“Possibly. But the heat would have been intense.”
“Hot enough to blister her feet?”
He remembered the soles of the girl’s feet. “Yeah.”
She nodded, and he could almost see the wheels turning in her mind. “She would have been panicking,” she murmured. “Not thinking clearly. Smoke choking her. Maybe she drops to her knees, below the smoke. And somehow she finds the ball.”
“She wouldn’t have been able to see anything,” David said, his stomach turning at the thought of how terrified the girl must have been. “The smoke would have filled the first floors and the stairwell in minutes. If she stumbled on the ball, found it somehow…”
Her blond brows lifted. “Or if they used it to block open one of the fire doors?”
He’d admired her mind the first time they’d met. That much he clearly remembered. “Possible. So she picks it up, but can’t go farther, because it’s too hot. The smoke is too thick. She backs up, to the stairwell.”
“Back to the fourth floor. No fire yet on four. She still has the ball. People hold on to weird things when they’re scared. She gets to the window, tries to break it.”
“She could have hit it with that ball till kingdom come and that window wouldn’t have broken,” David said. “But I doubt she got more than a few hits in. Her lungs would have already been damaged by the smoke from the stairwell, if that’s where she’d gone.”
“Where did you say you found the ball?”
“About two feet from where her fingertips had been. She was lying on her stomach, her arms extended.”
“Her body’s angle to the wall?”
“Thirty, forty degrees, maybe.”
“So she tossed the ball, then pounded on the glass with her hands. She was desperate by then.” She studied the prints on the glass. “She smacked the glass with her palms and pounded with her fists.”
“Probably in the reverse order,” he said quietly. “Her hands were flattened on the glass when she collapsed to the floor. You can’t see them well, but there are streaks from her fingers.”
“Poor kid.” She was silent for a moment while he studied her profile. It had been a long time since he’d been this close to her-two and a half years if he didn’t count the minutes she’d sat next to his bed in the hospital after he’d rolled down an embankment in Evie’s old Mazda last February. And he didn’t count that time as his eye had been too swollen to see clearly. She’d been little more than a hazy image, but he’d known it was her by his bedside as soon as he’d smelled the honeysuckle.
Abruptly she lifted her eyes to his, blue and intense. “That is one hell of a hole,” she said. “I’m… I’m glad you’re okay.”
A fist squeezed his heart and he struggled for what to say. But before he could find the words, she’d turned her gaze toward the lake. “How high does this bucket go?”
He cleared his throat. “Hundred feet. We’re at about fifty feet now.”
“Can you take me all the way up?”
Sweet God. He sure wanted to try. Focus, Hunter. Do not blow this again. “Yes.” The word came out gruffly, but she didn’t seem to notice. “Why?”
“We were wondering how the girl knew about this place. We don’t think she’s from around here. You can’t see the condo from the road, but you can see it from the lake.”
He lifted the bucket past the roof. “What are you looking for?”
“Don’t know.” She held the camera to her face, searching and snapping photos with the zoom. “A path through the trees, a hidden boat, something that shows us how she found this place. We should probably get someone on the ground, checking for a path through the woods.”
“You could try dogs.”
She lowered the camera, looking up at him. “To track her?” A new light filled her eyes. “It might work.” She jumped a little. “Cell phone. Can you hold these?” She handed him the black bag with the binoculars and grabbed for her cell. “Sutherland.”
Her little smile disappeared as she listened. “We’ll be there in thirty minutes.”
“Problem?” he asked when she hung up.
“ME. He has something on the girl. Can you take us down?”
“Sure.” He started their descent, debating his next words, filling his senses with honeysuckle while he could. “Olivia.”
She stiffened and he realized it was the first time he’d said her name that morning. “Yes?” she asked, her gaze focused on the lake.
Look at me. Give me something. Please.
Then he watched her draw a deep breath and let it out. Only her head turned, her eyes meeting his. “Yes?” she asked again.
“I…” Say it. But years of fruitless waiting for the wrong woman had dulled his skills when it came to the woman who just might be the right one. “I need to talk to you,” he blurted. “But not here, where everyone can hear.”
She stared at him, then after what seemed like an eternity, nodded, just once. “I’ll call you when I get a break later. When are you off shift?”
Relief swamped him. At least she hadn’t said no. So whatever he’d done, it couldn’t have been that bad… right? “About two hours ago. I’m on OT now.”
The bucket reached the ground and she unhooked the belt herself, looking for Kane who stood next to the captain ten feet from the truck. “Kane, Ian called. He wants us at the morgue. I told him thirty.” She hopped down from the bucket gracefully. Her knees bent and for a moment she hung there, then straightened like a gymnast sticking a landing. “Thanks for the view. I’ll be in touch,” she said briskly.
Still in the bucket, David watched as she strode to her car, Kane ambling behind her. She didn’t look back, not once. It wasn’t until Kane’s car had disappeared through the front gate that he realized she’d never reclaimed her binoculars.
He pocketed them. That had gone far better than he’d expected.
Chapter Five
Monday, September 20, 10:55 a.m.
A question, Mr. Marsh?”
Eric looked up, stunned to see that the classroom had cleared and his professor stood staring at him. “No, sir. I’m sorry.”
“Mr. Marsh, when you sleep, you snore. When you are awake, you participate. You did neither today, and you arrived fifteen minutes late. Is anything wrong?”
“A girl,” he said, feigning embarrassment. “I’ll have to get the notes from someone.”
“Fine. Just be on time for Wednesday’s lecture.”
“I will.” Eric made his escape, then slumped against a wall outside. If anyone got suspicious, the prof would say, He looked upset, preoccupied. “Terrific,” he muttered.
He had to tell the others. This impacted them all. Would they burn another building? Would he tell them about the video? Joel would freak. No telling what the idiot would do.
Albert, he thought, would not be surprised. Albert knew someone else was there, that someone else had murdered the guard. Because they had not.
Like anyone would believe that. “We are so dead,” he whispered, then, still slumped against the wall, pulled out his own cell phone. The texter’s phone was in his pants pocket, set to vibrate. Couldn’t have that bastard chirping at him during lecture.
Meet me outside the library at noon, he typed, then addressed the text to Albert, Joel, and Mary. Before he could hit SEND, his cell vibrated. It was Mary. “What?”
“Oh God.” Her voice was unsteady, hollow. Scared. “Did you hear about Joel?”
His dread intensified. Had Joel told? Damn him. “Hear what?”
She sniffled and he realized she was crying. “He didn’t show up for class.”
Eric breathed a sigh of relief. Is that all? Mary was overreacting, as usual. Eric hadn’t wanted to include her from the beginning, but Joel had insisted. Being around Mary always left Eric feeling hyped up and edgy. He’d never understood why Joel was so stuck on her. The sex must be good. “He’s probably holed up in his room.”