Page 28 of Serial Burn

“What brings this to mind now?”

She gave a little laugh. “I keep saying ‘I don’t know,’ but it’s the answer that fits. Whenever I think about my family and the fire and the night they died—were murdered—I think about the man in my room.” She groaned and rubbed her cheek. “You probably think I need therapy.”

“I think each person has to decide that for themselves.”

“Well, Ihadtherapy. Years and years of it. And every time I told the story about the man in my room, no one believed he was real.”

“But you did—do?”

Another heavy sigh. “At the risk of sounding like a broken record ... I don’t know, Nathan. Ireallydon’t know. In the beginning I did, but then everyone kind of convinced me that it was all in my head. But if hewasreal, then who was he? And why show up in my aunt’s house in the middle of the night to watch me sleep unless...”

Nathan studied her for a few seconds. “Unless?”

“I mean ...”

“You think it was him, don’t you?” he asked, his voice low. “The arsonist?”

She bit her lip but didn’t look away. “Yeah,” she finally whispered. “I do. And I’ve been afraid of him coming back to finish the job ever since.” She paused. “And hopeful too. Because then I would finally have someone to fight. I would finally have the opportunity to get justice for my family. And me.”

SEVEN

Wednesday morning, Jesslyn woke, then lay in her bed and suppressed a groan. What had compelled her to spill all that to Nathan last night? The desire for someone to believe her about the man in her room? Why? She wasn’t suresheeven believed he was real. But if he was ... did that mean she’d seen the face of her family’s killer?

It wouldn’t matter. He’d been just a shadow. She had no features to describe. Not even his height. From her child’s point of view, he’d been a giant. In reality? Who knew?

She shifted and groaned.

Man, she was hot. She kicked the covers off and sat up, pressing a hand to her head. It ached and her nose was stuffed up. “No. No, no, no. I don’t have time to be sick.”

She hurried to the bathroom, filled her cup with water, and carried it back to bed.

The knock on the bedroom door echoed through her aching head. She wasn’t even surprised she knew exactly who was on the other side of that door. She groaned. “I’m coming.” Nathan. She had no doubt he’d stayed the night to keep an eye on her.

She padded to the door and pulled it open. Yep. Nathan. He stood there, still in her father’s sweats, yet somehow looking like he stepped off the pages of a magazine.

While she—

Don’t go there. “You stayed the night.”

“I hope you don’t mind. You kind of passed out last night and I was ... worried. Didn’t want to leave you alone in case you needed anything.”

“Or someone decided to come finish what they started at the church?”

“Yeah.”

“No, I don’t mind.” Jesslyn shoved her hair up into a ponytail, then planted her hands on her hips. Then coughed and sniffed. “Ugh.”

His eyes narrowed. “You’re sick.”

“You think?” She stomped to the bathroom to grab a roll of toilet paper, pulled off a wad, and blew her nose. “I really don’t have time for this.”

When she stopped back in front of him, he pressed a hand to her forehead. “Maybe not, but you’ve got a fever.”

“I know that, thank you very much.”

“You’re going to be a cranky patient, aren’t you?”

“No.”

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