Chase slipped around behind her, pulling her tight.
“Sky-lar and Chase forever!”
She smiled, leaning against him.
“Sky-lar and Chase. Forever and ever and ever!”
And she knew that it would be so.
Keep reading for an excerpt from Wyoming Mountain Investigation by Juno Rushdan.
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Wyoming Mountain Investigation
by Juno Rushdan
Prologue
Wild Horse Ranch
Located between Laramie and Bison Ridge, Wyoming
July 3
Fifteen years earlier
Sprinting as fast as possible, lungs burning, he ran full-out from the clearing into the dark forest to be sure no one saw him. Once well in the woods, he stopped and leaned against a tree. Heart pounding, he caught his breath.
Beneath black clothes, he sweated from exertion. From the sweltering July night despite the strong breeze. From anticipation pumping in his veins. From fear that his plan might not work.
Come on. It should be an inferno by now. What was taking so long?
Another full minute ticked by. The big house should’ve gone up like dry kindling.
What had he done wrong? Did he need more accelerant? Should he go back to check?
Patience. Just wait.
Looking past the horse stable and two cabins of sleeping teens, he stared at the main house on the hill where Dave and Mabel Durbin lived. He’d made sure no one could help the unsuspecting Durbins. First, he’d locked the doors of the summer camp cabins and then the bunkhouse that was located far behind the stable. The barracks-like building was full of men who worked on the ranch.
Sweat dripped down his face and body, collecting everywhere on his skin. He clenched his jaw, his breath still coming hard from his chest, his nerves strung tight.
A gust of wind whipped through the dry leaves, rattling the brittle branches of the trees overhead. On the hill, smoke rose in the air, the smell filling his nose. Finally, the fire was taking hold. Flames burst to life on the house with a crackle that swelled to a roar. Like a supernatural monster, crimson and gold, it clawed and crawled its way up the sides of the house.
More perspiration rolled down his face, stinging his eyes. He lifted his mask and wiped his face with a gloved hand, but caution had him pull it back down just in case.
The fire blazed bright now, pulsing with hunger, growing bigger and hotter, spreading across the roof. He stared with grim satisfaction.
So beautiful. Powerful. Hypnotic against the pitch-black sky.
His creation. He’d been the one to give it life and set it loose.
A sudden gust of dry wind, bearing hard from the north, swept over the house, fanning the flames. Carrying sparks on the breeze to nearby trees. Glowing embers rained from the branches, falling on the two cabins. It wasn’t long until the timbers of both roofs caught fire. The flames swirled and swelled, slithering down the walls, burning faster than he imagined possible. Much faster than the main house.
This wasn’t part of his plan. A few of those sleeping teens trapped inside were innocent. The rest he blamed even more than the Durbins. He’d intended to make them suffer, too, once they were older and had more to lose than just their lives.
Fate was intervening, making it happen sooner rather than later. In a way they were all to blame. Guilt by association. The fire would make them pay. Without remorse. Without mercy. It would punish those responsible. This was sweet vengeance.
After tonight, the summer camp on the ranch would close forever.
He smiled, excitement bubbling in his chest. Watching the flames do what was necessary, he was enthralled. No. He was in love. This was the best high of his life. Better than playing football and scoring touchdowns. Better than sex.
If only he’d known what a thrill this would be, he would’ve done it sooner. For Timothy...and for Birdie.
There weren’t any screams yet. The cabins weren’t up to code and didn’t have smoke detectors. No alarms to wake them. Maybe the smoke would kill them in their sleep before the flames. Not quite the punishment or death he’d wanted for them. They deserved much worse.
Twigs snapped, hurried footsteps trampling the earth. He spun in the direction of movement—to his left in the woods. Two figures raced toward the clearing.
