Page 72 of Ward

I pull myself to my feet, ready to take him on in a fight to the death. But he doesn’t get up.

“Liam,” I shout. Crouching, I grab the gun in case he’s bluffing, then roll him onto his back.

Blood oozes from the wound in his forehead. His dead eyes stare at nothing. I press my hand to the wound, knowing it won’t help him. Nothing can help him now.

My son is dead. Gone.

If only the same could be said about the fire he started.

The flames have snaked up the curtains surrounding the window where I helped Grace get out. My eyes sting as I pull my shirt up to cover my nose and mouth. I grab onto Liam’s wrists and drag his body around the fire and into the hall. The air out here is clearer than the air in my room, but I can’t bet on it staying that way for long.

My leg throbs as I work to haul Liam down the stairs. Pretty soon, my ribs join the party, and I have to stop twice to catch my breath. Once I get him on the ground floor, dragging him out the front door is easy enough. I leave him on the stone path and then hurry as fast as my wounded leg will let me around to the side of the house where I dropped Grace.

She’s not on the grass.

“Grace,” I call out. My mind races. Where the hell did she go?

The cry of sirens echoes in the distance. I scan the yard for my little one, praying she didn’t go back inside to try and help me.

Finally, I see her, curled up on the grass beside a hydrangea bush.

I run to her.

“Grace.” I drop to my knees and gather her my arms. She’s shaking like a leaf. “Are you hurt?”

“My ankle,” she says. It doesn’t look broken to me; hopefully just sprained. “I tried to get the cuffs off, but I just made them tighter.”

I gently brush the swollen skin around her wrists.

“The police will get them off.” I lie down in the grass, clutching her to me.

“Where’s Liam?” she asks.

Blue and red lights flash as emergency vehicles and police cruisers rumble up the driveway.

“He’s gone.” My thoughts grow fur as I watch the flames pour out of my bedroom window.

“I’m sorry,” Grace whispers. “I know you tried to help him.”

I did try. But in the end, it wasn’t enough.

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