted her head. “Why classical music?”

“Yeah?” Eva walked back to her place at the table. “My boyfriend—I mean—my fiancé,” she beamed again, “likes rock, and I like pop. That doesn’t hurt our relationship.”

“For me, it’s different with classical music.” Claire stared at the focal lily in her arrangement, not wanting to meet anyone’s gaze. “Classical music is something that I feel deeply in my soul. It doesn’t sing of loves and breakups; it speaks to me about matters too deep to discuss in words.” She sighed. “My brain is very artistic. Perhaps too much for my own good. And that being the case, the person I will call my partner someday has to be at least a little bit understanding of that, or I don’t feel like we would be a good fit for each other.”

She heard the door chime, and for once, she didn’t look over her shoulder. She noticed Jenna glance toward the front. “Hi, welcome in!”

“What, you don’t wanna be with a numbers guy?” Jody teased. “Someone who balances the left-brained with right-brained?”

Claire laughed. “I’m sorry, Jody, but I’d rather have beauty over that. Numbers and clunky steel rob life of its beauty!”

No sooner had the words slipped from her smiling lips than she heard a man’s teasing voice behind her. “I would beg to differ.”

Claire felt her face go hot, and she turned to see who had addressed her. Leaning against her counter was a strikingly handsome man. His icy blue eyes dancing with laughter seemed to pierce her soul. His dark hair and matching beard served to outline his chiseled jaw, and make him that much more attractive. Jody stepped up to the counter, smiling. “This coming from our friend Jacob Adams, only one of the most well-known entrepreneurs known around Juniper Springs.”

Well, this was nice. A numbers guy who built clunky steel had overheard her comment about how those same things sucked the beauty out of life. Claire put up a hand, slightly embarrassed. “I’m sorry; you’ll have to forgive me. I’m more of a lover of nature than of man-made skyscrapers.”

“We each have our passions.” He smiled at her, not seeming to mind. “Are you the new owner?”

Claire nodded. “I am. Claire Bartlett.”

“Jacob Adams. I just came by today to order some flowers to be delivered to my girlfriend.” At the mention of his girlfriend, Claire couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes lit up. “Her name’s Allison Miller; she works at the Hart Law office. Would you be able to put together an order for her and include sunflowers?”

“Sunflowers are perfect for Allison.” Jody took his order down on a notepad. “We can do that. When do you need them delivered?”

“Tomorrow if you can—if that’s possible,” Jacob replied. “Can you do $100 not including delivery?”

Claire nodded. Between Mr. Adams and that Cain fellow from earlier, at least her overhead was paid for the day. “We will be sure to make it lovely.”

Jacob filled out a card message in his own writing while Jody scribbled the recipient’s name and where it was going on an enclosure envelope. Claire let Jody handle the rest as she returned to making Lily Carlson’s arrangement.

“Thank you, ladies. Good to meet you, Claire,” Jacob called when he was finished.

Claire nodded to him. “You too. Thank you for coming in!”

As soon as the door closed behind Jacob and he’d climbed into his Mercedes, Eva burst into a fit of giggles. “I don’t know if all numbers guys steal the beauty out of life.”

“He is good-looking, isn’t he?” Jenna agreed from her corner.

Claire agreed, but she also knew looks weren’t everything. If that were the case, she’d have a boyfriend by now. “He was. Did you see the way his eyes lit up when he mentioned his girlfriend?”

“They’re one of the happiest couples in Juniper Springs!” Jenna filled her in. “Jacob’s sister Kaylee has a true crime podcast, and she came up missing last fall. Allison helped Jacob find her, and I guess the rest is history.”

“Oh, my goodness!” Claire exclaimed, then thought, you really do hear everything in a flower shop, don’t you? “Was she okay?”

“She was fine,” Jenna finished. “And now those two are hopelessly in love.”

“Like me.” Eva’s head sank into her palms again as she glanced at the clock. Another giggle seized her. “Like you will be someday, Claire. But good luck finding that man of yours.” She held up an order pad she kept near her workstation. “Your order for a partner is very specific!”

The four women laughed, but secretly, Claire agreed. Sometimes she was tempted to second guess herself for having such high standards and wondered if she would ever find happiness like Jacob and Allison or Tom and Becca. But she always came back to the same conclusion. Yes, her standards were high, but she would rather be single than with someone who didn’t live up to those standards. She would never be happy with anything less.

For some unknown reason, Dallas’s face flashed across her mind again, and Claire decided to dwell on it for a moment. It wouldn’t hurt to see if any of her standards were visible in him, right? She did know that he’d been a gentleman to her. Walking her to her car, letting her go first into the restaurant without making a show of it. She smiled at the thought. No, Dallas was just a friend. But at least he had one of her high standards… she wondered if he had any others.

Dallas couldn’t get what Claire had said about Becca out of his head. Nor could he get the vision of Becca sitting there in tears at Tom’s funeral out of his head. She had looked to be such a broken woman with two kids at home and no idea what to do next. Sure, the kids could help out, but nothing would be easy in the wake of Tom’s death.

He gave her a day before giving her a call at home on Tuesday morning.

“Hello?” Her voice sounded heavy with sorrow and exhaustion.

“Hi, Becca. It’s Dallas Griffin.” Dallas kept his tone low, filled with the compassion he felt for her. “Listen, I have something for you. Can I meet you somewhere at your convenience?”

“Something for me?” He heard a thousand questions in her tone, and she was probably wondering what it could possibly be. “Sure. Um. I need to head into the clinic today. Can you meet me in the parking lot around one?”

Dallas nodded. “I’ll be there.”

“Great. Thank you.”

He exchanged goodbyes with her, then hung up. For the rest of the day, he busied himself with checking in with his endless emails and threw himself into his work. Just before one o’clock, he took a lunch break and headed over to the clinic. He pulled in right at 1:00 and killed his engine. He stepped out of his vehicle, waiting for her to come out into the parking lot. The sky was no longer overcast, and the sun shone down with summer heat on the asphalt in the parking lot. Dallas looked around, noticing how the lot had been freshly painted a while ago, evidence that the owner, Dr. Lance Blair, was as insistent with the upkeep of the property as he was with the care of his patients.

The door to the clinic opened, reflecting the sunlight, and Becca stepped out, carrying her purse tightly in her hand, nearly squeezing it. Dallas straightened, lifting his hand to wave, and she spotted him. She headed toward him, and he met her by the cars. “Hi, Dallas.” She looked up at him. Her eyes didn’t look as puffy as they had on Saturday, but they were still saturated with the grief of losing her husband.

Dallas softened his gaze. “Hey, Becca. Are you doing okay?”

She came closer, offering to give him a side hug, and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She pulled away after a few seconds, sniffling. “I’m doing what I can from day to day. Dr. Blair has been very generous with the time off he’s giving me. But honestly, I want to come back.”

“Already? But certainly he would give you more time off?

Claire nodded nervously. “I… Yes, he would. But I came here to ask if he’ll let me come back at least a few hours a day. I can’t stay at home. I might need to take more breaks than usual, you know, that sort of thing… but I have to keep working. Keep my mind off of how empty the house feels without Tom, you know?”

Dallas nodded. “I can imagine. Here. I have something for you.”

He reached into his back pocket, withdrawing a small envelope. He handed it to her. “This is for you.”

She looked curious as she tore the envelope open. “Oh,” she said when she saw the gift of some grocery money along with receipts from some bills he had paid for her. “Dallas, thank you.” She looked up, searching his eyes. “I can’t tell you what this means to me.”

“I don’t want you worrying about how you’re going to get by,” he told her kindly. “I hope this helps.”

This time she buried her face in his chest as she embraced him. As she fought back tears, he returned her hug conservatively. When he released her, she pulled out a tissue from her purse and dabbed at her eyes. “I don’t know how to thank you. How can I repay you?”

“By taking care of yourself and the boys,” Dallas informed her. “It’s a gift.” He wouldn’t even miss it, but he saw no need to bring that up.

“You are too kind.” Becca tucked the envelope against her chest before slipping it into her purse. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this.”

“Don’t mention it.” He offered her a sympathetic smile. “How are the boys holding up?”

“Confused.” Becca sighed. “Johnny keeps to his room playing video games, and I don’t have the heart to tell him to stop. I know that’ll come back to bite me someday, but I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it. And Sean?” Sadness came into her eyes again. “Sean is at that stage where it hasn’t fully sunk in yet. On what would have been Tom’s day off…” The thought of what could have been made Becca’s voice shake. “On what would have been his day off, Sean just poked his head into Tom’s man cave and called him. Only then did he realize...” She sighed. “That was a rough day.”

“I can imagine.” Dallas felt the familiar ache in his chest. After Collin had died, he seemed to see his brother everywhere. Sitting in the seat of a firetruck going by, standing among the crowd at the grocery store. It was like he could dial his brother’s number and Collin’s voice would pick up as if nothing had happened. That was the worst part of grieving—the mind games it plays on you.

A car pulled slowly into the parking lot and drove as if it were looking for something. Becca glanced over, and the grief on her face turned fully to a watchful, concerned expression. Dallas picked up on it and followed her gaze. The car parked, and a man got out of it, then cast a long look at Becca and Dallas. Too long. He slowly closed his car door without even looking away and studied them for a few minutes before turning and going inside. Dallas noticed a few recognizable features, the long chain tattoo that spiraled up his arm, the unkempt black hair, the sloppy posture. He didn’t look like a vagabond, but he didn’t look like he was up to any good either. He walked into the clinic with a lazy gait, then the door closed behind him. Becca’s silence had a different feel to it, something more uncomfortable like she didn’t want him to know how the man’s presence made her feel. But he had to find out what was going on. “Who’s this guy?”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s nothing.” Her voice sounded resigned like she was trying to convince herself. “I had this boyfriend back in high school, Phillip.”

That was Phillip? Dallas tried not to react too strongly as his gaze snapped back to where Phillip had gone inside. He listened as Becca went on, perfectly filling in the details of what Claire had told him earlier.

“He got jealous of my relationship with Tom even though he and I had broken up long before that. Since Tom’s death, he’s been coming by the clinic a little more often, right around my lunch break.”

Dallas frowned. That type of stalker behavior raised more than just a few red flags for him. “Why? This isn’t the supermarket. What could he possibly need at the clinic this often?”

Becca managed the most diminutive of laughs at his supermarket comment. “Small things. Questions about medicine that can’t be asked over the phone, little things wrong with him. Things I can’t really mention… Dr. Blair is pretty strict on patient confidentiality.”

Dallas didn’t care if it was strep throat or the sniffles. The guy put off the appearance of stalking Tom’s widow, especially given their history. And he didn’t like it—not one bit. “Is he harassing or bothering you?”

“No.” Becca shook her head with such innocence that it pierced his heart. It’s as if she knew he could potentially do those things but refused to admit to it. “Just been coming around a lot more. He offered me condolences, of course, and always asks how I’m doing. Always makes a point of seeing me.”

So, the guy learned that Tom died and suddenly started showing up at the clinic where his ex-girlfriend works? Coincidentally around her lunch hour? “Becca, if this guy ever bothers you, let me know.”

Becca nodded. “Thank you, I will.”

Dallas wanted to stay to make sure she wasn’t bothered, so he stood by her side as Phillip came out of the clinic. Sure enough, the guy looked straight at Becca. Dallas did everything he could not to send a warning stare in his direction. He didn’t want to give him the wrong impression. Phillip took his time getting into his car, starting it, and driving out of the parking lot. Only then did Dallas turn to Becca. “I don’t want to take up your whole afternoon. I’ll see you around. If you need anything, please let me know.”

“You’ve already done so much for me.” She assured him. “Thank you.”

Dallas watched her head to her car and sit by herself for a long moment before she gathered herself, started the engine, and drove away. He wasn’t going to be her personal bodyguard or anything, but he sure was going to keep an eye on her. He didn’t like this guy Phillip being in her life.

In the meantime, he had work to do. He climbed into his car. Today would be a great day to drive around and check out some of his properties. If any of them needed upkeep, if something needed to be done, he could look at them while he was in town. Dallas was lucky to have several good clients that never let their yard get out of control, but it was always a good idea to check. He pulled out of the clinic’s parking lot and drove his car through town.

After a little while of driving around, Dallas found himself turning up that dreaded street. He owned some houses on Maple Street where Tom had spent his last minutes trying to save someone from the burning house. While he didn’t want to go there and relive that moment, he wasn’t going to let it get to him either. He had work to do, and he wasn’t superstitious.

The ominous black pile of burnt rubble struck him, but it wasn’t as strange as the man standing in front of it. A nosey onlooker, maybe, driven to the scene by morbid curiosity? Dallas had seen it many times, but he slowed his car anyway. The man turned around, and Dallas nearly screeched his car to a halt. It was Miles Lloyd dressed in regular blue jeans and a blue T-shirt to match—evidence of his day off. But what was he doing here, at the scene? Was he saying goodbye to his friend, maybe eaten up with guilt that he hadn’t been able to save him?

Dallas pulled his car to the front of the house and got out. Miles stood like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders, and Dallas approached him. “Miles? What are you doing here?”

Miles didn’t answer. He shrugged his shoulders slowly, more like he was releasing tension from them than answering. He let his shoulders drop after a few minutes. Oh yeah, he was feeling guilty.

Dallas didn’t say anything. Sometimes it was better to not offer words of comfort but just to be with someone in their time of need. He turned, following Miles’s gaze to the charcoal pile that used to be a house. The wind blew over the rubble, still stirring that smoky smell into the air, but it wasn’t as potent as it had been the week before. When the silence started to become uncomfortable, Dallas broke it.

“Thinking about Tom?”

Miles nodded. “It’s just not right, man.”

It wasn’t right. It wasn’t right that a man like Tom—who had a wife who loved him and two kids who called his name even after he was gone—had to perish in a fire like that. “I can imagine you all are taking his death pretty hard.”

Miles’s response was a mumble. “You have no idea.”

Dallas heard another car pull up to the curb behind them and turned with Miles to see who else was drawn to the scene. A police squad car pulled up with authority, causing both men to frown in curiosity. Were they doing something against the law that neither of them knew about?

The doors to the squad car opened, and two officers stepped out. Judging by their faces, Dallas could tell that they were all business and not friendly chatter. “Miles Lloyd?”

“Yes?”

The officer came around the squad car and approached, the other tailing behind him. “We’re going to need you to come with us.”

“What?” Miles’s voice came out shocked as if this was the last thing he expected. Dallas couldn’t help but feel the same shock himself. Why were they coming after Miles? “Is everything okay, officer?” He couldn’t keep himself from asking.

“Yeah, man.” Miles’s voice lacked a bit of the respect that Dallas’s had. “What’s this about?”

“Miles Lloyd, you’re currently a suspect in the murder of Thomas Clarence, and I need you to come with us please.”

Dallas choked. The words murder of Thomas Clarence shouldn’t have come as a surprise, but they still hit with major force. “Murder?”

“What?” Miles tried to resist, but he didn’t run. “I didn’t do anything!”

“Sir, I’m going to need you to take a step back.” The officer aimed his command at Dallas, who took a few steps back. He watched in horror as the police led Miles to their squad car, opening the door for him to sit in the back.

“I didn’t do anything! My hands are clean in this! I tried to save him! How am I a suspect?”

Dallas couldn’t hear the officer’s response, but the shock rang in his ears like tinnitus. He watched helplessly as the two officers closed the back door, got back into the car, and drove toward the police station. The news of Tom’s murder was shocking enough, but Miles as a suspect?

Dallas turned and cast one more look at the burned house. His mind whirled with possibilities he didn’t want to acknowledge. Miles had been there that night. He was Tom’s partner in the fire. He was at the scene of the crime today, but why? And his answer when Dallas mentioned how difficult it was for them to deal with Tom’s death?

You have no idea.

Did Dallas really have no idea? Was there something more to Miles’s statement? This couldn’t be happening—this wasn’t right. Suspecting murder was one thing, but to have the police confirm it?

He hated it when he was right.

Claire cast another look out the large window that allowed sunlight into the flower shop. On beautiful days like this, she hated being cooped up inside—flowers or not—especially since Washington was so much more prone to rain than Texas was. She wanted to take advantage of the beautiful weather while it lasted.

As she stood there pondering, an idea came to her. She had the delivery to the law office and a handful of other deliveries to make for the day. It looked like a slower day, as Tuesdays often were, so why couldn’t she take them? Jody and the others were self-sufficient; they could manage while she was gone for a few minutes. Besides, it would give her a chance to get to know the town that she had moved back to and learn where everything was.

She walked back to the counter. “Hey, Eva. Don’t worry about taking those deliveries today. I can go ahead and take them really quick.”

Eva glanced over at her. “Uh-oh. Am I in trouble?”

“In trouble?” Claire laughed lightly. “No, silly. I just enjoy getting out and about, and I want to refamiliarize myself the town. I’ve been gone a long time.”

Eva looked relieved. “Oh, okay. Well,” she brightened, “that’s great! Gives me a chance to work on my spraying skills.”

“She’s getting better every day.” Jenna grinned at her.

Claire nodded. “She certainly is.” She cast another look at her staff and nodded. Oh, yes. She was confident they’d be fine. “Just listen to Miss Jody, and if anything comes up, call my cell. I have it with me.”

The Dodge Grand Caravan delivery vehicle had a considerable amount of comfort. Claire navigated it through the narrow streets of downtown Juniper Springs, listening as her GPS talked to her through the Bluetooth speakers.

“Your destination is on the right.”

Claire slowed down her van, aiming for one of the slanted parking spaces in front of the Hart Law Firm. She pulled her van into the space, letting the engine idle. There was no need to keep the air conditioning going because she had her windows open to welcome the summer sunshine.

She hopped out, then opened the trunk to grab the oversized arrangement of sunflowers and bright colors. She double-checked the name on the envelope. Yes, she was at the right place. The large arrangement almost concealed the building from view as she climbed the stairs, heading for the front door. She lifted her knee to balance the vase and used her free hand to swing the door open.

“May I help you?” The receptionist glanced up at her.

Claire smiled at her around the flowers. “I have a delivery for Allison Miller.”

“That’s me!”

A cheery voice sounded around the corner, and Claire leaned around the other side of the arrangement. The woman who had identified herself as Allison had a spring in her step as she crossed the lobby area. Her honey-colored eyes shone with joy as she neared the door, then gasped. “Oh, my goodness—they’re beautiful!”

She extended her hands, lifting the weighted arrangement out of Claire’s hands. “Thank you!”

Claire stepped back, feeling her level of happiness spike at seeing Allison’s joy. This is why she loved her job so much. She was delivering smiles and happiness.

From her place at her desk in her office, Avery Hart heard Allison squeal with joy in the lobby. She sat back, listening for a few seconds. What was going on out there? Allison was always cheerful, but she had only gotten more so since she and Jacob got together. What had he done for her this time? Avery pushed her chair back, a smile creasing the edges of her mouth as she left the hallway and entered the lobby. A rather large floral arrangement sat on the counter, and Allison was hunched over a small enclosure card.

“What’s all the fuss about?” Avery figured she knew, but she had to ask.

Allison turned and glanced at her, her eyes dancing. “They’re from Jacob. Aren’t they beautiful?”

“They are!” Avery leaned forward, smelling one of the larger blooms of yellow stock that gave height to the arrangement. As the florist, someone she’d never seen before, stepped toward the door, Avery called to her, “I can’t imagine how you got this through that narrow door!”

“It was an adventure.” The woman replied in a voice as cheery as Allison’s on a mild day.

Avery nodded. “And it’s going to be an adventure getting these things into her car tonight too.”

“The way I see it,” the blond florist laughed, holding her hands in the I-surrender position, “once I drop them off, they’re your problem, not mine.”

She must be new to the flower shop, Avery thought. She was teasing them, so she and Allison couldn’t resist a little laugh. “I see how it is.” Avery waved to her and turned to Allison as the florist stepped out. “So, I guess he’s back in town?”

“I guess—” Allison’s voice was cut off by the receptionist leaning around the flowers on the desk. “Avery? You have a call on line one.”

Avery nodded. “Enjoy them, Allie. You deserve them.”

Allison giggled like a schoolgirl. “Thanks, Avery.”

Avery returned to her office, closing the door behind her. Once she was in the seclusion of her office, she plopped down onto the chair and answered her phone. “Avery Hart.”

“Miss Hart, this is Miles Lloyd. I’m calling from the county jail. I need some legal help.”

County jail. The remnants of the teasing and distractions moments ago dropped away as she immersed her mind in her work. “Okay. Tell me what’s going on.”

“I don’t know if you’ve heard, but there was a death on my team recently: firefighter Tom Clarence?”

Avery closed her eyes and nodded.

“I’ve been accused of murdering him, but I didn’t do it. And I need a lawyer.”

In a dizzying frenzy of legal talk and information, Avery found herself sitting in front of Detective Lou and beside a distraught-looking Miles Lloyd. She had spent some time better acquainting herself with the case of Tom Clarence’s murder. Sure, she’d heard about it. The whole town was there at his funeral, so he was well-loved. All she’d heard was that he had died in the fire, probably due to a problem with his oxygen tank.

Avery was the type to always suspect something, to always wonder if there was more to the story. Sometimes she was wrong, and it turned out to be nothing more than an awful coincidence or tragic death. But sometimes, it turned out to be evidence of foul play. The more she listened to what Detective Lou had to say, the more she realized that it was more than just a hint of foul play. She was convinced that someone had purposely messed with Tom’s gear. Whether or not it was her client, she had to put that out of her head and focus on one thing: representing him. So far, it wasn’t looking too bad, but it wasn’t looking good either.

Avery hated being the bad guy. She knew the guys down at the station like they were her own family. In all the private investigator work she did, she helped them out. But in her other work as an attorney, she often had to play on the opposite side to defend her client. That was something she didn’t like, but it was all part of the job. She kept her poker face, not giving the detective or Miles a hint of what she was thinking inside.

“Mr. Lloyd,” Detective Lou’s face was grave and unforgiving, “according to autopsy reports, Tom Clarence was killed due to asphyxiation. While the dial on the Self-Contained Breathing Apparatus tank read somewhere around 3500 psi, there was no oxygen in the tank when he was found. We figure he went into the house with about 600 psi, which doesn’t last long. He suffocated to death.”

Miles looked like he had been slapped upside the face. He stiffened, sitting back in his chair as if hearing the news awakened the nightmare all over again. He sat there for a second or two, then leaned forward again, looking down at his folded hands. He didn’t make eye contact with either Avery or Detective Lou. Avery watched him inconspicuously. He couldn’t sit still; he couldn’t meet anyone’s gaze. She knew it wasn’t always an accurate assumption, but his behavior reeked strongly of guilt. Why else would he be so uncomfortable when he hadn’t done anything wrong?

The detective wasn’t letting up. He leaned forward and fixed his gaze on Miles. “Your fingerprints were found on the dial of Clarence’s SBCA tank.”

Miles winced as if he had been stuck by a needle. “Okay. Yeah, I... I touched it. I didn’t tamper with it, but I touched it.”

“Why did you touch it?”

“Because there’s no rule about ‘my stuff is my stuff’—we all work together!” Miles’s desperation leaked into his voice and his gaze. “I might have helped him put it on—I might have adjusted it in the back of the truck—there’s no telling what all I could’ve done. But I didn’t mess with it!”

“Do you have the knowledge to tamper with the seal on the SCBA tank?” Detective Lou pinned him with a stare.

Miles’s mouth fell open as if the thought was unthinkable. “I would never do that!”

“But do you know how to do it?”

“I know what not to do with the gear!” Miles yelled across the table. “Isn’t that enough?”

“Detective,” Avery’s even tone brought order back to the situation. “My client shares the same station and firetruck with other firefighters, including Tom.” In that, Miles was right. Firefighters weren’t coworkers, they were family, especially in a small town like Juniper Springs. “You can’t hold my client based on the fact that his fingerprints are on the SCBA gear in an area where everyone handles one another’s things. They live together for twenty-four hours at a time—surely it’s to be expected that all their fingerprints are on all the gear. And I’d safely conclude that everyone knows what not to do with the SCBA gear. Do you have anything else? You know none of this will hold up in court. This isn’t enough to hold my client.”

Detective Lou changed directions, unfazed as usual. “The fingerprints may have an easy explanation. But how do you explain being at the scene of the crime when the police came and found you?”

Avery studied Miles as his head jerked up. This time he looked at the detective with a burning gaze, going on the defensive rather than just taking his blows. “Listen. Just because I was at the scene of the crime doesn’t mean I did it. Why would I go back to the scene of the crime after the crime’s already been committed?”

“Exactly.” Lou pinned him with a stare.

Avery had to get to the bottom of that. Many criminals return to the scene of their crimes; she’d seen it often. Call it guilt; call it remorse; call it whatever you wanted, but it didn’t necessarily mean guilt in this instance. She was just as curious as she was determined to defend her client. Miles wasn’t doing a very good job of giving explanations that made sense. I didn’t do it wasn’t enough to keep him out of trouble; they needed some sort of hard evidence.

Just as well, Miles kept repeating himself. “I just... I didn’t kill Tom.” Miles looked ready to cry. “He was my friend. That’s why I went back to the scene of the crime... he was my friend, and I was mourning for him.”

“You can’t mourn for him at the cemetery like normal people?” Lou stung him with another question. His relentlessness made him an outstanding detective, but it also didn’t make Avery’s job easy when she wasn’t the one helping with the investigation.

Instead of getting defensive or angry, Miles just shook his head. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Well, help me understand,” Lou urged.

Miles stared at his hands, his thumbs rubbing together. The seconds ticked by. Finally, he raised his eyes to Lou, his own filled with desperation. “I didn’t hurt my friend.”

“Do you have any further evidence against my client?” Avery pressed. She and Miles were due for a talk.

Detective Lou shook his head. “We’re still conducting the investigation.”

“Then, I think we’re done here.” Avery closed her folder and stood to her feet. Miles followed her, sniffing as he did. Was he crying? On something? He looked practically defeated.

Avery could tell Detective Lou was reluctant to admit that they didn’t have any hard evidence. His mind was made up. He was sure that Miles had either committed the crime or helped in some way. “We’ll be in touch—don’t go anywhere.”

Avery waited until she was outside the police station before she began a conversation with Miles. She didn’t want him to feel like he had to withhold information. She turned to him, keeping her posture open and not defensive. “We’re going to have to work together on this. Can we agree to be honest with each other?”

Miles looked up at her, guilt brimming in his eyes. He managed a half-hearted nod.

“Good. So why did you return to the crime scene?”

He shook his head. “I told you. I went back there to mourn. Is that so wrong?”

“It could be,” Avery shook her head, “if you can’t come up with a better answer than that.”

Miles’s sigh shook his entire body. He looked beseechingly at her. “Look, Hart…” His voice trailed off, and he pursed his lips together. “I have a wife. Two young kids. Why would I kill my friend and risk hurting them or leaving my kids to grow up without a dad? Why would I kill my best friend?”

I don’t know. Why would you? Avery wanted to blurt the words, but she had to remain on Miles’s side. “I can’t think of any reason. But I also know that that argument won’t hold up in court. People with families commit crimes all the time if the motive is strong enough. You’ve got to give me a better reason than that.”

Avery studied each of her clients as if she were playing a game of chess. What she had discovered about Miles was that he appeared guilty of something, whether it was committing the crime or helping with it. Instead of a stable alibi or any evidence, he tried to reason his way out—make the police see his side of the story. Avery didn’t want to tell him that nothing he could say would make the police stop and say, “Oh, I haven’t thought of that.” The only way she could get him out of this is if there was some sort of hard evidence that countered what they already knew.

Which wasn’t going to be easy to find, considering that Miles wasn’t helping his case at all.

“If anyone can prove my innocence, you can.” Miles stamped his statement with finality.

Avery drew in a sharp breath through her nose. No pressure, huh? Not like he was putting all this on her. “I will do my best to help you. But to help you, I need you to help me. Now, the fingerprints—those can be explained away by even the simplest of explanations, but can you tell me why you returned to the scene of the crime?”

For a long time, Miles looked at her with a troubled look on his face, as if he wanted to spill everything but couldn’t. The guilt in his eyes changed to sadness and maybe even a bit of fear.

Avery heard the brakes of a car squeal as a station wagon pulled into the parking lot. Miles looked over at the driver, and the sadness that overtook his face made Avery look at the driver. A woman sat in the front seat with her two kids strapped into their car seats in the back. The woman’s round-shaped eyes looked as worried as Miles did as she leaned forward to look at him through the windshield under her sun visor.

Miles stared at her for a long time, his body stiff, his face rigid with an emotion Avery couldn’t explain. His sigh finally raised his shoulders up and down, and he looked at her once more. “My wife. Giving me a ride back to the house.”

The house. Avery noted that he didn’t say home.

Miles shook his head, marching toward the car. Avery watched him go, not bothering to move from her spot. It wasn’t until Miles reached the car door that something stopped his footsteps. He turned to fully face her, his expression begging her to hear this, even if she heard nothing else. He kept his face on the ground, but his voice was just as strong.

“It wasn’t a faulty wire.”

Avery stiffened. Well, what did that mean? “It wasn’t? How do you know that for sure?”

“There was someone else there.” Miles interrupted her before her last word was out. “There was another person at the scene. I’ve never seen him before, but I saw him that night.”

With that, he yanked on the door handle and swung the door open, slipping into the front seat of the car. The door closed, and the car drove off. And that was that. No description of the person, no description of what he was doing.

But that was more than enough for Avery.

Dallas couldn’t get the day’s events out of his head. No matter how he tried to concentrate on his work, he couldn’t get the memory of standing on the sidewalk watching Miles, one of Tom’s crew, being hauled away for Tom’s murder out of his head. He sat at his desk, staring at a family picture with all four members of his family—his parents, Collin, and himself. The picture had been taken at a family vacation somewhere in the mountains the summer before Collin died. No one could tell by the happy faces of his family that the unthinkable was going to happen in a matter of weeks. With the most recent events, Dallas became more and more convinced that Collin’s death hadn’t been an accident.

Was Miles to blame? Dallas tried to imagine the possibilities. While Tom had been older than he was by a handful of years, Miles had joined the crew around the same time Dallas had. Collin then joined two years later, and unfortunately, he didn’t last long. A couple of months shy of two years. Did Miles have something against Collin back then, only to develop a grudge against Tom some years later? Had it been Miles’s doing all this time?

The thinking was starting to hurt, so Dallas picked up the picture and studied the faces in the photo. I miss you, buddy. As he looked at the faces of his parents, he realized that he hadn’t called his dad in a while. Not that they lived very far away, just closer to the Idaho border, but Dallas tried to keep in touch with them by phone as much as he could. What better time than now?

As his workday drew to a close, he pulled up his dad’s contact and called him. The phone rang three times before his father’s weathered voice picked up on the other end.

“Hello, Son.”

“Hey, Dad.” Dallas leaned back in his office chair, propping his foot up against the desk’s leg. “I was just sitting here thinking about you and the family. Thought I’d check in.”

“It’s good to hear from you!” His dad’s voice warmed. “Your mom’s at the grocery store with her friend right now. I’m glad you called. How are things over in Juniper Springs?”

Dallas sighed. “Well, other than the fact that an old buddy of mine was killed in a fire the other day…” He didn’t get into details. His dad didn’t need to be reminded of that right now. “Things have been good.”

“I’m sorry to hear about your friend.” Dad’s voice softened.

“I appreciate that. It was Tom Clarence—you know, the guy I used to work with?”

“Tom? The best firefighter in the department?” Dad sounded bewildered, and Dallas could see him shaking his head. “No one is safe anymore, are they?”

“I guess not.” Dallas leaned forward, finding a stray pen on his desk. He picked it up and put it into the cupholder. “So, how’s things been going at home?”

“Tremendous. Your mom has the garden looking absolutely stunning. You know how she is about landscaping and keeping her yard beautiful.”

Dallas chuckled, chasing away the melancholy of the previous conversation. “Oh, I remember. All those hours I spent with her every summer having to weed my share in the garden.”

Dallas spent a few minutes reminiscing with his dad, remembering back to the days when he was still at home, young and full of dreams. On the topic of dreams, he could hear his father laugh on the other end.

“So, on that note. How is the love life going?”

Dallas had to laugh at that. “What love life?”

“That good, huh?” His dad joked back. His voice fell a few notches, and Dallas could hear the seriousness in his tone. “You know, Son. When we come to the end of our lives, it’s not about how much money we made or what kind of business we owned. What matters is the family that loves us. Remember that.”

Dallas drew in a long breath through his nose, letting his father’s words sink in. Yes, he knew that. But he hadn’t had much time for a relationship. Or was that even true? Maybe he had the time, just not the person. “Thanks, Dad. I know,” he chuckled. “I’ll let you know when that changes.”

“You do that. In the meantime, I’m glad you called. I better go. I think your mother just got back, and I have to help her carry in the groceries. She sprained her wrist again. I’ll let her know you called. If you have some time this week, maybe we can be on a longer call and Mom can be there too.”

Dallas liked that option. “Sounds good. I’ll let you know when I can do that.”

“Thank you. Love you, Son.”

“Love you, too, Dad.” Dallas pushed the end call button and put his phone on the desk. He leaned back in his chair, raising his eyes to the ceiling. His dad was right, and he knew it; he’d known it all along. The couple of times he’d dated, it had never blossomed into anything significant. He hadn’t wanted it to, looking back. Once he lost the firefighter’s uniform, many girls lost interest. Now that he lived secluded in the mountains, he hadn’t taken much time for relationships, no matter how often he helped out in his community. But his dad was right. Retiring and living his best life, his father had found a woman to grow old with by his side to enhance his beautiful life. Would Dallas be able to say the same thing when he was his dad’s age?

He couldn’t be a workaholic all the time. It would get him by in life, but where would that leave him in the realm of happiness? Was it time to start thinking about dating again? Even as the thought sprang up in his mind, he thought of the pretty little blond who had come back into his life. Claire, with all of her charms, her contagious happiness, and her love of life. He had continued thinking about her since that first day he’d seen her at the flower shop. When he had spent some time with her, he had greatly enjoyed it, and she seemed to feel the same. But she was a woman who knew what she wanted. It’s why they never dated back in high school. Claire had always known that she would go to college out of state. She even had her heart set on that school in Texas she ended up attending. She didn’t want to get into a relationship with someone in Juniper Springs, only to leave them behind in pursuit of her dreams. But now that she was back? Would she accept an offer from him?

Dallas breathed a laugh and sat up straight at his desk again. He wasn’t in high school anymore, and he couldn’t get more single than he was now. So what if she said no? It wasn’t anything personal for her; she was just a career-minded girl who knew how to go places in life. But if she said yes to a little date, nothing official, maybe it would be the answer to the questions he’d been thinking about since the phone call with his dad.

Dallas pulled up her contact. He had her cell phone number, the one she’d given to him as he left the flower shop that first night when he stayed with her.

