Sandra Orchard - Identity Withheld

Title Page Identity Withheld Sandra Orchard www.millsandboon.co.uk

Bible Verse If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast. If I say, “Surely the darkness will hide me and the light become night around me,” even the darkness will not be dark to you; the night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to you. —Psalms 139:9–12

Dedication To the dedicated volunteer firefighters faithfully serving our small communities.

Acknowledgments The Lord’s provision when I’m wrestling out a story always delights and encourages me. I learn so much and am indebted to the many experts who tirelessly answer my questions. In particular, I’d like to thank retired volunteer firefighter Don Gretsinger, thirty-three-year veteran and retired district chief, Ivan Good, firefighter Harold Riemersma, and retired fire investigator Dave MacMullen for answering my many questions. Thank you to midwife Brianna Timmers for helping me create a plausible backstory for Tommy’s mother. And a huge thank-you to paramedic Charlotte Cripps for teaching me so much about emergency procedures, both for this story and Sherri Steele’s story coming next year, and…for connecting me with Dave. Thank you also to the WODE members who helped me brainstorm the proposal and work through various scenes. To Vicki McCollum for her ever-helpful feedback. To my editors Tina James and Giselle Regus for the many ways they helped make the story stronger. To Patti Jo Moore for her daily encouragement and prayer cover. To Nancy Miller for the many, many little things she does to give me more time to write. To author Laura Frantz and Amber Perry for answering all my questions about Seattle and area. To reader Susan Manchester for telling me about her dog Rusty, the inspiration behind Tommy’s dog. To Kara Grant for loaning my heroine her name. To the blog readers, newsletter subscribers and Facebook fans who brainstormed backstory and titles with me, and who made choosing actors to model my characters after so much fun! And…a huge thanks to the world’s best brainstorming partner, Stacey Weeks, who put up with countless phone calls and emails to help me work my way through the smoky haze of the first draft.

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

EPILOGUE

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

Extract

Copyright

ONE

Jake Steele squinted through the smoky haze surrounding the house, his skin prickling with the sensation of being watched. There. In the hedges. It had to be their arsonist. This fire had all the signs of being deliberately set. Jake motioned to his partner, Davis, and they started for the hedge.

The face disappeared, swallowed by the drizzly darkness.

Counting on the suspect wanting to avoid the street, Jake beelined to the backyard. Sure enough, a lone figure skulked along the property’s edge. This pyromaniac was going down.

Jake and Davis closed the distance fast, the commotion of the other firefighters masking the thump of their heavy boots. “Where do you think you’re going?” Jake grabbed the guy’s arm.

The scream that met his grip was no guy’s.

Jake turned his flashlight on their culprit, and her panicked brown eyes blindsided him. His grip loosened.

She twisted and squirmed, pounding her free fist against his chest and kicking uselessly at his legs. “Let go of me.”

“Fat chance,” he said, tightening his grip again. Never mind the tears streaking her sooty cheeks. Men hadn’t cornered the market on arson jobs. And with five suspicious fires this side of Seattle in the past nine weeks, he wasn’t about to let her out of his sight until he found out exactly what she knew about this one.

She went limp, her fight gone. “You’re hurting me.”

His gaze shifted to the arm he still held, the only part of her he’d touched as he’d let her wear herself out pummeling his chest. His heart pitched. “You’re burned.” He jerked his thumb off her blistering flesh, sickened that he’d hurt her further.

His partner directed a flashlight at her arm. The underside was flaming red from wrist to crook.

Cupping her elbow with just enough pressure to prevent her from escaping, Jake gentled his tone. “Are you burned anywhere else?”

“I’m fine.” She tried to tug free of his hold.

“You’re not fine.” Megadoses of adrenaline had to be shooting through this spitfire for her to not so much as wince at the pain that had to be blazing up her arm. “This is a serious burn. It needs to be dressed.”

She visibly shrank at his insistent tone. “My friend’s coming for me. He’ll take care of everything.”

Right. If she thought he was about to let her walk away, she’d clearly burned a few brain cells along with that arm. Being careful not to cause her any more pain, he steered her toward the street. “You can wait for your friend in the ambulance.”

As they came around the now-smoldering building, she dug in her heels and darted terrified glances every which way. “No, please.”

Jake caught his partner’s attention and jerked his head toward the sheriff’s car.

Davis nodded and jogged off.

Jake angled his flashlight just high enough so he could study her heart-shaped face without blinding her. How had he ever mistaken her for a guy? She didn’t look much younger than him—late twenties, maybe. Her damp hair, flattened by the rain, skimmed her shoulders, but she was all girl—and very afraid. He’d expected to see fear over getting caught, maybe regret. Not— “I want to help you,” he said, his voice cracking at her terror.

Her watery brown eyes searched his as if she desperately wanted to believe him. “I can’t go out there,” she whispered.

The rattled pitch of her voice tugged at his heart. He tilted his head, softening his expression. “I’m Captain Jake Steele with the Stalwart Fire Department. What’s your name?”

“Ni—” She coughed, the crackly sound rattling through her limbs. “Kara. Kara Grant.”

He didn’t believe her, but nodded anyway. The cough had all the signs of an attempt to buy enough time to come up with an alias. “Did you set the fire, Kara?”

Her eyes flared. “What? No!” She made another useless attempt to jerk free of his grip as the sheriff and Davis rushed toward them. “Sheriff, this firefighter won’t let go of me!”

“She needs medical attention,” Jake growled.

“He thinks I set the fire! When I’m the victim here.”

“Wait. You live here?” Jake’s surprise pitched the question a couple of octaves higher than he’d intended.

“What do you think?” She cradled her wounded arm.

“Lady, you were running away. What do you think I thought?” His department had been called in to assist this neighboring town’s volunteer department. He hadn’t caught the name of the missing victim. Her name.

The sheriff radioed the news to the chief. The firefighters who’d been searching for her inside soon emerged from the house.

Kara gulped. “They were all looking for me? I’m sorry, I didn’t realize.”

“Didn’t realize?” Jake ground his teeth to reel in his tone. “My men were putting their lives at risk while you watched from the bushes. I have a five-year-old boy at home who doesn’t need to lose another parent.”

“I—” Her expression crumpled. “Please, no one was hurt, were they?”

Jake let out a pent-up breath. “No.”

The sheriff cleared his throat. “I still need you to answer a few questions, and I think you’ll be more comfortable doing that in the back of the ambulance than a squad car.”