LITMIR.BIZ

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knew, Logan had wrapped an arm around her shoulders and, helping her to her feet, he led her—practically carried her—back into the house.

      When she regained her composure, or a semblance of it, she was seated on the old plaid couch in the living room, and Logan was sitting in her dad’s leather recliner directly across from her. Leaning forward, he studied her with more than just casual curiosity.

      “Wanna talk?” he asked gently.

      “I—uh—I don’t know,” she told him. “It’s kind of a mess and I really hate to involve you in it. I mean, well, it could be kind of dangerous.”

      He made a crooked smile. “Hey, I’m a firefighter, danger is kinda my thing.”

      She sniffed as she pulled out her phone again, trying to decide, but feeling too muddled to even think straight.

      “Is this related to the fire?” His brow creased as he rubbed his chin.

      She sighed. “I’m not sure. And, really, it makes no sense. Why would he...do that? But then again...there’s the text message. And unknown caller ID? I mean, I’m sure it’s from him. I mean someone I know...someone I don’t trust...someone I consider to be my enemy—and it’s pretty disturbing.”

      “May I see it?” Logan held out his hand in a way that suggested authority, but at the same time his eyes were full of empathy.

      She pulled up the text, then handed her phone to Logan.

      “‘You got lucky again. Ever see a burned corpse? Not pretty.’” Logan looked alarmed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

      “What do you think it means?”

      “It sounds like a very serious threat.”

      “Yeah...” She looked down at the worn braided rug beneath her feet. The homely old rug had been here for as long as she could remember. Her great-grandmother had made it long before Mallory was born. For some reason, the even lines and predictable colors gave her a faint sense of comfort.

      He handed her phone back. “Who sent you this?” he demanded.

      “I’m not positive. But I honestly think it’s my ex-boyfriend. Or someone connected to him. No one believes me, though.”

      “What kind of person is this?” He frowned. “I can’t believe you ever had a boyfriend who would write something like that. Even if he is an ex.”

      “See.” She held up her hands. “I told you that no one believes me.”

      “That’s not what I meant.” He looked frustrated. “I mean, it’s hard to believe a girl like you would be involved with someone who would send a text like that.”

      “Well, we’re estranged now. Very estranged.” She knew that was an understatement, but how much should she tell Logan? Could she really trust him? And would he even believe her? He already sounded doubtful.

      “But, even if you are estranged...” He ran his hand through his messy hair. “To send something like that—I mean, it’s a serious threat, Mallory. Whoever sent that is talking about someone getting burned to death. And we just put out an arson fire. Who do you really think sent this?”

      “As you can see, it’s from unknown.” She looked at him with apprehension. Why was he being so persistent on this? Was it possible that Brock had already gotten to him? The way that Brock seemed to have infiltrated some of the Portland investigators? What if Logan was a part of Brock’s deadly game? How many people did Brock control, anyway? Once again, it felt as if her head was spinning. Who could she trust? Anyone?

      “I need to take a photo of it,” Logan said suddenly.

      She retrieved it from her pocket, pulled up the text and handed it to him, waiting as he examined it more closely and then, using his own phone, took a couple of shots. “So you honestly think your ex-boyfriend sent this?” He studied her closely as he held her phone out to her.

      “I’m so tired that it’s hard to think straight right now.”

      Logan stood up now, clearly agitated. “What’s going on here, Mallory? You mentioned danger. And according to that text, you are definitely in some kind of danger. What kind of person is this? The guy who sent the text—who is he?”

      “I’m not sure it matters... I mean, who he is or what he is...since no one believes me, anyway.” She studied Logan closely. She wished she could trust him—she wanted to trust him. She needed someone trustworthy.

      “Look, a fire was set outside your parents’ home.” He spoke slowly, almost as if speaking to a child. And perhaps she was being childish—maybe fear and exhaustion did that to a person. “You receive a text that refers to fire and death, a message that is clearly some kind of serious threat.” He sat down on the couch next to her, staring intently into her face. “I’m not just asking you this as your friend, Mallory, although I’d like to think that we’re friends, but I’m asking you this as the Clover fire chief, investigating an arson crime.”

      “Oh....” She nodded soberly. “Okay, then.”

      “Who sent the text?”

      She took in a breath, sitting up straight, trying to think clearly. “I can’t be certain, since it wasn’t sent from his usual phone. But my guess is that it was sent by my ex-boyfriend. A guy named Brock Dennison.”

      “Brock Dennison? The anchor guy on the Portland news station?” Logan sounded shocked. “That’s the guy you’ve been involved with?”

      “How do you know that?” she demanded. “I mean that Brock and I are involved. I mean, we used to be involved.”

      “You just said it was from an ex-boyfriend.”

      “Oh...yeah.”

      “And you’re saying that Brock Dennison is threatening you?”

      She looked evenly into his eyes. “And you don’t believe me, do you?”

      Logan looked perplexed. “I didn’t say that. I mean it’s a lot to take in.”

      “No one believes me.” She folded her arms in front of her, wishing she’d just kept her mouth shut. Why had she even trusted him?

      “I’m sure that’s because Brock Dennison is kind of a celebrity. A small-potato kind of celebrity. Not that I’m a fan.” Logan frowned. “You won’t catch me watching Portland news.” He tipped his head to one side. “But you’re seriously saying that Brock Dennison—the Channel Six News guy—sent that text to you?”

      “That’s right.”

      Logan shook his head with a perplexed expression. “Wow, that’s a lot to absorb, Mallory. So do you think Brock Dennison has something to do with the fire, too?”

      She felt a tiny glimmer of hope. Did he actually believe her? “I really don’t know what to think. I have to admit it sounds unbelievable to think that Brock would do...well, the kinds of things I believe he’s done...or is involved in.”

      “You make it sound like he’s a serious criminal.” Logan seemed genuinely concerned. “And if that text is from him, I’m inclined to agree.”

      “Really?” She felt strangely relieved that Logan looked worried. Maybe he wasn’t in Brock’s back pocket, after all.

      “And you’re obviously upset by it,” he continued. “So I have to assume that it’s not a joke or a romantic quarrel or—”

      “There is no romance,” she said quickly. “We only dated briefly. I broke it off a couple of months ago. The truth is, I can’t stand him.”

      Logan slowly nodded. “So why would he send you that text? And why is he talking about fire?” He waved his hand. “Especially in light of what appears to be an arson incident.” He narrowed

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