I’ll have your arrangement ready by tomorrow. But if something comes up, call me. Here’s my cell if you can’t get through.

He tapped her contact on his phone screen and held the phone to his ear. As he counted the rings, he couldn’t help but feel a smile spread across his face. He hoped she would say yes. Not only for the simple reason that he wanted a date with her, but also because he had something in mind that would make her as happy as she tried to make everyone else.

Claire’s classical music ringtone drew her attention away from the computer where she sat entering her stack of invoices into the system. She was determined to get out of the shop by six tonight, having sent everyone home at five. She checked the caller ID. A local number? She swiped the screen and answered, throwing her hair over her shoulder as she did. “This is Claire.”

“Hey, Claire, it’s Dallas. Griffin.” He added his last name almost as an afterthought like she knew half a dozen Dallas’s.

She smiled and leaned back in her chair. “Oh, hey! How’s it going?” She felt the thrill of hearing from him again course through her.

“Fine, fine. Hey, I know you gave me your personal cell for business reasons, but I didn’t want to call on the business line and risk one of the girls answering.”

This sounded interesting. Claire leaned her elbow on her desk, curious. “That’s fine. What can I do for you?”

“I was wondering. Would you be free this upcoming Saturday?”

“Let me see.” Claire leaned forward, scanning the calendar that she had attached to the flower cooler by a magnet. The cooler gave her the perfect wall to hide behind and call her “office.” After scanning her calendar, she replied, “Unless I have a last-minute huge funeral come up, I should be free after two. We’re only open until two on Saturdays.” Why was he asking her this? Could it be…? “Why? What’s up?”

“I’ve just been sitting here thinking. It’s been really good to see you again. If you don’t want to, I understand, but would you like to go out with me—just for fun—Saturday night?”

Claire nearly gasped in joy. So, he was asking her out on a date! A real date! She hadn’t been on a date since before she graduated college, except for one that had turned out to be a dud. No one likes a date where the guy brags about himself while continuing to pick at her. Are you sure you just want to be a florist? You have so much potential. At least Dallas did the opposite of that. She had enjoyed seeing him as well. She had to admit that the idea of going on a fun date with him excited her. “I’d love to.” She didn’t hesitate, and butterflies immediately fluttered in her stomach. They had been just friends, right?

“Wonderful. I have something in mind if you are okay with a different type of date.”

A different type? The adventure in his voice piqued Claire’s interest, and she let a smile crease her lips. “Oh, tell me?”

“You seem to be the kind of girl to enjoy adventure. Am I right?”

He read her so well. “Absolutely. I’d rather go on an adventure any day than just stay at home.”

“Good. Good. Meet me at the Benny’s parking lot at 5:00. Wear some hiking clothes.”

She giggled in anticipation. “All right. I will.”

“Looking forward to it,” he said. Then he added, “Oh, by the way. Bring your camera. See you there!”

And with that, he hung up.

Claire pulled the phone away from her ear, charmed by the mystery and playfulness in Dallas’s voice. Bring her camera and hiking clothes? How long had he been planning this thing out? Had he been thinking about it for a while?

Whatever the case may be, she could hardly wait for Saturday at 5:00.

Claire made sure to park her car under a streetlamp at the far end of the parking lot at Benny’s Grocery Store. She arrived a few minutes early since she had been ready since four o’clock. She got out, and slung her crossbody camera bag over her head, while a hundred questions tugged at her mind. What was Dallas up to?

His car pulled into the parking lot, and his engine purred to a stop. Claire nearly laughed at the childlike giddiness that beamed from his eyes when he poked his head above the roof of his car.

“Why, hello!” she called.

“Good evening, Claire.” He closed his door, then walk around to the other side of his car. He didn’t seem nervous, just excited for whatever he had up his sleeve. “You look nice.”

Now that, she had to laugh at. “Right.” She glanced down at the light blue capris and green T-shirt she had chosen. Hiking clothes, he had said. Comfortable, but not exactly fashionable.

“You have that adventurer look about you. It suits you.” Dallas shrugged as if agreeing with himself. “You’re sure you don’t mind a different type of date?”

“I don’t mind.” She answered honestly, shaking her head.

“Good. You haven’t been around Juniper Springs much since you came here, have you?”

Claire shook her head. “Not really.” When did she have time? She went from her apartment to the flower shop and often took the delivery van for deliveries, but that wasn’t outside of the residential or business district. “I haven’t been on many adventures since I moved back.”

“Well, let’s see if we can change that,” Dallas said with a smile that she immediately noticed reached his eyes. He opened the passenger door of his car for her, and smiled like a teenager again. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Claire checked her camera bag one final time to make sure it was zipped. “Thank you.” She slid into the passenger seat and heard the thud of the car door. Dallas came around to the other side and slid in beside her. “Honestly, I’m very excited to see where you’re taking me.”

He checked his watch before starting his car. “We have to be there by a certain time, but we have time to get something to eat. Do you want to get something to go? From the cafe we went to after the funeral?”

They had to be somewhere by a certain time? It was a different type of date, Dallas had told her, so it wasn’t a movie or a concert of some type. The words only added a mystery to where they were going, and she was determined to figure it out. “I don’t mind. A sandwich of some type sounds good to me.”

“Okay.” Dallas started the car, still grinning away.

Claire had to know. She tilted her head. “Are you going to tell me where we’re going?”

“I just did.” Dallas put his car in reverse and backed out of the parking space. “The cafe.”

Claire breathed a laugh. “I know, but after that.”

“What, you don’t think I’m just taking you to the cafe and then back to your car?” He smiled to show he was joking.

Claire had to laugh out loud. “You wouldn’t have been so specific about what to wear if that were the case! So, are you gonna tell me or not?”

“Nope.” Dallas drove out of the parking lot. “It’s a surprise.”

After about twenty minutes of waiting, Paula brought Claire and Dallas’s sandwiches out in a plastic bag with some to-go cups. She had a knowing look in her eyes like she knew that this was a date. Claire wondered how it looked to others. The two of them dressed like hikers, grabbing some food to go and both enjoying each other’s company even though Claire had no idea where they were going. “Thanks, Paula.” Dallas slipped something into her tip jar and turned to the door. “Are you ready?”

“Sure am.” She walked toward the door. Dallas reached for it, but the door swung open before he could get to it. “Oh, pardon me.” He stepped aside.

Claire stepped behind him, letting someone come through the door. She noticed it was the same drifter that they had observed the last time they were at the cafe. The same ragged clothes, the same way he looked down and hurried through the door without saying anything. She let a small frown cross her face for a second. He wasn’t a very friendly sort, was he?

“After you.” If Dallas noticed the drifter come through the door, he didn’t show it. He just stood there, holding both the food and the door. She skipped out the door with a “Thank you” and headed toward his car.

After driving for a few minutes, Claire honestly didn’t care where they were headed. Dallas knew the back roads that led into the mountains that surrounded Juniper Springs so well that he didn’t need GPS to guide him there. The fading light made the tree leaves shimmer as they caught the sunlight and danced with the wind. Dallas guided his car up the side of one of the mountain pathways, driving them deeper into the mountains.

“I live up that road a little ways.” He pointed to a road as he passed it.

Claire tore her gaze away from the mountain scenery and looked at Dallas. “Really? Here in the mountains?”

“Yes.” Dallas kept his eyes on the road, guiding the car around the curves with grace. “My back deck overlooks the mountain range with not a single house in sight.”

“Oh, that must be beautiful,” Claire almost whispered. She folded her arms over her chest and sat back in her seat, grinning at him. “I’m jealous.”

“Well, I know some properties for sale up here.” He tossed her a brief glance before returning his eyes to the road. Claire watched his eyes as he scanned for wildlife that might jump out in front of his car, carefully paying attention to the road.

She’d love that: a mountain home, surrounded by the nature she loved so much. But it wasn’t in the cards for her right away. “Maybe someday. But I just bought a flower shop. I should probably wait a bit before I buy another piece of property.”

Dallas chuckled. “I understand that. Just when you’re ready, let me know. There’s always something for sale up here.”

“Does it get good cell service?”

“There’s one corner of my house that gets a little sketchy with the cell phones.” He pulled his car into a gravel parking lot. The parking lot led to a hiking trail, and there were some picnic tables scattered around overlooking the mountain scenery. He guided his car into one of the parking spaces. “Which is good if you’re on the phone with someone you don’t like. You can walk into the corner, the phone will go silent, and you can officially say that the call dropped.”

Claire’s laughter bubbled. “I take it you’ve done that a few times?”

Dallas turned his engine off and turned to face her in the seat. “You get creative when dealing with people. I’m sure you’ve seen that at the flower shop.”

“Mm-hm.” Claire’s eyebrows rose to her hairline. “That one mother who wants her daughter to have a better corsage than anyone else, so she flat-out asks what everyone else has been buying. Or the woman who is so picky that she brings a silk arrangement back the next day saying the blue isn’t blue enough.”

“The best,” Dallas agreed with sarcasm. “You hungry?”

She nodded. The melted ham and cheese she had ordered smelled delicious, and coupled with some mountain air, this night couldn’t be better. “Starved.”

Dallas reached into the back, grabbed the food, and hauled it up front. “Well, let’s eat then.”

They exited the car at the same time. Dallas came around the front, guiding her to one of the picnic tables. Claire paused for a moment, letting the sound of mountain silence fill her ears. The wind in the pines caused a gentle roar, a nearby stream tumbled over smooth rocks, and the birds were singing brightly before the sun set behind the mountains. The day still had some warmth to it, and as Claire inhaled, the sweet smell of pines and other trees filled her nose with fragrance and her mind with peace. “Thank you for bringing me up here. This is,” she searched for the right word, “extraordinary.” A perfect date, even though she didn’t understand why they had to be here at a certain time. Did it close early or something?

“Just wait.” He grinned at her again, some of that mysteriousness back in his eyes.

Just wait? For what? What was he so excited about? Claire followed him to the picnic table where she slid onto the bumpy surface made out of tiny stones. Dallas sat across from her, checking the top of the box. “You got ham and cheese, right?”

She nodded. “That’s me.”

“Yes, yes, the boring one.” He laughed and handed her the to-go box.

Claire shot him a playful glare. “Hey! What can I say? I like ham and cheese!”

“Of all the sandwiches on that menu,” Dallas pulled his sandwich from the bag and set it aside. “The Italian, the BLT, the house special with the sauce that only Paula serves—and you go for the standard ham and cheese.” He shook his head, clearly enjoying bantering with her.

Claire shrugged and opened her lid. “You better be careful, or I might be throwing yours over the side of the mountain.”

“You wouldn’t. The packaging isn’t good for the wildlife.” He glanced around the table as if searching for something, then remembered. “Oh. Do you want your lemonade?”

Without giving her a chance to tell him that she could get it, he was on his feet, heading back to his car to retrieve the forgotten drinks. Claire settled back on the bench, laughing quietly to herself. She loved the way he teased her and then just left her behind with his humor lurking in the air. For such a strong man, he had a boyish sense of humor. Claire remembered it from their times at the theater, how he was so good at somehow balancing maturity with the ability to bring her to tears with laughter.

He returned, carrying the two to-go cups and handed her the lemonade. “That’s yours, I believe.”

Claire took her cup. “Thank you.” She swirled the liquid, feeling that there was still about half a cup left.

Dallas sat across from her again. He looked over his shoulder, studying the horizon for a few minutes before returning his attention back to her. “What were you thinking about just now?”

Claire took a sip of her lemonade and set it down on the table. “Oh, not much. Just remembering back to when we were teenagers, you know?” She popped the lid on her sandwich.

“That was a long time ago.” Dallas flipped the lid back on his dinner. “I can’t remember a time when I didn’t feel my back realign itself when all I do is stand up from a chair.”

Claire burst out laughing. Dallas loved it when she did that. Her laughter was medicine for even the saddest of souls. Did she have any idea how her eyes lit up every time she laughed? “I remember lying there on the stage during rehearsals and jumping to my feet as soon as the scene changed. It takes me a little longer to do that now, and I’m not even thirty years old.”

“Oh, to be young again.” Dallas laughed, taking a bite of his sandwich.

Claire picked up a few of her chips, and Dallas noticed that she used her left hand again instead of her right. He remembered watching her work the night that he’d come by to see her at the flower shop and how she’d used her left hand for the majority of the work needed for the dominant hand. “So, tell me,” he nodded to her, “you wouldn’t happen to be left-handed, would you?”

Claire breathed a laugh and rolled her eyes as if caught in the act of something. “I am, as a matter of fact.” Her tone indicated that it was more of a hindrance than something unique to be proud of.

Dallas glanced back down at her hand. “Why the disgust?”

“Because—” She reached for her sandwich. She laughed as she spoke like she was remembering what she was about to tell him in vivid color. “Being left-handed in a flower shop world is not as easy as you think. Most people are right-handed, so when they tried to teach me how to make a bow or how to arrange flowers—it’s all about the angles, you know?”

No, he didn’t know, but he nodded for her to go on. “Sure.”

“It was just hard to teach me because everything was a mirror image to them. Bows are hard to grasp, so Bella used to stand by her employees’ sides and work loop by loop with them. She had to change up a few things because of my dominant hand. You’d be amazed at how hard it is to grasp that someone shapes things differently when they’re left-handed versus right-handed.”

“But your bows all look the same?” Dallas asked.

“They do now.” Claire laughed. “Ah, it just made for an interesting day back when I was first learning, but Bella and I soon found a common ground. Things got easier when I got into college because they expected that some people were left-handed and adjusted accordingly, but by then, I’d already learned the basics of bow-making and flower arranging.”

“Well, no matter what your dominant hand is,” Dallas glanced over his shoulder again—not time yet, but it would be very soon… “you do beautiful work.”

She smiled, taking his compliment to heart to let it warm her. “Thank you.”

As they enjoyed their sandwiches, they avoided the topic of business, choosing to reminisce through the memories of their high school days, a commonality they both shared that wasn’t about business. Both Claire and Dallas agreed that, unlike a lot of kids they knew, their high school years were some of the best of their lives. “Granted,” Claire pointed out, “I’m not saying life is bad now. Quite the opposite—life is great! But nothing can really compare to those days of our youth, you know?”

“I agree.” A far-off look came into Dallas’s eyes, and Claire wondered if he was thinking about Collin. I had my brother back then, he was probably thinking, and she changed the subject to avoid sending him back into a dejected state of mind. “But back then you didn’t have some mountain cabin for everyone to be jealous of, did you?”

He laughed lightly, and the smile returned to his face. “Nope.” He cast another look over his shoulder. Why did he keep doing that? Searching the horizon like he expected it to rain or something. Claire had to know. She tilted her head. “Are you afraid we’re being followed?”

Dallas laughed. “Followed? No. Why?”

“You keep looking behind you as if you’re expecting something.”

“Well, that’s because I am expecting something.” He checked the time on his watch again and smiled brighter than he did before. He set his hand down with purpose and looked directly into her eyes. “Come with me.”

What? Claire blinked at him. “Okay?”

“Just trust me.” Dallas got to his feet and grabbed her empty to-go box and his. “Follow me.”

Claire slid out of the bench and got to her feet, still curious. Dallas scurried over to the trash cans by the picnic area and disposed of the trash before heading toward the edge of the picnic area. “Come on.”

His eagerness was contagious, and Claire found herself jogging a bit to keep up with him. “I’m coming!”

Dallas led her past the picnic area to a small hiking trail. He walked a little bit ahead of her, glancing back every few steps to make sure she was still there. “You’re going to love this,” he said. “At least, I hope you will.”

The hiking trail took them deeper into the forest on the mountain, leaving all traces of picnic grounds, campgrounds, and human life behind. Just about the time when Claire thought they’d never get to their destination, Dallas pushed past a line of trees that opened up into a beautiful clearing. Claire followed him, her breath catching in her throat. They were somewhere along the side of the mountain with a line of trees behind them. The small clearing of grass didn’t last long as a huge rock rose on the side of the mountain, overlooking the range below. It formed a plateau that overlooked the western sky which, at the moment, was alive with fading sunlight.

Dallas headed for the rock, gently holding out his hand to her. “Just a little farther.”

Claire was speechless. She took his hand, and he helped her up onto the rock. Feeling the bumpy surface beneath her feet, Claire worked to get her footing to avoid toppling over the side. They were a good distance up, and a fall from this height wouldn’t have very pleasant consequences. Dallas held her hand until she found her footing, then released her, taking her to the edge of the rock. “I come here a lot.” His soft voice blended with the wind blowing through the pines above. “The rock is steady. You can go to the very edge if you like.”

Claire glanced at the edge. “I’ve never been one to be scared of heights.” She grinned at him and moved toward the edge of the rock. When she was still a safe distance away, she stopped and surveyed the western sky. The last colors of the day were starting to blend together into brilliant pinks and golds.

“That’s good.” Dallas came up beside her. Claire could feel him watching her carefully to make sure she didn’t fall. “I remembered how you said you haven’t been able to see the sunsets since you moved back. This is the best place near Juniper Springs to see it.”

Claire felt warmth touch her heart and set her gaze on him for a moment. He returned her gaze without expectation of thanks, but she had to thank him. “Dallas. This—” This was what? The most touching thing anyone had ever done for her? It had to be! Someone who understood that the simplicity of watching a brilliant sunset meant more to her than spending the evening with someone in a bar or a restaurant somewhere? That Claire could practically feel the beauty of being outside in her veins, and now Dallas, with his thoughtfulness and listening ear, only added to that beauty? At that moment, a realization struck her. There was no one else she’d rather watch her first sunset in Juniper Springs with than Dallas. “Thank you.” She breathed into the gleaming air.

Dallas nodded. “Well, get your camera ready! You don’t want to miss it!”

Claire laughed, unzipping her camera bag and taking her camera out. She slipped the strap around her neck and adjusted the lens onto the edge, then aimed it at the western sky. With one click, the moment was forever captured. Claire only wished she could capture the feelings that went along with it.

Dallas had only reconnected with Claire for a few weeks at most, but he had never seen her so happy. The girl practically oozed joy whenever she was around, but tonight, she was keeping a little bit of that joy for herself. Her face lit up as bright as the western sky, and her eyes danced with happiness. She carried a different look in her eye when she thanked him as if her thanks went deeper than a simple act of gratitude. Watching her observe the sunset was like watching a child on Christmas morning, only Dallas thought that maybe she was enjoying it far deeper than any Christmas morning present he’d ever received.

Watching her so happy over something so simple kindled a bit of that elation inside him as well. The sun dropped below one of the clouds, sending a single ray of orange sunlight that set the area ablaze in a brilliant orange glow. The colors of the leaves changed to a darker green hue as a reflection of the sunlight. But Dallas wasn’t watching the leaves or even the sunset. He was watching Claire and how the ray of sunlight radiated off her face, illuminating shimmering flecks in her blond hair that fell around her jawline. She looked so breathtakingly beautiful in that moment. Dallas couldn’t resist.

He pulled out his cell phone; he wasn’t the photographic genius that she was, but he wanted to capture the special moment. Perhaps he’d gift her with this picture sometime or send it to her via text if she were ever having a down day. As if she knew, Claire angled herself toward him, camera now hanging around her neck, but her eyes were glued to the horizon.

Dallas snapped her picture on his cell phone, capturing a still of her beautiful face looking out toward the horizon and radiating a glow from her face. She posed so perfectly it was almost like she knew he was snapping a picture of her.

All too soon, the sun dipped below the horizon, taking the brilliant colors with it, and started to spread lavender hues across the sky. Claire sighed as the moment passed by, then turned to him. “Dallas, thank you.” Her voice was firm with gratitude. “This is the most thoughtful thing anyone’s ever done for me. I’ve enjoyed it more than anything else you could have done.”

He gathered that much from her childlike awe, but smiled nonetheless. “It was my pleasure, Claire. You’ve just returned to town, and you deserved a proper welcome.”

“Well,” she glanced down as if gathering her thoughts, then back up again, “it was the best welcome I could have asked for. Thank you again.”

Claire didn’t want the night to end, but she soon found herself in the passenger seat as Dallas drove out of the mountains and back to the general store. She felt like she’d left a piece of herself on that mountain plateau. But at the same time, she also felt like she’d taken something with her.

The sunset had calmed the conversation between her and Dallas to a comfortable silence with the occasional comment on the way back. Claire was still in awe of his thoughtfulness and found it hard to talk about anything but how it had made her feel. It had unlocked something inside her that she wasn’t sure she wanted to fight. She and Dallas had been such good friends in high school, but she’d never allowed it to progress past friendship. She hadn’t wanted to invest in a relationship in a town she wasn’t going to stay in. And as far as she knew back then, she wasn’t ever coming back. But now that she had returned, and it looked like she’d be staying for a very long time, she allowed her feelings to go places she’d never dared to explore before.

There was nothing more meaningful than a man who listened to her and remembered something that was important to her, even if it was something as silly as watching a sunset… and he had gone out of his way to make sure she got to experience that. Most guys she knew were too busy trying to woo her, rather than slowing down and learning how to actually win her heart. But not Dallas. The thing about Dallas that she admired most was that he wasn’t even trying to make her feel this way; it’s just what he did naturally. Was she starting to fall for him?

Claire returned her attention to the window, watching the shadows of trees pass by.

Claire had never felt so lighthearted after a date before. As she unlocked her flower shop on Monday morning, she felt like a teenager again, wishing she could go back and relive the moments she spent with Dallas on the mountain. She felt like she was returning to a life of boredom after a grand adventure of some sort, even though her life at the flower shop was hardly boring.

While Jody, Jenna, and Eva chatted about their weekends, Claire kept mostly to herself, adding to the conversation only when she felt like she needed to avoid someone noticing how quiet she was. It wasn’t that she couldn’t talk about her time with Dallas to her employees; she just wanted to keep these moments for herself—for her heart alone to cherish.

She could use a distraction, so when the phone rang an hour into her morning, she reached for the receiver. “I’ve got it.” She answered, “Bella’s Blooms, this is Claire. How can I help you?” She needed to investigate the name change, soon, she told herself, but tried to focus.

“Hi, Claire. Cain Hogan again.”

Cain Ho... oh, yes, the one who ordered flowers for Lily Carlson in the hospital. Claire prided herself on remembering. “Good morning, Cain. What can I do for you today?”

“Well, it’s been a week, and I’m sure the flowers I ordered are probably either wilted or dead by now. I was wondering if I could order some more to be delivered to Lily, today?”

Claire nodded. “Certainly. The usual, or something else?”

“The usual, please.” She heard the smile in his voice. “You’re already learning!”

“I try.” Claire gave a professional laugh. “That was stargazer lilies, right?”

“That’s right. And I’d like the same card—the get-well card that says, ‘Guess Who?’ on it, please.”

“You got it.”

“You can charge it to my account. And is it possible to get those out today?”

Claire looked at the clock. “Yes. Would this afternoon be all right?”

“That’ll be fine. It would be great if she woke up this afternoon.” Cain sighed. “All right, well, thank you again. Great job on the flower shop so far, Claire!”

She smiled. She should be thankful for his praise, but for some reason, she felt like it fell short. She found herself comparing it to Dallas’s praise for her work at the funeral and somehow found Cain’s words empty. “Thank you very much,” she said anyway, and ended the call.

She spent the remainder of the morning putting together Cain’s arrangement along with a few other everyday arrangements. As the clock inched closer to noon, Claire realized that she still wanted to be alone with her thoughts, replaying how she was feeling over and over again in her mind. It wasn’t just the amazing Saturday night, she told herself; it was also how Dallas made her feel overall. Why was she comparing other peoples’ compliments to his? Why did she feel like her joy doubled every time she thought about him? She needed to reconcile those feelings, and the last thing she wanted was for her employees to ask her questions that she didn’t even know the answers to. She concluded that the best way to avoid these questions was to take the deliveries herself.

She smiled as she glanced at the clock. “I think I want to take today’s deliveries. I’ll eat when I get back.”

“Are you sure?” Jenna asked. “I don’t mind, and neither does Eva.”

“Really, I want to take them.” Claire laughed. “I enjoy getting out and seeing the scenery.” Even though the scenery was nothing like the mountains she saw with Dallas.

Jenna shrugged. “All right, then. I just feel like I’m not doing my job, you know, when the owner has to make deliveries.”

“You are doing your job!” Claire reassured her. “This is my way of going out and establishing a connection with the community as the new owner. I can’t do that if I’m stuck here, can I?”

Jenna laughed. “I guess you’re right. That makes me feel better.”

“So, where is the hospital located?” Claire pulled up her map on her phone.

“It’s very easy to find.” Jenna pointed in the direction of the front window. “You head south like you’re headed toward Oregon. Once you get outside the Juniper Springs city limits, the county hospital is only about seven miles out. It’s the only building on the left side of the road except for the houses in that area—you can’t miss it.”

“And if you do,” Eva giggled, “like I do because I’m listening to music and forget to look for the driveway? The hospital has two entrances from the road, so if you miss one, there’s another one right behind it!”

Claire had to laugh at that. “I see.” Eva missed her turn because she was listening to music, had she? Maybe it was a good thing Claire was taking the deliveries. She was looking forward to taking a small trip back into the more natural side of town anyway. “Thanks, ladies. I’ll be back soon.”

Jenna and Eva had done better than Claire’s GPS with giving directions. Sure enough, the hospital stood as the only building on the side of the road in the middle of a few properties tucked away inside the forest with driveways that led behind the grove of trees. Claire caught herself wondering if Dallas owned any properties out this far.

She pulled into the hospital parking lot. Normally, she’d leave the delivery van running, but since this was outside of town and a bigger building, she turned the engine off this time. Slipping the key into her pocket, she reached in and grabbed Lily Carlson’s arrangement. What Cain was doing was really nice, but Claire questioned the logic behind spending seventy-five dollars on an arrangement that a girl in a coma wasn’t even going to see. Not that she was complaining though. It was one more customer helping her stay in business.

She let the automatic doors swing wide to let her inside and walked up to the reception area. The girl at the counter looked up at her. “May I help you?”

“Yes.” Claire set the arrangement down and peered around it at the girl. “I need to deliver these to Lily Carlson’s room or the nurse’s station on her floor.”

“You can drop it at the nurse’s station,” the girl replied. “She’s on the second floor.”

After leaving the flowers with the chattering nurses, Claire returned to the blazing heat of the day. The rain had left the air humid, trapping the heat and making it seem warmer than the previous days had been. Welcome to summer, Claire thought to herself. She grabbed her key out of her pocket and clicked the button to unlock the car. She slid inside her van and then reached behind her. She took hold of one of the envelopes attached to the arrangement closest to her and read the address. This one was a residential along the route home. Claire had planned her route like a mail delivery person with as little backtracking as she could get. As she was typing the address into her phone, she heard a man’s voice calling out.

“Hey! Hey!”

The voice sounded muffled because of the insulation her van provided. Claire glanced up, certain that the call couldn’t be for her, but curious nonetheless. She frowned and sat up straighter in her seat, returning the card to the arrangement in the back. A man came running across the parking lot with a flower arrangement in hand. Lily’s flower arrangement. Was something wrong with it? Who was this guy?

He was heading straight for the van, and Claire felt her senses prickle. Something wasn’t right. Alarm began to sink in, so she only cracked her window a little bit. “Can I help you?”

The man had dark eyes, flashing with rage, and an expression that hinted at years of being angry. “Who sent my wife these flowers?”

Claire blinked. She knew that most customer information was confidential, but in a case like this? “Um…” She tucked her hair behind her ear, hating how much her hands were shaking. “I would have to check my order forms.” Perhaps a first name would do. “From Cain something?”

As if it were possible, the angry lines in the man’s face deepened. His eyes rounded with an intense rage that made Claire fearful that he would do something. Was he angry enough to hit her? To punch through her window? People did things in a rage that they wouldn’t otherwise do. “Why is he sending my wife flowers?” he thundered, his voice cracking under the intensity of pure rage. “Why did you take that order?”

He reared up both of his hands, only to slam the arrangement down onto the pavement with force. Claire flinched as the sound of forcefully shattered glass split the air. She glanced down at the arrangement, the beautiful flowers lying amid the water from the vase that stained the pavement dark with moisture. “Sir, let’s calm down…”

She tried. Oh, how she tried to calm him down, but he was having none of it. He began to wave his arms, hands clenched into fists, and yelled words that Claire honestly didn’t even understand. She started to roll up her window, her hands shaking. She reached for the shifter, intending to pull out of the parking lot just as the man stepped over the arrangement and backed away. Claire tried to breathe. Her chest felt like it was in a vice grip. She found that it hurt more when she tried to take deep breaths. Just when she thought the man was finished, he ripped around to set another angry stare at the van. He pointed a finger, and she heard his booming voice loud and clear, even through the closed windows.

“If you ever take another order from him again, you and your little flower shop are going to be sorry.” Then he turned and thundered back into the hospital, swinging his arms in angry motions as he did.

Claire could feel her heart pounding against her chest in pulsing motions. Thump. Thump. Thud. Her ears were ringing with something—she wasn’t sure what. Maybe it was adrenaline, maybe it was just the way he had yelled at her. Never. Never in her life had she ever been threatened before, especially at such a high volume. Her hands broke out in sweat, leaving streaks across the steering wheel. She forced herself to take some deep breaths, but her exhales came out shaky.

What just happened?

The threat had sent a cloud of dread over her, making the future seem uncertain, and that frightened her. Claire hadn’t ever experienced something like this before, and in her shock, she had no idea what to do about it. She was usually so full of answers, so quick to find a solution to the most hopeless situations, but this time she wasn’t quite sure what to do.

Well, one thing was for certain: the ladies at the flower shop had to know something. She realized that she was mashing the brake pedal against the floor so hard that her knee was starting to ache. She released the brake and backed out of the parking lot.

Claire didn’t even wait until she had pulled out before she had the flower shop hooked up to her Bluetooth speaker in the van. Jenna answered on the second ring.

“Bella’s Blooms, this is Jenna. How may I help you?”

“Jenna, Claire.” She hated how weak and shaky her voice sounded, so she raised it a little bit to cover her fear. “I just delivered the arrangement to the hospital to Lily, and this guy comes out of the hospital yelling—screaming—having an absolute conniption. He demanded to know where the flowers came from and smashed them on the pavement!” On that note, she should probably call the hospital and let them know so no one would get hurt on that broken glass. She could have picked it up, but she could only think to get out of there. “And he said that if we accepted any more orders from Cain, we’d be sorry. What on earth was that about? Do you know?”

“Oh.” Yep. Jenna’s voice confirmed that she knew. “Yeah, that was probably Todd. Lily’s husband.”

Claire felt her heart sink. She couldn’t imagine being married to someone with a volcano for a temper. She had only seen him for all of five minutes and already she wanted to drive by the courthouse and get a restraining order. “Todd?”

“You don’t know the story, do you?” Jenna sighed. She didn’t seem concerned, as if this had happened before with no consequences. “Todd is a jerk. Lily’s been having an affair with Cain for months now. Cain always sends her flowers secretly saying, ‘Guess who?’ I guess Todd finally found out about it.”

Claire couldn’t swallow and forgot how to breathe for a moment. “Cain’s her lover?” She had always just assumed that Cain was a brother or something. The thought of someone having an affair with Lily hadn’t even crossed her mind, and she mentally kicked herself for that. How could she not have even considered the possibility of an affair? She wished she could be like the women at the flower shop who always assumed the worst and hoped for the best; instead, she always assumed the best in everyone until she was proven wrong. Then again, up until now, that had been the better way to live.

“Okay, well, I’ve got a few more deliveries. I just wanted to get to the lowdown on this.”

“Are you okay, though?” Jenna finally asked. “You sound shaken up.”

She was. Claire held out her trembling hand. It would probably be best to pull over and calm down, but she just wanted to get where she needed to be. “I’ll be fine. See you guys in a few minutes.”

Avery wasn’t about to let any of it go. After her conversation with Miles, she had gone on a hunt for any evidence she could uncover, hoping to find something other than Miles’s brilliant testimony of “I didn’t do it.” She had shut herself in her office since parting ways with him, and began to form pages and pages of information, scribbling notes on her legal pad as her analytical mind worked.

First, she learned that Miles was indeed the family man he claimed to be. His wife, Lauren, had been the woman with round eyes. She noted they’d been married for about six years. Their children looked just like both of them. Avery jotted their names down on the legal pad, just in case she needed the information. Hollie, 5 and Judson, 3. She felt her heart sink, thinking about how scared the family must be right now with the thought of their father possibly going to jail.

She began to consider the victim: Tom. If she was going to find something that would prove Miles’s innocence—if he was innocent, to begin with—she should think outside the box and investigate the man he supposedly killed. She jotted her thoughts down on her paper as she read on.

Tom had been a firefighter for thirteen years, and in that thirteen years, he had proven himself to be one of the greatest firefighters in Juniper Springs history. Jealousy? She looked up a few of his last cases, relying on the Juniper Springs Times to fill in the blanks for her as she wrote notes on her legal pad.

House fire on Maple Street. House completely destroyed. Two victims. Tom Clarence, died of asphyxiation. Second victim, Glenda Sellers, was pulled from the house only to die in the hospital. Probably also carbon monoxide poisoning, confirm this.

Avery gritted her teeth, hating everything to do with what she was reading. She pushed her pen down, leaving a mark on the paper that cratered through at least three pages. So, Tom had died while trying to save Glenda, and she had still died anyway. How could there be so much tragedy in one place? She read on, finding another article about the other fire and started taking notes again.

Fire at the Nail Salon, building completely destroyed. Water heater blew up. Fire spread quickly. One victim, Lily Carlson, owner, taken to hospital in critical condition.

Lily Carlson? Avery sat back. Where had she heard that name before? Her boyfriend, Lance, owned the clinic in Juniper Springs. Was she one of his patients? Avery scribbled the note down.

Ask Lance about Lily.

Critical condition. Avery knew all about carbon monoxide poisoning. She thought back a year and a half ago when Lance had first returned to Juniper Springs to take over his mother’s clinic after her death. Avery’s investigation of his mother’s death had led to her killer knocking Avery out and trapping her inside the clinic, then setting it on fire. Thankfully it hadn’t been enough carbon monoxide to send her into a coma, and she couldn’t imagine what Lily was going through.

She clicked over, reading the obituary for Tom Clarence. Tom is survived by his wife, Becca, and two almost-tween sons. Johnny and Sean.

Poor kids. Avery shook her head. Suddenly, the name jumped out at her. Becca Clarence? She knew Becca Clarence for sure. She was the sweet woman who worked as a receptionist at Lance’s clinic.

Well, it seemed that the clinic held at least two leads for her to gather some information. She found the number to the clinic and dialed it, hoping Becca would pick up.

Avery pulled into the clinic around five that evening. She couldn’t say why she felt so tired; all she’d done was read information and stay on the phone all day. After asking Becca for a meeting, she’d called and confirmed with Lance that she needed to steal Becca away for a few minutes concerning a legal matter. Lance hadn’t asked, but she could tell he was more than willing to have her come by the clinic—if for no other reason than an excuse to see her.

