Page 59 of Canyon Killer
“A crackling sound, almost like a campfire.” She pulled out of his arms and looked around. Ian didn’t have a fireplace. She sniffed and caught the definite scent of woodsmoke.
“Something’s burning.” Ian moved to the middle of the room, looking around. Just then, the smoke alarm began blaring.
“There!” She pointed toward the other end of the trailer. “In the kitchen.”
Ian started walking that way, but she caught the tail of his shirt and pulled him back. “We have to get out of here,” she said.
“You’re right.” He moved to the door and tried to pull it open, but it wouldn’t budge.
Panic climbed her throat. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “Why won’t it open?”
He shook his head. “The back door,” he said. He started that way, but the heat from flames licking up one wall of the trailer drove him back. Bethany stared as fingers of fire swept up the paneling, until the whole kitchen was aflame.
She pulled out her phone and stabbed out911. But when she put the phone to her ear, she heard only silence.
“No signal,” Ian said, staring at his own phone.
“How could they both not be working?”
He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. We have to get out of here.” He tried the door again, and when he couldn’t open it, he slammed his shoulder against it. The whole trailer shook, but the door didn’t budge.
“The windows!” Bethany ran to the window and tried to open it. But it also refused to move.
“Stand back!” Ian shouted. He picked up the desk chair and hurled it at the window. It hit the middle of the glass, making a small crack, then bounced to the floor. Smoke was pouring into the room now, choking them. He coughed and picked up the chair again. This time he kept hold of it, battering it against the window until the glass shattered.
Cool air rushed in, and the heat of the fire intensified, fed by fresh oxygen. “Get out!” he shouted.
Bethany moved to the window and began pulling away shards of glass. Ian tore off his shirt, wrapped his arm in it and began punching at the glass, clearing it from the frame. “Go!” he shouted again. “I’ll be right behind you.”
She tried again to crawl through the window, but it was too high in the wall for her to get her leg over the sill. Desperate, Ian lifted her by the waist and pushed her through. She screamed, falling, and he dove out after her.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The ground was cool, and Ian pressed his face to it, even as he wrapped both arms around Bethany and rolled her farther away from the fire. She clung to him, shaking with sobs.
“Shhh. You’re okay.” He kissed the top of her head and tried to soothe her.
After a while, she quieted, then pushed herself away from him and into a sitting position. “I’m okay,” she said and looked back toward the fire.
Only a few minutes had passed, but the trailer was almost fully engulfed now, the structure folding in on itself as the blaze roared. The stench of burning metal and rubber and wood filled the air, and the light from the flames bathed them in a ghastly, flickering light.
“Ian, you’re hurt!” She put a hand to his forearm.
He flinched and touched his own hand to the blisters rising on his skin. The backs of both hands were blistered, too. He looked away from the sight. “Are you okay?” he asked.
“I’ve got a few cuts from the window glass. They’re not too bad.” She indicated some scratches on her arms, blood beading along one of them. “And my hair and clothing are a little scorched.”
Hearing her words shook him out of the stupor he had been in since first seeing the blaze. He stood and reached down to pull her up. “We need to get out of here,” he said. “Whoever set the blaze might still be in the area. Or they might come back. Come on.”
They jogged to his Jeep. He fumbled for the keys in his pocket. His fingers didn’t want to work right. But at last he had them and pressed the fob to start the vehicle. They climbed into the seat, and he put the vehicle in gear.
He was backing up while she was still grappling with her safety belt. The idea that whoever had set the fire might still be here, waiting for them, made his skin crawl. All he could think about was getting away.
“Why don’t our phones work?” she asked again. “They’re not landlines that someone could cut.”
“No, but here in the canyon I rely on Wi-Fi calling,” he said. “It works via a satellite dish. If someone destroyed the dish, the phones wouldn’t work.”
“Do you think that’s what happened?”
