Her Holiday Family. Ruth Logan Herne

Max, did you see anything?”

      “Other than Tina? No.”

      He directed the light toward her. She flushed.

      “Me, neither. So whoever it was didn’t hang around tonight, but I don’t like that he or she hightailed it up here toward Dad’s store when he thought he’d been spotted.”

      “Me, neither. I could start sleeping here. Add an ounce of Fort Bragg protection to the local mix.”

      “Mom would go crazy with that. And Dad would worry, and the last thing we want to do is make Dad worry.”

      “No argument there. So what do we do?”

      “For now, go home.” Tina offered the suggestion as she turned back toward Overlook Drive. “Although the likelihood of getting more sleep is pretty much impossible now.”

      “Because?” Max left the comment open-ended, hoping for the right answer. She supplied it, and wasted no time doing it.

      “There’s only one reason someone would be poking around the ashes of my hard work,” she answered quickly, and he read the thick emotion in her voice. “And that’s because they’re looking for evidence that puts them at the scene of the fire. Which means the supposition of arson just became a reality in my head.”