Avery got out of her car and stepped inside the clinic. Becca had the phone plastered to her ear but looked up as Avery entered. “Oh, okay, uh-huh.” She held up one finger, asking Avery to wait. Avery nodded to her.

The other receptionist, Sue, leaned around her monitor. “Can I help you, Miss Hart?”

Avery nodded her head to Becca. “Thanks, Sue. I’m waiting to speak with Becca.”

“Oh, okay.” Sue shot her a smile and returned to her work.

Becca finished her call in a hurry and stood. “I’ll be right back, girls. Sorry.”

“You’re good, honey. Take as long as you need,” Sue assured her in a comforting voice. Avery knew the rest of the front desk staff of the clinic—Sue, Milton, and Dawn—and knew that they were undoubtedly some of Becca’s biggest support during this difficult time. She was glad that Becca had people there to help her through her day. Working after the death of her husband had to be hard enough.

Becca came out the door that led past the receptionist’s desk and to the back part of the clinic. “Where do you want to speak to me, Miss Hart?”

“Can we do it away from listening ears?” Avery asked.

Becca nodded. “There is a picnic bench outside where I eat my lunch. We can go there.”

Avery ignored the day’s heat as it beat down on her and Becca. She settled across from her at the picnic table and fought the urge to reach across the table. She tried to remain professional, even though she gave her a compassionate look. “First of all, how are you holding up, Becca?”

Becca sniffed. She looked like she was about to cry, and Avery didn’t blame her. She hated that she had to be here, probing into the most sensitive part of Becca’s life for something that wasn’t even related to solving Tom’s murder. For once, she wasn’t the one investigating someone’s guilt but rather their innocence. And if he wasn’t innocent, Avery hated the fact that she could be defending the man who had robbed this woman of her husband. “I’ve had much better lifetimes.”

Becca’s statement was heavy, and Avery felt the weight of her grief like it was her own. She hummed a small reply and sighed. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“It’s okay.” Becca tried to regain her composure. Avery hated how callous the words sounded, especially knowing that the widow had probably heard them a dozen times a day… from people who knew Tom. Eventually, they would become little more than platitudes. Becca drew in a long breath and squared her shoulders as if bracing herself for a meltdown. She asked Avery in a controlled voice, “You said you had some questions for me?”

Clearly, Becca didn’t need her condolences right now, and Avery accommodated the grieving wife. “Yes, I do. It’s about Tom and his life at the fire station.”

Becca nodded, her face unchanging. “Go on.”

“I know this is hard for you.” Avery kept her tone even, laced with compassion and hating herself for every word. “But can you ever think of a time when Tom wasn’t getting along with someone at the fire station?”

Becca’s firm headshake confirmed what Avery already knew. “No, never. Tom was a friend to everyone. It didn’t matter if you’d been there a month or eleven years; he treated everyone like they were his friend.”

“What about his closest friend? Miles? Did Tom ever say that Miles had anything against him?” Avery knew that she couldn’t prove much based on the deceased’s view of her client, but this was all part of building a case.

Becca’s gaze shifted, looking out over the trees that were planted near the back of the clinic, giving it more of a woodsy look than a place for healthcare. “The guys were more like family than coworkers. Tom never talked about anyone with contempt.” She looked down at her hands clasped on the table. Avery noticed her knuckles weren’t white like Miles’s had been, indicating no nervousness on her part. Maybe some quiet hesitation though. The next time she spoke, it was so quiet that Avery wondered if she had misheard. “But there is something he did mention.”

This. This was going to be it. The make-or-break part of her case. Avery leaned forward, hushing her voice even more. “What is it, Becca?”

Becca shot a look around the parking lot, near the clinic, to confirm that they were alone. Despite the fact that they were, she leaned all the way across the table, locking Avery into a stare. Her voice was more of a murmur, quiet enough for only Avery to hear. “Something wasn’t right at the fire station. Tom never told me what it was, but he said that something was going on behind the scenes that no one knew about. Something big.”

Something big was happening? Curiosity swarmed inside Avery’s mind. “Did he make it sound like it was a good ‘something big’ or not so good?”

“I couldn’t really tell, but his tone suggested that it wasn’t good,” Becca replied. “He had that tone of warning that he used to get when the kids,” she sighed, “when the kids were acting up.”

Avery nodded, noting how much a part of Becca’s life her husband had been. Losing Tom was like losing an arm. She reminded herself to stay focused. “Thank you, Becca. I know this is hard for you, and I’m sorry you had to relive some things. I don’t have anything further at this time.” She had enough to go off of based on the account that something big was happening. Could this be something bigger than a simple homicide?

Becca shook her head. “It’s fine. Anything that helps Tom get justice.”

That’s what Avery was afraid of.

Becca glanced at her watch and rose to her feet. “I had better head back inside if we’re done. Dr. Blair has another one of his famous staff meetings tonight, and the clinic is done at six.”

“Sure. Go for it.” Avery stood to her feet at the same time Becca did. “I appreciate you talking to me.”

“Thank you for what you’re doing.” Becca gave her a grateful smile. Avery hated the fact that she was representing someone who could have potentially killed Tom. She couldn’t help but piece some things together. Tom had told Becca something big was going on at the fire station. Could Miles have been a part of that? Avery recalled the last thing he’d said to her before getting into his car and driving off.

It wasn’t a faulty wire.

Miles had stated with absolute certainty that the fire wasn’t caused by a faulty wire. Did that mean he knew it was arson—that someone had caused the fire intentionally? Had he been a part of that, and Tom had accidentally gotten killed in the crossfire? Avery played with a thousand possibilities in her head as an ugly one unfolded. Tom was a great firefighter, and Miles had been in his shadow for the entirety of his career. What if he’d had enough? After Tom was heralded as such a hero again after rescuing Lily Carlson from the salon fire, what if Miles had wanted a piece of the spotlight for himself? Maybe he messed with Tom’s gear and set the fire so Tom would pass out due to lack of oxygen or realize something was wrong with his tank. That would give Miles a chance to rescue the victim and Tom, the great hero, thus becoming a hero himself. Only maybe it had gone terribly wrong.

Avery shook her head as she returned to the clinic. She was supposed to be defending Miles, not accusing him. But the thought that made her sick to her stomach? Her theory made sense. People did things for fame all the time, and it hardly ever ended well. It was very possible, and now she had to find a way to prove otherwise and possibly get a guilty man off the hook.

This was the part of her job she hated.

Avery walked the familiar halls of the clinic with a particular destination in mind. She knocked on the door that read Dr. Lance Blair and waited for his voice to answer.

“Come in.”

The sound of his voice brought a smile to her face. Oh, how she loved his resonant voice that could be somehow both commanding and warm. She cracked the door and peered through to where he sat, adorned in his white coat, scribbling his chicken scratches for handwriting onto whatever he was writing. “I couldn’t leave without saying hello.”

His gaze flickered up to hers, and his expression warmed. “Yes. That is against the rules of my clinic, after all.”

She pushed her way into the office, and Lance set his work aside. He came around the side of the desk to greet her, pulling her into an embrace and laying a kiss on her lips. “How are you?”

How was she? Torn. Torn between her job and what she believed was right, but she couldn’t tell him that. She tilted her head, swinging her blond ponytail over her shoulder, and gave him the smile she shared only with him. “Better, now that I’ve seen you.”

“I have a way of doing that.” He winked teasingly at her and released her.

She gave him a light smack on his shoulder. “Oh, stop that, now. Your ego will get too big for your office.”

“Then I’ll just get a bigger office.” He teased back at her, not making a move to return to his chair. “How did your conversation go?”

He didn’t ask for details, and she couldn’t offer him any. But she could at least give him a vague answer. She blew a strand of hair out of her face that had come loose from her ponytail. “It has given me a lot to think about. There’s still a lot of work to be done.” She didn’t want to go any further. Right now, she had to keep her thoughts to herself, so she nodded to his desk. “And how is your work going?”

He sighed. “Paperwork is my least favorite part of anything, but it has to be done. I’m grateful for the distraction of my beautiful girlfriend to break up the monotony of it.”

Avery glanced over at the paper on the desk, snickering to herself. “Why bother doing it? No one can even read it!”

“Hey!” He laughed. “There are people who are skilled with translating doctors’ handwriting, so I have nothing to worry about.”

Avery held up jazz hands as if she were retreating from the topic she’d started. “Well, what can I say? Do you guys go to school to learn how to write like that, or…?”

He shook his head as his eyes danced with humor. “I would simply like to point out that you have never had to write out words like Costochondritis on a daily basis. After a while, you just don’t care.”

Avery joined his laughter. “No, can’t say that I have.”

He gazed at her, relishing in the laughter they shared back and forth as did she. Even with the burden of heavy thoughts on her mind, he was able to relieve that burden without even trying, and she loved him for that. She let their laughter settle for a moment before pressing her question. “Hey, I have a question. I know this is personal, but does the name Lily Carlson ring a bell?”

Lance nodded. “Yes. We’ve seen her around here sometimes.” His eyes told her that he knew she was in a coma. She and Lance had been dating for so long that she could read him more and more as time went on. So, Lily was Lance’s patient. That settled that. Now Avery tried to remember why she had thought that information had been important, how it tied in with the case. Her memory went nowhere, however, as a raised voice coming from somewhere near the front interrupted everything. At first, she figured that someone who happened to be loud and boisterous was teasing the reception area or just talking too loudly. But the more she listened, even though she couldn’t make out words, the more she heard an angry tone.

Lance paused, narrowing his eyes as he caught the sound as well. A gruff sigh escaped from him. “What now?”

He launched off from where he was leaning against his desk but didn’t even get to the door before it flew open. No knocking, just a sense of urgency. One of the nurses, Dani, came halfway into the office, her eyes wide with concern—a sight that should never be seen on a nurse’s face, Avery thought. “Dr. Blair, we need you out front!”

Her voice came out as bullet-point fragments, indicating that whatever was happening out there was more than just a sparring. Lance jumped into action immediately, and Avery fell into line behind him. They sprinted toward the front, following the sound of the man’s loud, angry voice. As they drew closer, Avery could pick out a woman’s voice quietly pleading.

“You’ve got this all wrong.”

The man roared in response. “You’re acting like I’m the bad guy here. I’m not the bad guy! I’ve been checking on you repeatedly since Tom is dead, and this is how you thank me?”

Since Tom is dead. Avery felt the blow that the words must have caused for Becca. Within seconds she and Lance burst through the door that led to the waiting room. There were a couple of people standing by the door, looking at the scene with wide eyes. A teenager had her phone out, recording the whole thing rather than making herself useful somehow. Avery hated how this video was going to wind up on the internet and smear Becca’s dark secrets everywhere.

A man with black hair and a tall, intimidating body stood in front of the reception window. His posture was hunched toward Becca, and his face was beet red. Sue and Dawn were on their feet, angry and frightened eyes set on the man as they tried to shield Becca behind them. “You need to leave her alone, mister!” one of them said.

“Hey! Hey!” Lance sprang forward. Avery watched him transform from doctor to former military as his rapid, commanding gait brought him closer to the troublemaker. Lance’s hands were on the man’s arm as he drew him away from the reception area. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave, sir.”

The man shook Lance free and jabbed a pointed finger at Becca. “This isn’t over, sweetie. I’m being nice, and you’ve treated me like I’m a criminal!”

Avery couldn’t just stand around and do nothing. She started to approach to give Lance a hand, feeling the protector coming out in her as well. How dare he do this to sweet Becca!

“Hey!” Lance’s voice could shake the rafters as he reached for the man again. “I will not tolerate any verbal abuse of my employees.” He glanced over at Avery, catching her gaze, and nodded to Becca. “Take her to the back.”

Avery nodded her agreement and sprinted toward the door, but not before hearing that the man was still aiming his angry words at Becca.

“Hey! I’m talking to you!”

“Take a walk, man!” Lance brought his voice up to match the intruder’s volume. Hearing him angry even shook Avery a little bit. Lance could strike fear into anyone’s heart if he really wanted to.

She slipped into the reception area and laid a gentle hand on Becca’s arm. “Come on, it’s okay. Let’s go.”

She could feel Becca trembling as she drew her into the hallway. The man’s shouting still thundered from the lobby, taunting Becca for leaving, but it was no match compared to the authority in Lance’s voice, booming with the command of a former military professional. Avery was sure she heard the words “calling the police” in there somewhere from Lance, but her main focus was Becca now.

Avery led her up the hallway a little bit and then turned Becca toward her, so she could look into her eyes. “Are you okay?”

Becca’s sniffs came as rapid as the tears that now began to flood her face. She just shook her head and kept shaking it.

Avery cast a glance at the door as the man’s voice sounded like it was getting closer to the exit of the clinic. “Who was that?”

“Phillip Duffey. Ancient history, we weren’t even a thing.” Becca bit her lip.

The door opened, and Lance stormed through. The anger in his eyes cooled into concern when he spotted Becca.

Avery released her grasp on Becca’s shoulders, but still kept her hand on her lower arm. Lance kept himself between her and the door but pointed out toward the lobby. “What was that all about?”

Becca’s chest heaved with hiccupped sobs as she started falling apart in front of Lance and Avery. “I told you… he’s been coming around my lunch hour all the time since Tom’s... passing.” The word passing came out as more of a sob than a word.

Lance nodded. “Yes.” He looked up at Avery with a look that told her he hadn’t been unaware of the man’s presence. “We’ve been keeping an eye on him.”

“Tonight, he came in when he thought I’d be getting off. At first, he was normal, asking if I was doing okay. He started getting pushy, though, asking if I was getting off soon, asking some personal questions. It’s like he knew that I was off for the day, and I couldn’t use work as an excuse not to talk to him. When I told him I didn’t want to talk about it, he got angry and started yelling, saying how I had no reason to keep things from him—that he was a friend, he was just trying to help—that I have never treated him right ever since I met Tom.” She started sobbing so hard that Avery wondered if she was hyperventilating.

Lance went back to being a doctor, the former military in him starting to fade away again. “I need you to calm down for me, okay?” Avery watched as the world fell away from Lance as he focused on Becca. “I’m going to need you to take some deep breaths for me.”

“I’m fine—I’m sorry, I—”

“Deep breaths.” He gently corrected her. He pursed his lips into a rounded O-shape and gestured an in-and-out motion with his hand. “In... out…”

Becca followed his breathing guidance, slowly getting her breathing back to a calmer normal.

“That’s good. That’s good. One more inhale? And exhale.”

He couldn’t do much about the shaking, but Becca’s breathing slowly began to stabilize.

Lance communicated through his dark eyes that he had the situation under control now. “I’ve got the police on their way, but the guy finally left. We can work on getting a restraining order, referring him to another clinic for whatever he’s been coming in for, or whatever we need to do. I won’t tolerate my employees being verbally abused.”

Becca nodded. “Thanks, Doctor.”

Lance glanced up at the clock. “You don’t have to stay for the meeting tonight. Once you give the police your statement, you’re free to go home.”

Her river of tears was back as she struggled to keep her composure. “Thanks, Doctor.”

He gently tapped her shoulder. “Go ahead and wait in the break room. Get some water and have a seat.” He glanced up, finding Dani lurking nearby in the hallway in case she was needed. “Dani, will you take Becca back there?”

“Of course.” Dani’s face was filled with kindness as she stepped forward, laying a gentle hand on Becca’s shoulder. Becca didn’t look back up at either Avery or Lance as she locked her eyes on the floor with embarrassment. Once Dani had taken her back, Lance released a pent-up breath, turning the angry words loose that he’d been saving just for Avery. “Phillip Duffey… I guess they dated in high school. The guy’s practically obsessed with her. We couldn’t prove that he was stalking her, but he was hanging around, being all creepy around her lunch hour ever since her husband died. Tonight was the final straw.”

Avery stared after where Becca had disappeared. “I can’t imagine how frightening that must be for her. She didn’t need this—not with everything else going on.”

“No, she didn’t.” Lance’s voice was stone cold. He looked back at her and sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” Avery felt anger welling up inside her, too, so she understood. “That was a crazy few minutes.”

Lance nodded. “Yeah, it was.” He paused, searching her face as if he felt torn from her by duty. “I’m sorry. I’ve got to go take care of this now. Can I call you later?”

“Of course, you can.” She calmed him by reaching up and placing a kiss on his lips. “Let me know if you need anything, okay?”

He nodded. “You know I will.”

Avery hung her purse on her shoulder and walked out the door, feeling Lance’s gaze following her. Her head was spinning. Between Becca’s little confession from earlier and the outburst with this guy from her past, Avery wasn’t entirely sure what to think—other than the fact that everything to do with Tom’s death seemed to be unraveling at the seams. His death had caused a bigger stir in the town than anyone originally would have thought.

The weekend had passed all too quickly for Dallas. He knew that he had enjoyed his date with Claire when he couldn’t get her out of his head while he worked Monday afternoon. Her pretty smile, the way her eyes lit up, the lovely way she engaged with him. He had taken her out on a date based on their friendship, but he was beginning to wonder if there was something more. Seeing her again after all these years reminded him how much he admired her. Last Saturday, he had felt happier than he had in a long time. Claire was the first girl to make him wonder if he really did want that missing piece in his life.

He decided that calling her wasn’t enough. He had to see her again—had to stop by the flower shop and see how she was. He wanted to see that warm smile in her eyes, and hear her voice without the phone reception between them.

The clock on his truck read 4:50, which told him she’d be closing up soon. He hoped she wasn’t up to her ears in the late-day closing duties. The door chimed as he went in, but something was different. The atmosphere wasn’t the happy-go-lucky feel that he normally got. He felt tension hanging in the air.

Jenna, Jody, and Eva worked wordlessly at counting the till or cleaning their workstations, and Claire had the phone plastered to her ear. For the first time since her coming back, she didn’t have that normally happy tone or the soft voice of compassion she’d used with him at the service. She almost sounded mad. Either mad or very, very stern.

Jenna looked up from counting the till and gave him a small smile. “Hi,” she whispered.

Dallas nodded his head to her. “Hi.” He mouthed back, then pointed to Claire. Jenna nodded her head in understanding, and he leaned against the counter to wait for her.

“I know, but I can’t deliver any orders that come from you anymore.” Claire had a firm, set look in her eyes toward whomever she was talking to. “I don’t know how he knew, but…” Her voice trailed off, and Dallas heard a muffled raised voice on the other end. “No, I didn’t tell him.”

Dallas could hear the sound of the raised voice on the other end, someone pleading a case that wasn’t theirs to plead. She turned, casting a look of annoyed desperation around the shop, and her eyes met his. For a few moments, it seemed like relief crossed her features, like she was glad to see him for more than just the date they had enjoyed.

She gave a series of nods after a while. “I’m sorry, but I’m not going to put my staff at risk. If you want to send her more flowers in the future, the hospital has a nice little gift shop. But I’m telling you, her husband was angry. He’s not going to let her receive anything you order.”

After a few more angry words, the line went silent. Claire blinked as if she were trying to hear something in the distance. “Hello?”

She put down the phone with a sigh and turned to Dallas. The look on her face told him that whatever she had just dealt with emotionally was a task as large as climbing Mt. Everest. “Hi. Sorry about that.”

“No, no, you’re fine.” He leaned closer to her. “Is everything okay?”

Claire studied him as if she wanted to spill everything, but stopped short. She turned, looking over her shoulder. Jenna handed her a slip of paper. “It balanced again.”

Claire took it, barely giving it a glance before returning a weary nod to Jenna. “You guys were awesome today. You’re good to go. You don’t have to stay until five. I’ll close up.”

So, she was dismissing her staff. Did she want to talk, or did she want him to leave too? Dallas waited patiently to see what she needed from him. The three members of her staff gathered their things together and left out of the back door.

Claire listened to their cars start up before she directed all her attention to Dallas. “Sorry. I didn’t want to talk about anything with them around.”

“I understand.” This was serious, whatever it was. Claire reached behind her, yanking a stool toward her. She settled onto the stool and laid her arm on the counter, then leaned on it for support. Her burdened eyes looked up at him, and he cleared everything in his mind away to listen to her. “I kept getting an order for this woman who’s in a coma in the hospital. I thought it was a brother or relative or something, but it turns out it’s a guy she’s been cheating on her husband with. When I went to deliver the flowers today, her husband was at the hospital. He came out to confront me in the parking lot.” She shook her head, both in wonder and anger. “He was a maniac, Dallas! He was screaming, throwing things, he threw the arrangement down, smashing it on the pavement.”

Dallas felt the same anger welling up inside of him. The idea of anyone yelling at Claire or throwing one of her arrangements down like a toddler throwing a fit made him want to have words with the guy.

“He left, but he said if we ever delivered another order from Cain again, we’d be sorry.”

That’s it. “He threatened you?”

Claire shrugged one palm upward. “I guess.”

If there was a proverbial dragon inside every man when someone he loved was threatened, it was definitely raising its head now. “Claire, you gotta take that to the authorities. He does not need to be threatening you like this.”

“I know.” She sighed. “I just had no idea about any of this, and when I called Cain, the guy she’s cheating with, he got upset with me for not being able to deliver any more flowers! It’s just been an awful, awful day!”

She swiveled forward to put both of her elbows on the counter and let her face sink into her hands. She didn’t cry, but she looked like she wanted to just go to sleep and forget about the day. Dallas set his jaw, unable to dismiss the desire to run from the flower shop, find this husband, and teach him a lesson about threatening people, particularly Claire. He would not stand to see her afraid of anyone. He reached forward, offering a gentle hand on her shoulders, his fingers massaging the tension that met his touch. “Are you okay?”

Her face came up out of the palms of her hands with haste. “I don’t want to lose my business over one angry guy, Dallas! I didn’t know Lily was cheating—how was I supposed to know that?”

She wasn’t. That’s because cheating is done in secret, and whoever her husband is shouldn’t take his wrath out on Claire. He acted like it was her fault, and that wasn’t okay at all.

“Claire, I won’t let you lose your shop because of this. You’re the innocent party in all of this, and he can’t shut you down because you accepted an order—especially when you know nothing about it. We can get a restraining order or something to keep him from coming around if we need to.”

We. He couldn’t help but realize that he referred to them as “we” in this situation. Well, it made sense. He wasn’t about to let Claire face this alone. “And as scary as this is, it sounds to me like nothing but idle threats—something he said while dealing with the rage of finding out his wife was cheating. I doubt he’ll come after you; you have no reason to fear losing your business.”

He could reason with her all he wanted to, but he also knew she would brood on this all night. There was no letting this go, no matter how he tried to comfort her. She nodded, maybe more out of politeness than agreeing with him.

He removed his hand from her shoulder and looked behind him at the late afternoon light outside the large window. “Been a really bad day, huh?”

“You can say that again.” Her voice sounded tense like she was about to snap into whatever emotion she was keeping inside. So, Dallas countered that tension with an easy-going smile that told her he understood, but he wasn’t going to leave her like this. “It’s not going to be dark for a few hours. What do you say we take a walk down Main Street and get your mind off of things?”

A walk down Main Street sounded like the only thing she needed.

Claire could sit and brood and replay the day’s scenarios over and over in her head. It didn’t matter if she didn’t know; the way the guy talked down to her still made her feel like an idiot who’d put her flower shop at risk by taking this order. Like she should have been more of a mind reader and suspected something. She felt even worse for having to call a customer who had treated her nicely and telling him she wasn’t accepting any business he had for Lily Carlson. Two unhappy customers in one day, and somehow, she felt like it was her fault. Why did she always have to take things so personally?

Dallas’s suggestion of a walk was the best thing for her. It would keep her from sinking into the mire of her self-berating and, not to mention, spend a few extra moments with the man who seemed to really care about her.

“That sounds wonderful.”

Claire loved Juniper Springs at the close of the day. Even though the sun hadn’t fully descended into sunset, it crept closer and closer to dusk. Claire walked close to Dallas’s side, surprised to find herself feeling stronger with him there. It was like he somehow passed some of his strength on to her and made her look at her day from a different perspective.

“By the way,” she began to say, “what did you stop by for before I burdened you with all my problems?”

Dallas chuckled. “You didn’t burden me with all your problems—I asked. And I just,” he paused, “stopped by to see how you were doing. Looks like I picked a good time to check on you.”

He’d just stopped in to see her? Claire let a smile touch her lips. “Well, thank you for coming by to see me. I’m sorry I was such a mess.”

“Would you stop apologizing?” Dallas asked through his laughter. “You had quite the day. It’s normal to be a little rattled after something like that. I understand, Claire. You don’t have to apologize.”

She gazed up at him with gratefulness brimming in her eyes. His understanding meant the world to her, and somehow it assured her that it was okay to not be okay. “I guess I just don’t like feeling weak. I shouldn’t let this stuff bother me, you know? But it just rattled my cage, and I don’t like how it distracted me all day.”

They passed a few buildings along the street that had closed up for the night, but the smell of food from a small food truck up ahead, mixed with something emanating from the bakery, enhanced the small-town aroma that Claire had come to love. Dallas kept his pace even with hers.

“You don’t always have to be strong. You’ve built your business up, you’re a successful business owner, and you’re not even thirty yet! You’ve built a great life for yourself. I think after all of that, you’ve earned a break, and you’re allowed to feel normal human emotions. Like maybe getting your cage rattled when some lunatic goes off on you.” He shrugged. “There’s nothing abnormal about that. That’s what you have me for.” She couldn’t ignore the teasing in his eyes. “To come around and take you for walks through a town that’s closed for the day and remind you that you’re still a warrior, no matter what.”

Claire studied him as she walked, trusting him to guide her away from anything she might run into while not looking at the sidewalk. He probably had no idea the impact his words left on her. He may have meant them partly in jest, but she took them to heart.

That’s what you have me for.

What, to be strong when she couldn’t and to assure her that it was okay? That it didn’t make her weak?

“Thank you, Dallas.” Her words held quiet warmth from her heart that he had somehow brought out in her. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate that.”

“Ah, it’s nothing. It’s just the truth.” He brushed it off like it was nothing. He stopped walking and turned to face her, a more serious look lining his eyes. “Claire, I mean it. If this guy gives you any problems, you call me, okay?”

She would be okay. In the short time she’d known him, he had adopted the role of her protector, and he somehow did it without smothering her. She also couldn’t help but notice that. “I will.”

“Now, on to better topics.” He nodded to the food trailer. “Have you eaten?”

Eaten? After the kind of day she’d had? She hadn’t been able to stomach even the thought of food all day. “No, I haven’t.”

“Want to grab some food from the food trailer?”

It was something so simple, but it sounded so good. Claire brightened at the thought, and her stomach seconded the notion. “Sure. That sounds great.”

Dallas walked with her to the order window where a man stood, scrolling through something on his phone. When he saw them coming, he looked up and put his phone down at once. “How can I help you?”

“What time do you close?” Dallas leaned around, looking for the hours board.

The man shrugged. “Six o’clock, but I can still serve you folks up. You’re my last customers of the day, and I’m not about to turn business away.”

Claire had the same philosophy. A small business owner like him probably thrived on these last-minute customers. “Thank you for that!”

“No problem.” He grabbed his order pad. “What can I get you?”

Claire settled for a delicious-sounding chicken sandwich, not sure she could go for the cheeseburger that Dallas had his heart set on. While waiting for their dinners, Dallas took a look around, his eyes settling on the bakery up the street. “There’s a juniper tree between that building and the bakery over there. Kind of overlooks a small garden. Want to eat there?”

“Do you know where every beautiful place is in town?” Claire tilted her head, bringing some of the tease back into her voice now that she was calming down.

Dallas shrugged. “Well, according to you, I do own half the town, so I suppose it comes with the territory.”

As the wind rustled through the needle-like leaves of the juniper tree, Claire finally began to relax. Mondays were always the worst, she told herself, but they weren’t bad with Dallas sitting beside her under the swaying branches of the tree. The bench that surrounded the tree in a circular pattern wasn’t the most comfortable—in fact, the stools at the flower shop were more comfortable—but she didn’t care. The company she was with made up for it.

“So how was the rest of your weekend?” she inquired, eager to draw him into a conversation.

“Too short!” Dallas popped a fry into his mouth. “They always are though.” His face softened as he smiled at her. “But it’s good to see you again.”

“It’s good to see you too.” Claire didn’t return his sentiment out of politeness. She really meant that it was good to see him. He’d been in her thoughts ever since their date, until her day had gone sour. But now that he was back sitting beside her, she didn’t want to ever leave. She wondered if he felt the same way about her, or if this was considered another date. What she wouldn’t give to be inside that mind of his, to know if he thought about her the same way she did about him. Did he find himself thinking about her often while he was working? Did he feel the time on Saturday evening as deeply as she did? Or would she sound like an idiot if she opened up to him about that now? Was she somehow back in high school feeling butterflies like she did the first time her phone chimed with a text from her crush? That had been so long ago that she’d nearly forgotten how it felt to have feelings for someone.

Was that really what this was? Feelings? What if she was just majorly attracted to him? After all, he was beyond good-looking to her, complete with the strongly masculine features she loved. The muscles in his arms would make any girl go crazy, so how was she any different? What was so different about the way she felt for him?

“What are you thinking about?” His question invaded her thoughts, and she wished that it hadn’t. She couldn’t exactly share what she was thinking having only spent a few days with him at most. She evaded his question—like she had been known to do—and navigated the difficulty of an unwanted question with expertise.

“Life.”

“Life?” He looked like he hadn’t been expecting that.

“Yes, life.” Claire giggled. “How unpredictable it is, how strange it is that after all this time, I find myself back in the town that I thought I’d never come back to.” Let alone sitting here with someone she knew from high school.

“It is unpredictable, isn’t it?” Dallas agreed. “If someone were to ask me where I’d be in ten years, I wouldn’t have said this.”

“Me neither.” She fixed her gaze on him, realizing that, although it was unexpected, it was a life change that she wasn’t opposed to.

And speaking of unpredictable?

Dallas’s ringing phone cut through the evening. A flicker of regret crossed his eyes, and a sigh escaped from his lips. “I’m so sorry.”

“No.” Claire pressed her lips together, shaking her head. “Don’t be.” This wasn’t a date, after all. Or was it? Claire honestly didn’t know anymore. The only thing she knew was how much she relished in his company.

Dallas drew his phone out, and a glance at the caller ID sent a frown to overshadow his face. “I’m... I have to take this. I’m sorry.”

“Take your time!” Claire knew he wouldn’t be long, so she sat back, placing her back against the bench, and enjoyed her chicken sandwich. Without the road noise of the middle of the day, she wasn’t able to tune out his conversation no matter how much privacy she wanted to give him.

“Hello?” What caught her attention was the worry in Dallas’s voice. A tense pause filled the air. Claire could hear a woman’s voice on the other end, garbled through the speakers, but not loud enough for her to make out words. It sounded distressed, but then again, didn’t everything when you weren’t hearing it directly through the speakers? “Uh-oh, what happened?”

What happened? Two words that shouldn’t be paired together with a concerned voice. Claire couldn’t help herself but look up at Dallas, watching as his gaze narrowed on one of the stones that cobbled the sidewalk around the tree. He was clearly focused on the problem, whatever it was. Suddenly, his expression grew darker, as if someone were threatening his family or something. “He did what?”

Claire felt a chill pass through her that tingled down her spine. Dallas’s voice came from a lower part of his tone when he was the slightest bit angry, and it was one she never wanted to be on the other side of. Then again, the voice was rooted in deep protectiveness, so she figured she’d never have to be.

Dallas sat back as if in shock and folded an angry arm across his chest while the other one held the phone to his ear. “Did Dr. Blair get a restraining order on this guy or call the police or something?”

The more she listened, the more she could not ignore it. Something was dreadfully wrong; someone was in trouble, and Claire felt worry unwinding in her chest. She stopped eating, focusing on a conversation that wasn’t hers, but she felt the need to make it hers.

“Okay. Okay, good. Yeah, thanks for letting me know. Do you need anything from me?”

Even amid her worry, Claire smiled. Upon first coming to Juniper Springs, she had figured Dallas was considered a pillar just because he owned so much property. But the more she got to know him, the more she realized that it had more to do with his heart for the people he knew.

“If you do, don’t hesitate to call me. This shouldn’t have happened to you—he had no right to make a scene like that. Just reach out, any time of day or night, okay?” Another pause. “You got it.”

After a few more words, Dallas hung up the phone and released a sigh. Claire noticed a muscle in his jaw twitching as he tightened it, signifying that whatever happened on the other end of that conversation had pushed him farther toward being angry. “Is everything okay? I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”

“You’re fine.” Dallas dared to meet her gaze, his eyes blazing with a strong reaction to the news. “You’re not going to believe this.”

Her heart fluttered a bit. “What?”

“You’re not the only one to deal with a jealous suitor today.” Dallas held up the phone. “That was Tom’s widow, Becca. You know Phil Duffey—the guy you told me about?”

Anger began to creep into her expression. Phillip? Yeah, she knew about him. What had he done? “Yeah.”

“He went to the clinic and started yelling at her, making a scene, getting her all upset.”

Claire’s breath caught in her throat. “What?” What in the world was going on today? What had gotten into everybody? First Todd, now this?

Dallas nodded. “Yep. I guess the doctor who owns the clinic took care of it, but still. The guy acted like a lunatic, scared Becca to death.”

His voice came out staccato, and Claire could tell that he was biting back the words he really wanted to say. That’s okay; she had words of her own occupying her thoughts. Two guys making a scene in one day seemed to be coincidental, but what wasn’t a coincidence was Phillip’s stalker-type behavior before Tom was cold in his grave. She voiced her opinion out loud to Dallas in a musing tone.

“You don’t think any of this is related, do you? Doesn’t it seem a little suspicious that suddenly, this guy Phillip is hanging around Tom’s widow? And the whole thing at the hospital today? What is it with all of these angry people causing scenes?”

The phone call brought Dallas back down to the moment. He had been waltzing through the evening, enjoying Claire’s company, until Becca’s call had come in and reminded him that there were too many crazy people in the world, and one of them had frightened Tom’s widow. That didn’t settle well with him, and he wanted so much to find this Phillip guy and show him what happens when he threatens someone that Dallas cared about. When Claire asked him these questions, he realized that her line of thinking directly aligned with his. It made him hyperaware of his surroundings. He scanned the area, noting that the bakery stayed open later. What kind of a bakery closed at eight, he asked himself?

Oh, Claire had asked him something, hadn’t she?

He shrugged slowly as if relaxing his muscles. “I suppose it’s possible that these incidents are related. After all, he’s been coming around since Tom’s death as if he’s still obsessed with Becca. Don’t tell me that’s not a little bit suspicious.”

And speaking of suspicious?

