Fan the Flames by Katie Ruggle Page B

her forehead, she hid her face in the safe darkness of her folded arms. Her breath created a layer of condensation on the countertop. “Why can’t you just let me handle this by myself, like I’ve handled everything else in my life?”
    He touched her upper back, the heat from his palm soaking into her spine. “Why can’t you let me help?”
    Any physical contact was rare in her life, especially after her parents had died. The weight and warmth of his hand made her stomach clench with longing. How was she supposed to argue when he touched her like that?
    â€œPlease, Ian.” Even to her own ears, she sounded tired, defeated almost. “Give me one more night to figure out who it is.”
    He went still, then sighed. “Fine. One more night. After that, though, if they’re still coming around, you’ll just have to call me your roomie. I’m not going to stand by and watch you get hurt.”
    She couldn’t find any words. His protectiveness warmed her even as her instinctual response to him scared her silly. All she managed to do was groan.
    * * *
    Melvin, the UPS driver, brought the deer cameras just before noon. As soon as he drove away, she grabbed her toolbox, coat, and a ladder, and headed for the front entrance.
    After closing the gates, she set up two cameras along the top, pointing them down at different angles. To test the position, she stood in front of the gate and held her hand approximately six inches above her head. It might’ve been a sexist assumption, but she was fairly sure her intruder had been a man. Grabbing the memory stick after the cameras took several pictures, she hurried inside to download the contents onto the shop computer.
    The camera on the left side needed a slight adjustment. After that, the second round of pictures were clear shots with her hand centered in the frames. The second pair of cameras went in two spots on her west fence, pointed into the trees.
    Only one customer, George Holloway, interrupted her installation, but he just wanted to pick up the laser sights she’d special ordered for him. To her relief, he was his usual taciturn self and didn’t want to hang around to chat. Usually, Rory didn’t mind talking with her customers, but she wanted to get the cameras set up before dark. The threat of Ian Walsh invading her bunker hung over her head, providing even more motivation to figure out who the trespasser was that night.
    By the time she’d finished hanging and checking the cameras, it was late afternoon. The light was fading, and the cameras flashed with each test shot. Rory was happy with them, though—the resolution was great and the pictures crisp.
    Giving them one final, satisfied look, she headed for the coop to tuck in the chickens for the night. Jack ran ahead, his tail swinging. That afternoon, he’d been torn between his responsibilities, trotting back and forth between Rory’s ladder and the poultry, his ears flat with anxiety. Now, with his feathered charges safely perched in the coop, he relaxed and bounded through the snow.
    Rory smiled as she watched him play. Although exhaustion still pulled at her, she felt a little more relaxed with the cameras in place. Just one more night, and, with any luck, she’d have a face to put on the shadowy figure she’d seen in the woods. The intruder obviously knew where her security cameras were; he’d avoided them since that first night. Plus, anything out of the limited area illuminated by the lights at the gate blended into the night. With the deer cameras, by the time the flash went off and the trespasser realized his picture had been taken, it’d be too late for him to prevent it.
    With a surge of renewed energy, she bounced through the new drifts left by the previous night’s winds. Now all she had to do was wait for him to show.
    * * *
    The alarm never sounded that night.
    Although Rory was disappointed that her trespasser