His eyes were now sandpaper-gritty. He checked his watch, stood, and made his way over to Angie and Cookie. One of the three Polish staff members—he couldn’t remember her name—gave him a worried glance. He stayed until he could see both injured women breathing.

He thought again about Darby. She said the arsonist used the words no way. It was interesting that Liam used those words all the time. He’d have to ask Darby if there was a correlation between the spoken and written words.

When the FBI report had come back, he briefly considered Liam. The profiler wrote they should look for a white male twenty-five to thirty-five years old who had a low-paying job or wasn’t employed. Liam was only twenty-two, but he did have a series of low-paying jobs.

To be honest, it wasn’t just the age difference that gave Bram pause. He didn’t want to consider the sheriff’s only child might be a serial arsonist—and if so, chances were high she knew it. Liam’s mother couldn’t have read “no way” in the letters and not thought of her son.

Her comment about the recall petition being “for the best” also fit with Liam being the suspect. If she was forced to move and take her son with her, maybe she hoped a new setting would curb his desire to set fires.

The problem was that if Liam set fires to get even with her, moving away with him would only change the landscape of the arsons, not stop the arson. Mother and son were toxic to each other.

Where did that leave him? If Liam was the arsonist, it didn’t change the facts of their situation. They still needed to ride for help. He’d just need to keep an eagle eye on the man.

He looked at his watch again, then moved to Wyatt, stretched out between an easy chair and ottoman near the back door. “Wake up, old man,” he whispered. “Shift change.”

Wyatt stood and stretched. “What time are we heading out?”

“The sun will rise around seven. We need to organize who’s going and who’s staying, then saddle the horses. I’d say give it an hour. There’s fresh coffee in the kitchen.”

Wyatt moved away and Bram took his chair. It felt as if he’d barely closed his eyes when Wyatt announced, “Wake up, folks, we need to get moving.”

The muttering and groaning ceased as each was reminded of their predicament. Wyatt walked to where everyone could see him. “Ladies and gentlemen, listen up. The sun will rise in less than an hour. Three of us, Bram, myself, and—”

“Me.” Darby stood at the opening to the dining room.