Free Once Burned (Task Force Eagle) by Susan Vaughan

she surged to
her feet, unable to remain still. “I guess the part about Gail going out to the
barn.”
    A muscle in his jaw tightened and his mouth thinned
under her gaze. He set down his half empty Sam Adams bottle. “Give me what went
down and when.” He withdrew a spiral notepad from his back pocket and reached
for a pen in the jar she kept on the sideboard. With a boyish grin, he shrugged
in apology. Or by way of explanation. “Old habit.”
    “I don’t remember much, although bits and pieces are
popping up in my head like ghosts. The shrink described my lost memory as
repressed because of the traumatic event, not amnesia.”
    “I’ve had arson and bombing cases with the same
outcome for the victims. Plays havoc with an investigation. Sometimes people
remember later. Sometimes they never do.”
    “You know that, yet you keep pushing me to remember.
What if I never remember? What if I do, and nothing I saw or heard is any help?
What then?”
    “Whatever, we’ll deal. I know it’s painful, but
anything might help.”
    Painful? Wrenching. Increased nightmares. Most of the
time, she could keep grief for Gail sealed in a back corner of her heart and
soul. But forcing herself to think about it unlocked the cage so all that pain
came roaring out as raw bleeding wounds. But if I want answers—
    “I have to try. Being in this house brought
back some of the evening. Where should I start? With when my parents left for
the Blueberry Head Resort?”
    “Sounds good. Shoot.”
    She linked the tips of her fingers on the table’s cool
surface and closed her eyes to picture her sister. Rich brown curls like their
mother, hazel eyes like their father, but unless she looked at old photos, Gail’s
features were becoming harder to conjure separate from her own mature and
scarred ones.
    Anguish pegged her dead center, a thump in the chest.
But she remembered Gail being in a snit. Could picture her movements and
gestures. She opened her eyes.
    She crossed to the kitchen counter, leaning against it
for support. “Mom and Dad left around seven for dinner at the hospital
fundraiser. Around seven-thirty I went into the living room to watch TV. Gail
was upstairs until you arrived.” Her throat turned to sand and her breath
hitched. She blinked back tears.
    Jake crossed to her. He laid a hand on her shoulder.
She didn’t expect his touch to make a difference, but his warmth seeped into
her and loosened the tension tightening her muscles.
    “Take it slow, Lani,” he said. “Go on when you’re
ready.”
    “I’m okay.” She drew a deep breath. “You two were in
the driveway. I heard your voices but not your words. I could tell you were
arguing but I turned up the TV volume. Gail hated anyone eavesdropping.”
    “I stayed only about twenty minutes,” he said. “Then
what?”
    “After she slammed in and dropped the bomb that she’d
dumped you, Nora phoned. Neither of us had a car, so we were stuck at home. We
were gabbing, playing Alanis Morissette CDs. Loud, I guess. Too loud for Gail.
After about an hour, she ran out to the barn with some magazines. Said she was
going there to read in peace.”
    “Ten o’clock.” His gaze rose to the ceiling, as if he
was calculating the time frame. “How long was she out there before you saw the
fire?”
    She lowered her head. When she looked up, tears
blurred her vision but she willed them away. “Twenty minutes, maybe forty. No
longer. I smelled smoke, so I cut off the music and went onto the porch. I had
the cordless phone in my hand. No cell phone service on the peninsula back
then. I remember seeing the flames. I yelled to Nora to call for help.”
    He started to reach for her.
    The last thing she wanted was sympathy, especially
from Jake. His presence uncovered that insecure bookworm girl who always lurked
beneath the surface. She had to force herself to be mature and not react with
defensive snark. She held up a hand and shook her head.
    “Lani, you’ve got guts. Going over