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“Are you sure?” Hope bubbled inside her.
Tom nodded and she pulled him into a hug, tucking his head protectively against her chest.
“Good,” she whispered into his hair. “Let’s keep this between you and me…deal?”
His head moved in another nod, and Kerri squeezed her eyes shut. Was she making a mistake? What if the inspector had been injured in the blast? What if Tom had seen something that might help the police figure out what had happened?
No. She mentally chastised herself. It was all too likely that the fire might be blamed on her son somehow, even though he’d had nothing to do with setting the blaze. After all, the investigation into the accident that had killed her husband had pointed the final finger of blame directly at the deceased.
She’d be damned if she’d let her son get anywhere near an investigation, especially an investigation involving Sorenson Construction.
As she held Tom close, she watched the fire’s black smoke billow above the line of trees. She worked through her son’s story in her head, repeating every word silently, analyzing every detail to see if she were making the right decision.
Awesome for skateboarding.
Tom hadn’t had his skateboard when she’d found him at the site.
“Where’s your skateboard, honey?”
He winced. “I dropped it when I ran.”
Kerri swallowed. “Where?” Where investigators could find it? Where the man Tom had seen could find it?
She drew in a deep breath and held it, picturing the words she’d written on the bottom of the board with a permanent marker. Thomas Nelson. 122 Holly Drive.
She might as well have drawn a map.
She had to find that board before anyone else did.
Kerri pushed her son out to arm’s length. “Where were you when you dropped it?”
He described a location not far from where she’d first seen him, and Kerri nodded her head, praying his memory hadn’t been altered by shock or fear.
“Lock the door behind me and don’t answer it for anyone.”
Her son’s pale eyes grew wide.
“I have to go find it. I don’t want anyone to know you were there.”
“Why?”
“Because,” she answered, knowing her reply was unsatisfactory even for a nine-year-old. “Just because,” she repeated.
A long while later, Kerri continued to pick her way through the foliage behind the houses, choking on the stench of burning lumber. The billowing smoke had shifted from black to white and she knew the operation would soon switch from fire fighting to investigation. She had to move quickly.
Relief surged through her when she spotted the wild swirls of cobalt-blue and lime-green paint that covered the board. She knew her sense of urgency was partly irrational. If questioned, she could easily say Tom had lost the board on another day, at another time, but she wasn’t taking chances.
Kerri had no sooner wrapped her fingers around the edge of the board and tucked it under one arm when she heard deep voices. Two unfamiliar, but one as familiar as a long lost friend.
Wade Sorenson.
The deep timbre reached into her heart and squeezed. Tears blurred her vision, but she blinked them back. She had no time to relive the pain she’d felt three years earlier, when Wade had betrayed her husband—his best friend.
She dropped into a squat and waited for the men to move farther away. The two strangers walked toward the one unburned home, and Wade turned back toward where a dark car had been parked.
Without looking back, Kerri took off in a sprint, praying she reached the deep cover of the pines before Wade spotted her.
Whatever mess Wade Sorenson had gotten himself into this time was no business of her son’s. No business of hers. Sorenson could take care of himself.
All Kerri had to worry about was taking care of Thomas, and she wasn’t going to let the man she’d once considered one of her closest friends inflict any more heartache on her family than he already had.
WADE STOOD BACK, arms crossed, and watched the tendrils of gray and white smoke wind their way up into the air. Emotions battled deep inside his gut. Anger. Disbelief. Denial.
The red lights of the emergency vehicles flashed like strobes, but the sirens had stopped now, the paramedics and police escort having left over twenty minutes earlier.
The township inspector had been in bad shape. Unconscious, burned and barely responsive. The poor guy had come to do a routine framing and electrical inspection, and instead he’d left fighting for his life.
Guilt spiraled in the pit of Wade’s stomach. Had one of his guys installed the gas line incorrectly? Had a blowtorch been left on? What?
Pine Ridge Estates had been the culmination of a dream for him. He’d worked for years to build his company into one with a reputation home buyers would seek out. Sure, he’d almost lost it all after the Flamingo accident, but once the investigation had cleared him of any liability, he’d moved forward, rebuilding his reputation project by project. Until now.
Wood splintered and voices cried out as part of a framed ceiling gave way and crashed into the burned-out shell below. He winced, muttering a string of expletives.
Only one of the six houses remained untouched. Intact. The fire investigator, Charlie Forbes, emerged from the partially constructed building and walked toward where Wade stood. Wade moved to close the gap between them, anxious to hear the man’s take on what had happened.
Was it possible the township inspector had done something to cause the series of explosions? Wade drew in a deep breath, then sighed. Not likely. What had happened here today was no accident. He’d been targeted. Wade knew it in his gut, as much as he wanted to deny it.
Once they were within earshot of each other, Forbes spoke. “The sixth incendiary device didn’t blow.”
Incendiary device. Sonofa—
“Signature’s consistent with Project Liberation,” the investigator continued. “I’ve called in the Feds.”
Project Liberation.
Ecoterrorism.
Wade’s stomach did a slow sideways pitch. He’d known developing this community on the fringe of the South Jersey Pinelands might affront certain ecologically minded types, but he’d gone through the proper channels, including community meetings and hearings. His plan had been approved with flying colors, to the liking of everyone he’d met.
