Page 33 of Hunting the Crossbow Killer

“Malone.” Dawson moved close to be heard over the crackling roar of the flames. “We’re heading down the mountain to wash off this smoke and get a few hours’ sleep. We can’t work with the fire marshal on the investigation until the fire’s out and cold anyway. I recommend you do the same. You’ll be as busy as us in the morning trying to see if this is linked to our as-yet-unnamed bow and arrow suspect.”

She glanced at Aidan, still staring at the flames that were finally beginning to die down.

“Go ahead without me.”

“Malone.” He leaned even closer, his voice low, for her ears only. “It won’t look good if you stay here with O’Brien. The firefighters will notice. People talk. Don’t forget that reporter’s in town. She’ll be up here as soon as she can sneak around the roadblock our volunteers set up farther down this mountain.”

“I’m staying.”

He sighed heavily, then motioned to the others.

* * *

If it hadbeen anything but fire, Aidan didn’t think it would have bothered him all that much to lose the cabin. It was insured. He was financially sound, easily able to bear the costs of living somewhere else during the process of rebuilding. But seeing his home engulfed in flames had hit him like a runaway freight train, catapulting him back to that awful night when he’d turned onto his street and had seen the fire engines, the police, his home burning to the ground. The pain of not knowing if his wife and son were alive or dead had ripped him apart. He’d been so relieved and overjoyed to discover that his son was unharmed and being taken care of by a neighbor. But then he’d learned about his wife.

Burned.

Her spine crushed by a falling beam.

Paralyzed.

On a ventilator the rest of her life.

Many months later, a small miracle had him overjoyed and full of hope. Elly had regained enough movement and control in her right hand to try writing. He’d hurried to position a pen between her fingers and set a pad of paper on her lap. For the first time since the fire, she’d finally be able to communicate with him. Buthis happiness had quickly turned to horror when he’d managed to decipher the painstakingly scrawled words she’d written.

Let me die.

He squeezed his eyes shut, but it didn’t erase the image burned into his mind. His vibrant, beautiful young wife wrote that same thing on the pad of paper every day. And later, when he’d gotten her that special valve to allow her to speak, she’d verbalized what she’d been writing.

Let me die.

“Mr. O’Brien? Sir?”

Aidan’s eyes flew open. A fireman stood in front of him, his tan-and-yellow jacket blackened with soot.

“Sir, an investigator will be up here later in the day when the rubble is cool enough to allow an inspection. Please don’t try to search for any mementos yet. It’s too dangerous.”

Aidan glanced at the remnants of his life, shocked to see that the fire truly was out. He was equally surprised to realize that he and the firefighters waiting in the truck were the only ones who remained. Everyone else had gone. Just how long had he stared off into space, focused on the past and not even aware of what was going on around him?

“Mr. O’Brien? Did you hear me, sir?”

“Sorry, yes. Is everyone okay? None of your people got hurt fighting the fire, I hope.”

The fireman smiled. “Nothing that a hot shower and long nap won’t cure. I recommend you do the same. Standing around here breathing in the smoky air isn’t good for anyone. Do you have somewhere to stay?”

“I’ve got a room in town.”

“What about food? Money for clothes? We have a victim’s fund. It’s not much, but it can get you through for a few weeks until insurance kicks in.”

Aidan stared at him, shocked at the kindness he was offering when most people crossed to the other side of the street when they saw him coming. “Do you know who I am?”

“If you’re asking whether I’ve heard rumors about your past, yes. I have. I’m not here to judge. I’m here to help. All of us are.” He pointed over his shoulder at the firefighters waiting in the truck. “It’s why we do what we do. That victim’s fund is open to anyone in need. I can give you the information and you can submit an application. Approval in a situation like this is a guarantee. You’ll have some funds within a few hours of submitting the application and—”

“I don’t need the money. But thank you. I appreciate it. And thank you for keeping the fire from spreading and endangering anyone else.”

The other man clasped Aidan’s shoulder in sympathy. “I’d ask if you need a ride down the mountain, but it looks like you’ve got transportation over there. The sooner you get some fresh air, the better. Don’t stay up here much longer.”

With the fire truck slowly picking its way down the treacherous mountain road, Aidan took one long last look at what remained of the life he’d tried to build here. He had no idea what he’d do next, whether he really would rebuild or just sell the land as is and move on, perhaps to another town, or maybe a big city where people had never heard his name. Maybe this was fate’s way of telling him he’d made a mistake in coming here and that it was time to go.

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