Tanner’s steps slowed and then stopped on the narrow trail zigzagging up the hill.
He turned to face her. “Look, Miss McGuire, I’m sorry I can’t help you. I understand how hard this must be. I’m sorry for your loss, but for your sake, just go home and leave the investigating to the experts.”
“I—I can’t.” A knot rose in Kitty’s throat as she struggled to find her footing on the rocky incline. “What you said about me not being around lately for my dad is true. We had…problems, but he was a good man. He doesn’t deserve to be remembered for a crime he didn’t commit. Besides, this isn’t just about me not wanting his memory tarnished. There’s more at stake.”
Tanner waited, tall and still against a starlit sky.
She bit her lip. How much should she tell this stranger who might hold the key to clearing her father’s name?
KELLY ANN RILEY
couldn’t wait until she got into the first grade so she could learn to read. The introduction of Dick and Jane in those early readers started a love affair with books that has lasted her entire life. She started penning stories at an early age, and received special recognition for her short stories. Later, she became a reporter and the editor for her high school newspaper.
After earning a B.S. in clinical nutrition and an MBA, she worked for several years as a registered dietitian and director of nutritional services, but she never gave up her first love of writing. Before she was published, she was a finalist and placed in numerous writing contests, including winning Best Inspirational Romance in Romance Writers of America’s Golden Heart competition.
Kelly Ann is a member of American Christian Fiction Writers, Romance Writers of America and RWA’s Mystery/Suspense and Inspirational chapters. She now lives in Alabama, where she writes her novels and enjoys many adventures as a youth leader in her church, wife to an engineer and mother to two wonderful children. You can contact her through her Web site at www.KellyAnnRiley.com.
Firestorm
Kelly Ann Riley
These trials will show that your faith is genuine. It is being tested as fire tests and purifies gold—though your faith is far more precious than mere gold. So when your faith remains strong through many trials, it will bring you much praise and glory and honor on the day when Jesus Christ is revealed to the whole world.
—1 Peter 1:7
This book is dedicated to Caroline Dunsheath, a true friend and writing companion, who never stopped believing in me. Thank you, Cee, for your cheerful willingness to read and critique anything of mine no matter how many times you’ve seen it before. I’m looking forward to many more writing adventures together.
Special thanks to my family, Rick, Ashlyn and Austin, for their love, support and understanding; my mother, Evonne Leiske, who shares my love of reading, and my father, Larry, who inspired me that with hard work I can succeed in whatever I do; Jacqui Wilson, Nancy Latham and all my writing buddies who make this career journey so special; Kelly Mortimer and Tina James for their encouragement and guidance.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
LETTER TO READER
QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION
ONE
The shattering glass broke the stillness of the moonlit forest, startling sleeping birds into flight and scattering grazing deer in the meadow below. As the last tinkling echo faded away, Kitty McGuire studied the hole she’d created in the back door of the mountain cabin.
Tree branches rustled. A twig snapped. Heart pounding, she whirled and pointed the flashlight beam into the woods. Nothing stirred. Then an owl lifted to the air, its wings silhouetted against the full moon. Kitty sighed as the bird soared toward California’s majestic Sierra Mountain range.
The air held a tang of fresh, clean snow from the highest of the Four Sisters’ rugged peaks standing like sentries over the little valley. Her father had loved the Sisters, claiming they brought him good luck. Instead, they’d overshadowed his death.
Kitty blinked back hot, angry tears as she punched out the last triangle of stubborn glass and turned the deadbolt. Her hand hesitated on the doorknob as she fought the urge to jump in her Jeep and race back to L.A. She hadn’t planned to return to Pine Lake two months after the funeral. Only a murder accusation against her father could’ve drawn her back to a place overflowing with aching memories.
Tomorrow she’d hunt down the sheriff and the new fire chief, Luke Tanner, to set the record straight. Her father had died as he’d lived—an honorable public servant—and no one could prove otherwise. Then she could be out of here forever.
With renewed determination, she stepped into the dark kitchen, a blanket of stale air engulfing her. She batted at the filmy web clinging to her forehead.
Spiders.
Kitty shivered and tucked her hair firmly under her baseball cap. Scanning the rafters for any looming creatures, she felt along the wall for the light switch and flipped it. Nothing happened. A fuse must’ve blown, a common occurrence in the cabin’s ancient wiring system.
She yanked open the drawer where her father had kept the spare fuses and stared in dismay at the jumbled pile. She tugged open the next drawer, and then the next. They were all in the same state of chaos. Her fingers sifted through the utensils, matches and other kitchen items. No fuses. Maybe there were extra in the utility box. Slammimg the drawers shut, she turned, and choked back a scream.
A large dog stood in the open doorway, a stream of moonlight gleaming off his fangs. The beast’s nails clicked on the vinyl floor as he stalked toward her. A low growl rumbled from its chest.
“Good dog. It—it’s okay. Stay!” she said hoarsely. The dog stilled, but the rumbling intensified. Kitty snagged a heavy copper canister of flour. If she threw it and distracted the dog, maybe she could dash outside and close the door.
Sweat trickled down her back. She inched along the counter. Almost there. Lifting the canister, she fumbled behind her for the doorknob, but instead of cold metal, her fingers brushed against something damp and warm.
“Got you!” a husky male voice said. His arm wrapped around her neck, slamming her back against him. The canister flew out of her hand, exploding against the rafters. Flour showered down on them. The dog barked. The man coughed, his chest heaving.
Holding her breath, Kitty wrenched free and darted out the door. She tore around the corner toward her Jeep, but the man tackled her and knocked her into a pile of pine needles.
He pinned her flat. “Freeze!”
She froze. His heart pounded against her spine. Even with her nose pressed into the pine needles, she smelled his male scent of sweat and musk.
“You’re not getting away this time,” he said.
She twisted frantically under him. Her nails raked his arms.