Some movement near the food truck where they had received their meal caught his attention. At first, he brushed it off, until he remembered that the owner had closed down at six and it was at least six-thirty. The owner wouldn’t still be there, would he? And no one but the owner should be that close to the food truck. Dallas narrowed his eyes, looking toward the food truck and trying to make out the shape of a person from a distance. Sure enough, someone was there, crouching down by the back corner of the food truck, which wasn’t right out on the street. Why would a person be crouching there?

The person straightened himself, and Dallas picked out a skinny form of a man looking like he was wearing baggy clothes from the way they hung on him. The food truck owner hadn’t been wearing baggy clothes. The man disappeared around the back of the trailer. Dallas frowned. The trailer was closed, and that wasn’t the owner, so who was lurking around the trailer? Someone trying to break in?

“Dallas?” He heard Claire’s voice but didn’t turn around. He held up his hand. “There’s someone over there by the trailer.”

Claire snapped to attention, too, leaning forward, brushing her shoulder against him. But Dallas didn’t have time to focus on how good it felt to have her so close to him or how good she smelled... he smelled something other than her perfume at that moment. Smoke. Burning wood. His senses went up; there shouldn’t be anything burning in this area. His gaze zeroed in on flickering lights below the food trailer and then, all at once, a wall of flames crept up the corner of the food trailer, right where the man had been standing.

He shot to his feet, digging for his cell phone to jump into action. “The trailer is on fire!”

Claire gasped and followed his lead, getting to her feet. Dallas jogged across the road, pressing his phone close to his ear.

“911, what is your emergency?”

Dallas gave the dispatcher his location in clear, concise directions. “There’s a food trailer on the corner. There was a man standing beside it, and now it’s on fire.”

By the time he hung up the phone call, he and Claire made it to the other side of the road where the entire back of the food trailer was now engulfed in flames. He stomped to a halt and cast a look up and down the street.

Claire pressed close to him, but not close enough to trip him. “Where’s the owner?”

Another smear of movement caught both of their eyes. The same skinny man in tattered clothes stood near the corner of the intersection by the food trailer, arms folded and watching, as if this was his work.

Claire noticed him and called out to him. “Hey, you!”

The man straightened, his attention drawn by Claire’s call. But instead of heading toward her to talk to her, he turned and began running at full speed down the street, away from Dallas and Claire and away from the food trailer.

Claire gasped. “Dallas? Was that the drifter from the diner?”

It sure looked like him. Dallas wasted no time. He sprang after the man, but not before sending a call to Claire over his shoulder. “Go inside the bakery where you’ll be safe, and wait for the fire department! Call the police!”

With that, he turned, and all of those hours jogging and working out at the gym were put to use as he ran after the man.

“Dallas!” The thought of Dallas running after a possible arsonist froze Claire’s breath with fear, but the logical portion of her brain told her he wasn’t doing this to be reckless; he was doing this because he and she both knew they couldn’t let this would-be arsonist get away. But who knew if there were others? Claire turned her back to the food trailer; smoke was pouring from the back portion that didn’t face the street, and the glow lit the road before her. She dug her cell phone out of her pocket and called the police with the new information that there was someone standing by, watching, who had taken off. She headed for the bakery, looking behind her to make sure no second person was chasing after her.

The scrawny guy who had been standing on the street corner couldn’t outrun Dallas; it looked like a strong wind could blow the man right back to where he came from. Dallas caught up with him in no time, saving his strength to sprint at the very end when he got close to the man. Dallas was at his heels before the guy was able to get to the end of the street. Dallas reached for him, throwing his body weight against the scrawny man.

“Oof!” the man cried out as he lost his balance. Dallas brought him to the ground, slamming him against the sidewalk with a hard tackle. The man squirmed underneath him, suddenly finding the fight that hadn’t been there before. He writhed under Dallas’s strong grip, and several incriminating items spilled from his pocket. A box of matches went flying, spinning corner-to-corner until it stopped somewhere on the sidewalk, and a can of butane rolled from his other pocket.

Dallas grabbed his shoulders, forcing him to spin around and look up at him. Sure enough, Claire was right! This was the drifter that had been at the cafe the day he and she had been there. “What do we have here?”

The man slammed his hands up, reaching for Dallas’s neck, but Dallas moved out of the way, straightening his elbows and pinning the man to the ground. The scrawny guy tried to fight him off, but he was no match for Dallas’s strong arms that pinned him to the sidewalk. “What are you doing, man?” Dallas demanded. “Why’d you set that food truck on fire? Huh?”

He read the man’s expression, his eyes were wide but not focused on Dallas. Instead, they seemed to be focusing on some drugs pulsing through his system or whatever was responsible for his delirium. He stuttered, forming no actual words—just noises with his mouth.

Dallas glanced around, listening for the sirens and hearing them split the air in the distance.

“He told me to do it.”

Dallas’s attention was drawn back down to the man as he formed the first logical sentence since Dallas had tackled him. “Who told you to do what?”

“He told me to do it!” The man thrashed his head from side to side, his eyes pinched closed. “He told me to do it. He told me to do it!”

“Who?” Dallas asked him, raising his voice to match the stern situation.

“He told me to do it.”

A fire truck screamed by, and a few seconds later, a squad car showed up, sirens and lights blaring. Dallas lifted an arm, waving them over. The officer must have seen them because the squad car slammed on its brakes, then made a U-turn in the road and parallel parked beside where Dallas had the guy pinned.

Two officers burst from the car, rushing toward them. Dallas shifted, allowing them to take over. Amid the questions, Dallas told them what had happened in under thirty seconds, knowing that the details would come later. But his story kept getting interrupted by the desperate cries of the man as if he were begging everyone to believe him.

“He told me to do it! He told me to do it!”

“Who told you?” the officer in charge asked in a much firmer voice than Dallas. Clearly, the guy wasn’t playing with a full deck of cards. Schizophrenia, maybe? Did he hear a voice in his head telling him to set that food trailer on fire? What else could the explanation be? Dallas stood to the side, finishing up the rest of the story.

“He told me to do it.”

“Who told you to do it?” the officer demanded again.

This time, it wasn’t the same repetitious mumbo-jumbo that had greeted Dallas’s ears since he tackled him. The man hung his head, cracked, dry lips parting, and in a murmur loud enough to be heard said, “That firefighter fellow.”

The officer glanced up, shooting a look at his partner. Dallas straightened, unable to dismiss the effect the words had on him.

That firefighter fellow?

“He told you to set the food truck on fire?” The officer brought the situation back with a firm asking in his voice.

The man’s head shook from side to side. “The house. He told me to do it. That firefighter fellow told me to do it.”

The house. Dallas felt the words hit him like a ton of bricks. Which house? The one on Maple Street?

Miles?

The officer cuffed the arsonist, bagging the matches and can of butane for evidence, leaving Dallas alone with the horrifying assumption.

Did he really know Miles at all? Was he the “firefighter fellow” that the drifter kept incriminating over and over again?

Statements were given, his work was done, and Dallas hurried back to the bakery. His only concern was Claire now. There she was, standing by the staircase, talking with one of the officers. She must have finished giving her own statement because when she turned and locked eyes with him, relief flooded her features and she stepped away, toward him. Dallas couldn’t get to her fast enough. He paid no attention to the food truck, blackened and still smoking but with no fire pouring from the windows. He could only see Claire, rushing toward him. When he reached her, he found himself throwing his arms around her, and she didn’t hesitate to return his embrace. He pressed her close, relieved that she hadn’t somehow gotten herself hurt in the process of him trying to catch the arsonist.

“Are you okay?” she asked in a shaking voice.

Dallas nodded and forced himself to pull away. “Yes, I am. Are you?”

She nodded, her hair bouncing in the evening breeze. “Yes.” She looked him up and down, noticing the sidewalk dust on his pants, and gave him a light smack on the shoulder. “Are you crazy? Going after him like that? You could have gotten hurt!”

True, he could have. He knew the risks, but he also knew that there were more things to worry about than his own harm. A small laugh escaped his lips. “I couldn’t let him just get away. They wouldn’t have ever caught him if I didn’t intercept him. He’s not from here—he probably would have skipped town before they ever got the fire out.”

She seemed to understand and nodded. “Well,” she laughed, lightly, “don’t give in to your adrenaline rush every time, you hear? One of these times, you’re going to get hurt.”

He chuckled. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“I’m fine.” Claire glanced up toward the road where the squad cars had hauled off the criminal. “So, what happened?”

Dallas sighed and shook his head. He followed Claire’s gaze, his own heavy with a twinge of grief he felt. “He kept saying over and over, ‘He told me to do it. The fire-fighter fellow.’ Are we so sure that Miles isn’t the one doing this?” If Miles was responsible for the sudden fires all over town or for Tom’s death, it killed Dallas to think that he had been working under his nose all this time and neither he nor anyone else had ever seen it.

“Maybe he didn’t mean Miles—he never gave a name.” Claire seemed sensitive to his thoughts and tilted her head, looking up at him. “How well do you know Miles?”

“I worked with him, Tom, and my brother at the fire station five years ago. Miles seemed like a pretty good guy. Family man, his wife was pregnant with their first when I quit. Seemed like a decent guy.”

Claire nodded, her face sullen. If Dallas knew her, she was probably trying to fathom how a family man like Miles could ever consider committing murder or even something like arson. “Maybe the ‘firefighter fellow’ means someone else? Maybe someone else at the fire station is responsible for Tom’s death?”

“Whatever the case may be,” Dallas’s words were laced with determination, and he looked steadily at Claire, “I’m not going to let this go. I need to find out who’s behind this—who the ‘firefighter fellow’ is that he keeps referring to—and get to the bottom of it.” He was determined. He was more convinced than ever that his brother’s death—as well as Tom’s—wasn’t an accident, and he was going to find out who was responsible. He was done being passive, and if that meant that Miles was the murderer of his brother and his friend, so be it.

Avery received the call before she even got to the office the following morning. She sat next to Miles once again, as Detective Lou hammered more questions at Miles in light of some new evidence that had surfaced. Miles looked just as guilty and shifty as ever, although Avery noticed a trace of fear lined his eyes—more so than the last time he had been in the interrogation room. Avery kept her ears open, listening for anything that would make or break her case for Miles. Detective Lou slid a headshot across the counter with a scrawny-looking, tanned man with large, wild eyes and a drugged-out expression. “Mr. Lloyd. Is this the man you saw the night of the fire on Maple Street?”

Miles leaned forward, drinking in the image. Avery looked at it but also kept stealing glances at Miles as recognition dawned on his face. “Yes! Yes! That’s him!”

“Do you know his name?”

Miles gave no signs of lying as he answered. “I don’t. I just saw him standing nearby the night of the fire. I was too busy trying to get inside to save the victim instead of stopping to introduce myself.”

Bitter sarcasm doused his tone, and Avery felt herself tense. She understood, but she knew that Lou didn’t put up with sarcasm well either.

“Now, don’t get smart with me.” Lou sat back, keeping his voice calm but firm. He studied him through narrowed eyes. “The guy’s name is Ned Powell. The guy’s a pyromaniac. Did you know that?”

Avery directed the detective’s attention to her. “Detective Lou. What does any of this have to do with my client?”

“Powell was found at the scene of another crime where he set a food truck on fire. He kept repeating one thing, over and over. ‘That firefighter fellow told me to do it.’”

And boom. The statement landed like a drumbeat. Avery didn’t let the way it affected her show on her face. That ‘firefighter fellow’ could be anybody. Just because Miles happens to be a firefighter doesn’t mean he’s the one Ned’s referring to!

“Have you ever had contact with Ned Powell before that night?”

“No!” The word shot from Miles’s mouth. “I told you—I just saw him at the fire! I never talked to him in my life!”

“Did Powell specifically list my client by name?” Avery challenged.

Lou shook his head. “‘The firefighter fellow’ is all he kept saying.”

“Well, the station is full of firefighters, and I’m sure we’re not the only station that Mr. Powell is associated with.” Avery narrowed a stare at the detective. “There is no record of any contact with Ned Powell in my client’s phone.”

“I’ve never seen him before that night, and I’ve never seen him after.” Miles raked a hand through his hair.

It wasn’t a faulty wire. Miles’s parting words after their first meeting echoed in her memory, pointing to the idea that Miles knew something—something he wasn’t telling anyone. And now, come to find out, the man he saw at the scene was a pyromaniac? Did he know Ned Powell after all?

As Avery found herself alone with Miles once again, she turned to him, her face serious enough to tell him how grave the situation was. “Let’s make a pact right now to be honest with one another.”

Miles nodded, and Avery took that as a promise. “Do you know Ned Powell other than when you saw him standing at the fire?” She knew how Miles had answered when Detective Lou answered the question. She just needed to be sure.

Miles sighed almost with annoyance and shook his head. “No.”

Then who was the “firefighter fellow” that Ned kept referring to? Avery didn’t move, didn’t even blink. “Look. The only way I can help you is for you to be straight with me. Can you do that?”

Miles looked up at her, desperation in his eyes.

Avery waited a few moments before going on. “The fire where Tom was killed. Do you think it’s arson?”

“I don’t think,” Miles spat. “I know.”

I know it was arson. Avery held on to that. “Do you know because you saw Ned Powell—a proven pyromaniac—standing there?”

Miles sighed, long and hard. “There’s more to it than that.” He raked another hand through his hair.

“What more is there?” Avery leaned forward, her eyes wide with sincerity. “Let me remind you, Miles, that you’re on the hook for first-degree murder and arson charges. You were at the scene of the crime when they found you, you know how to alter the SCBA gear, and now there’s the pyromaniac who you claim to have seen at the scene, who keeps saying that a firefighter told him to set these fires. Now, they can’t prove that you’re the ‘firefighter fellow,’ but we don’t exactly have any evidence that says you aren’t. It’s obvious you know something and you’re not telling me, so I need you to start talking, or you’re going to be faced with going away for a very long time. So, what’s it going to be?”

Silence muffled the room. There was no ticking clock, no sighs, not even the sound of either Avery or Miles’s breathing. Finally, the rustling of Miles’s clothes as he leaned toward Avery shattered the silence. His eyes took on a fearful, serious tone, running wild with whatever information he was confiding in her. “All right.” His voice was warm with intensity; he spoke each word at a slow pace. “I’ll tell you. But I need to tell you on my own terms.”

She sat back, preparing to listen to what he said. At least now they were getting somewhere. “Okay.”

Miles glanced around the room, then leaned forward as if he were worried that the walls had ears. “We need to talk at noon, two days from now.”

Two days from now? What—two days for him to gather his things and skip town now that she reminded him how serious this was? Avery inhaled and held her breath, trying not to show her annoyance, but it leaked into her tone anyway. “Why wait? Why not tell me now?”

“There’s something that I need to do first.” The words tumbled from his mouth with an urgency that surprised even her.

Avery released the breath she was holding. Games, games, and more games. Why can’t this guy just be straight with me? What’s his deal? But she couldn’t deny the fear that shimmered in his eyes. It was a fear she didn’t see in most of her clients, no matter how guilty. And that told her that what she knew was only the tip of the iceberg. There was so much more to this than what met the eyes, and what she couldn’t see was just below the surface.

Well, at least he was willing to cooperate, even if it was on his terms. Avery agreed with a warning stare and a single nod. “Don’t let me down.”

As the days went by, Dallas’s determination to get to the bottom of who was behind it all hadn’t faded in the least. Sitting at his desk, he tapped the edge of his pen on the list he had made, making a bullet point for each thing he had written down.

Pyromaniac refers to a “firefighter fellow” who allegedly told him to set the place on fire. Okay, so what if he was just referring to the food truck and not to the house fire that killed Tom? And even if he did set the fire, what if he just blamed Miles when it was Ned’s fault all along? Well, that was all well and good, but how could he explain a drifter being able to adjust the dial on the SCBA gear, thus cutting off Tom’s oxygen supply? If there was a “firefighter fellow” that told him to do this, then he was working with someone. That much was obvious.

Miles was at the scene of the crime. That didn’t prove anything, but he obviously knew something and wasn’t talking. With this information, Dallas sat back, pondering. Miles was found at the scene of the crime—so what? What if he wasn’t returning there from guilt at all? What if he knew something and that’s why he had gone back? He reflected on what Miles had said to him.

You have no idea.

Dallas sighed, glancing over and catching a glimpse of his brother’s face staring back at him from the photo on his desk. He lifted up the picture to study his brother’s innocent face. What if he was going about this all wrong? What if he needed to find some sort of connection between Collin and Tom? Dallas sighed, forcing his memory to take him back to where he hadn’t wanted to go: the night his brother was killed. Was there anything suspicious about that night?

He couldn’t remember. For the life of him, his memory evaded him, probably because he had pushed it from his mind so often, to avoid having to relive one of the worst times of his life. He needed some sort of reminder to jog his memory. He set the picture down and picked up his cell phone, scrolling through his contacts for anyone who could help. A particular name caught his attention, and he knew that Ryan Blair, the owner of the Juniper Springs Times, would be the perfect person to ask for the information. Any files on the fire would be confidential at this point, but anything written about in the Times was fair game.

He tapped on Ryan’s contact information, counting the rings until the young owner answered. For a guy just under thirty, he had been running the local newspaper since shortly after he graduated high school and had done an impressive job with it. Dallas had crossed paths with him many times, running ads in the paper about properties for sale or what information to include about stories that involved his properties. The two business owners had a lot of things in common.

“Griffin!” Ryan answered with a cheery note to his voice. “How are you, man?”

“Fine.” Dallas couldn’t exactly answer the question honestly during work hours. “What about yourself?”

“Never better. What can I do for you, amigo?”

Dallas let a smile touch the corners of his mouth. Maybe Ryan’s cheer wasn’t as contagious as Claire’s, but it wasn’t hidden either. “I need you to do me a favor, please, if you can.”

“Sure! Whatcha got?”

Dallas leaned forward, his gaze finding the face of his brother again. “You have connections. You know that pyromaniac they caught, Ned Powell?”

“Sure. Carrie’s working on the story right now.”

“Great. Can you dig up any information you can for me about Ned Powell or any information about the fires that broke out in Juniper Springs between four and seven years ago? Particularly four years ago?”

“You got it.” He heard Ryan’s voice muffle as if he were writing down the information. “I’ll dig up some stuff for you. I can get something together for you as early as tomorrow. Tonight, Carrie and I will be out of town for a little bit. Her cousin Shelley is in a play in that small little theater just outside of town, and we’ll be there tonight.”

“Well, that’s awesome.” Dallas hadn’t remembered that Ryan and Carrie were dating until he mentioned it, but it was good to know that they were still doing well, still going out and doing things together as a couple. “Tomorrow should be fine.”

“I’ll start working on it right now, though, since I have a moment to myself between typing. Let’s meet tomorrow, say, around eight in the morning? Is that too early?”

“No, the earlier the better,” Dallas assured him. He was eager to get this information as soon as possible.

“Great. Swing by the paper’s office tomorrow, and we’ll go from there.”

“Sounds good.” Dallas couldn’t help but be curious. “What play are you going to see?”

“Romeo and Juliet. Shelley is Juliet.”

Romeo and Juliet. It was amazing how a simple play title could bring a flood of so many memories. Dallas smiled with the warmth of remembering when he was Romeo and another girl, so full of life and contagious joy, was his Juliet. “That’s a good one.” He found something useful to say, but now, he guided the conversation to a close. The memories were so clear he could almost reach out and touch them. Seeing Claire, adorned in her cream-colored dress, her blue eyes coming alive and shining with joy under the high school stage lights, her voice projecting each line with confidence and excitement that brought the audience to their feet. Even then, her joy had touched his soul and awakened feelings that he never acted on.

Dallas rubbed his chin, thinking. What would have happened between him and Claire if she hadn’t been so determined to go off to college far away? Or if she had somehow known that life would bring her back to him again? Would they have ever transitioned from very good friends to something more? Would they now?

Well, there was only one way to find out. And with that, another idea presented itself. He picked up his phone again and hit redial on Ryan’s number.

“Oh my goodness! And you saw the whole thing?” Eva’s eyes widened, as if she couldn’t believe that something so huge had happened to her boss.

Claire nodded, stirring her thoughts into the melted glue in the pot on her design table. “Dallas tackled the guy to the ground.” She let a single laugh escape her lips. “They caught the guy because Dallas ran off and recklessly decided to be a hero. Thank goodness for that recklessness.”

Eva glanced up, her eyes dancing with something other than astonishment. The crazy story of the fire forgotten, she shifted gears in the conversation and slunk closer to stand by Claire. “Sooo, I have a question?”

“Hmm?” The way that Eva had dragged out her so indicated that she was asking a pesky personal question, and Claire braced herself for the inevitable.

“You said you were with Dallas again last night. Are you two... dating?”

The question should have embarrassed Claire, but instead, the words dating and Dallas in the same sentence together sent a thrill up and down her spine. Her heart beat a little harder, and no one could miss the smile that flashed across her face before she controlled it again. “Not... exactly.”

“Ooh,” Eva blinked teasingly at her. “Could he be the one you said you were waiting for?”

Was he? Claire had a list, and so far, Dallas hadn’t gone against anything on her list. She didn’t know if he fulfilled every single thing on that list, but he definitely came close. The gentlemanly way he treated her without smothering her impressed her. The way he listened to her made her feel important. No one had ever listened to her or cared about how she felt about simple things before. And she couldn’t help but notice that he made her happy. Without even trying, he just made her happy. “I don’t know.” Claire shrugged. “We’ve just gone out as friends.”

“Well, don’t the best relationships start out as friendships?” Eva gestured an open palm to her.

“Mine sure did. We were friends until one day, we realized that we were more than just friends.”

The girl wasn’t twenty-one yet, and her advice on romance made sense.

“She’s right, you know,” Jody agreed. “Now, it’s not up to any of us to butt into your personal business…” She sent a glance in Eva’s direction in half-rebuke but also half directed it at Claire. Eva caught the hint and tucked her chin against her chest, moving away shyly. Jody glanced back up at Claire. “But we are only given so many days on this planet. I would advise you to never take anything for granted. You never know what life may bring.”

Claire nodded her agreement. “That’s for sure,” she murmured aloud, but her mind buzzed with enough questions to keep her busy. Well, now there was no secret that she had feelings for Dallas. The girls at the flower shop could see that from a mile away; it was written in neon colors all over her face. But the strange thing was that she wasn’t embarrassed about it. In fact, she embraced it.

She could change the subject, but she let the door chime interrupt it for her. She glanced up, feeling her face flush with warmth.

“Speak of the devil,” Jenna murmured to Claire as she walked past, headed for the cooler. The jest only made her blush more and giggle.

Dallas strode up to the counter, his eyes dancing with some kind of mischief. Claire exchanged a look with Jody and Eva, warning them to keep their comments to themselves and strode toward the counter. She gave her hair a little toss and put on a teasingly professional smile. “What can I do for you, fine sir?”

Dallas nodded to her, his smile never leaving his face. “I was wondering if I could ask you something?”

“Sure.” Claire slipped around the side of the counter, prancing up to him. “Let’s go over here to the funeral corner.”

“The funeral corner?” Dallas raised an eyebrow and teased her. “Aren’t you a ray of sunshine?”

Claire lifted her head, releasing a small giggle. “More privacy.”

“Tell me about it.” Dallas strode beside her.

Claire pulled him to the corner of the flower shop where the wall was lined with pre-made wall and easel sprays, crosses, and other mementos found at funerals. Concealed by the shelf that contained the sympathy figurines, Claire turned to face Dallas fully, trying to catch her breath. With him standing so close, she could hardly think, and words tripped from her mouth. “Is everything okay?”

“All is well. Are you okay? Last night was pretty crazy.”

He cared about her; it showed in not only his words but his eyes. Claire forced herself to inhale and nodded. “I’m doing well today. Last night wasn’t as traumatic as getting yelled at.”

A small chuckle escaped from him. “I can imagine.” He glanced around, then leaned in toward her. His voice was resonant, vibrating from his chest, and she was so close she could almost feel it. “I was just wondering if I can apologize.”

Apologize? Alarm raised a warning flag in her mind, but she forced herself to focus. “Okay?”

“Yesterday, you needed something to keep your mind off of the awful day you had. And it turned out to be chaotic anyway. Will you allow me to make it up to you?”

What? That was his apology? Claire felt her smile return and was eager to know what he meant by making it up to her. “Why, certainly. I’m not worried about it, but if you want to make it up to me, what do you have in mind?”

His eyes shone with excitement as he drew closer to her. “There’s a showing of Romeo and Juliet outside of town this evening, and there are a few tickets left. Would you like to go with me, for old time’s sake?”

A showing of Romeo and Juliet? The same play that drew them together during their high school years? Claire couldn’t keep the smile from her face. “I’d love to.”

“Hey, Claire?” Jenna’s voice called to her from the counter. “How far out of town do we deliver?”

She sent him an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. I have to get back to work. But, uh,” she swung her hair out of her eyes, “see you tonight?”

He winked at her. “See you tonight.”

Claire practically floated back to the front counter. She reached for the phone. “Here, I’ll talk to them.”

She heard the order. She listened as the person on the other end told her the address, ten miles outside of Juniper Springs in the mountains... right where Dallas had taken her to see the sunset. There was no way she could say no to something like that. She heard only what was necessary to take the order because her mind was consumed by a single thought: the excitement of seeing Dallas again that night.

Claire’s GPS took her straight to the small theater just outside of town. She didn’t know it existed before, but she was glad to have found it now. Tucked into a small hilltop with the mountain backdrop behind it, the theater served as a quaint, cozy place that probably held no more than two hundred guests. And that was fine.

She got out of her car, hoping she wasn’t too overdressed for the occasion. She had chosen a royal blue dress that buttoned down the front and hung just below her knees and had a thin paisley scarf wrapped around her neck. When she saw Dallas across the parking lot dressed in a burgundy dress shirt, she knew that she had dressed accordingly. Then again, Dallas always looked nice in whatever he wore. She hadn’t seen him dress down once, and he wore it well.

She caught his gaze across the parking lot and waved widely through the air. His gaze lit up as he saw her, and he started in her direction. She closed the distance between them, meeting him in the parking lot in front of the theater’s main entrance.

“Wow, Claire, you look stunning,” he said as he hugged her. “The blue really makes your eyes pop.”

“Aw.” She blushed as she pulled away, but not before inhaling the woodsy cologne that he wore. He smelled so good she couldn’t resist inhaling again. “Thank you. You look great as always.”

He took a moment to study her eyes as if seeing them for the first time. An expression Claire couldn’t quite explain danced across his eyes, something of a deeper smile. He broke the spell when his shoulders rose and fell with a sigh. “Well, we’ve got some time. I’m meeting Blair here to get that information I requested from him.”

Dallas had texted her saying that he was meeting the owner of the Juniper Springs Times with some updated information about a few things pertaining to Tom’s death. Claire couldn’t help but feel the clandestine thrill of it all—as if she were a part of a mission with some sort of top-secret agent. It also gave her reassurance that if she ever turned up missing, he wouldn’t stop until every stone was overturned and he found her. “That’s fine. Is he here yet?”

“I think he just pulled in.” Dallas nodded his head to the other side of the parking lot. “Shall we?”

Claire fell into step beside him. He led her across the parking lot to where a truck had pulled up. A young guy stepped out and came around to meet a stunning, young brunette in front of the truck. The brunette’s eyes shone with a love of life, and the young man seemed delighted to be with her as he reached for her hand.

“There they are!” Dallas waved. “Blair!”

The young man’s attention snapped over to them, and he waved with a hand that contained the folder. With his fingers still intertwined with the brunette’s, he stepped toward them. “Why, hello.”

Dallas set a gentle hand on Claire’s back, and the very thrill of it sent a wave of chills through her body all over again. “Claire, I’d like you to meet Ryan Blair, owner of the Juniper Springs Times.”

Ryan reached out his hand to shake hers. “A pleasure to meet you.”

Claire reached to return his handshake. Out of habit, she extended her left hand first before catching herself. “Sorry,” she offered, then traded her left hand for her right to shake his. “I’m left-handed; it’s just habit.”

“Oh, left-handed?” Ryan seemed interested, his eyes sparkling with a bit of a tease. “You know what they say about left-handed people, right?”

Claire managed a small laugh. “Don’t trust us?”

“No.” He shook his head, blinking as if she’d gone in a different direction than he’d originally intended. “They say they’re very good at complex reasoning. Is this true?”

Claire laughed humbly before Dallas cut her off. “Better than most anyone I know, that’s for sure.”

“Dallas.” She aimed a playful glare at him. “You flatter me.”

He shrugged, his eyes shining with the tease he gave her. “It’s true.”

“I’m sure it is.” Ryan nodded to the brunette beside him. “This is my girlfriend, Carrie Sweet.”

Sweet seemed like such a perfect last name for her, it was almost like she had been named after her personality. Claire reached to shake Carrie’s hand, with her correct hand this time. “A pleasure to meet you both.”

“Guys, this is Claire Bartlett. She’s the new owner of the flower shop, and she’s doing a fantastic job.”

“Oh,” Claire blushed lightly under Dallas’s second compliment of the night and couldn’t help but notice how he always had something encouraging to say. His compliment made her swell with confidence. “He’s too kind.”

“I don’t think so.” Carrie aimed a sparkling smile in her direction. “I saw some of the flowers for the firefighter’s service. They captured his memory so well. It’s amazing how you can tell a story with flower arranging.”

“Mm.” Claire tilted her head as if considering something. Maybe she wasn’t such a fish out of water in Juniper Springs after all. Here, people understood how deeply she enjoyed any kind of art and seemed to resonate with that. “That’s exactly right. That’s what we’re aiming for.”

“And speaking of firefighters,” Ryan handed the folder over to Dallas with a bent wrist and a flourish. “Here is the information you requested.”

“Thank you.” Dallas took the folder. “I hope I didn’t put too much on you by needing this tonight?”

“Not at all. When you said you’d meet me here instead of tomorrow, I already had a lot of it tracked down.” Ryan nodded his head toward the file. “You’d be amazed at what you can find nowadays. I can keep digging into articles, but this is what I was able to procure for now.”

“I appreciate this.” Dallas looked like he was tempted to flip through it, but he had other pressing matters, such as the play about to take place. “Thanks, man. Let me stick this in my vehicle, and I’ll be right back.”

Ryan, Claire, and Carrie followed at his heels, Claire finding conversation with Carrie easy to start up. “So, Dallas tells me someone you know is in this play?”

“My cousin, Shelly,” Carrie replied with a smiling nod. “I guess this is something she wants to do. Not for Broadway or anything, just for fun, you know?”

“I’m eager to see it.” Claire inhaled a lungful of fresh mountain air, and it sparked the memory of her first date with Dallas. A feeling of goodness washed over her like it did any time she thought about her time with him. He had definitely done something to her—something wonderful. “I played Juliet in high school.” She nodded her head to where Dallas had detoured to put the notes in the rear seat flap of his vehicle. “He was my Romeo.”

“Ahh.” Carrie laughed lightly. “So, you’re old friends then? You go way back?”

“All the way back to high school,” Claire said. But she couldn’t help but get stuck on the phrase she had used. He was my Romeo. Could she really use that term in a past tense anymore? She turned to look at him, marveling at and admiring the way he walked back to her. Every muscle—every feature of his masculine face—she found extremely attractive. She felt drawn to him, excited at the prospect of spending time with him. They had gone on dates, after all. Did that mean that this could go somewhere else?

Dallas had no idea what she was thinking about as he approached her. “Ready?”

She was born ready.

For a low-budget theater on the edges of a small town, the play Romeo and Juliet was executed with flawless perfection. Claire had been captivated by the performance from the minute the curtains opened. Although she had to admit that the Romeo they had chosen wasn’t like Dallas at all, but maybe she was just a little biased.

As the play progressed, Claire felt like she was watching a reel of her own memories play across her mind. She could almost taste the feelings that she had felt when she was in the play for the first time with Dallas: the young, innocent happiness that overwhelmed them; the chemistry they shared on stage. It mirrored the happiness she still shared with Dallas and the chemistry that seemed to be growing between them now.

At the height of the feelings and sensations that the play induced, the intermission interrupted. Instead of a silent break, the beautiful refrains of A Time For Us filled the auditorium.

Claire breathed in, seized by the feel of the music, and closed her eyes. One of the most beautiful pieces ever written, enhanced by the ebb and flow of strings, heightened Claire’s sensations and brought unexpected tears to her eyes. She inhaled, feeling the music stir her heart and caress her soul as it carried her away to a place where murders and mysterious things didn’t happen, where there was nothing but flowers, beautiful music, sunsets and... Dallas.

Yes, he was there too. She couldn’t leave him out of her little daydream as he sat right beside her.

Dallas wasn’t listening to the music so much as he was watching Claire enjoy it. He should have known that something this beautiful would touch her deeply. It was like she wasn’t even there beside him, but somewhere off in her own magical world. It made him think of how she had brought magic into his world.

Dallas admitted that music had a way of doing that—of unlocking magic inside a person, of awakening emotion through the harmonies and melodies—but Claire drank deeply of the beautiful refrains, letting it flow through her veins like she was a part of the music. Dallas smiled as he delighted in watching her. He didn’t know anyone like Claire Bartlett. Everyone he knew went to things like this to enjoy them, but as soon as the lights came up, that was it. They were done, check, onto the next thing.

But not Claire. Claire took each moment and let it deposit something within her. She collected each moment, treasuring them, holding on to them until she no longer could. And the beautiful thing about that? It showed Dallas that this was the way to truly enjoy life. It was all about the moments that took your breath away, or something like that. He’d read that on a plaque somewhere, but he had never seen anyone live it out the way Claire did. A lingering question pressed his mind as he watched her, studying her. If she felt every moment so deeply, how did she feel about him? Claire wasn’t the type of girl to go out with someone knowing that it wasn’t going to lead to something serious. She didn’t play with hearts. So, what did that mean for him? Or for them?

As the parking lot cleared out of sleepy-eyed playgoers, Dallas walked Claire back to her car, nearly shoulder to shoulder with her. Claire seemed to float to her car, taking deep breaths and clearly enjoying the mountain air. What was going through that beautiful mind of hers? Dallas had to know, so he asked.

“I saw you drift away when the theme started to play. Reminiscing?”

A smile lifted the corners of her mouth and soaked in her eyes. “That too. But it also is just such a beautiful theme. The music is exquisite.” Passion filled her voice as she lifted her eyes to the stars. “You may think I’m crazy, Dallas, but beautiful music like that… I feel it.” She placed her hand over her heart, and he studied her with delight. “Right here. Something so beautiful should never be just listened to; it should be experienced. Felt with the heart. Helen Keller said something about that, you know: ‘The best and most beautiful things cannot be seen or even touched. They must be felt with the heart.’”

Oh, how well that summed up everything. Everything about them, about Claire, about how she viewed life. He couldn’t help but give a small hum of agreement. “That’s beautiful.”

“Sorry, I’m gushing like a little girl who just saw a good movie for the first time.” Claire laughed, looking down.

