The Marshal's Hostage - By Delores Fossen Page 0,37

the way down. He glanced at Sarah. Then Joelle.

“Come with me,” he insisted, taking Joelle by the wrist.

Clearly, he wasn’t going to leave her alone with Sarah, and that was fine with Joelle. Yes, she could probably overpower the woman if Sarah suddenly became unhinged and attacked, but Sarah was wearing a bulky sweater with pockets, and she could be concealing a weapon.

Or this could all be a massive overreaction on Joelle’s part.

Still, someone had set fire to the place, and the most obvious culprits were the two people who were just a few feet away from them. Sarah was staring up at the smoke oozing through the window, seemingly frozen in shock. Rudy was pulling at the hose to get it to stretch closer to the building.

“Does your key work on the back door?” Dallas asked her.

“I think so.” Her hands were trembling, and she was still coughing, but Joelle rifled through the bag, came up with the keys and handed them to Dallas.

As he’d done in Webb’s office, he put his hand on the door. “Not hot,” he relayed, and he proceeded to open the latch on the metal bar lock. While he did that, he looked back at Sarah. “Is there another hose?”

She gave a shaky nod. “On the side of the building. I’ll get it.”

Good. A second hose might be too little too late against a fire, but it was better than nothing.

Dallas threw open the door, and Joelle braced herself for the smoke to come billowing out. It didn’t. There was some, but not nearly as much as there’d been in Webb’s office.

“What the hell?” Dallas mumbled, and he stepped inside.

“Don’t go in there.” Joelle raced toward him and tried to pull him back. But she stopped when she looked around the back entry.

No fire.

Just wisps of smoke snaking along the floor.

The entry was a long opening, more like a corridor, with rooms feeding off it, and they could see all the way to the front door.

No fire there, either.

Dallas stepped in farther, and with his gun still drawn, he inched his way toward the stairs that were close to the entry.

“Keep watch behind us,” he whispered.

Joelle looked behind them and spotted Rudy, who was pulling a hose into the entry. Joelle didn’t see any sign of a weapon, thank God, but she kept watch just in case.

The smoke got much thicker as they approached the stairs, and Joelle started coughing again. Dallas moved her back, but not before she got a glimpse of the metal trashcan about halfway up the stairs.

Smoke was spewing from it.

“I’m betting there’s another one just like it outside of Webb’s office,” Dallas mumbled, and he added some profanity.

It took a moment for that to sink in, and it didn’t sink in well. There was perhaps no fire. Just someone playing a dangerous game.

After all, if they hadn’t gotten the window open in Webb’s office, they could have died from smoke inhalation.

Outside, Joelle heard the sounds of sirens. The fire department, no doubt. Even though there apparently was no actual blaze to put out, she still welcomed them because the smoke could damage the evidence inside the office. Plus, if Rudy or Sarah had done this, then it meant Dallas had some kind of backup with the firemen.

Dallas hurried her out of the building and into the backyard where Rudy was standing and shaking his head.

“Who the hell would do something like this?” Rudy snarled.

He sounded genuinely upset, but Joelle knew that sort of response could be faked. It was the same for Sarah. Dragging the hose around the side of the building, she appeared to be in near-panic mode.

But Joelle didn’t trust either of them.

The sirens got louder, and she and Dallas hurried to the front where the driver brought the fire engine to a quick stop. The firemen jumped off.

“It appears to be just smoke,” Dallas explained. He pulled back his jacket to show them his badge and pointed to the top floor. “But just in case it’s more, try to keep the water damage to a minimum. There’s evidence pertinent to a murder investigation in the locked room at the top of the stairs.”

One of the firemen nodded, and they started pulling their gear from the truck. Hopefully, they’d be able to contain that smoke without damaging the blood spatter.

“Who did this?” she whispered to Dallas.

When he didn’t answer, Joelle followed his gaze. Not to the building or the firemen. But to the woods on the right