All Is Bright (8 page)

Keith.
Something clicked in Tom's head. “What was your last communication with him?”

“The usual. That he was going to show me we belonged together no matter what anyone else said.”

“Why would he say it that way? Did he know Delilah objected to the way he treated you?”

“Well, yeah. When we broke up, I told him I'd been like a frog that didn't know the water was heating up until my best friend pointed it out.” Vanessa's gasp came through the phone loud and clear. “You think
he's
the one who set the fire and tried to hurt Delilah?”

“It makes sense. I'm heading there now. I'll let you know when I find her.” He ended the call and tossed his cell phone into the passenger seat.

He'd break the door down to rouse the entire place if he had to. Praying everything was fine, he took the curves at nearly seventy miles an hour, so fast his tires squealed. His heart tried to pound right out of his chest, and he kept pushing away the image of finding her lifeless body. He'd gone through that once with Holly, and he couldn't do it again.

He snatched up his phone and tried Delilah's number, but it rang until her voice mail message came on. So he called his deputy and instructed him to run another check on Keith Jacobsen and to see if Keith's vehicle was parked in front of his house. It would be at least an hour before the deputy could get out there to the house and call him back.

The porch light at Tidewater Inn beckoned ahead, and he accelerated into the final straight length of road, then slammed on his brakes, yanked the truck into Park, and leaped out.

He ran up the inn's steps and rang the doorbell. If he woke up the entire household only to find Delilah sleeping in her
bed, he was going to feel like a fool, but he had to know she was all right.

It seemed an eternity before a bleary-eyed Alec, dressed in pajamas and a robe, opened the door. “Tom, what's wrong?”

“Have you seen Delilah? She's not answering her phone, and with everything that's been going on, I was worried.”

“It's nearly one in the morning. I'm sure she's in bed.” Then he frowned and his eyes widened. “But the door was unlocked just now. And the porch light is on. She usually turns it out when she goes to bed. Let me check. Come on in.”

A shudder went down Tom's back and he shook his head. “I'll look around outside while you check.” Reversing direction, he went to his truck and grabbed a flashlight, praying all the while that she was safe.

Delilah's arm sockets screamed with pain. Keith had wrenched them behind her back, and no matter how much she tried, she'd been unable to loosen her bonds even a little.

“We would have been happy if you hadn't interfered.” His teeth were gritted as he splashed something from a soda bottle around the gazebo. “Even the sheriff can't save you now.”

The odor of gasoline burned her throat and eyes, and she swung her head frantically from side to side looking for something to help her get away from this madman. Her nail clippers! They were in the tiny right pocket of her dress, and she didn't know if she could reach them or not, but she pulled
her left arm around as far as she could and managed to slide her fingers into the fabric.

The small metallic piece slid away from her, and she sucked in a breath through her nose. The sting of gas in her eyes made them water, but she concentrated and tried to reach just a little farther with her fingers.

Just a little more.

He threw the empty bottle to the gazebo floor where it bounced, then rolled toward her. “Once you're out of the way, Delilah, Vanessa will see how right we are for each other, especially with that idiot Gage out of the way. I've got it all planned out.”

Her eyes widened at his mention of Gage. Vanessa had said she tried to call Gage and hadn't been able to reach him.

He must have seen her shock because he smiled. “I cut his brake lines.”

The giggle that escaped him raised the hair on the back of her neck, and she struggled to reach the nail clippers again. The nail on her middle finger just barely touched it, and she wiggled on the gazebo floor to push the tiny tool a little higher in her pocket. She managed to pin it between her thumb and index finger.

A tiny flame flared in the darkness. He stared at it with a bemused expression, waving a lighter back and forth. “Fire is cleansing. It will clear out all traces of your prejudice against me and will wipe the slate clean. I can start fresh with Vanessa. Everyone deserves a second chance, don't you think?”

She nodded as she managed to get the clippers open, then
nipped at the duct tape. If only she could talk to Keith. Despair settled in her limbs. She would be too late. He was going to start the fire any second, and the sea breeze would fan the flames quickly.

Her throat burned with the stench of the gasoline as the knowledge of her impending death settled in her chest. Maybe the end would come quickly, and she would wake up in heaven with no memory of what she had to pass through to get there. Maybe there would be enough smoke that she'd asphyxiate before the fire engulfed her.

He turned to stare at her one last time, then knelt and put the flame to the gasoline. A huge whoosh knocked him back on his heels and into a pool of gasoline. In seconds the flames circled his jeans and scampered up his shirt.

Screaming, he rushed through the door and began to roll in the grass. The open door beckoned her as her last possible chance of escape. She tried to stumble to her feet, but her bound feet made it impossible. She'd have to crawl through the flames to escape, and she couldn't do that without setting fire to her clothes.

She worked the nail clippers against the tape again, then flexed her arms. The tape gave a little, and she set the edges of the metal against another area of tape.

Thick, acrid smoke rolled from the flames licking eagerly at the wooden floor, and she gulped in fresh air from a crack between boards in the floor, then saw a bottle of water that had rolled under the bench. If she could get free, maybe she could drench herself in water, then run through the flames.

She worked at the tape again, and the tight bands at her wrist loosened again. Setting her jaw, she put all her strength into releasing her wrists. Her upper arms and shoulders screamed with the effort, but she ignored the pain.

Almost there.

Then her arms were free. She sat up and ripped the tape from her ankles. The smoke was thicker up here with her head three feet above the floor. She choked on the smoke, then reached over and grabbed the water bottle. It was half full. She twisted off the cap, then looked at the fire again.