No, that wasn’t a bad thing. She didn’t need to apologize, that was the reason Dallas liked her so much. Admired her. “Claire, that’s not a bad thing. Losing that childlike awe is a sad thing, and it should never be lost. Too often it does get lost… somewhere along the way. It’s beautiful people like you who hold on to it that make the world a better place. For themselves and everyone around them.”

The far-off look in her eyes indicated that he touched her with his compliment. “Thank you.”

He stopped at her car but wasn’t ready to say good night. Not yet. “I wish I could see the world through your eyes.”

Claire’s laughter bubbled like the nearby mountain brook. “It’s simple, really. Life is boring when you don’t take the time to stop and smell the roses or to enjoy some masterpiece. There’s no fun in observing and moving on.”

She didn’t just believe it; she lived it. It was who she was. Claire brought out the happiness in him, but it wasn’t just happiness that she instilled in his heart. There was some hope there too. As a firefighter, even though it was only for about five years, Dallas could feel the despair of seeing some of the worst things. The car wrecks at 2:00 a.m. by careless drivers, and the properties destroyed by people’s carelessness or intentionality. Claire hadn’t experienced any of that firsthand like he had, and if he could, he wanted to protect her from ever having to. But in order to do that, he had to be around her. A lot. And that was something he was more than interested in… if she was too.

“I’d better get going. Gotta open the shop tomorrow. Got an out-of-town delivery that I think I’m going to make.” Claire nodded as if agreeing with herself, looking around. “It’s somewhere up here, and I just love this area. Maybe I’ll take you up on your offer to help me find a house sooner rather than later.”

Dallas breathed a laugh, but there was something he needed to know—something he couldn’t let go for a moment longer. He had to know. “Claire?”

She turned after unlocking her car, swinging her hair over her shoulder and meeting his gaze.

He steadied himself with a breath and approached her. “If you hadn’t moved out of Juniper Springs after high school—if you had stayed local—would you have considered, maybe, going out with me?”

She hesitated, but it was more like a pondering, thinking back, a stroll through her hall of memories where they had spent nearly every day together on a project and enjoying each other’s company. But the silence hung in the air so thick—so heavy—that he wondered if he’d crossed a line with her, broken something that was good as a friendship but nothing more in her eyes. He was about to retract his statement, apologize, beg her forgiveness for ruining the moment, but her answer came, softer than the wind through the trees.

“Yes. I would have.”

“You really should let one of us take these deliveries.”

Claire glanced up, as she was entering one of the addresses to the out-of-town flowers. Eva stood with wide eyes. “You own this place; you shouldn’t have to make all the deliveries.”

“Well, the last time I ran a delivery, it didn’t end up so well, if you remember.” Claire’s laughter came easier today, the highlights of her previous night with Dallas still playing through her mind. His question hadn’t been unexpected, but it was different than she’d imagined. Yes, she would have jumped at the opportunity to date Dallas back in the day, but maybe some time and distance were better for them. Maybe they would have ruined the relationship in their youth somehow, and now that they were older and knew how to live a little, it was time to invest in a relationship. If, in fact, that’s where it was heading. She had to put the brakes on her thoughts and give some sort of answer to Eva. “Besides, I’m just getting used to the town. I enjoy this as much as you do.”

Eva shrugged. “Well, hopefully nothing big happens this time. I feel bad about what happened at the hospital—that none of us clued you in on the affair between Lily and Cain.”

“Ah, you can’t keep track of everything.” Claire waved her off. “I highly doubt anything will happen this time. I’m going to a residential area, and a guy ordered these flowers for his wife. What’s the worst that can happen?”

Avery guided her car around the curves that led out of town to the visitor information center for Juniper Springs. Why on earth was Miles so insistent upon dragging her all the way out in the middle of nowhere when a simple visit to her office would have sufficed? Why was he so insistent upon playing games with her? At the information center, there was a board that detailed a nearby hiking trail, and she half expected to find a note from Miles with some sort of riddle or clue tacked to it to lead her on a wild-goose chase. Either way, she was almost surprised when she rounded the curve and saw his car parked haphazardly on the side of the road and him standing outside of it. So, he’d come after all.

Avery eased her car onto the gravel parking lot, eager to get this over with. It made her slightly uncomfortable that he requested to meet her so far outside of town. The information center was where her friend Allison and her now-boyfriend Jacob had been attacked last autumn, when the kidnapper had lured them out there only to start shooting at them. Avery cast a glance around, searching the trees for any sign of someone unfriendly, but she knew it was hopeless to try to pick out someone who was hiding and wanted to harm her. Her only consolation in the matter was that she was there to help Miles; he would have no motive to lead her into a trap or to harm or threaten her. Would he? Either way, it was still annoying that she had to travel all this way. She hid her annoyance as she got out of her car, clutching her purse strap that contained her concealed weapon, and set a firm gaze on Miles.

“Why all the secrecy?” She swung her car door closed with a thud and approached him, gravel crunching underneath her feet.

Miles started toward her, taking his time as if calculating each step. He slipped his hands into his jean pockets and looked around with worried eyes as if he, too, was searching for some hidden threat among the trees. “Because they’re not safe yet.”

He spoke in riddles, but for some reason, his statement reflected some sort of understanding in Avery. They’re not safe matched up with his shifty, scared behavior, like maybe someone was in danger because of the information he possessed. She had to know—had to get to the bottom of this. “Who’s not safe?”

Miles sighed. She finished closing the gap between them, and they stood, lawyer to client, human to human, close enough for her to read his gaze. The bags under his eyes were purple due to an obvious lack of sleep; the worry that drew lines around his eyes and mouth indicated many hours of stress. After his statement, Avery began to wonder if it wasn’t the stress over being guilty at all. He inhaled a long breath, releasing it before he managed to meet her eyes. In his gaze, Avery read desperation, as if she were the only one in the world who could help him—as if he was admitting something that was as terrible as the crime he committed. “My family.”

Avery’s eyes grew wide, and she caught her breath. Had Miles’s family been threatened? Of course. Why hadn’t she thought of that? She remained silent, allowing him to go on, and listened with her full attention.

“I had to get them out of town. They left this morning; my wife is taking the kids and going to go stay with her family for a while in Oregon. Avery...” He said her name like a drumbeat that changed the course of a song. He drew closer, pleading with her to listen and understand. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you. But I haven’t been able to because my family is under threat.”

If what he was saying was true, then that explained everything: why a man who was the only major suspect for murder wasn’t saying anything to defend himself while clearly indicating that he knew something. “Go on.”

Miles swallowed. “I received a threat toward them a few weeks ago—if I relayed the information I’m about to tell you. I think I’m being framed.”

“Framed?” Well, that changed the course of everything if he was telling the truth. But if he was lying—unless he was playing some elaborate game with her—he would have said he was being framed long before now if his family hadn’t been threatened. The questions were: who and why? “By whom?”

He shook his head desperately. “I know too much.”

Avery wanted to tell him to spill it all and not keep her in suspense any longer. Before she could form another word, however, she heard the howl and screech of tires on the road. She wanted to believe that it was just someone taking the curves too fast, but her senses told her she knew better. Miles was, indeed, being threatened.

She turned on her heel, spinning to face the highway, and reached for her gun. A white van lumbered into view. He had taken the curve too fast, and the van rocked back and forth as the driver attempted to regain control. The black-tinted passenger window gave no clue as to who was in the driver’s seat, but it started to roll down. Avery slammed her hand into the secret compartment of her purse for her concealed carry.

Pow, pow, pow! The gunshots weren’t hers. They sounded off before she could withdraw her weapon.

“Ahhhh!” She heard Miles’s cry of pain, and she sensed his entire body drop to the ground before a splitting, burning pain pierced through her left thigh. All the muscles in her left leg curled under the pressure as blood leaked down the front of her thigh. It felt as if someone had her leg in a vice grip. Avery gripped her leg, giving in to the lack of muscles that held her upright. Her body hit the gravel with a thud, and she let out an “Oof.”

Tires screeched. Avery gasped for air. The van swerved around another corner, disappearing into the forest highway without stopping or slowing. Avery looked down at her leg, dark burgundy pulsing out of the wound that built up, as the pressure and pain intensified.

She glanced around, horrified at seeing Miles roll over onto his back, gasping for air and groaning in extreme pain. Avery’s leg hurt, but probably not as much as the volcano of blood erupting out of a hole in Miles’s abdomen and another nick in his chest.

Oh no.

Avery scrambled, dragging herself toward him. She slid her right leg along the ground, keeping her bloodied leg out of the dirt. She needed to call 911—she needed help—but Miles! She steadied him with a hand on his shoulder, looking over his face with concern. “Miles?”

He gurgled, then groaned. His eyes opened like heavy doors and found their way to meet her gaze. “Oh, no! Miles, stay with me! You’re going to be okay!”

His lips parted, blood lining the inside of his lips and spitting out in droplets as he coughed.

“Nail salon…” Another cough and Avery heard the congestion in his chest. This was far from good. “Not... an accident.”

His body went limp, his eyes dropped closed, and his head rolled to one side. Avery felt for a pulse, feeling a faint hammer of his heart through his wrist.

“Oh no—Miles, don’t —”

His last attempt at justice rang in her ears, but she could hardly think about that now. The pain in her leg began to cloud her own vision, and she whipped out her cell phone, dialing three familiar numbers and pressed her phone to her ear.

“This is Avery Hart. My location is at the information center outside of Juniper Springs. My client and I have been shot; he is unconscious. We need an ambulance and help immediately.”

Claire was happy to report that the person receiving the flowers in the mountain road did nothing to threaten her but rather received them with joy. She knew that if she made enough deliveries, she would soon forget about the terrifying incident with Todd Carlson at the hospital and it wouldn’t flash across her mind every time she got into the van. She drove the curves, taking her time down the mountain path and soaking in the scenery. The trees crowded onto the side of the road, the shadows from the mountain shading the road before her. Claire absolutely loved it up here and was ready to move at the earliest time she could. She just had to establish herself a little bit first, but oh, how she wanted to hurry things up a bit.

Or did she?

What about her and Dallas? What if she and he wound up together? Her admission the night of the play hadn’t surprised her; her raw honesty had been clear since the day they’d met at the flower shop. She cared for him. Liked him a lot. Maybe even loved him? Did she love him though? Well, it was far too early to tell. She hadn’t been around him enough, and she wasn’t one to believe that a person could fall in love after two weeks. But if what she was feeling was leading up to love, she was willing to embrace it if he was.

If she were fully honest with herself, she was hoping that he would ask her to be his girlfriend and just make it official. Whatever “this” was, she wanted more. She didn’t want to just be “dating” him forever. She admitted that he was the only man who had ever captured her attention like this. He was a safe place for her heart, her shelter, her emotional stronghold, and no one had been that for her before. She was strong, she was a survivor, and she did what she had to. The one place she could finally let go and be safe was in Dallas’s presence.

She glanced over to the opposite lane, spying a passenger car making its way up the path toward her. She paid it no heed, other than to make sure that she stayed in her lane and the oncoming car didn’t swerve into her lane. Claire sometimes hated the fact that she was so worst-case-scenario minded, but hey. It had gotten her this far, hadn’t it?

Tires screeched, and she jolted her gaze over to the passenger car, but it wasn’t the car that made the terrible screech. Hammering around the curve at a dangerous speed, a white cargo van flew into view, riding up onto the bumper of the other car. Claire felt both alarm and annoyance at how one careless driver could put so many in danger.

Or was it a careless driver at all? In the blink of an eye, an arm reached out the window of the cargo van and pointed a gun… a gun! At the car! Claire gasped as the sound of gunshots split the air. She jerked her van to the side of the road and slammed on her brakes, scattering gravel everywhere and leaving a deep trail of burnt rubber on the road.

More shots split the air as the two side tires of the car burst and flattened, rolling just the rim onto the road. Claire unbuckled, leaning to the right of her van, and rested her head near the passenger seat. She covered her head with her hands, waiting for her vehicle to take on shots next. What was it with her and deliveries?!

She heard the van screech to a stop and raised her head again. The car had been forced to pull to the side of the road just a few feet ahead of her, and the white van pulled up adjacent to the car, a dangerous roadblock for whomever might be coming in the opposite lane.

Thinking quickly, Claire fished out her phone to call for help, but her eyes remained locked onto the scene. Shock and fear kept her frozen like a statue. The door of the van swung open, and a man hopped out, a black ski mask wrapped around his head. Claire held off on dialing the police, frozen in shock at what she was watching.

The man approached the driver’s side of the passenger car and held the gun to the window, yelling. Through her window, Claire could almost make out the phrase Get out! The door opened, and a woman emerged, hands in the air and tears spilling from her eyes. The man reached over and grabbed her wrist, yanking her toward the van. The woman screamed, protested, and leaned back against his hold—but he only gave her a jerk, sending her stumbling a few paces forward. Claire held her breath. Was she about to watch a kidnapping unfold before her very eyes?

She searched her van, seeing nothing she could use as a weapon against the man and realized her best option was to call the authorities. She climbed into the back of the van to hide herself from view, barely peeking over the back seat She reached over, unlocking the slider door that faced the woods, thinking that if the man came for her, too, she could jump from the van and escape through the woods before he realized it.

The man shoved the woman into the side of the cargo van. He then opened the car’s back door and reached in for a child—no, two children—in the back seat. Claire covered her mouth. He was going after the kids! She wanted to sprint from the van, but she knew she was no match for the man. She squinted, trying to make out the license plate on the front of the van but growled to see that it was empty. At least she could give a description of the van. White three-door cargo van with no license plate and tinted front windows... yep, your classic kidnapper van. How original.

She watched the man drag both kids from the back seat and heard their screams of terror, the mother yelling for him to leave them alone. Claire sank down beneath the panel of the van and pressed the phone to her ear. It took a while to connect, and she remembered that she was on the mountain road. They probably didn’t have a great signal out here. Great. She had to get help up here fast! She counted the seconds before the relief of the ringing phone finally filled her ear. “911, what is your emergency?”

Claire swallowed, trying to get her voice to speak clearly. “Yes, I need to report a kidnapping…”

In the seconds it took to connect her phone call, the one door she had unlocked—her one escape route—slid open and slammed against the quarter panel of the van. Claire jumped as heat flooded in, the body of the ski-masked man filling the doorway. Of course he knew I was here. She should have left, but she wanted to stay and give a description of the man to the police.

The gun clicked as the barrel pointed right at her. “Get out!” A gruff voice yelled.

Claire couldn’t move. Fear froze all of her muscles into stone, and she couldn’t even speak, even though the dispatcher kept asking in her ear, “Ma’am? Ma’am, are you there?”

The man’s free hand shot out, yanking the phone from Claire’s grasp, and she finally found her strength. “No!”

He pushed the end call button on her phone, then reared back his hand and threw her cell phone against the pavement with a violent clatter. Claire winced, the sudden moves startling her.

He reached into the van, but Claire scrambled back against the other door. “No!” Her fingers fumbled for the lock, desperately trying to unhook the latch. She kicked her feet at the man, hoping to strike him.

His hand closed around her ankle, and he gave a tug, sliding her toward him. Claire rolled over onto her stomach, reaching for the seat and holding on for dear life. The back of the flower van wasn’t exactly the best for a hiding place as the seats had been removed and replaced with a floor that had checker-board-type holes and foam pieces to nestle flower arrangements in. She had squeezed her body between the seats and the foam, so she slid quicker across the smooth surface of the checkerboard floor when he tried to drag her out.

The man gave a disgusted grunt, and Claire felt the butt of the gun hammer down upon her shoulder blade, hard. Breath-stopping pain began to spread across her shoulder, which caused her to lose her grip and slide out of the van the rest of the way. She tumbled with no control over posture or footing outside, and the man spun her around, pressing a gun near her temple. She could feel the warmth radiating off of the tip of the barrel and did everything she could to move away from it.

The man gave her a shove forward and across the road. Claire did everything she could to trip him, sticking her feet out and kicking at him, but he only yanked her to face forward and shoved her toward the van harder. “Enough! Do you want to die!?”

Claire pressed her lips together, trying not to cry as she helplessly felt herself being dragged around the front of the van and near the sliding door. The man yanked the door open and pushed her. Another bruise began to form beneath her knee as her leg collided with the step up into the van, and she cried out.

“Get in there!” The man pressed his hand against her back, curling her shirt into a tightened fist, and lifted her the rest of the way into the van. Claire tumbled forward onto her stomach, and she heard the door roll closed and slam behind her.

She looked up, gasping. The woman held her two children close, looking at Claire with a unique, round-eyed stare. Her children sobbed uncontrollably in her arms.

Claire rolled over onto her side, then bent her knees to try to stand—do anything—fight. The driver’s seat was separated by a cage, so escape through there was impossible. Claire lunged for the sliding door, pulling backward on the handle with all of her body weight, but the door held fast with a child safety lock. This was not happening!

The man launched himself into the front seat of the running van and pressed the gas all the way to the floor. Claire had never realized how much inertia and momentum had power over the occupants of a moving van, but without a seat belt in the back, she was given a first-hand lesson in physics. It was like an invisible ball of force knocked into her body, sending her backward, flying through the air. She lost her balance, hitting the floor of the van and rolling to the back. The mother and her two children spilled onto the floor as well, landing on their backs and crying out.

Claire found herself and the occupants of the van being tossed around as the man spun a rubber-burning U-turn in the road and accelerated at a dizzying pace. Claire found her footing again and made her way to the back windows of the van. She slammed her palm against them, hoping to catch someone coming up behind them, and screamed.

“Help! Help!”

Lance’s attention diverted from his discussion with Dani over one of the patients that had just left when his cell phone rang. Since he was in the middle of finishing up the conversation, he sighed and let it ring, deciding that he would answer in just a moment.

“She says she’s doing much better,” Lance began, “but her blood work says otherwise. I scheduled a follow-up appointment for her next Tuesday, and if her potassium levels are the same, we need to switch some things up.”

“I got it.” Dani nodded. She caught the sound of his ringing cell phone and nodded to him. “I’ll let you get that. If you need anything else, let me know.”

Lance nodded, pleased with Dani’s constant willingness to make things better. She had been the one ray of sunshine who always motivated the clinic staff to be positive when he had first arrived. Her willing attitude was a breath of fresh air. He nodded to her. “Thank you.”

Reaching for his cell phone, he pulled it out and felt his own blood pressure spike. Avery? She never called him at work and always texted first… unless it was an emergency. He couldn’t answer fast enough. “Hello?”

“Lance?” Her voice sounded strained, broken. “I’m okay, but I want you to know that I was at the information center out of town, meeting with a client, and there was a drive-by shooting.”

It wasn’t just his blood pressure now. Lance felt like his head was going to explode. He stopped in the middle of walking back to his office, causing the other nurse coming up behind him to nearly collide with him. He barely noticed.

“I’ve been shot in the leg.”

I’ve been shot was all he needed to hear. Lance sucked a breath through his teeth, jogging toward his office, as urgency and alarm pounded through his veins. “You’ve been shot?”

“Just in the leg—I’ll be fine.”

No, no, no—she wasn’t going to be fine! His love had a bullet inside of her, traumatic no matter where it was! And he knew damage to the femoral artery could cause someone to bleed out. “I’ll be right there—I’m on my way!”

Without giving her a chance to tell him she was fine again, Lance lowered his cell phone from his ear, trusting her to hang up the call. “Randy!”

Randy, the nurse practitioner, appeared in the hall, confusion across his face. “Yes, Doctor?”

Lance didn’t give him time to finish as he jogged to the office to grab his keys. “Keep an eye on the clinic—I had an emergency come up!”

“You got it!” Randy sprang into action, but not before Lance could see the look of alarm cross his eyes. He didn’t ask, and for that, Lance was grateful, but he was sure to get peppered with questions when he came back.

Lance didn’t remember grabbing his keys or running through the front door of the clinic. He jumped into his car, checked for pedestrians before backing up, and pushed his gas pedal as far down as he legally could as he sped out of the clinic and headed for the information center.

Dallas decided to take the rest of the day off.

Nothing bartered for his attention on his business side, so he poured all of his concentration into the articles that Ryan managed to gather for him. He hadn’t been expecting this much information in so little time, but he was grateful, nonetheless. With a cup of coffee sitting beside him on a coaster, he began with the articles Ryan had printed from his computer. Good old Ryan. He had even tabbed the pages with the dates of the fires, so Dallas didn’t have to look very hard for the dates in the articles themselves.

A lengthy article in particular caught his eye. As he raised a cup of coffee to his lips, the title grabbed his attention. It had thrown him off track enough that he had to fully concentrate on setting his coffee down so he didn’t spill it everywhere.

Hotel Fire Ranks Largest Fire on Record in Juniper Springs.

Dallas checked the date and held his breath. Four days before Collin’s death. Was this one of the last fires that Collin had battled before he was killed? He began reading.

On August ninth, a raging fire swept through a large portion of the Shut-Eye Hotel in the middle of the night. The fire started in room twenty and spread quickly. The flames reached room twenty-six before firefighters were finally able to extinguish the flames. Fire reports confirm that the fire started from a plugged-in curling iron in room twenty and left too close to some curtains. Local firefighters believe that the fire started sometime around midnight. Since rooms twenty through twenty-six were vacant, no one noticed the fire or smoke until it had engulfed the rooms. Hotel manager, Abel Howell, says that he knows the fire started in room twenty because the smoke alarm started to go off for room twenty on the fire control alert panel in the office.

Dallas nodded as he read. He knew most—if not all—hotels had a fire control alert panel near the office that lit up any time the smoke alarm went off to indicate which room set off the smoke alarm. It still seemed strange, however, that the fire got so out of control before anybody noticed. Abel Howell, if he was the manager, should have been on top of it long before the fire got out of control. He should have gone to investigate the moment the fire control alert panel had warned him of a smoke alarm going off.

Dallas frowned as he reread the article. A curling iron setting the curtains on fire? If there was no other fuel for the fire to burn, such as an accelerant like gasoline or some type of flammable chemical, the fire wouldn’t have gotten out of hand as quickly. Over a few minutes, maybe, but not in the time it would have taken Abel to investigate. The smoke alarm would have gone off, and Abel could have gone to double-check it and called the fire department. Who was this hotel manager, anyway? Dallas read on.

“We’re grateful that rooms twenty through twenty-six were unoccupied. It’s the middle of the week,” Hotel owner Abel Howell states. “We’re glad that no one was there to get hurt.”

Oh, so he was the owner, too, was he? That’s even better. Dallas sat back, musing. Something was off. It wasn’t just the fact that Abel should have noticed that one of his rooms was on fire before it had a chance to destroy six rooms. It was the curling iron. A curling iron did that? If the room was vacant, why was the curling iron plugged in? Dallas scanned the picture of the charred hotel that looked like three bombs had gone off. The blackened chunk missing out of the middle of the hotel was caused by a curling iron? A fire was a fire. But there was something else.

Check-out time was at 3:00 for hotels, and Abel had stated that room twenty was vacant. The fire started in the middle of the night from “a curling iron being plugged in … and left too close to some curtains.” Dallas grunted. Any firefighter, former or not, would tell you that if the curling iron was going to set the curtains on fire, it wouldn’t have waited until midnight to do so. That was nine hours past checkout time. The fire would have started long before that.

Unless that room wasn’t vacant.

Unless it wasn’t started by a curling iron.

Dallas read the rest of the article, detailing things about the fire before laying the page face down and reading a handwritten note from Ryan on the next article.

Dallas,

This isn’t about a fire, but it’s related to that hotel’s fire. Thought you might need it as a follow-up. –Ryan.

Dallas smiled. “You read my mind, Ryan. Thank you.” He began devouring the article.

Possible drug paraphernalia found in Shut-Eye Hotel.

Police are slowly releasing information regarding the distribution of drugs to minors in Juniper Springs. Youth all over town have been affected by the use of meth and crack cocaine. Police believe they have tracked the source to the Shut-Eye Hotel; however, the trail ran cold when a fire broke out at the hotel, destroying any evidence they would have found there.

Dallas frowned and sat back, rereading the information. Yes, he remembered the drug epidemic about four years back when several young people were hospitalized due to an overdose of meth or crack. It had been happening more and more frequently until it just stopped one day.

Police Chief Scott Simmons of the Juniper Springs Police Department states, “We are doing everything we can to locate the epicenter of where these drugs are being produced.”

Police believe that they have found a possible headquarters for the making and distribution of these drugs at the Shut-Eye Hotel, but the trail has gone cold due to the recent fire that ravaged the hotel. Hotel owner, Abel Howell, is also reported to have moved out of state. Due to the loss of his business and the money it would take to restart it, Howell left town a few days before police released information concerning the drug headquarters in various rooms at the hotel. We have no further details at this time.

So, let’s see, Dallas mused. A suspicious fire destroys the hotel, rooms twenty through twenty-six to be exact. A few days later, the hotel owner up and leaves because it’s too expensive to fix it? And then the police release the fact that there might have been a tie to the drug case at the hotel? Was Abel the dealer?

Something was not right. The fire was far too suspicious. How in the world did the fire inspector who did the report miss this obvious bit of information? Unless there was no other information at the time? Why wasn’t it in the notes?

Dallas sighed and set the two articles aside as important to return to later. His fingertips weighed more than lead as he picked up the one article he had never read when it was first published. He’d burned the newspaper when it showed up on the front porch, unable to stomach the front-page headline that had rocked his world.

Structure Fire Results in the Death of Young Firefighter

Dallas swallowed the swirling emotion in his throat and dragged his gaze along the words. His heart felt as heavy as cement, and he could hardly breathe as he read the words.

On August thirteenth, local firefighters responded to a structure fire south of Juniper Springs. Firefighters battled the blaze for two hours, rescuing two victims inside. The rescuers were informed that there were twin girls trapped on the second floor in their bedroom. Both girls were rescued by firefighter Miles Lloyd. During the rescue, Lloyd was separated from his partner, Collin Griffin. Griffin was found unconscious on the staircase and later passed away from smoke inhalation. A pending investigation states that his breathing apparatus malfunctioned, and he became disoriented when he tried to see through the smoke after taking off his mask.

Dallas couldn’t read any more. Images of his brother, turned around and fumbling his way around while concealed through billowing smoke, flashed across his mind. He couldn’t—simply couldn’t—think about Collin gasping for air, only to become confused and rip his mask off, inhaling poison into his lungs that would later claim his life. He laid a fist across his mouth, staring out the window and praying for help with whatever this emotion was.

Which is why he needed to keep going. He couldn’t let this rest.

Dallas put the article down, hating the way it hurt him to read what he already knew. It awakened a new pain inside him that made it difficult to breathe—as if a blade were stabbing through his lungs. He focused, forcing himself to put the images out of his mind, and read over the next article, which was much more recent.

Carrie Sweet had detailed the arrest of Ned Powell, the pyromaniac that he and Claire had seen that night at the food trailer. Carrie had somehow discovered that Ned had a record: he’d been busted for drug possession when he was a minor.

That explains the skinny appearance he had—the leathery skin, the wild look in his eyes. Not to mention his crazy brain that was obsessed with setting things on fire.

Dallas sat back, studying the article and wondering if there was some invisible thread that he wasn’t seeing. There was one thing that stuck out as odd: his brother had died a handful of days after a major fire broke out in Juniper Springs. Tom had also died a handful of days after a major fire broke out.

Juniper Springs was a small town. The most action on average that a fire station saw were car wrecks, false alarms, people calling about fireworks on Fourth of July, or silly reasons that were mainly to keep the 911 line open for discussion. Very, very rarely did they ever see a huge structure fire. The clinic had been set on fire intentionally in an attempt to kill attorney, and private detective, Avery Hart, and cover up a bigger crime of stealing opioids. Fires did happen, but two major fires, back-to-back?

Dallas focused his thoughts on the timeline. No fires, no fires, huge fire, then a structure fire that kills someone. Then no fires for years, nothing major except the clinic, then another huge fire, followed by a structure fire that killed someone. Both with malfunctioning breathing apparatus. Dallas could see a pattern, and there was no way anyone could convince him that it was coincidence! There was simply no way.

And another thing. Ned was involved with drug possession when he was a minor. Was he somehow involved with the drug scandal four years ago—the one that seemed to center around the hotel? Was he the one behind this?

Well, it certainly made sense. Maybe he was involved. But it still didn’t answer one question: Did he have the knowledge to mess with the breathing apparatus? He could set fires, but could he damage the oxygen tank?

Dallas sighed, shaking his head, and put the article down. He felt his spirits drain, leaking emotion through the tears in his eyes. His eyes found their way to Collin’s smiling photo again, and anger boiled inside him. It wasn’t fair. Simply wasn’t fair that Collin had met such a dreadful end, his life snuffed out because he suffocated to death from the smoke. And now more than ever, Dallas was convinced it wasn’t by accident. The breathing apparatus malfunction had to be intentional. Dallas forced himself to look away. He needed a break—something to keep his mind off of this.

He pulled open the desk drawer, seeing Claire’s picture smiling up at him. He took the photograph in his hands, studying it and remembering the night that she had taken in the sunset with joy. Seeing her smile in the picture, even though it was pointed at the sunset and not at him, warmed his spirits. She wasn’t there, and still, she brought him comfort. His heart warmed toward her. Oh, Claire, I wish you were here now.

If she were with him, what would she say? Her compassion would lead her to place a hand on his shoulder, maybe even around his shoulder, and tell him that she understood—tell him that she was there for him. But she wasn’t there, and all he had was his imagination and her picture. Did she have any idea how often he thought about her? Any idea how she affected him, how she had changed something inside of him for the better? He had to tell her—no—he had to show her. Claire was a woman who liked to experience things. He would give her something to enjoy and remember forever. He turned the picture over, writing a simple message on the back. It was time. Time to tell her in a few simple words what she meant to him. Perhaps he’d give it to her tonight. But in the meantime?

He wouldn’t read any more articles, but he did notice the headline for the one that had claimed Tom’s life. He was almost sure that Ned was involved somehow, but the million-dollar question remained: Was the person behind it Miles? He knew something. And maybe that was why he was at the scene of the crime when he got arrested.

Dallas slipped Claire’s picture back into his top desk drawer. He wasn’t going to go toting that precious cargo around with him to get destroyed while he was out doing his own little investigation. The crime scene had been released, and any evidence was probably null and void by now, but Miles saw something in that fire. And Dallas was going over to Maple Street to find out what it was.

Claire’s heart hammered, and her mind raced. She hated that the panel van had only one sliding door and no windows on the sides. Since there were no cars behind them, she gave up hammering on the back windows. Any cars going the opposite way weren’t going to be looking over their shoulders at the back of the van, and the driver was going way too fast for anyone to catch up behind him. There had to be another way. Claire had no idea where she was. She wasn’t familiar enough with Juniper Springs to point out landmarks through the windshield or the rear van windows. After discontinuing her desperate attempts to get someone’s attention, she turned to another method of dealing with kidnappers. Negotiation—something as a business owner, she hoped she was good at.

“Where are you taking us?”

Silence. Ski-Mask neither answered her nor gave any indication that he heard her, but she knew he had to have.

She closed her eyes, sighed. “Look, I know you can hear me; you’re just ignoring me. Do you have any idea what you’re doing? You’re not going to get away with this. You left my van and their car on the side of the road, and you have the most obvious-looking vehicle around. Do you really think you’re going to get far? People are looking for you, you know!” Well, maybe that was a little too harsh, but she wasn’t playing nice. Not today.

The man sighed, jerking the wheel and sending her sprawling onto her side before swerving back into his lane—something dangerous to do on these back roads. He must be familiar with them. “Shut up!” A gruff voice insulted her ears. “I know what I’m doing. I don’t need you to tell me I’m wrong!”

The woman and children sniffed sobs and whispered to each other. Claire sighed, hanging her head. She glanced over at the mother and her children, realizing that she didn’t know who they were. She had been the one trying to figure out how to escape and hadn’t stopped to see who her fellow captives were.

Reasoning with the man was no use. Neither was getting anyone’s attention, so she might as well make the acquaintance of the mom and her son and daughter. Claire scooted over to the mother and her children, looking at them with compassion. I have to be the strong one, she thought. This mother is terrified, and I’m the one without kids. I can fight back more easily.

She offered a smile that communicated what she hoped they could see in her eyes. It’s gonna be okay. “Sorry I haven’t spoken to you,” she apologized.

The mother’s eyes were a unique round shape, wide with fear but nodding. “That’s okay. You were trying to help us.”

Claire sighed. She aimed a glare in the direction of the driver before returning, lowering her voice. She knew he was probably frustrated that he couldn’t hear what she was saying over the road noise and how low she was talking, and that idea satisfied her a little bit. “Are you guys okay? Considering—” She looked around. “Considering the circumstances?”

The mother looked down to meet the gaze of the boy and the girl who looked up to her as their protector. “I don’t know.”

Distraction. The children were terrified, and Claire aimed a smile at them that didn’t show any of the fear that she felt inside. “Hi, guys. I’m Miss Claire Bartlett. What are your names?”

The girl buried her face in her mother’s shoulder, the boy just stared at her like she was the kidnapper. The mother sniffed, smoothing the bangs of the young boy back from his forehead and planting a kiss there. “This is Judson; he’s three.”

Three years old? Claire felt heat ignite her face. What kind of sicko is driving this van? She smiled through her anger. “Nice to meet you, Judson. And who is this beautiful young lady?”

The girl finally showed Claire her face as her mother answered. “This is Hollie.”

“How old are you, Hollie?” Claire added friendly warmth to her tone.

Hollie blinked and a mouse-voice answered, “Five.”

“Five years old?” Claire asked as if it was the most amazing fact she’d ever heard. “That’s amazing.” She raised her eyes to the mother who gave her a grateful smile.

“I’m Lauren Lloyd. And I’m so sorry that we got you into this.”

“No, no.” She was apologizing? She didn’t need to. Claire made that known with a series of headshakes. “Don’t apologize! This isn’t your fault.”

A shadow came over Lauren’s eyes, and she turned her face away, burying her chin in Hollie’s hair and staring at the floor. She acted like it was her fault, and Claire hated that she felt that way.

Lloyd. The name caught her attention, and suddenly it struck her. “Mrs. Lloyd... are you related to…”

“Miles?” Lauren sighed, her husband’s name barely a whisper on her lips. She said it so quickly, it’s almost like she knew it was coming. Fresh tears leaked from her eyes as the woman nodded.

This was Miles’s wife and two children. Well, then who was that in the front seat? Claire cast a look, but Ski-Mask only faced forward. Lauren looked so sad; maybe this was someone getting revenge on Miles? Dallas was angry over the death of his brother. What if this was someone getting revenge regarding Tom’s death, thinking Miles had done it? Whatever the case may be, Claire was involved now, and she was determined to get Lauren and the two children out of this alive.

