Get the hell out of the house, Mara. Please. Get the hell out.
Hopping into his SUV, he drove like a madman toward Amesport. He tried to call her again and again as he raced toward her house, hoping like he’d never hoped for anything before that he wouldn’t get there too late.
After notifying the emergency operator that there was smoke in her bedroom, and that it was possible that her house was on fire, Mara hesitated, her mind still trying to process what was happening. She snatched her mother’s wedding ring from her jewelry box and grabbed the folder from her underwear drawer that contained critical papers like her birth certificate and some pictures, just in case. She had just turned to escape her upstairs bedroom and try to figure out where exactly the fire was located on her way outside when all hell broke loose.
The smoke was already heavy, but she’d been certain she’d have time to flee. She hadn’t actually seen flames, but she saw them now as timbers came crashing down with a deafening roar, preventing her from exiting the house as what was apparently a portion of the roof collapsed, leaving the doorway to her bedroom blocked.
Trapped! Holy hell. This isn’t a small fire or smoking old wiring like I thought it was.
The gravity of the situation hit her like a rockslide, making her move automatically into survivor mode. Dropping to her knees where the smoke wasn’t as heavy, she crawled toward the door, her heart hammering in her chest as she felt the heat of the flames. Examining her options and trying not to hyperventilate, she realized there was no way out except straight through the fire. Her desperate, smoke-irritated eyes scanned the doorway frantically, finding her only escape route right in the middle of the door frame, a hole large enough for her body to get through. However, she had no idea what was happening on the other side of the door. How much of the roof had come down? Was she going to jump directly into more flames? Would she actually be leaping into her own death?
Don’t panic. The fire department is coming.
Unfortunately, from the way the flames were now voraciously consuming the house, she knew she didn’t have time to wait for them. Her life clock was ticking, and she could feel it with every frenzied beat of her heart. Mara clambered on her hands and knees to the bed and ripped off the comforter, standing when it was finally off the bed. There was no water source for her to use to dampen the heavy material. The house was old, and it didn’t have a bathroom connected to the master bedroom.
She already knew the window was a no-go. She was too high up. If the fall didn’t kill her, she’d certainly have some broken bones and other injuries. There was absolutely nothing to cling to on the side of the house. It would be a direct drop.
I have to get out of here. I have to get out of here.
She’d made a critical error in not fleeing immediately, but since she hadn’t seen flames, she’d thought the fire or smoke was contained to one area upstairs. Apparently . . . it wasn’t. Maybe those extra moments that she’d used to alert the emergency operator would have saved her. Or possibly not, and the roof would have come down on top of her as she made her escape. Her mind was murky from shock, and her entire body shook as she considered her options, her horrified stare fixed on her only means of escape as she dropped the folder she had paused to retrieve and shoved her mother’s wedding ring into the small pocket of her pj’s.
Doesn’t matter now. Just get the hell out or you won’t be alive to need any of it.
With the roof partially collapsed, Mara knew anything could happen in a heartbeat now. The rest of the ceiling could topple, cutting off any means of escape or killing her painfully.
Do it. Just do it. You have to take the risk or die.
Using the comforter as protection, she wrapped it around her body and covered most of her head before taking a leap of faith into the fire at the bedroom door, hoping that she’d be safe on the other side.
CHAPTER 7
If there was one thing Evan Sinclair detested, it was incompetence.