No One But You (Silver Springs #2)(47)

The panic in her voice caused Dawson to stomp on the brake. There had to be a reason she’d called him off. But what could that reason be? What was happening?

He tried to reach her again. She didn’t answer, so he didn’t turn around. He knew how slight she was. What if she was trying to protect her little boy? What if Sly was there, giving her trouble, and that was why she’d called to tell him to stay away—to avoid a fight between them?

Dawson didn’t bother to park down the street. He was in too much of a hurry. He pulled in front of her landlady’s house, got out and jogged around to the back. He could smell something burning before he heard a disoriented “What is it, Sadie?” And then, even before Sadie could answer, the speaker—a woman—seemed to realize what “it” was, because her voice suddenly grew strident. “Fire! Vern! The bungalow’s burning. Call 9-1-1!”

The door to the house that fronted Sadie’s slammed shut as whoever had said that—which had to be her landlady—went back in to, presumably, make sure her orders were carried out right away.

Fortunately, Sadie appeared to be safe. Dawson could see her standing on the lawn dressed in the same T-shirt she’d worn last night and a pair of sweatpants. She was holding her little boy, although he was half as big as she was, who kept trying to get down. She wouldn’t let him go, however. She clung to him for dear life—until she saw Dawson. As soon as Dawson called out to her, she started toward him and, for a brief moment, he thought he saw a flash of relief in her eyes, which disappeared as soon as she reached him. “You have to go,” she said. “Hurry! I shouldn’t have called you.”

“What’s happening?” he asked.

“Someone set my house on fire!”

“On purpose?” He could hear the loud crackle, see orange flames leaping and dancing through the front window.

“Yes!”

He remembered hearing the old woman mention calling 9-1-1. “You haven’t called for help yet?”

“I didn’t have a chance. Once I hung up with you and smelled the smoke, I grabbed Jayden and got out. Maude’s calling the fire department now.”

“Maude” had to be the name of the landlady who’d just hurried into the front house. “Who could have done this?” he asked.

Sadie shook her head as if she didn’t know, but he wondered if there was more that she wouldn’t say. She probably didn’t want Jayden to hear her accuse his father, but Dawson guessed that was what she believed. She’d said she thought it might be Sly who’d knocked on the house, so it followed that he might also have set the blaze...

Dawson reached for Jayden. “Here, let me take him. He’s too heavy for you.”

She pulled away so that he couldn’t lift the boy from her arms. “No, you have to go.”

“Why? What does any of this have to do with me?”

Her eyebrows slammed together. “Don’t you see? Whoever did this has to have someone to blame—and who would make a better candidate than you? If you’re here, if everyone sees you, that’ll only make it easier for—” she was starting to shiver “—for whoever did this to connect you to it. Please, go home.”

“Who’s this?” The old lady had reappeared, this time with a silver-haired man who looked about the same age she did.

“My b-boss,” Sadie stuttered, likely from shock as much as the cold. “I...I called him when I heard someone outside, and he...he came to make sure everything was okay.”

Her husband hurried to the garden hose and unwound it as fast as he could, but the woman hesitated for a second. “You’re Dawson Reed,” she said.

He could tell she wasn’t exactly pleased to make his acquaintance. Fortunately, given the situation, there wasn’t time to have any further interaction. He nodded once to acknowledge his identity and turned back to Sadie while Maude went to help with the hose. “Let me take Jayden,” he insisted.

Sadie looked as though her knees were about to buckle. Maybe they were, because she allowed him to pull her son away, which Dawson hadn’t fully expected, despite his efforts.

“Tell me he didn’t do this,” she whispered as they transferred the boy.

Dawson scowled at the sight of her burning house. The flames were starting to take hold, creating a terrible stench as they consumed paint and plastic and other materials. The smell surprised him; it was far worse than any wood fire. He knew the fumes from a burning house could also be toxic, so he pulled Sadie out of the path of the breeze. “You would know what he’s capable of more than me,” he murmured.

“Who, Mommy?” Jayden asked. “Daddy? Did Daddy start the fire?”

What kid asked if his father was the one who’d tried to burn down their safe haven—while they were in it?

“No, not Daddy. A...a hitchhiker,” she said vaguely.

“What’s a hitchhiker?” Jayden asked.

“In this case, it’s a bad man,” she replied.

Dawson thought the boy might struggle to reach his mother, or get down, since he’d been trying to get down when she was holding him, but he seemed surprisingly content where he was. He even put his arms around Dawson’s neck as if he was quite comfortable.

“I can take Jayden. You’ve got to leave,” Sadie said, her face drawn and pinched as she looked up at him.