Lance was grateful to see the swarm of paramedics and police cars that filled the gravel parking lot of the information center. He parked his truck, not bothering to turn it off, and sprang from the front seat, searching the two gurneys being loaded up into the ambulances. On one of them, a man had an oxygen mask plastered to his face—his eyes closed—and the paramedics scrambled around him with more urgency than the other gurney. And there, near the second ambulance, he saw her. The one place where he never wanted to see his beautiful girlfriend, stretched out on the white sheets of the gurney, pain lacing her face as she was rolled toward the ambulance.

“Avery!” Lance didn’t care about anyone else as he plowed through the sea of first responders and headed for the gurney. She was awake, that much was evident as she raised her head at the sound of his voice. He was at her side in an instant, brown eyes strong with worry as he gazed down at her, striding alongside the gurney. “Are you all right? What happened?”

The paramedics recognized him, and Avery held up her hand to get them to pause for just a moment. “It’s okay, give me just a second.”

Lance didn’t hear the paramedic say anything to her, but he was grateful that they stopped just before loading her into the ambulance. His eyes found her leg, already being treated but caked with blood. His own blood boiled with rage. “Who did this to you?” he bit out.

Avery shook her head. “They’ve gotta take me in, but Lance, I want you to know everything.” She reached for his hand, warm fingers slipping into his hand. He clutched her hand tight, assuring her that he was there. He would stay as long as they let him. “I had to meet with my client out of town.” She nodded her head toward the other gurney and the unconscious man on his way into the other ambulance. The urgency in her voice suggested that since she was going to the hospital, she was relying on Lance to treat this information with as much care as she had. He cleared his mind and listened intently.

“He says his family is in danger—that’s why he hasn’t said anything concerning his guilt or innocence. We were talking, and this white van came out of nowhere and started shooting at us. I counted three shots before it took off.” She nodded her head in the direction that led to the mountain road. “That way, Lance.” She reached out, taking his shirt and drawing him down to hear her better. Lance didn’t care about the smear of red blood on his shirt. He wanted to kiss her—tell her to forget about all of this and just focus on getting better—but she wasn’t letting up. Her blue eyes welled with urgency. “Miles said it wasn’t an accident! Someone else is behind this—please.”

“What wasn’t an accident? The shooting?” Lance murmured.

Avery shook her head from side to side. “No, no—the fires, the nail salon fire, the—”

“Dr. Blair.”

Hearing Chief Simmons’s voice behind him, Lance shot to an upright position. He wanted to know everything, wanted to know exactly how they were going about finding his girlfriend’s shooter. He also wanted to hear what Avery had to say, but there were too many people talking to him at once. “Yes? Have you found the guys who did this?”

Chief Simmons looked as disgusted as Lance felt but was better about hiding it. “Avery’s going to be all right they told me. The bullet missed the bone and any arteries that are crucial.”

Lance felt relief flood every cell of his being, but it didn’t replace his worry for Avery. She had still been shot. He wasn’t going to let her out of his sight. He knew that wasn’t possible, but she was going to need his support after getting shot. He was going to give it to her. “We’re still looking into…”

His radio crackled. Everything else faded away as Simmons tuned in to listen to the static voice of the dispatcher. “Reports of two abandoned running vehicles, possible 207, please respond.”

If the urgency in Avery’s eyes could possibly deepen, they did in that moment. “It might be his wife! He got to Miles’s wife!”

“We’ve got this, Hart.” Chief Simmons pinned her with a serious stare. “Focus on being okay, all right? We’ve got this handled.”

Her series of nods were rapid—tense—as if she wanted to fly off of the gurney and track down the maniac on foot. Knowing Avery, she probably did. Lance had to get her calmed down. Her heart rate wasn’t going to help her situation at all.

Lance leaned in closer to her, brushing his fingers through her hair, gently moving the strands out of her face. “Avery.” A tender murmur crossed his lips. She looked up at him, consumed with the love and trust she shared with only him. He offered her a smile, masking his concern for her and murmured in low undertones. “I need you to take some deep breaths for me.”

“Yes, Doctor.” She teased him back. Good. Her eyes were dancing again.

Lance squeezed her hand. “I’m coming to the hospital with you. Can you stop thinking about the case for the time it takes to get there? If you keep stewing on it, it won’t help you or us.”

Avery sighed, hesitation filling her eyes. Lance shook his head. “Ah, ah. No. It’s going to be all right.”

She finally relaxed, and he leaned forward, brushing a kiss against her lips. “See you there, beautiful.”

Avery smiled. “Beautiful. Right. Whatever.”

“You are beautiful to me.” Lance stepped back, releasing her hand and nodded to the paramedics. “I love you, babe. See you at the hospital.”

“I love you, Lance. Please drive safely.”

“You know it.” He stepped back, allowing the paramedics to push the gurney into the ambulance. Lance watched the doors close on his beloved, then the ambulance pulled away. He heard the gravel crunch under the tires and felt utterly helpless. When his cell phone rang again, he fought the urge to answer it with a demanding “What?” and instead controlled his voice. “Dr. Lance Blair.”

“Dr. Blair? This is Dr. Jensen from May Valley County Hospital.”

May Valley? The one where they were taking Avery, the small one just outside of town? What could this mean? “Yes.”

“I have a patient of yours, Lily Carlson.”

Lance nodded, pacing back to his truck.

“She is awake from her coma, and she wants to talk to you. She said she will only talk to you. She says she has some urgent information.”

Urgent information—right when it felt like the day was spiraling out of control. Lance jumped into the driver’s seat of his truck and closed the door to the chaotic world outside. “You’re in luck; I’m on my way there now. I’ll stop by and see what she needs.”

The wind blew across the remains of the house on Maple Street, lifting bits of charred wood into the air and twisting them around in a vortex. The street was quiet, save for the tweeting of birds in the trees overhead, and the lonesome howl of the wind across what was once someone’s residence.

Dallas stared. Since the crime scene had been released, the cleanup crews had worked to clear away the burnt rubble, but they hadn’t made much progress yet. It was as if the town were reluctant to clear away the memory that served as the great firefighter hero’s last stand. Dallas stood there, planting his feet in the same place where Miles had stood moments before he was taken away.

“What did you see here, Miles?” His question faded with the wind, with no triumphant answer in return. Dallas could only conclude that Miles had seen something when he was in the fire that caused him to question something bigger.

He reached into the archives of his memory and pulled out everything he knew about being a firefighter. So what if he hadn’t been at the station in years? There were some things you just never forgot. Knowing that he had to be careful about nails or wood that could give way with the slightest amount of weight, Dallas dared to step onto the foundation of the house, right where the front door had probably been. He imagined the house in his mind’s eye. While this wasn’t one of his houses, Maple Street had somewhat cookie-cutter house designs which helped him picture what this one might have looked like. Garage to his left, house to his right, entryway right before him. A large hall that made up the foyer and spilled into a large living room in the back left of the house. In the foyer, directly to his left was usually a closet, and behind that closet was the laundry room. Behind the laundry room was the kitchen. Dallas remembered you could get to it through the living room in the back of the house. And in the back of the house were the master bedroom and bathroom, where the report stated the faulty wires had gone wrong.

Dallas stepped off the foundation, remaining on the property line, and circled to the back of the house, wondering if he could pinpoint the faulty wires that had caused his friend’s death. His eyes swept the ground, the outer edges of the foundation where the wall would be, but it all looked the same. He paced the length, moving from where the master bedroom should have been to the living room. That would make more sense than in the bedroom. If the resident were sleeping, they probably wouldn’t have noticed the fire in the living room until it was too late. And since their bedroom door faced the living room, the fire in the living room would have trapped them inside the bedroom. It made sense, but where did the faulty wire originate?

Dallas looked, begging to see where the fire had burned hottest. Of course, the whole structure was blackened, but he knew that where the fire started always burned the hottest, and therefore, the blackest. However, the living room and master bedroom all looked the same.

He kept looking, his gaze going farther and farther into the house until he saw it. The kitchen.

Dallas jogged around to the front of the house again, heading for what would have been the kitchen. The closer he got as he stepped up onto the foundation again, he could see it. A spiraling, straight line of the blackest part of the charred remains split the kitchen in half, and the burn pattern had an unusual path to it. Instead of an entire chunk of the house, the pattern burned hottest through the kitchen, leading to the back of the house. Dallas envisioned the house pre-fire and imagined a wall of flames spreading through the kitchen, heading for the living room and engulfing everything in their path along the way. It would still trap the victim inside—still have the same effect—only the report was wrong. All wrong. That fire didn’t start anywhere near the back of the house. It started in the kitchen, toward the front. And with the unusual burn pattern, it had some type of accelerant.

Dallas staggered back, catching his breath. Had he just discovered that the house fire was started by arson? He racked his brain, remembering everything Miles had said to him the day he saw him before being taken in for questioning.

“It’s just not right, man.”

What if he didn’t mean that the justice wasn’t right? What if he meant that the fire report wasn’t right?

“You have no idea.”

Miles was in that fire. He would have seen the way the fire was burning, whether or not he could see the burn pattern. He knew the fire hadn’t started from a faulty wire and had gone back to the house to see if his assumptions were correct! It all made sense now, and Dallas kicked himself for ever blaming Miles.

There was something else: the unusual burn pattern in the kitchen… a known pyromaniac standing outside the house that night. Dallas had heard that Ned Powell was reported to have been standing outside, watching the house burn just like he had for the food trailer. So, the house had been set ablaze by arson.

As if confirming his statement, Dallas moved to where the garage would have been. The garage door led straight into the kitchen, so he plodded through the debris until he reached the point where he figured the garage door would have been. He wasn’t sure what he hoped to find, but he knew one thing for sure: he didn’t know the resident of this house; he only drove past it every single day to get to the one he owned on Maple Street. And he knew the resident was terrible about leaving their garage door open for any old burglar to barge into. Dallas remembered thinking to himself how glad he was that it wasn’t his tenant, as he would be constantly worried about a break-in through the garage.

Keeping this in mind, he examined the ground. The fire had been a bit more merciful to the garage, not burning it as much as the rest of the house. He examined the rubble, his eye catching on a piece of wood that hadn’t been burned. He bent down, examining it. It looked like a part of the door frame as if it had been ripped off by a crowbar. Splintered wood sticking out from beside the cement floor and where the wall rose up to lead into the house. Well, would you look at that? This door had been broken into.

And it wasn’t by the axes that the fire department used. Dallas shook his head. The kitchen was right next to the garage, and if the fire started in the kitchen, that meant the fire was burning the hottest there. Fire rescuers never went through the entrance where the fire was the hottest. They circled the house first, determining where the fire was not burning the hottest and entered that way. In this case, that would have been the front door. So, who had broken into the back door? The arsonist?

“How did O’Connell miss this?” Dallas muttered as he stood back up on his feet. His own question reminded him of something he had asked himself earlier: How had the inspector who reported the hotel fire missed the fact that a curling iron sitting next to curtains wouldn’t take nine hours to ignite the fabric on fire? The hotel had been under investigation for drugs, and the suspicious report of the fire had caught Dallas’s attention. Were both suspicious fires arson? And had the inspector missed that fact both times? A cold reality began to sink in. Were these missed… or ignored?

He dug his cell phone out of his pocket, dialing a number he hadn’t dialed in years. The friendship between him and the fire chief hadn’t dwindled; it simply hadn’t spread like these fires seemed to since Dallas had left the department. The warm recognition in the chief’s voice would have made him smile if he wasn’t onto something so dreadfully obvious. “Griffin! How is my old friend?”

“Hey, Chief.” Dallas’s voice was low with the weight of what he was discovering. “I’m hanging in there. I wish I were calling to catch up, but I need to run some things by you.”

“Go right ahead.”

Dallas looked around, making sure he was alone. “I just happened to be by that house on Maple Street, and I need to ask you a few things about it. It looks like the fire started in the kitchen, not by a faulty wire. Are we so sure this house fire wasn’t arson?”

A dead silence proceeded the chief’s heavy response. “That’s exactly what Miles Lloyd said.”

So, he was onto something! Dallas felt excitement coiling up inside of him. Had he actually followed a trail that led to some truth? Some answers? “I need to ask you a question. Friend to friend. When did Aaron O’Connell do the last inspection on the SCBA gear?”

“Let me double-check.”

Dallas waited for what felt like centuries—long enough for any inspection to expire. Finally, the phone rustled, and the chief came back online.

“You’re not going to like this.”

Dallas was almost sure he wouldn’t. “Lay it on me.”

“The last SCBA inspection that O’Connell himself signed off on was the day before Tom died.”

Dallas felt like someone had slapped him with a bucketful of cold water. “The day before? Are you sure?”

“Yep. Says so right here... oh, hold on.”

The chief turned away, muttering to someone on the other end. That was fine, Dallas needed to get his thoughts in order. He replayed what the chief said over and over again in his mind and became saddened by it. No fire inspector could miss three big things like this in a row and get away with it… unless he was trying to.

“Hey, Dallas. Man, I’m sorry. I gotta go. I guess Miles and his attorney were just shot.”

Dallas felt like he’d been shot himself as he thanked the chief and hung up, promising to call again. So, now Miles and his attorney had been shot? What in Juniper Springs was going on? Was there some sort of serial killer on the loose? Or someone trying to cover his tracks?

And worse yet… was Aaron behind the death of his brother? Had he covered it up all this time and gotten away with murder?

Not for another day. Not for another moment! Dallas stormed back to his truck. He and Aaron had crossed paths many times in their careers—not just that morning on the sidewalk hours after Tom passed away. He hadn’t even thought about it then, but he knew now. He knew where Aaron lived. He and other guys at the firehouse used to joke around with him in the past...

“Man, you’re a fire inspector. You should know the insurance for a mountain home is through the roof because they’re more susceptible to forest fires.” Dallas would tease.

And Aaron would just laugh and laugh and reply with, “Well, you’re one to talk.”

Oh, he was sure going to be talking now. Make no mistake about that—he was driving to that mountain home where Aaron resided to settle this once and for all.

After driving for what seemed like years, the van finally jolted to a halt, sending its occupants in the back sprawling again. The man kicked at his door, swinging it open and letting heat flood in. The door slammed behind him.

This was her chance. Claire scrambled to her knees, slipping her fingertips through the diamond-shaped holes in the cage, and peered out the front windshield. Where in the world were they? It looked like they were still in the mountains, surrounded by the trees and late afternoon sun. A two-story log-cabin-style home sat near the right of the vehicle, and Claire could make out a huge deck with columns supporting its weight. That would sure be a nasty fall should someone trip over the railing, she thought.

She could see Ski-Mask Man pacing the ground outside. At first, she figured he was on the phone, but then she realized by his body language that he was more in distress than arguing with someone over the phone. He still held the gun but pointed it down while running a free hand over the top of his head. His shoulders hunched, he paced like an agitated tiger, and Claire wondered what had him so distraught. It was almost like he had done something he regretted, and now he was in over his head and not sure what to do. Could it be that this kidnapping was more of a spur-of-the-moment thing? Well, how could it be? He knew where the car was. Maybe Claire wasn’t supposed to be in the picture, and he was worried he was going to be found out because of her. Whatever the reason, she needed to use his anxious behavior as a chance to escape. Hopefully he would be too distracted to notice her attempts to escape.

“I can’t get the door open!” Lauren’s frantic voice sliced through the air, and Claire whipped her head around to see her yanking with her body weight on the door.

“I think he has some sort of child lock on it.” Claire moved to the side, examining the door. “The flower delivery van has one of those. It can only be opened from the outside.”

Lauren began to cry, tears coating her face. “I have to get out—get my children out—”

Claire put a hand on her shoulder, her eyes wide and intense in an attempt to calm down the woman. “Lauren, please, listen to me. I’m going to help you escape, but I need you to be calm, okay? For your children. They need you to be strong.”

Lauren sniffed, and Claire watched her large, round green eyes change from frantic to understanding. She looked over at her two children, hugging themselves in the back of the van, and stared at them for a long time.

Claire’s hair flipped out of her face and over her ears as she swung her head back to see the man still pacing outside the van. She snapped her attention around to the interior of the van. Other than her and the other captives, the back of the van had been cleared out of anything she could use as a weapon. Except… well, well, well. What have we here? Claire got to her feet and bent her body in half as she walked toward the back of the van. She crouched down behind the right wheel well where she found a car repair tool kit stored in a hidden compartment. There was a small tire jack in the shape of a dome and a jack lever to go with it. Thankfully the kidnapper hadn’t thought about removing it before he locked them back here. Claire was determined to get Lauren and her children out—she just had to! Her thoughts racing with the intensity of a plan, she turned back to Lauren, keeping her voice low and intense. “Listen. He’s bound to get us out sometime. I’ll distract him, and you take the kids and run as fast as you can out of here.”

Lauren had her children back in her arms and nodded, her head making little rapid motions.

Ski-Mask suddenly stopped pacing and headed for the door. Claire’s heart began to hammer in her chest as she reached, tugging the jack out from its hiding place by the wheel well. “I’ll be in front when he opens the door. You stay with the children behind me, okay? And when I say run, you run!”

She barely had time to explain. The jack slipped free, and the jack handle rolled out onto the floor. Claire hoped it hadn’t made too much of a metallic sound to alert the kidnapper that she’d secured a weapon. She barely had enough time to position herself in front of the door and hide the jack by her left thigh, clutching it in her dominant hand. For her entire life, being a left-handed florist had made her job a little bit harder, since she had to learn everything through a mirror image.

Never had she been so happy to be left-handed before.

The kidnapper would expect her to be right-handed, but since she was left-handed, she didn’t have to worry about swinging around and hitting the door when he got her out. She was putting all her stakes on the element of surprise: that he wouldn’t be expecting a left-handed woman to be swinging something at his head. And yes, she was going for his head.

The door rolled open, crashing into the side of the quarter panel as sunlight streamed into the van. The day’s heat assaulted her, slapping her in the face and making her body heat up more than it already was. This was it—this was her plan. Now or never. She prayed, frantically, that she would be able to knock the guy out or at least stun him enough so they could run away. Surely, he had neighbors they could run to for help. With any luck, Dallas might be his neighbor; maybe she could run to him for help, she could…

One thing at a time, Claire. One thing at a time.

His right hand held the gun. His left hand reached in, digging fingers into her right upper arm, and he gave her body a lurch forward. “Come on.” She was thrown off balance, but ready. Gritting her teeth, Claire narrowed her eyes at her victim. She didn’t particularly like the gun in her face, but she couldn’t stand the thought of just going along with this and letting him get away with it either. And she had three other people to think of, so here goes nothing.

As she was pulled out into the light, she arced her left hand through the air, swinging the jack with all her might, and aimed for the side of his head. Crack! She winced as if she felt the blow herself as she brought the jack hard into the side of his head, hearing his bones jar and his flesh sink under the metal.

The man let out a yell—a grunt of agony—and she felt his grip on her arm release. He fell to his knees, then gave up, rolling to the ground the whole way, collapsing under the pain of the blow she’d given him. His free hand reached up, rubbing the bleeding goose egg she had given him on his temple. What? She had done it! Yes!

“Run!” she yelled.

She heard three bodies scramble behind her, and the van shook. The dazed man brought his gun up in the direction to point and shoot, but Claire was too fast. Reflex kicked in, and she kicked his wrist, sending the gun flying a few steps away. He managed to squeeze off a round during the scramble, and Claire heard the bullet ricochet on one of the rocks that jutted up in the front yard of the home. She gasped, hurriedly looking to see if it had hit Lauren or her precious children. Lauren yelped. Claire glanced behind her to see that she covered her head, keeping her children in front of her, but kept running. And now it was her turn.

Claire pivoted faster than she had ever turned before. The blur of the world before her eyes made her dizzy—and it took her vision a moment to adjust—but she started running, pumping her legs to get herself out of there. The man reached out, latching onto her ankle. She felt his grip wrap around her ankle and tighten, and she pulled against him. She tripped against his grip, falling to the ground in a tumbling heap. “Whoa!” Pain spread through her torso and her knees as she hit the ground. A small rock jutted into her rib cage, and she knew if she survived this, her body was going to be painted in black and blue bruises. Her left hand splayed out, letting the jack go flying from her hand. Oh, no.

Somehow, the man was able to get to his knees. He crawled up beside Claire, and she felt his hand come down hard on her back in the same area he’d hit her with the butt of his gun earlier. His fingers curled into her shirt again, and he yelled in frustration, lifting her up onto her feet. “Get up! You’ve screwed everything up!”

How was he so strong? His eyes were taking on a different shape, dazed and wandering, as if he were trying to decide which of the two images he was seeing of Claire was actually her. Claire felt herself being pulled up, and she tried to fight him, reach for the jack—or anything—but he yanked her upright and against his body. Her knees throbbed from where she had landed, but she was sure they were just bruised and not broken. The man crouched, grabbing ahold of his gun. When he brought himself up again, he stumbled, spreading out his legs as if he’d lost his balance. Claire took it as a chance to try and make a run for it, but his grip tightened on her shirt, and he yanked her back against him. She soon felt the barrel of the gun press against her ribs, but they both stumbled as if they had sea legs. Claire started fighting with everything she had. “Let me go!” she screamed. “Let go of me!”

Lauren had her youngest on her hip and was finding her rapid footing down the side of the hill that rose in front of the home. They were getting away! Claire breathed a sigh of relief but not before fear began to spiral inside her.

She felt the barrel of the gun press into her ribs, silencing any screams she could muster. “Shut up. Don’t make a move, or I’ll shoot you.”

I’ll shoot you. Claire had read a million novels and watched a million TV shows about people being threatened and just going along with it. But she never realized how terrifying it was to hear those words spoken directly into your own ear—the knowledge that with one squeeze of the trigger, everything would change. Her life hung in the balance, tipping toward the wrong side, and that was terrifying. How was this happening? How had she gone from a regular morning, delivering flowers and thinking about Dallas, to her very life being on the line? Was she going to survive this?

She wanted to cry but refused to let the man see through her tough exterior. She wasn’t going to let him see how his words affected her and instead, she willingly walked with him, looking for another escape. He dragged her up the stone steps toward the front door. The house would be beautiful if it weren’t housing the man who threatened her life.

“Get inside!” He gave her a shove, and just like that, Claire was a hostage in a house where she had no idea how to tell someone to find her. Her only hope was that the police could track her cell phone signal to her van and follow possible clues to lead them here. But by the time they figured out the van had brought her to the mountain house, it might be too late.

Lance wanted nothing more than to see Avery, but they had rushed her into surgery before he could. His stomach churned at the thought that there was a bullet in her leg that needed to be removed. Thankfully it looked like it had missed the artery because she wasn’t bleeding out; in fact, she was acting like Avery always did: putting everything aside for the case.

He needed to keep his mind off of her, and he also had a job to do. It seemed like chaos was erupting everywhere around him. For crying out loud, the drama was worse than two feuding families at Thanksgiving! How any of it involved him, he had no idea, but he was going to Lily’s room to find out.

He found her in no time thanks to the help of one of the nurses who recognized him. He poked his head in the wide-open door, gently tapping on it first. “Mrs. Carlson?”

Behind the curtain, he saw her. She leaned around, seeing him, and her eyes went wide. “Dr. Blair! Is anyone behind you?”

Lance shook his head. “No. Just the nurses.”

“Good. Can you come in and close the door, please?” Her eyes were wide, begging him to do as she asked. “I need to talk to you.”

Lance stood, studying her for a moment. Why did she want a word alone with him? And only him? He looked around, one more time, not sure if it was in his or her best interest to do this, but he walked in anyway. He gently closed the door and heard a snug click behind him. He neared the foot of her bed, not sure what to say. You look good? That was a lie. Lily looked like she’d been in a coma for days, which she had been. Her oily brown hair was smoothed back, bruises and tubes lining her person. Her body looked frail, but he was happy she was alive.

“I’m glad you pulled out of the coma all right. How are you feeling, considering?”

She shook her head. “Doctor, I’m sorry to have called you all the way down here.” Her voice sounded like she was trying to yell at full volume but couldn’t get it past the hoarse squeak in her throat. “You have connections with law enforcement; you’re the only one I trust.”

Lance didn’t bother to correct her; he had connections with a private investigator who had connections with law enforcement, but he listened anyway. “Go ahead. Are you okay?”

She sniffed. A few tears rolled out of her eyes, and she shook her head. “No. No, I’m not.” She flattened her fingers against her face running them under her eyes and smearing tears across her face. She gulped in a breath, trying to control herself, and looked up at the ceiling. “The night of the fire, I went back to the salon. I’d just had a knock-down, drag-out fight with my husband, Todd, that morning. It was bad. So bad that I wasn’t ready to go home yet, so I went back to the salon to stay late. That night, I saw my husband there. I don’t think he knows that. But I saw him.”

Lance concentrated on her words intently. Lily looked up, meeting his eyes, and he read nothing but pure, raw fear and sadness in her own. “He was by the front door, and I didn’t want to see him, so I ran to the back of the salon. I hadn’t locked the front door yet, and I didn’t want him to know that I saw him. So, I stayed in the back office, hoping he’d go away. I never heard him come in, but I smelled gasoline—the exact same stuff you get at a gas station to fill up your car. I smelled it, raw like that.”

Lance suddenly stiffened. “You smelled gas?”

She nodded. “Yes. I went to investigate, but by the time I went out front, there was this huge fire between me and the door!” Her eyes drifted from his gaze, locking onto somewhere in the hospital room. Lance could see the memories dancing in her eyes, assaulting her with images of the fire. “I grabbed the fire extinguisher and tried so hard to put it out, but it was too big! I didn’t have my cell phone—I left it at home so Todd couldn’t call me at work, and the office phone was by the door, behind the flames. I fought it, but it was too big. And I’m sorry, but everything’s a blur after that. That’s all I remember.”

Husband plus gasoline equals… “Lily,” Lance leaned forward. “Can you think of any reason why your husband would want to set your nail salon on fire?”

Instead of fear, he saw bitterness—a hatred that melted away her fear. “The nail salon was my one chance to be Lily. Not Mrs. Carlson. Lily. Lily’s Nails and Hair. My husband knows that’s the one place I feel free—the one place I can express myself. He also knows that it means everything to me. And he took that away from me. It wasn’t an accident.” Rage creased the crow’s feet around her eyes. She met his gaze, her eyes a deeper color. “My husband has a grudge against me.” Her voice softened as she averted her gaze. “He found out I was cheating on him with Cain, and he has a vendetta against me. I think he set my nail salon on fire as vengeance—to punish me. I don’t know if he knew I was there or not.”

What in the world? She was claiming it wasn’t an accident? Her story seemed believable but also somewhat rehearsed. He cleared his throat and shifted his weight to his other foot. He was a doctor. He’d heard a thousand patients tell him what they thought was wrong with them, and he’d had lots of practice listening to their concerns—making them feel like their opinions were valid before telling them they were off track.

“Lily, I don’t know if you know this or not, but that fire was determined to be an accident. The report said the water heater blew up.”

“It wasn’t an accident!” she practically yelled through her hoarse voice, snapping her gaze up to meet his. “There was no loud boom—nothing! There was gasoline, and the fire was huge within minutes. There is no way that fire was an accident; I saw my husband!”

Lance held out his hand. “I believe you. I’m just telling you what the fire report said.”

Lily pressed her lips into a pout and leaned back against the pillows. “Todd must have paid someone off to write that report. It wasn’t a stupid water heater. It was Todd.”

Paid someone off? Whether or not Lily was telling the truth, Lance needed to get this information to the right people. He wasn’t up on the case Avery was working with Miles, as she never breached a client’s confidentiality when she was representing them. But she had indicated that she was looking into something big. Her words. Now she and one of the responding firefighters had been gunned down. In light of this new information, what did any of this mean?

“You’re my doctor.” Lily’s voice drew his attention back to her. “No one would suspect my talking to you about this. I was afraid to tell anyone else. If Todd were to find out I was talking to the police, I’m pretty sure he’d unplug my IV or something… but he wouldn’t suspect if I talked alone with my doctor.” She sighed, resigned to her fate, and looked up at him as if she were trusting him to save her life. “Can you do something with what I told you?”

Lance started to form a plan, thinking over what he could do with this information. Lily’s eyes suddenly looked scared, as if he held her very beating heart and she trusted him with it. “I think my husband started the fire, but if I tell anyone, I’m afraid he’ll hurt me to avoid getting in trouble.”

Lance nodded, his face grave. “I understand,” he assured her. “I will pass this along to the right people. We’ve got you now, and I’ll make sure we get you some protection if needed.”

Her slight smile showed that her fears were beginning to dissipate. “Thank you.”

In the time it took Lance to speak with Lily and make some phone calls to the right people, a little over an hour had passed. He felt that he had set the ball rolling with something even bigger—more than just Todd intentionally starting the fire. He still wondered if somehow it was connected to Avery’s attack. Had Todd or someone stooped so low as to go after Miles and his attorney, who happened to be the love of Lance’s life?

“You can see her now.” The doctor on duty informed him, and relief flooded his veins. He couldn’t get to Avery fast enough. As he entered the post-op room, she looked up at him, sleepy from her anesthesia, but nothing could stop the relief in her eyes. “Hey, Lance.”

He rushed to her side, examining her. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m a’right,” she assured him, slurring her words a bit. “A lil’ sleepy.”

He smiled at her. Oh, anesthesia. “I’m sure you are. You gave me quite a scare. You’re not supposed to do that, you know.”

She blew a raspberry laugh and rolled her head to face upward, taking her time as she did. “I was’n trying to. I’m juz glad it’s not as bad as it could’a been.” She looked back over at him, worried. “How’s Miles?”

Lance pulled up a chair, sitting by her bedside. “He’s still in surgery, from what I hear. Were you thinking about this the whole time you were in surgery?”

She laughed. “No. Juz when I woke. Ya know me too well.” Her words started to be a tiny bit less slurred and made a little more sense. She was a strong one, purposefully trying to make sense when she talked.

Oh, he knew her well—well enough to know how grateful he was that the bullet had only gone through her leg. “I’ve been dating you for a while and dreaming about you the rest of the time.” He chuckled. “Of course, I do.”

“So waz’ the latest?” She closed her eyes, asking for headlines mere minutes after her surgery. She couldn’t even talk right, and she was trying to work. That was his Avery.

“Well, if you must know, I’ve been playing your part while you’ve been down.”

She frowned. “What do you mean?” Her eyes were still closed, but he could see her trying not to laugh.

Lance shrugged. ‘I’ve been trying my hand at doing some detective work. I’m not nearly as good at it as you are, but I figured we make a good team and balance each other out, so I talked to some people. If you must know,” and she had to—she would pester him until she got her answer, “I think the nail salon fire was started intentionally.”

“Tha’z exactly what Miles said!” she exclaimed.

So maybe Lily was telling the truth. Or maybe the anesthesia was still messing with Avery’s mind. Maybe this whole thing wasn’t an accident, and they’d been treating it like it was while the arsonist was allowed to run around town, unchecked.

Avery opened her eyes, looking at him. She worked hard to pronounce each word. “Miles said he knew too much. Is this nail salon fire… think it’s part of a bigger picture… we’re just not seeing?”

Her voice sounded tired. And here he was accommodating her when she needed nothing more than rest. “I don’t know.” He placed his hand on hers, and she curled her fingers around his. “What I do know is that you need to rest and not worry. The police are handling this; they’ve been informed. We’ve got this taken care of—you and Miles are in good hands. Now, stop taxing your brain with this and get some sleep. I’m right here with you. You just need to be okay. When we hear of any updates, I’ll tell you when you’re fully awake.”

Avery sighed. “I’ll try.” And moments later, with her hand nestled into his, she fell asleep.

Hours. They had driven around for hours.

The clock on the TV set told Claire that the kidnapper drove them around for at least two and a half hours. So, were they still in Juniper Springs? She wasn’t entirely sure, but she knew someone had to have discovered she was missing by now. Her staff was probably going crazy, and the police must have tracked her cell phone signal and found her abandoned van, right? She could only hope. But how far out of town were they?

Claire had imagined different kidnappers’ or serial killers’ houses being one thing, but she never expected her kidnapper’s house to feel homey. The log-cabin-style home smelled of cinnamon and pumpkin pie, odd smells for the summertime, but somehow homey, nonetheless.

The man had her arm pinned behind her and shoved her through the front door into a spacious living room, then locked the door. Logs stacked on top of one another formed the walls of the room featuring a huge fireplace, three huge leather couches, one cameo recliner, and an Indian-style rug on the floor. Certainly not the home of a serial killer, Claire thought to herself, but then again, how would she know what type of homes they had?

He pushed her into the living room and finally released his grip on her arm. Claire whipped around to face her kidnapper. He paced the floor a little bit before reaching up to remove the ski mask. Claire soaked in every detail she could to give the most accurate description of her kidnapper to anyone she might talk to.

The man’s black hair, tousled by the ski mask, also clung to his forehead in waves of sticky sweat. Claire could only imagine how hot that ski mask had to be in the summer heat. His grey eyes peered around the room, then back at her with an expression devoid of the malice she had expected to find there. He appeared almost… sad? Frightened? Bewildered—wondering what to do next. Claire couldn’t understand it. The curdled blood around his temple where Claire had bludgeoned him with the jack caked in his hair. She couldn’t quite explain it, but she was somehow glad this guy wasn’t Todd Carlson.

As he took his time, tossing the ski mask aside, the gun went back up, pointing at her, and the anger that darkened his expression sent chills up her spine. “You!” he snapped. “You’ve messed up everything!”

Claire swallowed, willing some moisture to return to her sandpaper throat, and set her gaze on the man. She couldn’t help but peek at the barrel of the gun now and again, and tried to keep her voice calm. She wanted to scream, to let the tears that swam in her eyes finally fall, but she didn’t dare show any kind of weakness. One false move—one word that annoyed him—and that gun was going off. Pointed in her direction, it could only do more harm than good to panic. “Please, I don’t know who you are or anything…”

“That’s right! You don’t know anything!” He crossed to her in three angry strides, now only a few feet away, and Claire found herself too scared to run. She was in his territory—his house—running and hiding was futile. His grey eyes suddenly swam with the underlying rage of what she had done. Indeed, she had knocked him good in the head, but she chided herself for not hitting him harder. It would have rendered him unconscious, and then she and everyone else could have gotten away.

I hope Lauren runs to the neighbors and calls for help, she thought. I just have to keep it together, stay alive until help comes. Which could be an hour at least, she expected. Tears began to clog her throat. What was going to happen? Was she about to be killed by this guy over something she knew nothing about? What would he do now that she had awakened his rage by hitting him and helped Lauren and her children escape? Why wasn’t he just tying her up in his house and going after them if they were that important to him?

