storefronts with large, single pane windows lined both sides of the wide cement sidewalks. Every few stores sported a blue awning over the doorway. Nick barely glanced at the pedestrians moving at a sedate pace from shop to shop, going about their lives. He didn’t want to consider an old man’s frown or a young mother’s smile. Didn’t want to make a connection with anyone.
On both sides of the main street, about ten feet apart, stood a lone birch tree with a small square patch of dirt at its base. Kind of like himself, part of the whole, but separate.
On the west side of the main drag, cars parked between white angled lines. Red bricks indicated the crosswalks instead of painted lines. The street signs were tall, white posts with arrow-shaped slats and street names printed in bold black letters. The white posts rose out of large, round, colorful flowerpots. At each intersection, old-fashioned black metal lamp-posts added charm to an already charming community.
A family sort of town. A place to raise kids, watch summer parades and grow old in. A place he couldn’t easily disappear into. A place where he didn’t belong.
All the buildings were the same height. No high-power skyscrapers here. The perfect place for a woman like Claire, he thought, glancing over at her. Generous and kind. Open and friendly. A big city would eat her alive.
At the far end of town, he turned down the side street that led around the park.
The Zone came into view, a solitary structure flanked by empty lots. A lone police car sat at the curb in front. Nick parked behind the police car. Claire was out and up the cement front stairs before he had opened his door.
As he followed her inside, the puppy barked a greeting and raced to Claire. She bent and scooped him up for a quick hug. “Oh, you sweet little thing. I was so worried about you.”
Nick’s gaze focused on the officer rising from the couch. This guy had been here earlier. His uniform was starched and his badge shined. Not a single strand of hair was out of place. His young, clean-shaven face led Nick to guess the man to be in his early twenties.
The officer gave him an assessing once-over before focusing on Claire. “Good to see you’re okay, Claire.”
Nick didn’t like the way the man said her name with such familiarity. And he didn’t like that he didn’t like it.
At least she didn’t go all moonie-eyed. Not that he cared.
She set the animal back down. “Thanks, Bob. What are you doing here?” Without waiting for his reply, she walked toward the kitchen where most of the damage had been done by water. “Did the fire department say anything? How it started?”
Granting Nick a suspicious glance, Officer Bob walked to where she stood. “The fire started in the garbage cans. Whoever did this probably didn’t expect the building to catch on fire. But it was sloppy work.”
Nick stepped over to the counter and perched on a stool. “It was the teenagers from the park.”
Claire’s glare took him by surprise. “We don’t know that for sure.”
Officer Bob narrowed his gaze. “Which teenager?”
“Like I told the others, I came across two boys harassing Claire this afternoon in the park,” Nick said to the officer, but his gaze was riveted on Claire. He couldn’t figure out why she’d protect them.
Claire’s gaze was direct and pleading. “I didn’t see who did it.”
Officer Bob cleared his throat. “Maybe he did it.”
Nick’s gut clenched. The unfounded accusation rankled worse than a bottomed out stock market.
What a lame, backwater-cop thing to say. Nick stared at the officer. Bob glared at him with more than just suspicion. Jealousy filled his hazel eyes. So that’s how it was, Nick thought. Officer Bob had a thing for Claire.
“That’s ridiculous, Bob. He saved my life.”
“Maybe he set the fire to stage saving you.”
Claire gave Nick a can-you-believe-this look and then rolled her eyes. “Tell him you didn’t do it.”
“I didn’t do it,” Nick stated flatly.
“See, there you go. He didn’t do it.” Claire put the puppy down and then heedlessly splashed through the thin layer of water on the kitchen floor to the sink.
Bob folded his arms across his chest. The stance only emphasized his thinness. “He’s not from here, Claire. What do you know about him, anyway? He could be a serial arsonist, for all you know.”
Nick snorted, gaining himself another glare from Bob.
She filled a bowl with water, her movements efficient and unhurried, then carried the bowl to the living room where she set it on the dry floor for the puppy.
She straightened and leveled a stern look on Bob. “I know he’s from Long Island, that he’s traveling through town, he carries a Bible in his pocket, he stopped to help me when he didn’t have to and his name is Nick. That’s all I need to know.”
Nick blinked, touched that she’d so soundly defend him without really knowing anything more than she did. That she noted his Bible pricked his curiosity about her faith. She was too trusting and way too giving.
She needed a protector.
He wasn’t about to apply for the job, but he had a feeling that old Bob would sure like to.
“I want to see some ID,” Bob snarled at him.
Irritated to be the subject of the officer’s suspicion, but grateful someone was watching out for Claire’s interest, Nick dug his wallet out from the inside of his leather jacket and handed Bob his driver’s license. “Did they find anything useful?”
“That’s privileged information.” Bob shot him a dark look. “I’m going to run this through the computer.” He turned to Claire. “I’ll be right out front if you need me.”
She gave him a bland smile.
As soon as Officer Bob was out the door, Nick asked, “Why didn’t you want him to know about the kids? You could have been killed.”
Images flashed in his mind. The cloth shroud covering Serena’s body. The blood stains on the sidewalk. The headstone at her grave site. His insides twisted with unspent rage.
“We don’t know that they did it,” she defended.
“And we don’t know that they didn’t. Come on, Claire. You know that kid’s likely to do something.”
“You heard Bob. Whoever did it was trying to scare me with some smoke. They weren’t really trying to burn the place down.”
“You could have passed out and suffocated if I hadn’t come back!”
“Might have. And you did come back.”
He shook his head. “You gonna wait until they seriously harm you before you make them take responsibility for their actions?”
“You don’t know that they did it,” she repeated, clearly exasperated and defensive.
“Then let the police prove they didn’t do it.”
“No! I’m not going to accuse someone without proof. If the authorities find clues that implicate them, then so be it. But I won’t help them along.”
“Instead you’re going to wait for those punks to pull something else? Something worse?” Something like what had happened to Serena. He shuddered.
“I can take care of myself.”
He scoffed. “Give me a break. Lady, you’re a disaster waiting to happen.” A disaster he wanted to avoid.
“Excuse me? I don’t think you have any right to say that.”
She was right. Nick