Closing the notebook, she sat there a moment thinking about what she’d found out tonight. Even though the news of her uncle’s secret case had surprised her, she had a different feeling toward it now. Hope had been a real person to him, a woman whose dreams and desires had been cut short by a killer. He wanted justice for her, and he’d tried to give it to her. Now he might not get to do that. Before, she’d felt only worry for her uncle, but now she understood a little better how much this case had meant to him. She was glad to think that Seth could continue her uncle’s work. She’d turn the notebook over to him when he came by in the morning.
She took the last drink of her milk and was about to return the notebook to its drawer when the sound of shattering glass from the direction of the kitchen ripped through the house.
She bolted to her feet and glanced wildly around to see if anyone came charging into the den. Another crash split the air, and a new fear engulfed her. She grabbed the edge of the desk to steady herself. Hissing and popping sounds mixed with the odor of an accelerant could only mean one thing.
Someone had thrown a fire bomb into the house.
Cold fear washed over her as smoke curled around the corner of the door. Callie grabbed the notebook and ran from the room toward the house’s front door. Before she could reach it, another firebomb crashed through the window to the right of the door. A trail of flames fanned across the entry as a combustible liquid spread across the floor. Another bomb slammed through the window to the left of the door. With a loud whooshing sound a giant wall of fire rose to cut off her exit.
She clutched the notebook to her chest and stared in horror as she realized her escape routes had both been cut off. It only took her a moment to remember what Uncle Dan had taught her years ago when she’d come to live with him.
Holding tightly to the notebook, she dashed up the staircase into her room. She raised the window and stepped out onto the roof of the garage that joined the house at a ninety-degree angle. Uncle Dan, always mindful of her safety, had assigned her this bedroom so she would have an easy escape route in case of a fire on the ground floor.
Callie climbed out the window onto the roof and ran to the end where she shimmied down the gutter drainpipe at the corner of the garage. When she was on the ground, she ran to the back of the yard before she stopped and stared at the house now engulfed in flames.
Tears ran down her face as she pulled her cell phone from her pocket and dialed 911. “Nine-one-one,” the operator’s voice answered. “What is your emergency?”
“My house is on fire!” she screamed.
“Are you at 1901 Willow Springs Road?”
“Yes.”
“Help is already on the way. Someone called it in.”
In the distance she could hear the sirens, and she relaxed. “Thank you. I hear them. They’re almost here.”
Callie disconnected the call and stared at the house where she’d grown up being devoured by flames. Someone was determined to make Uncle Dan suffer. First they’d shot him, then tried to kill him in the Critical Care Unit, and now they’d burned his house down. What more could they do to him?
Her eyes grew wide as the truth hit her like a bolt of lightning. Uncle Dan hadn’t been home, and they knew it. They hadn’t come with the intention of hurting him. She was the one they were after. She could identify the person who’d tried to kill her uncle, and someone didn’t intend for that to happen.
What more could they do to Dan Lattimer? They could kill his niece.