Obviously, not to the liking of the powers within the Project Liberation organization.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
The investigator nodded, then gestured for Wade to follow him. They made their way around the houses until they stood close to where the third shell smoldered.
Forbes pointed at a portion of the home’s back wall.
Two words had been spray painted in black. No Sprawl.
“I’ve read about this.” Wade uttered the words on the heels of a frustrated breath. “I didn’t know they’d developed an interest in the Pine Barrens.”
“Apparently, they have,” Forbes answered.
“Can I go inside?” Wade jerked a thumb toward the only unscathed home.
Forbes shook his head. “Can’t do that. We need to keep the specifics quiet. Chain of evidence. That sort of thing.”
Wade frowned. “Surely you don’t think I had anything to do with this?”
The other man shrugged. “Don’t take this personally, but one of the first things we look at is possible insurance fraud.”
Wade pointed to the spray-painted graffiti. “Even with this?”
“Anyone can buy a can of spray paint.”
Forbes’s attention was pulled away as a dark sedan eased to a stop behind a ladder truck, its tires sinking into the now thick mud. “Task force is here,” he said as he walked away from Wade, making it clear their discussion was over.
“Wade. Long time no see.” The driver of the car raised his hand in greeting. “Forbes.”
“McCann.” Wade and Forbes spoke simultaneously.
Detective Adam McCann was one of Wade’s oldest friends. He was also the newly appointed head of the county task force on Homeland Security.
“What have we got?” McCann asked as he stopped next to Wade, momentarily clasping a hand on his shoulder. “You doing all right?”
Wade nodded and Forbes jerked a thumb toward the smoldering houses behind them. “Clean evidence in the sixth house. Matches the devices in the other five.”
“Liberation?” McCann asked.
“Signature’s there.” Forbes nodded.
“Any word on the inspector?” Wade asked.
McCann pursed his lips and gave a quick shake of his head. “Not yet. I called in on the way over here. Doesn’t look good, though.”
“Damn.” Wade dropped his gaze to the ground.
“We’ll get them.” McCann stepped toward one of the burned-out shells. “Let’s take a look before the Feds get here and screw everything up.”
“Follow me,” Forbes answered. He stopped in his tracks when Wade moved to follow. “This won’t take long.”
Wade stood silently as he watched the two disappear into the skeleton of a five-thousand-square-foot estate home. He moved toward McCann’s car and rested one hip on the fender.
Project Liberation.
Chances were if he rebuilt, they’d strike again. But maybe McCann and his task force could take them down. He didn’t know much about the ecoterrorism group, but he knew they were very careful, and very clean. They left their signature, but nothing else. Nothing that would point to any one individual.
Their organization prided itself on the lack of any sort of paper trail. One suspected bomber had been arrested out in Montana, but Wade couldn’t remember hearing anything else.
A sudden movement in the woods beyond the homes captured his attention, sending all thoughts of Project Liberation far from his mind.
The flash of long, auburn hair was unmistakable. Even after all these years, he knew the owner’s identity immediately. He’d been admiring that particular head of hair since high school.
Kerri Nelson.
She and her son lived just on the other side of the dense foliage. But why would she show up at the crime scene? Morbid curiosity? Not her style.
Even more importantly, why had she run? The familiar old guilt twisted at his insides. She’d obviously seen him and wanted to get as far away as she could, as quickly as possible.
Adam McCann emerged from the house alone, and Wade pulled his focus out of the past and into the present.
“Hop in. We’ll talk,” Adam said as he pulled open the car’s front door.
When they’d both settled into their seats, Adam handed an unopened cup of coffee to Wade, then took a sip from a second one.
“Anything you want to tell me?”
Wade shot his friend a sharp glare. “I had nothing to do with this.”
“Good,” McCann answered. “I still have to question you.”
“When?” Wade drew in a deep breath and took a hit of the bitter coffee.
“Later’s good. Now’s better.”
“I can follow you to the station.” Wade met his friend’s visual scrutiny head-on. “I’ve got nothing to hide.”
“Hell of a thing.” McCann turned his gaze back to the smoldering rubble. “Insured?”
“Always,” Wade answered.
“We’re not going to get anywhere without a witness, you know that, right?” The skin between McCann’s eyes puckered into a crease. “These people are like ghosts. Just about impossible to catch.”
Wade nodded, disappointment balling inside him. “I figured as much. What about the inspector?”
“It’ll be a miracle if he recovers, but right now he’s our only hope. The scene is clean. They knew what they were doing.”
He put down his coffee and pinned Wade with a glare. “No one else scheduled to be out here today?”
Wade shook his head. “We were waiting on the inspection.”
“Well—” McCann pulled in a sharp breath “—we’ll question surrounding residents. Make sure no one was out here at the time of the blast. I’ll get that started while you and I head downtown.”
The image of Kerri’s retreating back flashed through Wade’s mind. Should he tell McCann she’d been at the scene? After all, how long could she have been there? Certainly not long enough to be responsible in any way. The investigator had walked the entire scene and the surrounding woods. If Forbes had seen her, they would have heard about it.
Wade reached for the door handle, suddenly needing to get out of the cramped space. “I’ll be right behind you.”
“See if you can come up with a list of anyone who might hold a grudge against you.”
