Part 11 (1/2)

”Do you smell that?”

Dana inhaled a lungful of air. There was an odor...it tingled in her throat.

”Smoke.”

The single word he uttered settled like shackles around her limbs. She couldn't move. Couldn't speak.

The flashlight fell from her limp fingers. Bounced on the floor, sending bobs of light across the wall.

He grabbed her arm and reached for the abandoned flashlight simultaneously. ”We have to get out of here.”

Smoke...the word filtered through the layers of disbelief. That meant...

Fire.

Chapter Thirteen.

It was past midnight.

Dana sat on the steps of the Bellomy porch and watched the firemen roll up their hoses.

The full moon seemed to spotlight the blackened sh.e.l.l that had once been her home. All their worldly possessions had gone up in flames. Going through the rubble might reveal a few salvageable items.

The things from before her life as she knew it ended.

”Dear, are you sure I can't get you something?”

Mrs. Bellomy hovered nearby. She wanted to help. She'd offered a blanket, a cup of hot chocolate, a good, stiff drink. But Dana felt too numb to interact with another human on any level.

Knowing she was waiting for some sort of response, Dana managed a faint shake of her head. Thankfully that seemed to satisfy Mrs. Bellomy. She disappeared back into her home.

Spence and the chief were still deep into what looked like a heated exchange. The spotlights the firemen had settled around the house to facilitate their efforts showcased the tension between the two men.

If Dana's memories about the journal could be trusted, then that insight into the past was lost. All her sister's things. Their stuffed animals and dolls...the artwork their mother had collected over the years.

Everything.

Gone.

Her sister and father were dead. The family home was destroyed. If something happened to Dana's mother, there would be no one left who remembered the time when they were happy.

Dana tried hard to recall that time. Before the murders. Way before. But those memories were foggy. When had she stopped remembering those days?

Was there something wrong with her? Really, truly wrong. Like a brain tumor? There had to be a logical explanation of why she couldn't recall those final days of her sister's life. Was her condition growing progressively worse? How else would she explain the fogginess that appeared determined to descend over all she should be able to recall?

The screen door behind Dana squeaked as it opened, then closed with a swat of wood against wood. Mrs. Bellomy settled onto the steps next to Dana.

Dana closed her eyes and tried to summon some kind of emotion. She felt utterly blank. She couldn't cry. Couldn't scream. Nothing.

”I'll call your mother in the morning, if you'd like. No use upsetting her in the middle of the night.”

Dana hadn't even thought of that. Of course her mother would need to know. ”Thank you.”

”Carlton tried to properly see after the place all these years. But it's not the same when no one's living in a home. Things just go down. It's like the house is sad because it's empty and it slowly, surely falls apart.”

Dana's gaze followed the organized chaos across the street as the firemen continued to go about the final steps of their business. Mrs. Bellomy was right. The house had been abandoned...left to disintegrate.

”The chief says it was probably a faulty electrical problem.”

Dana nodded, the words scarcely registering.

”I know you feel you have to do the right thing, Dana,” Mrs. Bellomy went on, ”but I don't think you're doing yourself any good here. Carlton and I were so happy to see you again, but this is tearing you apart. Why don't you put all this behind you and get back to your real life in Chicago? You can't do any good here. Nothing's going to change no matter what you find.”

For the first time since Dana had decided to go to the Colby Agency, she seriously questioned the whole point of what she was doing.

Mrs. Bellomy was probably right-they all were.

Dana was hurting people, particularly her mother, by being back here. No one would cooperate with her efforts. She hit a brick wall everywhere she turned. And the few details she did discover all pointed to what her nightmares already told her.

She had killed her sister...

Why was she bothering to look?

Was the chief protecting her? Had her mother and father been protecting her when they rushed her away from here?

If her nightmares were true, then Dana deserved nothing better than what she'd had the past sixteen years. She'd muddled her way through college, hadn't had a real relations.h.i.+p. She barely dated. She existed...nothing more.

She didn't even deserve that.

The numbness faded, leaving an emptiness that was far worse.

She should have died that night. Not Donna. Everyone had loved Donna. Dana had been n.o.body. Her life had never impacted anyone's until sixteen years ago when she'd destroyed three families, including her own.

”You're right.” Dana pushed to her feet. ”I should go.”

Mrs. Bellomy called after Dana, but she just kept walking. Spence and the chief were still deeply involved in their conversation. No one noticed as she pa.s.sed. Dana was glad. She didn't want to talk anymore. She didn't want to think.

And she definitely didn't want to remember.

Walking in the direction of town wasn't a conscious decision. It was just the way the road went, and she followed it.

As bright as the moon was, there were no stars visible. The glow filtered through the barren trees. Leaves danced along the pavement as the wind picked up. Dana s.h.i.+vered.

A car had rolled up next to her without her noticing. She started. The driver slowed, peered out at her and then drove on. Dana hugged her arms around herself. She looked around the tree-lined street that led into Brighton proper. It was a few more blocks before she reached the next neighborhood. She probably shouldn't have taken off on her own since she obviously had no friends around here. So far everyone she'd encountered wanted her out of here and considered her crazy or a killer or both.

The sound of another car approaching sent adrenaline searing through her limbs, initiating the fight-or-flight response. The headlights cut across her and pierced the darkness in front of her. She kept walking. Didn't look back.