There was no way she could get through those flames with this little bit of water.

She thought she heard someone shout her name, but it was hard to hear over the roaring of the flames as the floorboards began to burn furiously. Something banged by her head, and she turned to see Tom peering through the screen to her right as the smoke rolled around his head.

“Tom, I'm here!” She staggered to her feet, but the heat was intense, and the smoke was so bad tears instantly filled her eyes and obscured her vision even more.

She staggered toward where she'd seen Tom, but pounding footsteps came from the doorway. A bulky figure leaped through the flames and landed in the center of the gazebo. Tom rolled to a stop, then leaped to his feet and grabbed her arm. Without a word he picked her up, then howling at the top of his lungs, he ran at the screen.

Delilah clung to his neck, and as his shoulder busted through the screen, she kicked at it with her feet. They struck
the ground together, but even though Tom's bulk took the brunt of the fall, the air whooshed out of Delilah's lungs. They rolled over and over on the cold grass before coming to a rest. She was atop him with her head cradled on his chest.

Flames licked up the sides of the gazebo, and as they both sat up, she was dimly aware of other figures rushing toward them, of Libby calling her name.

Tom pulled her close and kissed her temple. “Thank God, thank God,” he whispered.

N
INE

D
ELILAH
'
S MUSCLES PROTESTED WITH EVERY MOVE, BUT SHE
was too glad to be alive to care. Christmas eve was her favorite day of the season. The Christmas tree twinkled with white lights, and their reflected glory shimmered off the silver ornaments. Everyone was gathered around the tree and laughing as they exchanged one present each until tomorrow.

Relishing the firmness of Tom's shoulder against her own, she intended to enjoy every moment of a day she didn't think she'd see. He looked impossibly handsome with his button-down red oxford shirt tucked into slim-fitting jeans.

Little Noah had been baby Jesus in the Christmas play at the church, and afterward they'd gathered here at Tidewater Inn. The baby had fallen asleep after getting his Captain Calamari toy, and Alec carried him off to bed, then returned to enjoy eggnog and popcorn with the rest of the group. Libby's Aunt Pearl, Alec's nephew Zach, Vanessa, and her younger half brother, Brent, lounged around the room with their snacks and crumpled paper strewn around the room. Even Gage was here.
He'd discovered the damage to his brake line before he'd had an accident.

Delilah had been shy about giving Tom the book she bought him, but it was now or never. She slid off the sofa and rooted around under the enormous tree until her fingers closed on it. She hid a wince as her burned fingers scraped across the wrapping paper.

A few aches and pains were nothing compared to what Keith was enduring. He was in ICU in Richmond with second and third-degree burns. A guard was outside his door, but it was unlikely he would live long enough to be prosecuted.

Shyness enveloped her as she sat back down on the sofa. “I have something for you.” Was she being presumptuous? He hadn't given her a gift. Maybe she was reading more into their budding relationship than he felt.

Or maybe he is waiting on me to show some effort too.

His fingers closed over the package, wrapped in Superman Christmas wrap. “I can't wait to see what you picked.” He lifted a brow at the sight of the paper. “Superman?”

“I'd be dead if not for my own personal Superman.” She didn't care if he thought she was corny to say something like that. She'd gone to bed thanking God he'd sent a man who cared enough about her to risk a fiery inferno to save her.

Had she chosen a book he'd like? She knew his heart, that he cared about helping others no matter what the cost. Biting her lip, she waited for him to tear the paper off the book and turn it over and reveal the title:
George Washington's Secret Six: The Spy Ring That Saved the American Revolution.

His grin beamed. “I've been wanting to read this.” He dug out his phone and showed her the note with a list of books he wanted to read. The top book was the one in his hand. “How did you know?”

Did she dare to reveal her thoughts? Staring at the emotion in his eyes, she decided if he could risk burns, how could she stay silent? “I know you love history, and I wanted you to read about others who were as brave as you. You're the kind of man who would risk anything for God and country, just like these men. You work quietly in the background to do all you can to hold back the forces of darkness, just like Washington's men.”

His face went a little pink. “I wish I had a funny comeback right about now, but I'm speechless.” Car lights swept through the window from outside, and he reached over to take her hand. He turned it over and touched the blisters on her fingers. “I think that's the arrival of your Christmas present. It might make you forget about these. At least I hope so.”

So that's why he hadn't given her a present yet. “You had it delivered?” She stayed put as he got up to answer the door. Maybe he'd ordered it late. Heavens, he'd been so caught up in keeping her safe, when had he had the time to shop?

“You'll see.” He went to the door and stepped outside.

She heard footsteps up the steps and across the porch, more than one set. Craning her neck, she tried to see through the window, but it was too dark to make out much other than it appeared to be a family, probably the late arrivals she'd been warned about. He'd be disappointed it wasn't his delivery. Sighing, she rose to attend to her duties.

Libby rose as well and motioned to her to sit back down. “I've got this. The doctor said you aren't to do anything for at least a week, and I mean to make sure you obey him.”

Delilah sank back onto the sofa and took a sip of her eggnog. Two little girls entered the room first. She guessed them to be about two years apart, maybe six and eight. A pretty woman in her late thirties with dark-brown hair entered next, and she smiled as she looked around the room.

Her gaze settled on Delilah and stayed there. “I would have recognized you anywhere. The family resemblance can't be missed.”