Page 99 of Her Wild Coast Refuge

“Footprints. It’s muddy up there.”

“Did you see anyone?”

“No.”

“Any sign of activity?”

“It looked like new supplies.” My throat is throbbing. “Can I have some water?”

Sheriff Kaufmann nods, and slips from the room.

“You’re doing great, Lexie. Hang in there, okay?”

“Okay,” I croak.

Sheriff Kaufmann returns with a bottle of water. It’s so icy cold that I have to sip it at a trickle or my throat is going to spasm shut.

“The groundskeeper at Soren Lake Lodge reported missing several canisters of gasoline,” Seth says.

I watch him for more, but he’s completely still. “Uh, okay.”

He taps the center of the book with his middle finger. “There’s a recipe in here for Napalm, Lexie. For sabotage. How to blow up bridges.”

“I know.”

He leans forward. “Napalm sticks to everything like glue and burns at over a thousand degrees. It’s nearly impossible to extinguish.”

My gut drops. “Wait, you think I stole gasoline from Mr. Trent? So I could build a bomb? I would never do something like that.”

“Not even to impress Kalle Jensen?”

“I don’t even know him.”

“It’s possible Kalle or someone else got there before you. Set things up.”

I release a measured sigh. Hunter has always told me to stick to the truth. That lies take on a life of their own and become a trap. That’s certainly what happened with Hayden. By keeping him a secret, it allowed me to be manipulated.

“I kept feeling like I was being watched, but I never saw anyone,” I say. “I did what I could on my own.”

Seth sits back and crosses his arms. “Okay, Lexie. Now we’re getting somewhere. You went up there hoping to meet up with Kalle or maybe others, but the camp seemed empty. You saw footprints and what you thought were new supplies. You tampered with one of the machines and emptied the water tanks. You destroyed rations from the tubs in the bunkhouse. What were you going to do next?”

“I don’t know.” By then I had lost myself to the task of destroying whatever I could get my hands on, even though deep down, I knew it was useless. After my rampage, it all caught up to me. Exhausted, I crumpled to the floor and cried. For losing what I love and what I’ve tried to protect. For letting my stupid heart fool me into trusting again. For being let down by people I care about—again.

Seth asks me more questions. How long was I in the camp? When did Dawson and Quinn arrive? What happened in the bunkhouse?

I do my best to answer, but my throat hurts and my head starts to throb. It’s too bright in this room, too hot.

Finally, Seth packs up the folder and tablet and promises a bathroom break and something to eat.

I bite my lip to keep it from quivering. “Is the fire out?”

“A chemical fire like that has to burn itself out. Brian’s team will monitor it though, keep it contained.”

“Brian’s up there?”

“An arson fire on federal lands? You bet.”

Seth follows the sheriff from the room. Before he closes the door, he gives me a reassuring nod. I resist asking where the others are. Or how much longer this process is going to take.

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