Page 118 of Into the Fire

SOMETHING WASN’T RIGHT.

Wrapped in her softest fleecy sweatshirt, Sophie cowered against the headboard and stared at the screen of her laptop as it booted up—the only source of light in the midnight darkness of her sister’s guest room.

This clandestine digging didn’t feel right, either—but with questions swirling around in her brain, how was she supposed to sleep unless she found some answers?

Like ... why had Alison spent more time consoling her about Nate’s death than vice versa at their lunch earlier today? And why had her sister’s mood seemed almost ... upbeat ... if she’d just lost the man she’d claimed to love?

Suppressing a shiver, Sophie typed in their step-uncle’s name and called up a story about his death.

As she scanned it, her stomach bottomed out.

Larry—the predator of little girls—had died in a boat fire while in a drug-induced stupor.

And Nate—the faithless, rejecting husband—had died in a tent fire while in a drug-induced stupor.

Was it merely a fluke that two men who’d hurt her sister had perished in a similar, tragic fashion?

Maybe.

Unless ... could there be others? People who’d also done Alison wrong and met a similar fate?

As that insidious thought snaked through her mind, a name bubbled up from the recesses of her memory.

Michelle Thomas.

Alison’s boyfriend-stealing best friend.

Her sister had been devastated by that betrayal.

Still, that had happened long ago. Surely Alison hadn’t held a grudge against her for all these years.

But what if she had?

Slowly, fingers trembling, she typed in the name.

Gasped at the first hit that came up.

Stopped breathing as she read the article.

Michelle had died too. In a house fire, while in a drug-induced state.

No.

No!

There couldn’t be a connection between these three deaths.

Alison would never do such horrible things.

Yet the coincidences seemed too ... coincidental. And tooclose together, all bunched over the past eighteen months, after the divorce.

And what if there were more?

Stomach twisting, Sophie moved her laptop aside and buried her face in her hands as shivers coursed through her.

She had to be crazy to harbor such vile thoughts—didn’t she?

The sister who’d nurtured her ... protected her ... stood by her through all of life’s storms ... couldn’t be capable of such loathsome acts.

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