Firestorm - Ellie Masters Page 0,99
of the ridge. I don’t know if this is where I catapulted myself into thin air. It’s impossible to tell, but I see the grouping of boulders in the ravine where I took shelter.
Did I really think those would protect me from a firestorm?
Desperation does crazy things to one’s mind.
With Knight happy munching on baby grass, I make a circuit of the campsite, kicking at the sooty earth, hoping to find evidence of my cell phone and pray I find my revolver.
But they’re nowhere to be found.
A breath of frustration whooshes out of my pursed lips. It was a fool’s notion to think I’d find my revolver. This place was picked over by whoever did the arson investigation, but I’d hoped to find something.
The jangle of tack grabs my attention.
I’m not alone.
A man on a pretty chestnut mare comes up the trail. I shield my eyes against the sun and squint at the stranger. He pulls to a stop.
“Good afternoon.” He tips his cowboy hat in a welcoming salute. His lips curve into a panty-melting smile. “Don’t I know you?”
“Um, yeah.” I know who this is. “We met at the bar.”
“That’s right, you’re…” He points at me. “Don’t say it. I never forget a beautiful woman’s name.” He pauses dramatically then snaps his fingers. “Got it. You’re Evelyn Thornton.”
“That’s me.”
Honestly, anyone within fifty miles knows my name by now. I remain the most hated stranger, vilified on a daily basis by the local gossip magazine, although I’m no longer front page news. It’s one of the reasons I haven’t left La Rouge Vineyards since Abbie’s mega shopping trip to the local superstore.
“Well, it’s nice to see you, you’re a pleasant surprise. I’m—”
“Felix.” I supply. “I remember you.” How could I not? I’m no stranger to the flattery of men. On the surface, Felix is like many of the men who tried to steal me from Justin. He knows his worth. He’s good looking, has a great smile, and knows how to flirt.
But I’m taken.
And cautious.
The tension swirling between Felix and Asher that night at the bar was palpable. I don’t know Felix, but I trust Asher.
“Whatcha doing up here?”
I glance around and take in the devastation. “I guess I wanted to see what it looked like.”
“Is what they say in the papers true?” The tone of his voice shifts.
It’s subtle, something I would normally miss except I’m paranoid. The last time I was up here with a strange man, he tried to kill me.
“If you’re asking if I set the fire, then no. It’s not true.”
“Then how did it start?”
“There was someone else here, a man who knocked me out. He started the blaze.”
“Oh no. Have they caught him? I haven’t heard anything.”
“No. I wish, but no luck so far.
“Well, if that’s the case, you’re getting raked over the coals in the Gazette for no reason.”
His reference to getting raked over the coals hits too close to home. “Soon enough, they’ll catch the guy who really set the fire.”
“You think that’s likely?”
“If I can find my phone it will be. But the cops are looking into other angles.”
“Your phone?”
“I lost it, along with everything else.” I cast about the campsite. “But I can’t find it.”
“Don’t you have iCloud backup or something?”
“I wish that were the case. If so, I could get them to drop the charges, but no luck.”
“Just get a new phone and download, or upload, whatever it is. You know restore your phone from the cloud?”
“Thought of that, but I don’t know any of the passwords. I can’t restore it, which is why I’m up here.”
“I guess they won’t find the guy then.”
I shrug. “I don’t know. Grant Malone had me sit with a sketch artist. I don’t remember much, but it’s something.”
“A sketch artist?” His upper lip twists and he shifts in his saddle. His grip on the pommel tenses. “Kind of a long way for a pretty woman like you to be alone.”
“I’m used to it.” Not interested in pointless small talk about my innocence, or presumed guilt, it’s time to wrap things up. “Well, it is getting late. I should be headed home.”
“Home? Now where would that be? I thought they said you were from out of town?” He leans over the pommel of his saddle. “Honestly, I’ve been looking for you. You know, kind of hoping to run into you again, or have you run into me. Felt like we had a connection.”
Definitely no connection.
Felix’s clean-shaven appearance probably draws the kind of women who