Page 26 of When the Smoke Clears

“I’m thinking it might be nothing—just some weird coincidence. Or…” His voice trails off, letting the word hang there between us.

“Or?” I push.

“Or it’s possibly someone with an axe to grind.” He leans forward, forearms braced on the table. “Problem is, we have no clue about her life now. Isla might have a jealous ex-boyfriend or a crazed stalker for all we know.”

The mention of “Isla” and “boyfriend” in the same breath lights up something irrational in my chest. My fists clench before I can stop them.

“You could help with that,” I say tightly.

He leans back in his worn leather seat, the creak barely audible over the low hum of conversation and clinking glass. “You’ve never asked me to look into her before.”

I scratch the back of my neck, suddenly aware of how big this feels. “And I’m only doing it now because I have a gut feeling she’s in trouble.”

He smirks. “You know you’re asking me to break the law?”

“Since when have you had a problem operating outside the law?”

He scoffs. “I don’t. But I’m not a cop. I’ve just been respecting your boundaries, Sheriff.”

He’s right. I like things clean, above board. It’s how I’m built. But I can’t help Isla if I don’t know what she’s mixed up in.

My best friend’s a great hacker, and his military background gives him sharp instincts. If he thinks something’s off, too, I’d be an idiot not to listen.

I lean in closer over the worn wooden table. “I want you to find out as much as you can.”

“Okay,” he replies with a grin. “It’s gonna cost you another beer.”

I huff out a laugh and lift my hand to signal Randy, the burly bartender with the bushy mustache, for another round.

Gabe’s expression shifts, his eyes narrowing. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah.”

“What exactly happened the night of the fire?”

The question catches me off guard. We haven’t gone there in years. Ever, really.

But if we’re going to dig into Isla’s life, it feels like everything is suddenly on the table.

“If you don’t want to get into it, I get it,” Gabe adds. “I left for basic right after, and we never really dealt with it.”

“I don’t open up to anyone about it,” I admit, the words coming out rough. “But maybe I should.”

“I’m all ears, brother.” He leans back, eyes fixed on me, like he’s bracing for impact.

“Part of the problem is I don’t know what exactly happened,” I say. “That’s why it’s always bothered me.”

He nods silently, giving me space.

I take a deep breath, but the memory still steals half of it away. “I went to her house that night, and it was billowing with smoke. I couldn’t get to her, so I smashed in her window. She was lying there on the floor, unconscious. I dragged her out and rushed her to the hospital.”

I pause, taking a long sip of beer. “I didn’t know if she was dead or alive.”

Gabe blows out a long breath. “Jesus.”

“She regained consciousness after a few hours at the hospital. They told me I could see her in about an hour, so I paced the waiting room, driving everyone crazy with my nervous energy until they finally let me in her room.” I toss my wadded-up cocktail napkin onto the table. “And when I went in, she was gone.”

He straightens. “Just gone? Just like that? No note? No explanation?”