and watched her back out of the space.
At least this time he had God to turn to. He never disappointed anyone.
Ryan focused on the impressive stand of Douglas firs in the distance.
Lord, please keep Mia safe. And if it is your will, let her see my sincere desire to apologize for how I hurt her and help her to forgive me for what I did.
At the screech of tires, his head snapped back, and he watched the car shoot down the street. Despite the ache her resentment left behind, the familiar sight brought a brief smile. Mia might dress all prissy and girly now, but she remembered how to drive like a guy.
Oh, yeah, she’d always been a little spitfire. Rebelling against her father. Getting into trouble left and right. Calming down some the year they were together. Taking up again when they split up to show everyone she didn’t need him.
And she didn’t need him. Not now, anyway. He’d hurt her by how he’d handled the breakup, that was for sure, and he wanted to fix it. Now more than ever. Seeing her dredged up the horrible day they’d parted, and he needed to explain why he had to end things as he had. To seek her forgiveness so he could put this to rest.
Instincts and the desire to do the right thing with Mia told him to jump in his truck and follow her to Pinetree, but the threatening message urged him to go see Russ, his brother and chief of police. He could talk with Mia later, but not if the person behind the letter made good on his threat and harmed her in the process.
Leave Logan Lake now or you will pay…
The barn, dry from a typical rainless summer, flared in oranges and reds as if a meteor had streaked from the sky and plunged into the building.
Had he done this? Had he really made good on the threat?
Dense smoke clung to Pinetree’s sign and surrounding treetops like cotton candy on a stick. The air was laden with fumes, not the sort of pleasant scents drifting from a campfire, but serious gusts of blackness settling into the open car and irritating her breathing.
Heart beating erratically, Mia remembered the advice of the 911 operator she’d just called. She should move to a safe location and wait for the fire department to arrive. But what if Uncle Wally still kept horses in the barn? If they were trapped she couldn’t sit here and listen to them cry out. She had to try to rescue them. She kicked off her heels and scrambled from the car.
Listening for cries of distress, she ran the length of the barn and circled the backside. Embers shot into the air. Explosions—bullet-like pings—struck the walls. The heat and caustic air seared her lungs. Howling screams from the consuming fire eased and the heat receded a bit, allowing her to inch closer to the acrid smoke seeping through cracks in the walls.
What was that? A whimper. Quiet. Muffled. Her imagination?
She stopped and leaned closer to a window, panting from exertion and the thickened air.
There it was again. A terrified mewl. A kitten or maybe a small child.
With a large rock, she shattered the window. Blistering heat whooshed out sending her lurching back. She ripped off her jacket and held it in front of her face.
“Is someone there?” she called, and swiped thick sweat from her forehead.
“Help!” The voice was tiny and high, fragile like a porcelain doll.
Who in the world was in there?
Jacket over her fingers, Mia cleared the largest shards of glass and plunged her head through the opening. Her eyes instantly watered, her nose stung.
“Where are you?” she barked through drying lips, and squinted against the bitter smoke.
A petite tear-stained face peeked from a cave of hay bales. Mia guessed the innocent child to be under ten and terrified.
“Don’t be afraid.” Ignoring the abrasive air and drawing in labored breaths, Mia lowered her jacket and offered a comforting smile as she scanned the space.
This end of the barn was quickly filling with smoke. She glanced to the left where a pickup truck had succumbed to searing flames. If anyone was in the truck there was no hope, but the child was another story. She’d coax the girl to the window, and avoid a terrible tragedy.
“Come here, sweetie.” Mia curled her index finger. “Everything’s gonna be all right.”
The girl blinked in rapid succession then wailed like the fire siren Mia wished she’d hear screaming up the drive. Sobbing increasing, the child darted back into her hiding spot.
“No! No! Don’t do that,” Mia cried as fear coursed through her body. She would have to go in and carry the girl to the window.
She planted her hands on the frame and slithered over the windowsill, shards of glass ripping into her stomach. Pain stabbed her side but she inched forward and pushed aside hay bales. The child burrowed deeper into the haven like a baby animal threatened by a predator.
Mia leaned in and forced a calm tone to her voice. “Hi, my name’s Mia. What’s yours?”
“J-J-Jessie Morgan.” Her voice was raspy.
Mia startled at the mention of the Morgan name. Was this child related to Ryan?
Jessie coughed hard enough to launch an entire country from her throat.
Not a time to think about Ryan, Mia needed to get Jessie out of there fast. “If you’ll let me, I’ll carry you to the window.”
Jessie nodded and flung her arms around Mia’s neck. The pungent smell of smoke clung to her soft blond hair, and her little body trembled. Mia draped her jacket over their heads and turned to the window. The roof over the truck collapsed sending a blazing support beam into the path between the fort and their escape. Sparks shot toward the rafters. The flaming wood ignited dry hay.
Jessie’s mouth opened in a scream, but only a deep wracking cough surged out. She clutched Mia tighter. Mia frantically looked for a way out. The window was no longer an option, and the back door sported huge chains. Panic surged. Her hands shook.
Where could they go?
She scanned the only wall not engulfed in flames. There! In the door. Uncle Wally installed a pet door when he got Rufus. The opening wasn’t big enough for her, but Jessie could easily fit through.
Mia jumped from the bales and rushed to the back door. Lungs seared from smoke and exertion reduced her oxygen levels, and her eyesight wavered. She dug deep for strength and ripped off the pet door’s pliable flap. “Okay, Jessie. Climb through.”
Jessie planted her feet and crossed her arms.
“Sweetie, please.” An instinctive coo rose to Mia’s lips. “I’d come with you but I can’t fit through the opening. Once you get outside, you can go to the lodge to wait for help. I called the fire department and they’ll be here soon.” Though frightened that the all-volunteer crew might not arrive in a timely manner, Mia smiled to ease Jessie’s concern.
“My Uncle Ryan’s a fireman.” A tentative smile crept across her lips, and her stance relaxed.
Mia ignored the knifelike pain Ryan’s name rekindled in her stomach and forced calm into her voice. “Good. He’s probably on his way here to help us.”
She gave Jessie a quick hug then helped her climb to safety.
Turning sideways, Mia wedged her body into the opening. Through cracked lips, she gulped outside air. Although tainted, it was less dense—easier to breathe.
Jessie stood beside the door as if concrete encased her feet.
“Jessie,” Mia tugged on the girl’s ankle, “go to the porch and wait until your uncle comes for you.”
She nodded, but didn’t move.
“Go, now!” Mia shouted, though it pained her to yell at this physically and emotionally