Page 100 of Don't Burn Bridges
Seth’s relief lasted only a heartbeat before he noticed the flames creeping through the dry grass, drawing closer to the house and bunkhouse.
“We've gotta help with the fire.” Without waiting for an answer, he ran toward the others.
Shylo was right behind him.
By the time the volunteer fire department arrived, the Triple-R owners and employees had already extinguished the flames. Firefighters spent the next fifteen minutes hosing down the scorched grass and soaking the surrounding area to make sure no hidden embers could reignite.
Red and blue lights flashed across the ranch yard. Police officers moved from one person to the next, taking statements while paramedics checked everyone for injuries and smoke inhalation. Mya had already taken Ashley back inside, away from the lights, noise, and acrid smell of smoke. Off to one side, Troy's body lay covered with a white sheet as they waited for the coroner to arrive.
“I thought it was whoever was on watch,” Seth told Lane, “but they wouldn’t sneak around like he was. It was obvious he didn’t want to be seen.”
Shylo stepped beside him and held out a wet towel. “For your face.”
Only then did Seth realize how much soot, dirt, and blood had dried on his skin. “Thanks.”
He wiped his face and hands, the cool cloth soothing the stinging scrapes. When he lowered it, Shylo was still standing there, worry etched across her face. He wanted nothing more than to reassure her, but Lane was waiting.
“So, uh... yeah, he was staying in the shadows,” Seth said. “That's when I knew something was wrong.”
Lane jotted down another note while Seth absently wiped more soot from his hands with the damp towel. His attention drifted past the officer, taking in the activity around the yard. Firefighters were rolling up hoses. Paramedics moved from one person to the next. Shane was talking to Chief Hughes while Tucker stood nearby with several ranch hands, answering questions from another officer, Tad Winslow.
A nagging feeling took root low in Seth's gut. He scanned the yard again. Someone was missing.
Then it hit him. “Hey, where's Jamie?”
Lane looked up.
Shylo frowned and slowly turned, searching the yard herself. “I... I don't remember seeing him after I ran out of the house.”
Neither did Seth.
“Shane! Tucker!” he called. “Jamie's missing!”
Shane glanced around, and then his expression hardened. “Shit. Everybody spread out. Find Jamie.”
Without another word, everyone fanned out across the ranch. Ranch hands headed for the barns, bunkhouse, and equipment sheds while officers and firefighters searched around the house and parked vehicles. Everyone called Jamie's name as they disappeared in opposite directions.
Seth headed for the front porch. The ranch hands had spent most of their shifts there between rounds, and if Jamie had gone to investigate something, he'd likely have started from the front of the house.
There were no signs of a struggle. No flashlight lying in the grass. No movement beyond the porch.
He cut across the front yard toward the line of trees separating the small pasture from the county road. A few yards away, Shylo searched the same stretch of property, weaving between the trees as she called Jamie's name.
“Jamie!” Seth shouted.
The darkness beyond the trees offered no reply. Seth scanned the ground as he walked, his pulse climbing with every step. Please be okay.
“Jamie!”
Still nothing.
“Seth! Over here!”
He spun toward Shylo's voice.
She stood between two cottonwoods, staring down at the ground.
Seth broke into a run and slid to a stop beside her. Jamie lay crumpled at the base of the cottonwood, blood matting the hair above one temple.