Claire began to put some things together, and she wasn’t sure if it was false hope or if they actually meant something. He had overlooked the jack in the back of his van, he had been dazed when she hit him, but he hadn’t attempted to go after Lauren and her children. He could have just killed her and pursued them, but he didn’t. Why? And that look in his eyes. The look indicated that he had no idea what he was doing. He reminded Claire very much of a young boy caught up in the wrong crowd, forced to kill for the first time. He didn’t seem to want to, but his eyes full of rage seemed conflicted. Was this guy really a terrible kidnapper, or was he working for someone? Or maybe…

Claire held up her hands. “I didn’t want any trouble—but they were children!” She kept her voice tone even, trying to remember to take small breaths between her words. “What did you want with two children?”

“Shut up! It’s none of your business!” His voice came out like an unexpected thunderclap, and Claire jumped, expecting him to squeeze that trigger and end everything. She set her wide eyes on the end of the barrel, trying to think of something—anything—to reason with him.

You’re a businesswoman, Claire. Your job is to negotiate, to reason, to find a solution when there is none. So, why could she not think of a solution?

She had learned as a businesswoman to appeal to the wants of the person she was negotiating with—to find out what they wanted or needed—then play to that angle. If only she could find out what this guy wanted with them or play off of that, she could use that.

“I’m not trying to be nosy.” Her hands shook as she put them out, placating, and stabilizing his emotions. “I’m just trying to reach common ground with you. I don’t know you any more than you know me, so can’t we just talk about this?”

“Talk?” He spat as he spoke, his eyes scanning the room frantically. His body tensed—he waved the gun at her and then lowered it—and started pacing the room. When he had paced a few times, he raked a hand through his hair, smoothing his hand down onto the back of his neck, and snapped the gun up to face her again, as if forgetting that he needed to threaten her. “What do you want to talk about?”

“I don’t know why you’re threatening me,” Claire cooed to him. Not that she wanted to say these words, but she had to—had to stay alive—just stay alive. Lauren, please don’t forget me! “I can’t give you what you want if you don’t tell me what you want. So, tell me, what do you want with me? How can we work this out?”

“We can’t work this out!” the man shouted, gripping the gun. Claire saw the barrel tremble in his hands and prepared to duck if his finger squeezed. “Don’t you see?” He shook his head, defeated. His voice lowered a few notches as if he were admitting something to her that he didn’t want to admit out loud. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this! Because of you, this whole thing has gotten out of hand. Now I have to kill you too.”

Claire couldn’t withhold the gasp that slipped out of her lips. Too? So, he had killed before. Who else had he killed? Lauren and her children had gotten away, so who had borne the brunt of this guy’s wrath? Claire racked her brain, trying to remember if Lauren had said anything incriminating—something about if she knew who this guy might be.

But kill? He had to kill her? Claire’s throat tightened, clenching her voice to sound strained. “But why do you have to kill me? Can’t we come up with some kind of deal?”

A deal? Sure, Claire. What kind of deal? Free flowers? That she wouldn’t tell the police? Yeah, they both knew that was a lie! She had seen him kidnap Miles’s family and had been kidnapped herself. What did a florist eyewitness have to offer against a man with a gun?

Her throat constricted, and against her better judgment, she felt tears threaten to slide down her hot cheeks. Eva, Jenna, and Jody were probably worried sick that they couldn’t get ahold of her when she didn’t return. They could tell the police her route; the police would find her van if they hadn’t already by the side of the road. But by then, all those efforts would be too late. Because all it would take was one bullet from this guy. How would they ever find his house in time? It took him hours to get here. All her efforts to protect herself were for nothing.

She sniffed.

She was going to die today.

And all she could see was Dallas’s face and long to caress it one more time.

Dallas didn’t want the curves to hinder him from getting to Aaron’s house in a timely fashion. Not that the back way was any less curvy, but it was less conspicuous. He was just visiting as a friend—just there to talk—to see what was going on. No confrontation, he told himself. The back route was beautifully scenic through the mountains, and he kept an eye out for the occasional deer prancing in the forest; however, this time the scenery slipped his notice. His mind was set on one thing: determining if what he had seen at the scene of the fire had any merit.

Did you write a false report?

He could talk to him. Negotiate as a friend. Sit down across from him and listen as Aaron listed his reasons for writing a false report. He was going to get to the bottom of this, once and for all, but he had to get the animosity out of his eyes before he did. Because it wasn’t Aaron’s face he was seeing, or even Tom’s—it was Collin’s—Collin in that hiking photograph that stared him in the face on his desk every single day, the smile, the innocence, the not knowing that his life would tragically be cut short. And for what? That’s what Dallas intended to find out.

He pulled his car into the driveway of Aaron’s house and pushed the gas a little harder to get up the gravel hill. He circled the car around, intending to park behind Aaron’s car. Huh, that’s funny. Aaron’s car wasn’t here, but a white van had been haphazardly parked near the house. He didn’t know that Aaron drove a white van. Or maybe he was having some work done at his house. But where was Aaron’s car?

Finding it strangely curious, Dallas pulled up next to the van, looking in but seeing nothing through the tinted windows. The sight of the van gave him an uneasy feeling. It wasn’t just that it seriously looked like a typical murder van; it was an unusual vehicle to be parked at Aaron’s house. You’d have to know where he lived, or you’d blast right by his driveway. You didn’t find Aaron’s house by accident. Dallas, himself, had driven past it several times.

He parked his car near some of the bushes and got out with the caution of a fox. He couldn’t hear anything except the birds singing, crickets chirping, and the wind whistling in the trees. He made his way to the front door, thinking twice about calling out for Aaron. Should he knock? Ring?

A muffled yell worked its way through the door, and Dallas paused. Yelling? Was someone here bothering Aaron? Or maybe he had someone here?

Dallas moved sideways, pressing his shoulder against the door, and leaned around to peer through one of the windows beside the door. Through the cut glass pattern, he could make out the pattern of Aaron standing and pointing a gun at…

Dallas gasped. Claire? No way—that couldn’t be her! He moved, seeing that Aaron’s back was to the door, so the chances of seeing him were minimal. That was Claire, but how did she get here? She didn’t know Aaron, did she?

And why was he pointing a gun at her?

Dallas couldn’t make out the words, but he could tell Aaron was yelling at her with extreme rage. Claire looked broken. Her normally confident posture had deflated, and she looked ready to collapse under the intense fear she had to be feeling. Her blue eyes were wide, creased with terror, and fixed on Aaron who waved a gun in her face. The pure shock of seeing Claire being held at gunpoint stunned Dallas, but then he felt every muscle in his body tighten. He had to get to her—had to get inside. He fought the strong urge to just bust through the front door. The action would startle Aaron and no doubt his knee-jerk reaction would be to turn around and shoot the intruder, then his hostage—or worse, start with his hostage. But why was Claire his hostage? What was she doing up here? What had she done to get the attention of this maniac? And what was the best way to get to her? He looked once more at her terrified eyes; Dallas couldn’t hear what her soft, pleading voice asked of Aaron, but whatever it was, it awakened his rage once again. He had to think fast.

Then an idea came to him. He dug his cell phone out of his pocket.

“Please!” Claire trembled on the edge of sobbing, begging Aaron to reconsider his actions. All she could do was plead. She couldn’t disarm a man with a gun, couldn’t do anything but beg him.

“Please what?” He stalked toward her. How was he still so strong with blood pulsing from his head wound? Hadn’t she hit him hard enough? Was he still seeing double? She tried to catch her breath, but it was hard to think of anything but Aaron’s red face yelling into hers. “You messed up my plans, you let my hostages go, and you just expect me to let you go? No! That is not going to happen! Do you take me for a fool?”

He yanked at the back of her head with his other, blood-covered hand, digging through her hair and pulling each strand. He jerked her face around to face the door, and Claire was forced to turn her head to avoid her neck snapping in half. He was right; she knew. She had let his hostages get away; he felt only rage toward her. Her heart stampeded in her rib cage. She felt the barrel of the gun press between her shoulder blades. One bullet now would snap her spine, and if she lived, she’d be paralyzed. She had no choice but to go where his hand on her hair directed.

With the hand that held the gun, Aaron reached around her, unlocking his patio door, and slid it open forcefully. Claire stumbled over the track as he pushed her out onto the nicely lacquered deck. She tripped toward the railing, her eyes catching just how far down the fall would be. Hadn’t she imagined that earlier—how nasty a fall from this height would be?

He was going to push her over, wasn’t he? Either that or shoot her, and she would fall.

As if confirming her imagination, his hot breath sizzled against her ear. “They’ll never find you out here.”

So, he was going to get away with murder. Again.

Tears formed in her eyes. She gasped for what could possibly be her last breath and her last word: “Please,” escaped her lips.

Tears doused her face.

His ringing phone suddenly shattered the moment.

Claire yelped, and her entire body twitched, startled by the shrill ringing of the man’s phone. She was ready, expecting a gunshot or a hard shove over the railing, but instead, the sudden noise had been his ringing phone. Relief flooded into her veins, and she exhaled the breath of mountain air she’d been holding. How lucky could she possibly be to have the phone ring at that exact moment? She had been inches away from plummeting to her death at the hands of a killer she’d never met in her life, nor knew anything about. And then, just like that, she was allowed to live for a few seconds more.

He wasn’t letting her off easy. The hand that gripped her hair, bending her neck back at an odd angle, suddenly released her but gripped her upper arm instead. He forced her to turn around and pushed her against the railing. The rail pressed into her lower back, and she was reminded just how far up she was. Fear strangled her, and she battled a million intrusive thoughts about tipping over the railing like a seesaw, arms flailing, screaming, headed right for the rocks or the river below…

The thoughts gave her an off-balance, light and airy sense, and she stiffened as if he had pushed her already. She pulled a sharp breath into her lungs, surprised that her kidnapper took the time to answer his phone. He released her arm, his other hand still pressing the gun against her chest, and answered the phone with his free hand. In a voice oh-so-calm like he wasn’t about to murder her in cold blood, he answered as cooly as the flowing river below.

“Aaron O’Connell.”

So. That was the name of her murderer. At least she knew that much before he shoved her over the edge.

Maybe while he was on the phone, she could fight. But she looked down at the gun pressed into her chest and tried to think of a plan. Could she trip him without the gun going off? Slip away without him shooting at her? This phone call was the best opportunity for her to escape, but how?

Okay, so he had taken her to the balcony. Dallas had hoped that his quick call to the police hadn’t given Aaron the handful of seconds he needed to commit the unthinkable... now he just had to get to her. He had no time to waste as he dialed Aaron’s number, pressing the phone to his ear. He’d be there in seconds, but he had to play his cards right. He hadn’t heard a scream or a gunshot, so he assumed Claire hadn’t been hurt yet. And unless Aaron was stupid, he wouldn’t be shooting her or sending her over the edge while he had someone on the phone. He needed to keep him on the line.

How could the man be so calm while he answered? Like nothing was wrong—like he wasn’t holding Claire at gunpoint? If Dallas hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, he would have believed that someone had broken into his house and was holding Claire hostage. The guy was a good actor, if anything.

“Hey, Aaron. Dallas Griffin.” He had to match his acting skills with that of Aaron’s so as not to tip the man off. If he wasn’t sure about Aaron being responsible for Tom and Collin’s deaths before, seeing him with a gun pointed at Claire confirmed his suspicions. He picked his way along the wall of the cabin quietly. He hadn’t put on such a good performance since those days in high school in front of an audience. “Listen, I just want to talk to you, man. I need to set some things straight. Can we talk for a second?”

A pause. A rather tense one, at that. “I’m a little busy at the moment.”

No kidding. Normally, Dallas would hang up, apologize for calling at an inconvenient time, and reschedule. But not today. Not when that end call button could mean the end of Claire’s life. He had to keep Aaron on the line about something important enough to ignore his excuse about being busy. “No, man, this is serious.” Okay, okay. Just be honest. Maybe a little honesty would scare Aaron into forgetting about threatening Claire. So here goes. “It’s about my baby brother.” And it happened to be the first reason he was here in the first place. Bitterness leaked into his tone as Collin’s face flashed across his mind.

First my baby brother. Then my friend Tom. You are not taking Claire away from me! He clenched his jaw, reminding himself to be calm.

Aaron didn’t hang up; Dallas could hear the line was still open on the other end. He had just chosen not to say anything, probably not sure what to say. He’d been so careful to cover his tracks by framing another man that he probably hadn’t expected Dallas to know this much. Well, he was in for a surprise.

Dallas pushed and kept him talking as he quietly circled the house. “Look, I know about the fire at the house that killed Tom. It wasn’t an accident, was it?”

A sharp intake of breath indicated that he’d hit a nerve, and he had to be careful. He had to get the condemnation out of his tone and replace it with concern—make him think he was on his side. “Of course, it was! It was faulty wiring!” Aaron insisted.

“Listen.” Dallas calmed his voice, imagining that he was talking to a friend who was in trouble—legal trouble—and he was gonna help them out. “I’ve known all along that it wasn’t an accident. Why did you rule it as such? Are you in trouble?”

“I’m telling you, Griffin; it was a faulty wire!”

Dallas heard his raised voice, both on the phone and coming around the wall from where he stood on the balcony. He was about to make his grand appearance, come into view, and hope his plan went well and didn’t backfire. He tried to ready himself for anything as he rounded the corner, but the sight of Claire with a gun to her chest, back curving over the balcony’s railing toward the river below, sent his anxiety through the roof.

No! Not my beautiful Claire!

It wasn’t just that. Her hair was caked with blood! It wasn’t until Aaron snapped his attention toward him that Dallas realized the side of Aaron’s head was bleeding profusely. Maybe that was his blood on her? She didn’t act like she had a head wound. Then again, he hadn’t heard her talk since he got here.

He had to remind himself to stay calm. Every fiber of his being wanted to charge Aaron, rip Claire from his grasp, and beat Aaron to a bloody pulp. How dare he? How dare he try to snuff out her beautiful life as he had his brother and his friend.

He was not going to let that happen to Claire.

Claire gasped, her eyes lighting up with hope. Aaron’s gaze snapped around, and the gun finally came away from Claire’s chest, now pointed in Dallas’s direction. Dallas repeated the same mantra in his head over and over again. Not for himself, but for Claire. Be calm. Be calm. Be calm. He breathed out, focusing on the breath and how it tightened his chest into nothing before he spoke, his voice never having been so calm.

“I saw the van.” Dallas lowered his phone but didn’t hang up. All his attention was pinned on Aaron. “I thought you might be in trouble. I can see that something is going on.”

As if remembering he had a hostage, Aaron snapped his hand back. He dropped his phone and pushed Claire against the railing with his free hand while still holding the gun at Dallas. Claire’s face was full of dread and discomfort, as if she’d been dealing with this a while and was both sick of it and afraid of it. Just hang in there, Claire. I’ve got you now.

Dallas spread out his hands. He didn’t want to make the situation worse by giving any indication that he knew Claire. Aaron might use that against them both, and he had to pretend like he was on Aaron’s side. If Aaron knew that Claire was the star of his life, he’d never believe that Dallas wanted to help him.

Dallas kept his eyes wide with stern warning. “Hold on, man, don’t make any sudden moves.”

Aaron did the exact opposite. He jerked Claire toward himself, spinning her to pin her against him, facing Dallas. Her wide eyes begged for help, and he was glad she didn’t call out his name.

“You didn’t answer my question.” Dallas willed a little bit of concern to flood his eyes. You’re on stage again. You’re on stage. Acting is believing. Make this believable. “Are you in trouble? What has this woman possibly done to merit this?”

“I’ll tell you what she’s done!” Aaron snapped. The gun in his hand shook, and he staggered a little off balance. Maybe that head wound was getting to him after all. “I’m in over my head, man.” For the first time, Aaron looked scared—no, terrified. “That firefighter was gonna tell on me, and I had to keep him quiet. But he told on me anyway!”

That firefighter. Miles? Tom? Dallas nodded as he listened, noting that Aaron’s speech was coming out shaky and a little bit slurred.

“I had to carry out my threat. So, I did, but she,” he nodded to Claire, “decided to play hero and now I have witnesses! They got away because of her!” He tightened his grip. Claire inhaled sharply, and this time, Dallas did start forward.

Aaron didn’t notice. “And now, I gotta take care of her for that.”

So, Claire played the hero. Of course, she did. She probably saw what was happening and tried to take action, only to get caught in the crossfire. Is that why Miles hadn’t said anything to defend his innocence?

“You went after his family, didn’t you?” Dallas kept his tone even, as if none of this affected him. “You went after Miles’s family, and they got away because of her.”

Aaron’s eyes darkened. Dallas put some pieces together. Aaron wasn’t the kind of guy to just go after someone. That wasn’t his style. His style was writing false reports to cover up arson and tweaking the dials on the breathing apparatus—moving under the radar, unseen—not making bold statements like running someone down on the highway or kidnapping them.

So, Miles had started talking about what he knew, and Aaron had to make good on his threat while having no idea how to go about kidnapping and threatening. He’d never intended to hurt them or Claire. Claire had probably seen what was going on and tried to help. That’s who his Claire was—her beautiful heart—and now she had made this her business. He had to get her out. She wasn’t going to die for this!

“It just keeps piling up, doesn’t it?” Dallas cooed, talking to Aaron like he would a child. “You start with Tom, who obviously knew something you didn’t like. You go to Miles, who knew about some foul play going on. When that didn’t work out, you went after his family—and when that didn’t work out, you got this woman involved. It’ll just keep getting more and more out of hand, O’Connell. Please, man, you don’t want to do this. Let her go, and we can talk this out.”

The gun flew up to Claire’s temple, Dallas’s eyes widened, and Aaron’s hands shook. “No! No more talking! She dies, and her witness dies with her!”

“No!” Claire pinched her eyes closed, raising her shoulders to her ears, readying herself for the blow.

Dallas shot forward, his eyes wide with fear. His voice rumbled low with an even deeper warning as he played his final card. “Aaron! Think about what you’re doing! Look. I thought you were in trouble, so I’ve got the police on their way. They know about the false report.” Might as well get it out there to put Aaron’s attention on him and not Claire, at least for a few seconds. Dallas couldn’t look at her—fear in her beautiful blue eyes—pinning all her hopes on him. She probably wanted him to charge her, but that would cause Aaron to shoot her. He had to talk him down. “You don’t want to add homicide to your list of crimes, do you? If you shoot her, you’ll go to jail for a lot longer than just falsifying reports.” He purposefully avoided the topic of Tom’s death, or Collin’s, just to get that gun away from Claire.

Aaron’s chest worked its way in and out, pushing against Claire with each inhale, barely lowering with each exhale. But suddenly, the dynamic changed. In the blink of an eye, Aaron’s grip on Claire loosened, and the gun suddenly dropped from his hands. It clattered to the deck, tumbling end over end and not firing a round. Aaron’s knees buckled forward, pushing Claire away from him. Claire must have felt his grip loosen as she shot forward, scrambling out of his grasp. The gun and Aaron’s limp body clattered to the ground behind her, and she whipped around, surprised to see Aaron lying there, unconscious.

For a split second, both Claire and Dallas stood there, breathing hard, the shock working its way out of their systems. Then Claire’s face melted, and her own knees buckled; she leaned against the railing, this time on her own accord. Dallas could wait no longer. She was free! His feet boomed across the deck as he raced to her, catching her in his arms before she could hit the floor.

“Hey, hey—it’s okay. It’s okay.”

Claire’s body went limp in his arms, and he lowered himself to his knees, gathering her against his chest with all the tenderness he felt for her in that moment.

Replacing the harsh clutch of Aaron’s hand at her hair, Dallas cupped her head gently, pressing her face to his chest. Claire’s body shook all over, her head pounding with a headache fueled by her beating heart. Tears began to flow. She had almost died! In her mind, she had seen herself a dozen times plummeting to the bottom of the ravine or feeling the sting of the bullet in her chest. She had come so close, and she was amazed that she was still alive and in Dallas’s arms. She could hardly believe it all happened—that it was real and not a dream or a movie she was watching.

She buried her head in Dallas’s chest and sobbed, each cry wrenching from her body. She felt the strength of Dallas’s arms wrapping around her, pulling her close, giving her strength. What was she thinking? She should have fought harder, gotten away… but none of that mattered. What mattered was Dallas pulling her close, his hand gently stroking her hair and his voice caressing her very soul, reminding her why she wanted to be alive.

“Are you hurt?”

She shook her head, unable to speak through her sobs. She’d almost lost everything. Her flower shop, her beautiful life... and Dallas. His face was the only one that flashed across her mind when she thought she was going to die. His voice was the only one she longed to hear. And he was the one that showed up for her. And how in the world had that even happened?

She sniffed. “How…” She gulped. “How did you find me?”

He calmed her, his voice gentle and soothing away her fears. “You won’t believe this.” He gave a small chuckle that somehow reminded her racing thoughts that everything was really okay. “I just so happened to be heading up this way. I heard voices—I saw you through the window and saw that you were in trouble.”

Claire stiffened. “Oh, Dallas, he got Miles’s wife and kids too. But they got away.”

“Tell me what happened,” he gently invited her.

Could she? She sniffed. “I was delivering flowers. I saw this van driving recklessly and harassing a car. He was shooting at the occupants and shot the tires out. I pulled over and watched this guy kidnap Lauren and her two kids. Lauren is Miles’s wife.”

Dallas nodded. He probably knew that already.

“So, I hid in my van and tried to call the police, but he must have seen me. He grabbed me out of my van. I fought him, but he was too strong for me.”

As she told the story, she couldn’t believe that everything she was telling him actually happened to her. She wasn’t retelling a movie or a scene from a book she’d read—it was her!

“When we got to the house, I hit him with the jack. It dazed him, but I guess it finally caught up with him.” She laughed humorlessly. “Would have been nice if it had worked a lot sooner.”

“Claire.” He anchored her emotions and attention by simply uttering her name. “You were so brave. I’m so proud of you. Not everyone could have done what you did and survived.”

The thought terrified her, but she held on to Dallas’s words. She had survived. She was alive, and she owed that much to him! Claire didn’t want to just listen anymore. She needed to see him. She raised her gaze to find herself lost in his eyes. Suddenly, her heart was seized with new, raw emotion. Dallas looked down at her so tenderly, so compassionately, that it seemed like there was nothing left but just her and him. The tenderness in his eyes melted away her fears and drew her in with a force so strong, it could stop the earth’s rotation. She wanted him. She soaked in his comforting, strong embrace and realized that in her moment of weakness, he was strong, so she didn’t have to be.

She loved him. And the tenderness in his eyes got to her so much that a new wave of tears took over.

“You saved my life.” She spoke the words with great gratitude and emotion. She was alive because of him. Dallas. A gentleman, without being too smothering. A protector, strong for her when she couldn’t be. And when he looked at her like that, nothing else mattered. She knew then there was no doubt. She loved him.

He had almost lost her. Claire had almost left him, taking all her beauty with her.

Dallas couldn’t help the stampede of thoughts that brought the what-ifs to his mind. He had left the fire station to get away from the memories of Collin, so if he’d lost Claire, despite his new career, he still would have left Juniper Springs. Everything would have reminded him of her. His mountain home—she’d wanted one of her own. The sunsets, oh, how she loved them. The flower shop she’d once owned and the memories of seeing her there, doing her work with brilliance.

She was the only one who awakened those feelings, and having come so close to losing her, he realized something glaringly obvious: somewhere along the way, he had fallen in love with this beautiful woman who showed him what it was like to live. “Claire,” he gasped for her name like a drowning person gasped for air. He wanted her—needed her.

She looked up at him, her eyes swimming in trust and something else too. There he saw the same adoration she’d had for the sunset during their first date together, only times ten.

He leaned closer to her, and she closed her eyes, leaning her face closer to his. His lips met hers, and a beauty more lovely than that sunset they had shared together caressed his soul, as if she was the one thing he was missing from his life. Claire purred, melting into him, and the way she gave herself over to him in that moment only made him want to protect her more. His Claire, his love, had become more beautiful to him than anything.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

Claire turned her head, searching Dallas’s eyes with a depth she hadn’t before. Since the incident with Aaron a few days ago, she felt a new connection with him. He had always warmed her heart whenever she was around him, but after he had so tenderly saved her life that day, the connection between them had only deepened. She wanted to be around him more and more, so when Miles Lloyd—of all people—had asked to speak with her when he had gotten out of surgery, she hadn’t wanted anyone but Dallas to go with her to the hospital.

Claire nodded. “You bet. I’m calmed down now.”

A smile tickled his face as he drove out of Juniper Springs city limits. “Sure, you are. You went through a traumatic experience, so it’s okay to admit that you’re still dealing with it.”

He knew her so well, and he gave her such a safe place to confide in. She sighed, lowering her gaze. “I took a couple of days off from the flower shop. Jody’s been there longer than any of us, Bella included. She can handle it. I just... I can’t stop thinking about it, you know?”

Dallas nodded, humming his acknowledgment.

“I can’t help but think about what would have happened if you hadn’t been up there.”

“God works in mysterious ways,” Dallas pointed out. “And I’m glad those ways led me up the mountain.”

Claire softened, leaning her head against the headrest. Every little noise startled her; she still felt uncomfortable in her own skin, like Aaron was suddenly going to spring from custody and attack her again. But with Dallas, she felt herself relax a little bit. He had to be going through it too. Not that he’d had a gun jammed in his rib cage, but he’d finally discovered after all these years that his brother had, indeed, been murdered; it hadn’t been an accident at all. He had to be wrangling with the emotions of that singular revelation. “So, are you okay?” She tilted her head. “This can’t be easy for you either.”

Dallas’s sigh reverberated dread throughout the car, and his voice was lower as he answered. “I need some closure. I don’t know what Miles knows, but I’m hoping that after today, I can start to put it behind me.”

“Me too.” Claire sighed, looking out the window. “Aaron hurt a lot of people. I’m hoping we can all start to put it behind us, now that we know.”

Dallas pulled into the hospital a few minutes later, and Claire sat in her seat, staring at the space where Todd Carlson had confronted her. She studied the spot that had been cleared away of the glass from the broken vase and remembered how before Aaron had kidnapped her, that was the closest she’d come to being threatened; it had been a frightening experience. How terrifying it was that it kept happening. She couldn’t help but remember that stupid phrase that went something like, “they come in threes,” half expecting something else awful to happen within a few days.

“Hey.” Dallas reached across, setting a warm hand on her arm and drew her attention back to him. He kept his movements slow, being sensitive to her jumpiness. “Are you okay?”

Claire couldn’t say her thoughts out loud. Saying them out loud might make them come true. She just nodded. “I’ll be okay.”

He smiled, more out of understanding than anything. “I want you to know that what you’re feeling is perfectly normal. It’s natural to go through all of this after a traumatic experience, and we’re going to get through it. Together.”

Together. Yes, she would recover with Dallas by her side, never leaving. The idea of recovering and bonding with him during that time of emotional turmoil sparked warm hope within her. She lost herself in the comfort of his words and allowed a smile to touch her lips. She set her free hand on top of his and felt his fingers squeeze her arm gently. “Thank you, Dallas. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

Without him, she’d be dead.

Miles had never looked so terrible as long as Dallas had known him, but it was good to see him alive. He was sitting up and taking nourishment as the old saying went, even if that nourishment was fed to him through an IV. He greeted Dallas and Claire with a raspy voice upon their entrance to his hospital room. “Hey, buddy.”

“Miles,” Dallas added some cheerfulness into his voice. Miles had probably been bombarded with questions from the police and smothered with “Oh-my-goodnesses” from other family members. He needed someone to make him laugh. “You look great, man.”

Miles snorted. “Great for a guy a couple days post-op and barely alive.”

“But alive.” Dallas held up a finger and kept his answer brief with a positive tease in his tone. Miles broke down, laughing, which resulted in a cough and a clamping of his arm across his rib cage. “Oh, come on, man, don’t make me laugh!”

“Well, then I should leave.” Dallas pretended like he was turning to go. “Because everything I want to say is funny, so I don’t want to put you in more pain.”

Claire, herself, laughed and slapped him lightly on the shoulder. “Dallas.”

He chuckled, swinging an arm around her. “Miles, this is Claire Bartlett. I understand you wanted to speak with her?”

Miles’s attention went over to Claire, and gratitude filled his eyes. “Claire Bartlett.” He whispered her name as if it were sacred. “I understand you’re the one who helped my wife and children escape.”

Dallas had figured that’s what Miles wanted to talk to Claire about. He looked over at Claire who had moved closer to the bed. A humble smile touched her face, and she nodded. “I gave them a hand.”

A hand. Dallas fought the urge to roll his eyes and chuckle. You risked your life for them, Claire. Don’t downgrade it like it was no big deal!

It was Miles’s turn to look like he owed his life to her. Gratitude spilled over his features, and he sighed. “Thank you. I really can’t thank you enough. I owe you.”

“You don’t owe me anything.” Claire held up her hands. “It’s something anyone should have done.”

“That’s what they all say.” Miles leaned his head against the pillow, searching the patterns in the ceiling. A chuckle worked its way through his nose, and he clutched his chest again. “Tom would always reply no matter what, ‘I was just doing my job. Just doing my job.’”

He would do that, wouldn’t he? Tom never wanted accolades. Dallas softened in the face of his friend’s memory.

Miles shook his head. “To us, it was a job. Rescuing people is what we were paid to do. But you,” he lifted his head up from the pillow again, tears filling his eyes, searching Claire’s face as if she were his lifeline. “You could have gotten hurt, and you risked your life for someone you didn’t even know. I will be forever grateful to you for that.”

Claire’s humble smile didn’t decrease, and a little color flushed into her cheeks. “It was nothing.”

They shared silence for a few moments. The beeping of machines and loud chatter from the nurse’s station proved to be a huge distraction. Dallas could take it no more. He moved closer to the bed, putting on a more serious face, and set his hand on the bed rail at the foot of Miles’s bed. “In all seriousness, considering the circumstances, how are you feeling?”

Miles’s reply was heavy, bringing down the mood in the room. “I’m okay now that Aaron is in custody.”

Dallas wanted him to know that he knew. He hadn’t filled in all the gaps of what happened surrounding the death of his buddy or his brother, but he didn’t want to press him either. He couldn’t imagine carrying a burden like Miles had done, worrying about the threat on his family and facing murder charges for a crime he didn’t commit. “How long have you known?”

Miles’s silence stunned Dallas. It reeked of guilt—of shame—over not speaking up sooner. Claire moved back and seated herself against the back wall, allowing Dallas and an old comrade to talk. Miles gave a long sigh, unable to meet Dallas’s gaze as he related the story in a monotone voice.

“About four and a half or so years ago, maybe even shorter than that, there was a hotel fire.”

That same hotel fire that had snagged Dallas’s attention. He nodded, wanting to hear Miles’s side of the story without adding much commentary himself.

“You were still with us at the time, but you weren’t there at the station that day when the call came in. Do you remember the Shut-Eye Hotel?”

“Yes, I do.” Dallas’s memory had been prompted by his research in the newspaper, but he didn’t let that information slip.

Miles went on. “Collin and I and the guys were called out to that fire. Big fire, huge. We fought that one for a solid two hours at least. But there was something suspicious about it. The fire report said it started with a curling iron or something?” Disbelief clouded his face, and he shook his head. “Everything about that was off. The burn pattern. The way the fire burned. It consumed six separate rooms before the hotel owner even noticed?” He shook his head. “There were rumors going around that the owner never rented out rooms twenty-four and twenty-five, but several eyewitnesses said they saw people coming and going from them all the time. Did you know that it was also later discovered that the hotel owner’s son was involved in a drug bust—he was caught dealing drugs? This wasn’t in Juniper Springs; this was somewhere else after the hotel fire.”

Dallas zeroed in on that as more things came to light. Just how corrupt was this hotel fire and how many people did it affect in the long run? “Really?”

“Really. The police uncovered some drug paraphernalia left in room number twenty-four after the fire. They’re pretty confident that Abel Howell, the owner, was allowing his son to run some sort of drug operation in those two rooms. That’s why he never rented them out. Then when he found out about the rumors, he set fire to the surrounding rooms twenty through twenty-six, so it didn’t look obvious.”

“Because—” Claire might not have been trying to eavesdrop, but somehow, she heard every conversation anyway. Her quiet voice broke into the conversation, wondering. “If he just set fire to the two rooms, it would have been obvious that there was something there he didn’t want police to see.”

“Exactly.” Miles nodded to her. He obviously didn’t mind her being a part of the conversation. Dallas scooted a chair closer to the bed and sat down, beckoning to Claire. She hesitated before scooting her chair forward. She lined her seat up with Dallas’s, and they both leaned in to listen to what Miles had to say.

A heavy burden settled in his expression as he continued, like he was recounting a war story or something. “I was there at the scene of that fire, and so was Collin. He was a sharp kid; he knew it wasn’t an accident.”

Dallas nodded, trying to swallow the emotion that swelled in his throat. Miles was right about that.

Miles couldn’t look up. “Curling irons don’t do that kind of damage. Not that hot, not that fast. But Aaron was there, and he reported it as an accident. Collin wouldn’t shut up about it; he kept pestering the chief and was telling everyone he could about it… well, for the few days he was alive after that. And then he wound up dead when his SCBA malfunctioned?”

Each sentence was like a drumbeat of doom. Dallas could feel his head pounding, starting to hurt with some kind of emotional headache. Collin, he was a good kid. He was just trying to do the right thing, trying not to let some crime go unpunished, and he wound up being punished for it himself. Dallas hated this, but he didn’t want to let it show. He steepled his fingers and moved down, resting his elbows onto his thighs. Soon, he felt a comforting touch moving up and down his back. Claire. His mind flashed back to the time when he had been reading the articles Ryan had found. How he had wished she was there, knowing somehow that she would be able to comfort him. He had been right, and there was no better person to share this with right now than her.

Miles glanced up at him, apologies brimming in his eyes. “Are you okay? Do you need me to not talk about this?”

Dallas shook his head. No, he needed the closure. Even if the truth was hard, he needed to find out what happened. His brother deserved that much. Dallas braced himself, leaning into Claire’s touch. His hand crossed over his lap, finding her fingers and nestling his hand into hers. The warmth of her touch reminded him that everything was okay now, even though Collin was gone. He was getting justice, and that’s what mattered. “No, it’s okay.”

“I know this involves your brother, but he wouldn’t have wanted the truth to go unnoticed.”

Dallas swallowed, giving his head a series of nods to tell himself to remember the same. “Right. He wouldn’t. He deserves this much.”

Miles lowered his gaze again as if making eye contact during the retelling of what happened was too hard on him. “My wife was pregnant with Hollie at the time, and I knew I had to lay low. I was just as outraged about everything as Collin was, but I couldn’t risk the same thing happening to me or bringing any hurt to my family. I had to protect Lauren—I couldn’t risk my child growing up without me.

“But I continued to gather evidence under the radar, building a case without anyone knowing. I knew when Abel the hotel owner skipped town that he had to be guilty. Then, when the nail salon fire happened, it was more than obvious that the fire was started intentionally. I know the water heater is broken, but by the time we got there, the burn pattern was still very specific. I remember the way it moved—the way it ate. Then when it was ruled an accident, I knew I couldn’t keep silent anymore. But then I received an anonymous threat on my family. I knew too much, so I kept quiet and tried to figure out what to do. When Tom wound up dead and the cops came after me, I knew I was being framed. I just had to get my family out of Juniper Springs safely, but then the arrest happened, and everything just came undone.”

