Page 47 of Small Town Secrets

Though she couldn’t finish her thoughts on what she’d do if anything happened to Whitney, his silence acknowledged what she’d meant. That she didn’t want to exist in a world without Whitney. Especially if her absence coincided with her child’s moment of need.

The lower they got into the valley, the smokier it got, until flames flickered into view farther down the road.

“Seems we’ll have to improvise a way in.” Adrian’s tone sounded strong enough, but she caught the slight hesitation in his delivery. Like he too respected that fires had ways of diverting even the best plans.

A direct route to town was out of the question, so he slowed and took a counter-intuitive turn right.

She slammed her eyes shut and held back another wave of grief. “This won’t ever end, will it?”

Hope drained from her with each passing second Ramos didn’t answer. As though he didn’t need to answer because his silence said everything. A silence that spoke of uncertainty. An inescapable situation that no amount of resilience could fix because Harlow was burning. Literally burning.

That crush of reality was too much to carry and her will faded with each smoke-tinged inhalation. Even if they survived today, life would never return to what it once was. Nor would Harlow. And the syndicate might never leave them be.

She peered out her window again and did her best to stay quiet. To let Ramos focus on getting them into town. Maybe Harlow did burn, but she was also saying goodbye, while bracing herself for what the unfolding hours would bring.

Burn it all. Just let Whitney escape safe.

A single tear rolled down her cheek and a sense of apathy made the scene outside somehow tolerable. Even as the next road brought flames lapping from the adjoining field, the air dry and haunting.

Still, we aren’t all that far from town.

“Laila.” Adrian reached for her again, and in her numb state, she let him. “I know we haven’t been so close lately, but everything I do today will be about getting you and Whitney away from all this. Do you understand?”

Not wanting to speak for fear of what she’d say, she squeezed his hand, giving him the reaction he wanted. How could she explain that her trust in everything had become as charred as the fields outside? She would trust him in that she had little other choice, but nothing right now felt certain. Not even her opinions of the man beside her.

She’d seen him become someone else around Gerry Gibbons. His work had involved interacting with the syndicate. How else could she feel?

They reached two roads that led into town, one blocked off by walls of fire, the other the only viable option, though how long that would remain the case was anyone’s guess. Not long, that was for sure.

He steered down the obvious path, where a house farther across a field stood engulfed in flames, that house belonging to Emilia and Blaine. Laila’s tummy tensed at that sight. Another bad omen on her journey to get back to Whitney. As too were the emergency vehicles stationed along this road in an attempt to defend it.

Long minutes passed on that straight stretch of road until they finally reached the town’s center, rounding another street, before they came to the town hall.

The moment the car stopped, she stumbled out her door, not even waiting for him to kill the engine, as she sprinted away, her heart pounding and her tight breaths burning her chest.

Everywhere she looked, the homes and businesses she’d known since childhood smoldered in ruins. Now, all she wanted was the familiarity of having her child in her arms. Of knowing Whitney was safe. Of having some semblance of comfort and control. Along with the illusion that she’d somehow get them out of here alive.

Twenty-Eight

Laila barged through the town hall’s large wooden doors, her gaze darting over the sea of faces holding expressions in various states of alarm. She proceeded to push through the crowd in search of her daughter, slow to succeed at that task, which forced her to pause and steady herself.

Drowning in the onslaught of worried murmurs around her and blinking away tears, she lashed her head from side to side. Still searching. Now sensing Ramos behind her, while she refused to look back at him.

Just keep looking forward. Find her. I have to find her.

Whitney’s familiar swarthy features peeked through a gap in the crowd. A relieved sob broke from Laila, and she rushed forward, fighting against her overwrought emotions. She didn’t want to scare her child more than she likely already was. But fighting any reaction became impossible as she pulled Whitney from her grandmother’s arms and crushed the child’s spindly body to her chest.

Suddenly, the soft tickle of those dark curls to Laila’s cheek meant everything. It sparked a compulsion to ignore all warnings and turn and run from this awful dystopian scene.

“Thank you.” She sniffed and addressed her mom from over Whitney’s shoulder. Bless that woman. Bless her for so many things and in ways Laila could never hope to repay. “Thank you for keeping Whit safe.”

Her mother’s lips pressed into a tight line, as though she fought back her own overwhelmed reaction, the wrinkles over her cheekbones deep and denoting a wariness Laila had never seen on her before.

“Where are all the others?” Laila asked the question because she wanted to know, but also to give her mother something new to focus on.

“Ally and Chip got out since the fire was closer to their side of town. But Dean and Sarah, Blaine and Emilia are all around here somewhere.” Her mother peered about her, the action seeming rooted in the need for distraction more than anything else.

Laila mirrored her mother’s movements. The new focus on everyone gathered lit a disconcerting idea. If the syndicate hoped to herd the people of this town to a select few spots, these fires succeeded. A glance over her shoulder to the sheriff seemed to validate the doubt taking up space in her stomach.

---