Page 119 of Into the Fire

It was impossible.

And she was despicable for letting such doubts poison her mind.

After all, the night Nate died, she and Alison had both been asleep in this house.

Except ...

Sophie gulped in a lungful of air and pulled the covers up to her chin as the faint wail of a distant train whistle keened through the night.

Except she’d been super tired that night. Barely able to keep her eyelids propped open after she and Alison had indulged in her sister’s homemade carrot cake. When Alison had waved her off to bed far earlier than usual, she hadn’t protested.

And while it had been a bit strange to suddenly run out of energy, she’d had a busy week at school. Plus, Alison had packed their Saturday with activities from sunup to late afternoon. A hectic schedule like that would tire anyone out.

But that didn’t explain the drugged-like sleep she’d fallen into the instant her head hit the pillow or her groggy sluggishness the next day.

Drugged-like.

Groggy.

Sophie’s breath hitched, and she pulled the pillow in front of her. Hugged it tight against her chest.

Had Alison put some sort of sedative into her dessert?Knocked her out, then slipped away unnoticed and driven to the national forest where Nate had been—

No!

It couldn’t be true!

But ... but what if it was?

A wave of nausea swept over her, and Sophie flung the pillow aside. Stumbled toward the bathroom. Heaved what little was left of her late lunch into the toilet.

For several minutes, she remained there, clutching the edge of the vanity for support until her retching was reduced to dry heaves.

Finally, legs wobbling, she lurched back to bed, cocooned herself under the covers, and focused on the dark ceiling. Why bother closing her eyes? There would be no sleep this night. Not with a decision to make that could change her life, and Alison’s, forever.

Yet how could she betray the sister who’d sacrificed too much to protect her? Who’d put the welfare of an innocent little girl she loved above her own?

And what if she brought her suspicions forward and ended up being wrong?

Alison would never forgive her, and their two-person family—the sole blood link either of them had—would be destroyed forever.

But if she remained quiet, and Alison was responsible for those deaths, that was like condoning murder. Wasn’t it?

Sophie’s temples began to throb, and she reached up with quivering fingers to massage her forehead. If the headache got worse, she could always take aspirin. That would relieve the pain.

Unfortunately, there was no such simple remedy for the situation with Alison. It had no painless answers.

Because no matter what she decided to do, the outcome would be rife with hurt.

So she’d spend the long, shadowy hours until morning thinking about the problem, and pray that by the time dawn announced the start of a new day, she’d be granted guidance—as well as the courage to do what had to be done.

Even if that ended up destroying her bond with the only person who’d loved her since the day their mother died.

TWENTY-THREE

THISWAS IT.

Marc set the brake in front of Joseph Butler’s small but well-kept ranch house. It was the sort of home a man would own if he’d spent his working life as a church custodian—or the last couple decades of his working life, anyway.

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