It was all making sense now. The whole thing was a mess, and Dallas was so glad to be sorting things out. “Well, we’ve got him now,” Dallas assured his friend. “He can’t hurt anyone anymore.”

“Do we have anything more than circumstantial though?” Miles shook his head.

That’s when Claire cleared her throat. “Well, don’t forget. He kidnapped me. I was an eyewitness to him kidnapping your family.”

“That’s right,” Miles said, relieved.

Claire went on, her voice haunted by the events of that day. “When he had a gun pointed at me, he said that he had to kill me too. He made it clear that he’d killed before.” She turned, looking at Dallas. The hurt that brimmed in her eyes nearly brought him to his knees with love for her. “I never imagined it entailed all this.”

“I’m grateful to you.” Miles brought Claire’s attention back to him. “But I’m also sorry that it happened to you.”

“Don’t worry.” Claire hinted at a smile. “Right place, right time. If anything, I’m okay now, and because of that, I’m just glad that I stumbled upon them to help.”

Dallas knew she hadn’t said her true thoughts out loud, but he agreed with her. Who knew what would have happened if she hadn’t been there? Miles probably would have never seen his family again. And Aaron would have been long gone.

Miles smiled gratefully at her again. As if on cue, the door opened slightly. Lauren peered through the crack, her eyes going straight to the group. Miles lit up with a smile when he saw her. She stepped into the room, guiding Judson and Hollie into the room. “Hi, Honey.” She leaned down to whisper. “Be gentle; Daddy’s just had surgery.”

Hollie rushed to her father’s bedside with Judson trailing behind her. “Daddy, Daddy!”

Claire stood to her feet, and Dallas followed her, dropping his grip on her hand. He hadn’t wanted to let go, but the situation called for it.

Lauren and Claire’s gazes met, and Lauren’s face twisted into tears. “Oh, Claire.”

Claire threw her arms around Lauren, feeling her newfound friend do the same. Warm tears spilled from Lauren’s eyes, and she held Claire tightly. They stood that way for a few seconds before Lauren pulled back. “I can’t thank you enough. Because of you, we got away from that monster.”

Claire’s smile lit her face. “You’re welcome,” she breathed, finding the moment strangely emotional. The bruises that riddled her body hurt, but not as much as they would have if Aaron had gotten away with what he intended.

“I was so worried about leaving you. I hated doing that, but I’m so glad you’re okay!”

Claire nodded. “I am too. Don’t worry. You had your sweet family to look after.” She stepped in line with Lauren and watched Hollie and Judson doting on their father as if he’d been gone forever. Claire sighed as she watched them, sending up a prayer of thanks that they were enjoying this moment. Oh, how close they had all come to losing everything. She glanced at Dallas, waiting until he looked over at her to murmur to him, “We should probably skedaddle. Let the family have their visiting hours.”

He nodded his agreement. “Miles, you take care, man.”

“I’ll be fine,” Miles stared lovingly at his two children, “now that everything is over with.”

Claire waited until they were out in the courtyard of the hospital. There was a shaded area where the walkway surrounded a small bench, and she moved toward the shade a little bit, but not fully to the bench. The area gave them a little more privacy, and she turned, looking into Dallas’s eyes. “Are you okay?”

Without his friend confined to the hospital bed, Dallas finally let his emotion show on his face. She could see his eyes, the shadows that crossed his face, the sadness that lurked on his normally happy expression. He looked like he wanted to break, but not around her. He was always strong, but today, that strength was replaced by the loss of his brother all over again. Claire imagined that it was like losing him twice after finally learning what happened to him. He gave a series of nods, looking away toward the stone bench.

“Hey.” Claire found herself reaching up and smoothing her fingers against his face. She didn’t care that they hadn’t made anything official yet. After he’d saved her life and taken her hand in the hospital, they both seemed to know that there was something between them that couldn’t be ignored. She let her fingers relish in the feel of the stubble that covered his strong jawbone, and she gently pushed his face toward hers. His eyes lingered on her gaze for a few seconds before she spoke again. “It’s okay. You can tell me.”

His shoulders rose and fell with a relinquished sigh. “It was hard, you know? I finally got some answers about why my brother died—some of the closure that I’ve been searching for all this time—but it didn’t make it any easier to find out what really happened to him.”

Claire nodded. She forgot everything about herself for a moment, the fear that followed her around, the trauma over the events of a few days prior. She let that all fall away and found herself making Dallas’s story hers. He wasn’t just some client who had walked into the flower shop needing flowers for a deceased loved one. He was Dallas Griffin, a man who’d given her a peek into his heart, and she had done the same for him. With that heart-to-heart knowledge, she found herself wanting to feel his heartache right along with him.

“He should have kept quiet like Miles did.” Dallas shook his head. “Built a case about it. I never knew, or else I might have told him to not be so obvious about it.”

“You can’t blame yourself for what happened,” Claire reminded him. “He was a victim, just like Tom… and just like Miles and his family could have been. When you think about it—” she wasn’t sure she wanted to go there, wasn’t sure she wanted to open the old wound by saying the obvious. But she did. Her voice took on the softest, most comforting tone she’d ever used, and she gazed up at him with compassion. “He died a hero. He was doing the right thing. Sure, maybe he wasn’t recognized for it, but now we know, and we can celebrate his life as the hero he was.”

She wasn’t sure how Dallas was going to take her words. He didn’t look at her at first, the strong features of his face didn’t change with any hint of emotion from her statement. He searched the irises and lilies rising up on either side of the walkway where the bench was and stared at them for the longest time. When he finally did turn back to her, letting her into his heart through his eyes, she could read overwhelming gratefulness for what she said. He gave a series of nods, and she noticed his throat constrict a bit as he tried to withhold his emotion. “You’re right.” His words sounded choked. “He was a hero.”

Claire drew closer, putting her arms around him and pulling him close. He’d done his part in comforting her, now it was her turn. She pressed the side of her face against his shoulder and didn’t say anything more, just found her fingers stroking his back gently. He didn’t sob as she did but let his eyes leak healing tears onto the top of her head. It wasn’t easy with him being taller than she was, but he managed to lay his face across the top of her head, and she let him take a few much-needed moments to mourn for his brother like he should have done in the beginning. But now, he knew. Now they both knew what happened, and it was out in the light.

Finally, after a few seconds, Dallas pulled away. His eyes were red, but he looked more composed. “Thank you. Um…” He sniffed, running a finger under his nose before composing himself again. A grin slowly dawned on his face. “Don’t tell any of my former colleagues at the station I cried, okay?”

“Aw, darn.” Claire snapped her fingers. “Ruined my afternoon plans.”

He smiled at her as he nodded toward his car. “Do you want to grab some lunch?”

She wanted that more than anything. She nodded, slipping an arm around him as he did the same around her shoulders. “Sure. Why not?”

“Why not?” He repeated, a light tease coming back into his eyes. “Because you’d get the same old boring thing. Ham sandwich. That’s why not.” He grinned at her as he guided her toward the parking lot.

Claire laughed and rolled her eyes. “Oh, okay, fine. I’ll try something more elaborate. What was that house sandwich you told me about on our first date?”

“Now you’re talking.”

Avery watched the couple embrace beneath her window for a long time and wondered what their story might be. The short-haired blond and the dark-haired man she was with seemed perfect for each other, however aesthetically mismatched. The blond was shorter than he was by a head or so, but somehow, they still seemed to make it work.

As she waited for her discharge papers which seemed to take seven years to get there, Avery pondered just how many stories a hospital room could tell. How many tears, how many shouts of rejoicing, how many moments of despair, how many bits of good news that wouldn’t otherwise be known? For her, she could feel nothing but the urge to rejoice. She was getting out today, Miles was in recovery and doing better than anyone could have hoped, and she didn’t need to build a case for a guilty man any longer. She wasn’t completely sure what was going on, but the drive-by shooting confirmed that Miles was indeed chasing something bigger, and so was Tom. She was practically parched and thirsty for information, but Lance insisted she recover before she dove back into her work. That was where they differed. Lance, ever the doctor, was more worried about her recovery, and Avery, ever the workaholic, thought what better time to focus on stuff than while lying helpless in a hospital bed? Oh, well. She was leaving today, and that’s all that mattered.

As Avery watched the couple wrap their arms around one another and head off toward the parking lot, she noticed how happy they seemed together. Like her and Lance. Thinking of him brought a smile to her face, how he had been at her side every possible moment during her recovery time. His face was the first she’d wanted to see when she had come out of surgery, and the only one she wanted with her during this time.

She heard his footsteps at the door and looked up. He looked so handsome to her, having ditched the white coat he so often wore, and adorning a regular black T-shirt that enhanced the dark eyes and dark hair he bore, causing his desirability to increase. “I thought you might want to know something,” he said mysteriously. Without waiting for an invitation, and knowing he didn’t need one, he sat down near her.

“What’s that?”

“Have you heard any news regarding your case?”

She snorted a laugh. “No! You wouldn’t let me! I don’t even remember talking about it after I got out of surgery.”

“We weren’t talking.” His grin indicated he was about to tease her. “You were talking like a drunk, and I was trying to comprehend what you were saying.”

She leaned forward to smack him, but he ducked out of the way with such boyish playfulness that she had to laugh. “Lance Blair! Are you gonna tell me, or did you come here to make fun of me?”

He laughed, moving back to his sitting position. “Okay, okay, well, that too. But I have some good news. We got two confessions.”

Confessions? From whom? Avery sat forward in the wheelchair they’d insisted upon her sitting in and fixed her attention on Lance. “Okay? Tell me more!”

“I’ve been following the story the best I can.” Lance grew serious again, the teasing grin from earlier gone. “You know Ned, the pyromaniac that blamed Miles?”

Of course she did. “Yeah, the one that set that food trailer on fire?”

“The very one. He confessed. I guess he got scared enough that he broke. He was a part of some drug-dealing group of kids that met in the old Shut-Eye Hotel. There was a fire there four or five years ago, and it burned up a few rooms pretty bad.”

Avery nodded. “I heard about that. Simmons said they were thinking there was drug-related activity in one of the rooms.”

“Well, there was,” Lance confirmed. Avery felt that familiar rush of exhilaration when justice was being served. Yes! Finally, some unsolved mystery was getting put away for good. “Ned was a part of a group of kids who dealt drugs and made them in one of the rooms of the hotel. The leader of the pack was the son of the hotel owner, and he never rented out that room so his son’s gang could make drugs there—as long as they paid him a portion of their earnings. So, when the police were going to investigate the room, I guess the hotel owner caught wind of it and set the fire to cover it up. Then he hired the fire inspector, Aaron O’Connell, to write a false report stating it was the curling iron or whatever.”

Avery’s face went hot like the fire he described. “I see.”

“Aaron O’Connell remembered Ned from that bust, and he somehow got in touch with him and asked him to come and set that fire at the house that killed Tom. He said that if he was ever caught to say that it was the ‘firefighter fellow’ who told him to do it.”

The firefighter fellow. Miles Lloyd. “So that’s why he pointed the finger at Miles.” Despite Lance’s efforts to get her to turn off work, she could only do so much. She had heard that someone else named Aaron O’Connell had been accused of writing false reports and had caused quite a commotion on the same day that Avery had been shot. That much she knew.

“Oh, and Lily’s husband, Todd? He confessed to everything too. He was more than happy to work with the police once he realized everything was at stake. He reported that he heard Aaron wrote false reports for a price and paid him to report that the nail salon fire was caused by the water heater.”

“Okay, so let’s see if I got this straight.” Avery rolled her tongue into the side of her cheek, thinking hard. “Aaron wrote that false report about the hotel fire, covering up the drug crime going on there. He somehow met Ned Powell and had him come start the fire at the house that killed Tom. He also wrote a false report about Todd setting Lily’s Nails and Hair on fire. But why?”

Lance shook his head. “There’s a whole story behind that. Miles and Tom knew that the salon fire wasn’t an accident. They also knew that the hotel fire wasn’t either, so when they started to expose it, Aaron decided to kill Tom and frame Miles for it to keep himself out of trouble. A genius plan, but the guy was in way over his head. He was expecting Miles to take the fall for Tom’s death, thus silencing the witnesses to his falsifying reports. But that’s not what happened. He just kept getting deeper and deeper. He had to make good on his threat to hurt Miles’s family if he told, so he kidnapped Lauren and the kids.”

Avery nodded. “Yeah, I remember that from the day of the shooting. A lot was a blur that day, but I remember that call coming in about a possible kidnapping.”

“This woman, Claire Bartlett, I guess she’s the new owner of the flower shop or something? Well, she somehow got involved and helped them get away. Seems Aaron drove the van around for two hours, probably because he didn’t know what to do with them; they finally ended up going to his house. It was a mess, but it’s over now. The right guys are behind bars, and we have nothing left to worry about.”

“Are Miles’s family and the flower shop owner okay?” Avery asked.

Lance nodded. “The flower shop owner has a few bruises, but nothing to worry about. She and the Lloyd family are completely fine.”

Avery breathed a sigh of relief, shaking her head. What a mess indeed, but the bigger mess was the injustice that had been running under the surface for so long. She was grateful that no one else was hurt—not Miles’s family or Claire or even Miles, despite his gunshot wounds. But what about Tom and his family? He was an innocent man who died as both a cover-up and a way to silence him. What about the people who never got justice for the fires that demolished their properties because of a false report?

“It’s kind of sad, don’t you think?”

“What?” Lance asked her.

“That Aaron has probably been writing false reports for money for years. We would have no way of knowing, no way of getting justice for arsonists who are setting buildings on fire for this reason or that.”

Lance studied her, thinking hard. “I know, Babe. But the good news is that he won’t be doing it anymore. He killed another kid too.”

Another one? Avery closed her eyes, sighing.

“A young firefighter from the sounds of it. I don’t know much about that story, but I guess someone did some digging and verified that too. So, his family is finally getting justice, as is Becca’s.”

“I’m glad.” Avery felt herself smile at the bit of good news. Closure and justice. Two things she always strove for in life.

The doctor came in with the much-needed emancipation papers, and before she knew it, she was cleared. Free to go. Lance turned to her, a bit of his smile returning. “Are you ready to get out of here, Babe?”

Avery could have jumped from the wheelchair if not for the instructions to remain there and the wound in her leg that would take some time to heal. “I was born ready.”

Lance came around behind her and pushed her out of the room. As Avery watched the hospital walls go by, she could only think of one thing: how close she had come to dying—again—and just how precious and short life was. How important it was to take nothing for granted. Not even her relationship with Lance. She couldn’t have picked a better boyfriend, but how long would they be dating before they both acknowledged that they were made for each other forever? Her first marriage didn’t work out—a cold, lifeless, off-balance relationship. If he ever asked her, was she ready to try again?

She forced herself to slow down. That wasn’t in the near future at all, and she needed to give Lance the time he needed. She was enjoying her life with him for the moment. All she could do now was relish the moment and be grateful that she had survived another ordeal. She was determined to enjoy life by Lance’s side—he’d been her rock through the entire episode.

A big smile spread across her face as she thought back to the recent news Lance had given her. He’d done quite a good job at gathering information to appease her, and she was glad. She wasn’t sure where he got the information from, nor did she care. All she cared about were those two words that were as soothing as a cool cup of water on a hot summer’s day.

Justice and closure.

Claire knew Dallas couldn’t possibly spend every waking moment with her to help her through her fears, but she found herself missing him when she finally got up the courage to return to her flower shop. Her sweet staff had thrown her a welcome back party, even though she’d only been gone for a couple of days. It was their way of showing her their support, and she was grateful for that.

Over the next week, Claire was pleased to see that the jumpiness was starting to work its way out of her system. She knew it wouldn’t be gone entirely for a while, but the time Dallas spent with her put her on the road to recovery. She felt like they were dating, even though he hadn’t made anything official, yet. He came over to her apartment every night to sit with her in the evening hours, the ones when she found herself to be most vulnerable. He hadn’t stayed, not wanting to overstay his welcome, but he was always there when she fell asleep. Sometimes they talked and he teased her out of her melancholy, but other times they would sit quietly, watching a movie or listening to the melodies of Claire’s favorite classical music pieces.

“Aren’t you tired of listening to concertos and sonatas?” she’d asked him once, a smile creasing the corners of her lips.

Dallas had shaken his head and replied in all honestly, “No. I find classical music to be fulfilling. It’s not every day I can just sit and listen to a good orchestral piece of music, you know? Better than watching TV.”

And another thing to check off her list. How perfect could this guy really be?

Well, obviously not perfect enough because even though they acted somewhat like a dating couple, they hadn’t made anything official yet. Claire was eager to find out what was holding him back. Then again, it had only been a week since her hostage situation, and he probably didn’t want to throw something else big at her. She could respect that.

Dallas gave it a week before he put the invitation forward again. He knew he and Claire both needed to settle back into their lives a little bit before he made the move to ask her out on another date. He had gotten in touch with his parents about the latest in Collin’s case and had spent some time mourning together with them and revisiting old memories over the phone. They were planning on coming down sometime next week, and Dallas wanted something to happen between him and Claire before then. He wanted to introduce them to Claire.

A week had passed, so he waited until the day after her one-week anniversary before he pulled his car into the familiar slanted parking lot of her flower shop and checked his watch. Not to sound like Phil Duffey, but Dallas had timed his visit to the flower shop around Claire’s lunch hour where he knew she could step away in private if she wasn’t too busy. Claire had told him that they were rarely swamped on Tuesdays and Wednesdays unless there was a funeral or holiday, so he felt better about bothering her in the middle of the day.

She didn’t look busy as she sat at the lunch counter with Jenna, Eva, and Jody. All four of the women looked up at him as he approached, and he smiled at the group. “Good afternoon. I was wondering if I might steal Claire for a moment.”

“You can steal me,” she answered sweetly as she slipped off the stool and approached him. “As long as you give me back.”

But I want you for myself, he almost blurted out. But not there, not in front of her staff who would no doubt relentlessly tease her about it after he left. That’s fine. She leaned across the counter, looking up into his eyes with affection. Did she have any idea how delighted he felt to have her look at him like that? “What can I do for you?”

He leaned his elbow on the counter, getting as close to her ear as he could. “I know this sounds like déjà vu, but I want to make something up to you. Our lives became chaotic after that first date of ours on the mountain, so how do you feel about pressing restart on that? Tonight, tomorrow night, whenever you’re free. Want to go back up the mountain with me?”

The depth of her blue eyes deepened into something even more beautiful, and she smiled. “Well, since we’re pressing restart, can I still get a ham and cheese sandwich?”

“As long as I still get to tease you about being boring.” Oh, he was going to tease her anyway, with or without her permission.

The corners of her lips melted into a smile. “Granted. I’m off at 4:30 today. Jody’s going to close for the next two days. Meet you at the cafe?”

Dallas couldn’t keep the joy from melting into his eyes. “See you at the cafe. I’ll be there.”

Claire loved being with Dallas. There was just no other way to say it.

They didn’t have the anticipation of surprise, as he had given her the last time, but she still enjoyed both his company and being in her favorite place. Claire had been worried that going back to the place where she’d been taken would awaken new terrifying memories in her mind, but she knew what Dallas was doing. She loved the mountains—he knew that—and he didn’t want her to miss out on that because all she could think about was her kidnapping. He wanted to replace that memory in her mind with new, delightful memories of the mountains. Like their first date. Sort of like getting back up on a horse’s back after being bucked off the first time. Claire appreciated that about him, how he took her feelings into consideration.

Passing the area where she had been taken, Claire was pleased to see that nothing but tire marks remained on the highway. She still didn’t know why Aaron had driven them around for two hours before going to his house, but she was grateful he had. She wouldn’t be there in the car with Dallas if he hadn’t.

Dallas slipped his hand into hers. “Look at those clouds.” He nodded his head toward a building cumulonimbus in the southwestern sky, hazy with moisture that lingered in the air and hinted at a rain shower later tonight.

Claire smiled. She knew he was trying to divert her attention from the accident site, and she was grateful for that. She pursued the line of conversation. “Looks like a storm is brewing.”

“Shocker. A storm in Washington State?” He let his sarcasm take over, and she laughed.

“I know, right?”

Dallas pulled into the spot where they had met the night of their first date. Once again, Claire was thankful that it was just her and Dallas. He didn’t do everything exactly the same as that day, other than teasing her about a boring ham and cheese sandwich and her teasing him back about throwing it at him. What he did mirror was taking her hand as sunset approached, only this time with no camera; he had something else in his hands: a small greeting-card-sized envelope and a small Bluetooth speaker. So, he was still planning some kind of surprise, even though Claire knew the most beautiful sunset was coming. What did this man have up his sleeve? Whatever it was, Claire was already delighted.

“Come with me.”

Dallas had it all planned out. Claire wasn’t showing any signs of being afraid or haunted by her trauma, and he did his best to redirect her thinking any time she got quiet. She wasn’t quiet very often, though, as she laughed with him as if nothing bad had happened. Tonight, she had relaxed, loosening up as if somehow her joy in life was being renewed. Dallas wasn’t sure how her joy could get any deeper, but it had. It was as if she knew that she’d been given a second chance and was determined to enjoy it all the more.

And he was going to help with that.

Claire deserved only the absolute best. So, instead of taking her to that cliff side that overlooked the sunset, he took her to a different area where the meadow met the mountainside and didn’t slope straight down. He had plans—plans that involved not being anywhere near the edge of a great height. “You can still see the sunset from here,” he informed her, helping her into the meadow gathering with a gentle tug of his hand. “And you can still take a good picture. It just doesn’t last as long because that mountain over there is in the way,” he said as he pointed.

“That’s okay.” Claire’s voice was once again breathless as she beheld the brilliant colors. “Look how the colors melt into that thunderhead over there.”

Dallas nodded. “Very beautiful.”

He waited until she’d snapped a picture with her cell phone before he took a breath of sweet mountain air. He came up beside her. “I have something to give you.”

She turned to him, her eyes brimming with love and excitement, and the giddiness in her voice only served to make him smile more. “Okay?”

He handed her the envelope, only there was no card inside. Claire took it, flipping it open, and he held his breath as she watched her slide the object out.

Claire pulled a picture from the envelope that, at first, confused her. “What? This is a picture of me.”

She had to admit, if she had a favorite picture of herself, it would be this one. Her face, wrapped in complete joy and satisfaction, gazing off into the sunset on this very mountain. And she’d only been here once, so she knew he had to have taken the picture.

“I hope you don’t mind. I wasn’t trying to be a creepy stalker.” He laughed.

Claire glanced up at him. “I would never think you’re a stalker.” She laughed. He was too much of a gentleman to her. She tilted her head, teasing him. “Then again, you are coming around the flower shop more and more.”

“Your presence is addicting. Not going to lie.” He shrugged. “But there’s a reason I took that photograph. Turn it over.”

Turn it over? Claire flipped it, reading the words that Dallas had flowing across the back in a black magic marker.

Claire,

Thank you for helping me see the beauty in life.

Her breath caught in her throat. “Wha….” She could find not even a single word to say as she looked up at him.

This was it. Dallas straightened and inhaled as if he were about to give a speech that would change his life forever. “Claire, ever since I met you, you’ve given me a new perspective about life, and that picture sums it all up. You’ve made my life more beautiful—fuller—simply by being in it. There’s no sense in hiding anything from you. I love you, and everything about you. Your personality, your kindness, the way you take on the world without being overbearing—just you, Claire. I love you. I’ve loved you for a while.”

Claire struggled to breathe as happiness replaced oxygen in her lungs. He had loved her for a while? She knew he was attracted to her, but loved her? She looked down at the picture, tears gathering in her eyes. “Oh, Dallas. I’m not anything special.”

“But you are!” Earnest belief drove him closer to her. “You’re more special than you can ever imagine. You’re one in a million, Claire, and I know you don’t see that about yourself… but I do.”

The wind blew through the pines, whispering and enhancing the beauty of the moment before he went on, his voice taking on a lower tone. “When I thought I was going to lose you, I realized that I couldn’t imagine life without you. So, I was wondering if you’d like to be more than just friends?”

Never mind the happiness. It burst into joy, and the perfection of the moment made her feel like she could spread her arms and fly right off this mountain. Her eyes met his, a gasp emitting from her lips, and she read nothing but pure love in his dark eyes. “Mind? I thought you’d never ask.” Laughter and joy overwhelming her, she held the picture out, throwing herself into his arms, and felt him circle her again. This was it. She was his, completely.

Dallas kissed the side of her face, breathing words into her ear. “Be mine, Claire?”

“Be yours?” She pulled back, soaking in the deep emotion of his eyes and letting the joy she felt radiate from her face. “I’m yours completely, Dallas.” And she meant it with all her heart.

He embraced her again, and she realized how deeply she had fallen in love with him too. This was the perfect moment. The sunset, surrounded by nature, the picture, Dallas—well, just Dallas. That’s all she needed. He had gone out of his way to make this the perfect moment, and she had never been so swept off her feet in her life. “I love you, Dallas. I want to be yours.”

“You’ve made me the happiest man on earth, Claire. Thank you.” Despite her longing for him never to move, he pulled away, his eyes dancing with mischief. “And so. Since you love music so much?” He held up his phone. “I know this isn’t the best setting, but may I have this dance with my Juliet?”

His Juliet? The brilliance of the moment struck her. She was his Juliet now—his to love and cherish forever and for her to do the same with him. She sniffed, trying not to let her tears rain down her face as she nodded. “Yes. I would love to.”

Dallas set the speaker on a nearby rock. “Hopefully we don’t bother anyone. Because I simply don’t care.”

She waited as he navigated his phone, eager for him to take her into his arms once again. But instead of the romantic strings or flutes she imagined, a goofy hip-hop tune emitted from the speakers. Dallas frowned as a voice came from his phone, “Are you paying too much for home insurance?”

An ad? Now? Seriously? Claire doubled over, laughing hysterically.

Dallas huffed a bewildered sigh. “As a matter of fact, yes. I live in the mountains! Now,” he swiped something, and the ad died along with its music, “quit ruining the moment.”

It didn’t ruin the moment; his reaction only enhanced it. Claire held her sides, covering her eyes with one hand, and laughed so hard she heard it echo in the mountains. Dallas breathed a laugh but shook his head as if he couldn’t believe what had just happened. “Man, I had this all planned out, and that had to happen.”

“Isn’t that just what happens to us?” Claire tried to control her laughter and stepped up to him. She could hardly keep her quivering voice in check as she looked into his eyes. “Just think. We have forever to laugh together over silly things like that. Forever to collect beautiful moments, one by one and share them… together.”

His gaze softened back into love, leaving behind the laughter of a few moments ago. He slipped his hand into hers, intertwining his fingers as his heart intertwined with hers. “Yes,” he murmured, leaning his forehead toward hers. “And I couldn’t be happier than I am now.”

A familiar piano keyed an arpeggio into the stillness, and a violin solo began the haunting tones of A Time For Us. Claire felt her heart connect with the music as Dallas moved and swayed, taking her with him as he danced. Truly, he couldn’t have come up with anything more perfect.

Dallas soaked in his love for Claire as he watched her mirror his dance movements. They hadn’t danced since the dance number they’d done on stage back in high school, but she still followed him well. Neither he nor she cared that it wasn’t a professionally choreographed dance or one that fell into a particular category like a two-step or waltz. It was just her and him, moving with the breathtaking notes of the Romeo and Juliet theme. Dallas couldn’t help but send prayers of gratitude for this beautiful woman in his arms who had completely committed herself to him.

As she gazed up at him, Dallas realized that no girl had ever looked at him the way she did, with that all-consuming, pure joy and love that said more than words ever could. She was his. This beautiful girl with her stunning heart and care for everyone around her was his to cherish. And cherish he would.

At the very height of the theme when the entire orchestra joined, playing the notes with passion and beauty, Dallas stopped. He should be dancing; this was the best part of the song, but there was something he wanted to be doing instead. He leaned down toward Claire’s lips, and she rolled up onto her toes to meet him. His mouth descended upon hers as he explored her lips, tasting the sweet feminine grace that was Claire Bartlett. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, wanting only to feel the warmth of her body pressed against his. Claire melted into him, giving a soft purr of intoxication as her arms entwined around his neck. Her eyes closed as she pressed into him, and the two of them created a beautiful silhouette against the backdrop of a brilliant orange and pink sky with trees swaying behind them. Even though it was a sunset, Dallas considered it more like a sunrise. He knew it was only the beginning, the dawn of a beautiful life with the woman he loved more than life.

Dear Reader,

Thank you so much for joining me for The Secret and for returning to Juniper Springs! It’s been such a joy seeing how many of you have been binging these stories as they release in rapid-fire fashion. One reader in my Facebook group shared, “I couldn't put the latest Juniper Springs book down and finished it at 1 AM this morning. LOL.” That’s the kind of bookish chaos I love to see, and it’s exactly why I’m so grateful I get to share these stories with you now! For years, these characters and this small-town world were tucked away, waiting for the right moment to come alive. Seeing your excitement and hearing your theories has made it all worth it. If you haven’t joined us in Coffee and Cases with A.J. Rivers yet, I’d love to see you there to swap thoughts and theories about the Juniper Springs crew with other readers!

And if you’re looking to dive into the next chapter in Juniper Springs, The Chase is up next. This time, you’ll meet Eric Bentley, a former pilot turned restaurateur who’s spent years rebuilding his life after a devastating injury. When his path crosses with Nicole Lambert, a nurse caring for his father, old feelings and long-buried regrets surface just as a new danger strikes. A serial killer begins targeting hospice patients, sending fear rippling through the community. As Eric and Nicole’s lives intertwine once more, they’re drawn into a tense hunt for a killer who has the whole town and its trusted PI on the case.

As always, I’d love to hear what you thought of this book. Whether it was a character that stuck with you, a twist you didn’t see coming, or a scene that made you reach for snacks and keep reading way too late, your thoughts mean the world to me. Leaving a review or sharing the book with a fellow reader helps more than you know.

Thanks for spending more time in Juniper Springs with me. I’m so glad you’re here.

Yours,

A.J. Rivers

P.S. If for some reason you didn’t like this book or found typos or other errors, please let me know personally. I do my best to read and respond to every email at mailto:aj@riversthrillers.com

P.P.S. If you would like to stay up-to-date with me and my latest releases I invite you to visit my Linktree page at www.linktr.ee/a.j.rivers to subscribe to my newsletter and receive a free copy of my book, Edge of the Woods. You can also follow me on my social media accounts for behind-the-scenes glimpses and sneak peeks of my upcoming projects, or even sign up for text notifications. I can't wait to connect with you!

Emma Griffin FBI Mysteries

Season One

Book One—The Girl in Cabin 13*

Book Two—The Girl Who Vanished*

Book Three—The Girl in the Manor*

Book Four—The Girl Next Door*

Book Five—The Girl and the Deadly Express*

Book Six—The Girl and the Hunt*

Book Seven—The Girl and the Deadly End*

Season Two

Book Eight—The Girl in Dangerous Waters*

Book Nine—The Girl and Secret Society*

Book Ten—The Girl and the Field of Bones*

Book Eleven—The Girl and the Black Christmas*

Book Twelve—The Girl and the Cursed Lake*

Book Thirteen—The Girl and The Unlucky 13*

Book Fourteen—The Girl and the Dragon’s Island*

Season Three

Book Fifteen—The Girl in the Woods*

Book Sixteen —The Girl and the Midnight Murder*

Book Seventeen— The Girl and the Silent Night*

Book Eighteen — The Girl and the Last Sleepover*

Book Nineteen — The Girl and the 7 Deadly Sins*

Book Twenty — The Girl in Apartment 9*

Book Twenty-One — The Girl and the Twisted End*

Emma Griffin FBI Mysteries Retro - Limited Series

(Read as standalone or before Emma Griffin book 22)

Book One—The Girl in the Mist*

Book Two—The Girl on Hallow's Eve*

Book Three—The Girl and the Christmas Past*

Book Four— The Girl and the Winter Bones*

Book Five—The Girl on the Retreat*

Season Four

Book Twenty-Two — The Girl and the Deadly Secrets*

Book Twenty-Three — The Girl on the Road*

Book Twenty-Four — The Girl and the Unexpected Gifts*

Book Twenty-Five — The Girl and the Secret Passage*

Book Twenty-Six — The Girl and the Bride*

Book Twenty-Seven — The Girl in Her Cabin*

Book Twenty-Eight — The Girl Who Remembers*

Season Five

Book Twenty-Nine — The Girl in the Dark*

Book Thirty — The Girl and the Lies*

Book Thirty-One — The Girl and the Inmate*

Book Thirty-Two — The Girl and the Garden of Bones*

Book Thirty-Three — The Girl on the Run

Book Thirty-Four — The Girl and the Last Scene

Ava James FBI Mysteries

Book One—The Woman at the Masked Gala*

Book Two—Ava James and the Forgotten Bones*

Book Three —The Couple Next Door*

Book Four — The Cabin on Willow Lake*

Book Five — The Lake House*

Book Six — The Ghost of Christmas*

Book Seven — The Rescue*

Book Eight — Murder in the Moonlight*

Book Nine — Behind the Mask*

Book Ten — The Invitation*

Book Eleven — The Girl in Hawaii*

Book Twelve — The Woman in the Window*

Book Thirteen — The Good Doctor*

Book Fourteen — The Housewife Killer*

Book Fifteen — The Librarian*

Book Sixteen — The Art of Murder*

Book Seventeen — Secrets in the Acadia

Book Eighteen — The Forgotten Girls

Dean Steele FBI Mysteries

Book One— The Woman in the Woods*

Book Two —The Last Survivors

Book Three — No Escape

Book Four — The Garden of Secrets

Book Five — The Killer Among Us

Book Six — The Convict

Book Seven — The Last Promise

Book Eight — Death at Midnight

Book Nine — The Woman in the Attic

Book Ten — Playing with Fire

Book Eleven — Murder in Twilight Cove

Book Twelve — Under the Mask

Book Thirteen — Hidden Intentions

Book Fourteen — The Great Betrayal

A Detective Riley Quinn Pine Brooke Mystery

Book One —The Girls in Pine Brooke

Book Two — Murder in the Pines

Book Three — Strangers in the Pines

Book Four — Shadows in the Pines

Book Five — Letters in the Pines

A Juniper Springs Mystery

Book One —The Girl in Juniper Springs

Book Two —The New Girl

Book Three —The Search

Book Four —The Surprise

Book Five —The Secret

Bella Walker FBI Mystery Series

Book One—The Girl in Paradise*

Book Two— Murder on the Sea*

Book Three— The Last Aloha*

Other Standalone Novels

Gone Woman

* Also available in audio