There was just enough illumination from the attached bathroom’s night-light to cast a shadow around Connie. She stood in a daze as if still not comprehending that they needed to leave.
“Sweetheart, get dressed,” Trace said in a hurry. He bent down and snatched up his discarded T-shirt from the night before and tossed it to her.
She finally started moving, and he dashed to the bedroom door again and touched it. Hot. Carefully, he also touched the doorknob, which was hotter. That was when he noticed the smoke seeping in beneath the door.
“Damn. Sweetheart, we gotta get out of here.”
He yanked the covers from the bed and pushed them against the bottom of the door, then headed to the window overlooking the backyard. There was a short drop to the ground. He’d have no problem making it, but it might be a bit much for Connie.
“Trace?”
“Grab your purse. We have to go out this way.” Nothing else might be salvageable.
“But...”
Trace opened the window, punched out the screen and stuck his head out. This was one of those times when he was glad the light on Connie’s garage wasn’t on. Seeing no one, he pulled his head back into the room. The sleepiness on Connie’s face seconds ago—gone. Now there was fear.
At least she had put on the T-shirt. It also looked like she might’ve slipped on a pair of shorts. He had no idea what was in the backpack that she held, but he was glad she was finally moving.
“I’m going to jump first, and I need you to be right behind me, all right?”
Trace hated the idea of leaving her in the house, even for a second. But if they were going to get out of there in one piece, he had to go first.
“But—”
“This is the only way out,” he said before she could ask anything. “We gotta move. Now.”
“Okay. Okay,” she said, rocking from side to side and wringing her hands.
“Don’t wait. Follow me out immediately,” he demanded.
When Trace started climbing out of the window and glanced back at her, she was still looking around the room.
“Now, Connie.”
Trace put his legs through the window opening before sliding the rest of his body out. Gripping the sill, he dangled for a second, then dropped to the ground with a soft touch. He glanced up. Connie tossed the backpack and he caught it and quickly put it on.
Then Trace saw that she was out the window and hanging on the sill.
“Come on, sweetie,” he whispered loud enough for only her to hear. “Just drop. I got you.”
Connie did as he said and fell into his arms. She was such a lightweight. He didn’t bother lowering her to the ground, especially since she had on flip-flops.
Trace carried her, ignoring her whispered protests to be put down. She changed tactics, questioning him about where they were going, but he still didn’t respond. He positioned her in a fireman’s carry over his shoulder. Once he had a good hold of her, he took off in a run across her graveled backyard. No way was he going to the front of the house; whoever had started the fire would be watching.
Trace cut through the yard of the neighbor directly across from hers, glad there was no fence. Connie’s grip on the back of his shirt tightened as he ran through yards, between houses and down sidewalks, trying to stay in the shadows.
He heard a dog’s barking from nearby and sirens blared in the distance as Trace picked up speed.
“Trace, stop. Put me down,” Connie insisted, her voice raspy and her breaths coming in short spurts, as if she’d been the one running.
“Not yet.”
It had to be uncomfortable for her, the way he was bumping her around, but it couldn’t be helped. He glanced back over his shoulder to make sure no one was following them. There was no way she’d be able to keep up in flip-flops. Besides, they needed to get at least another block or two from the house.
At that time of the morning, the streets were quiet and the houses were dark. That was working in their favor, at least until they got closer to a main street in the neighborhood. Needing to stay in the shadows, Trace stuck with the side streets and headed for a low-rise apartment complex that was nearby. Connie was quiet, but her grip on the back of his shirt had tightened.
His breaths were coming hard and fast as adrenaline coursed through his veins. A little farther and then he could stop.
Trace had never been so glad to find yards that didn’t have fences. When they were a few blocks from her house, he stopped near a tall stucco building, pulled his phone from his pocket and called his brother.
“Where are you?” Langston’s voice boomed through the phone, and Trace gave him their location.
“I’m two minutes away, but stay on the line.”
“Okay.”
Connie shivered next to him, and Trace didn’t miss the way she kept swiping at her eyes. His heart ached for her. She’d been through enough the last week to last a lifetime...and now this.
What he saw the first time he’d looked back had propelled him to keep moving. Smoke billowed above Connie’s home. Yellow-and-orange flames poured from the windows and kissed the sky. He prayed the fire didn’t touch another home, but at the moment, his number one goal was to keep Connie safe.
Trace wrapped his arm around her and held her close. “It’s going to be okay,” he said.
