Wayward Hearts by Susan Anne Mason Page A

like…” He paused as if unsure to continue.
    “Like what?”
    “Possible arson.”
    Jason’s mouth fell open. “Arson?”
    Steve nodded. “I’ve already called the inspector from Bismarck. He should be out here in the next couple of hours.”
    Jason’s mind raced, trying to make sense of the whole situation. Why would anyone want to burn down the North farm?
    “Heard you were the first one on the scene.” Steve pushed his pen through the graying hair over his ear.
    “That’s right. I’m the one who put the call in.”
    “According to the paramedics, you got the women out in good shape.”
    Jason straightened his shoulders, not sure where Steve was heading with the conversation. “I did my best. They’re both stable for now.”
    Steve narrowed his eyes. “Good job, rookie. Tough thing to handle on your own. Even tougher when you know the people involved.”
    “You have no idea.” Jason still grappled with his decision, whether he should’ve gotten Bernice out first because of her delicate health. But he’d gone with his gut, which usually ended up being the right call.
    “I wouldn’t go in the house right now unless absolutely necessary,” Steve called over his shoulder as he headed to his vehicle.
    “I need to get Mrs. North’s wheelchair and her medication. On the main level.”
    “Make it quick.”
    “Will do.”
    Jason bounded up to the porch, through the door and into the hallway, where he careened to a halt. The smell of rancid smoke curled around him like phantom arms. The fear that had gripped him as he’d raced up those stairs, not knowing if Maxi was alive or dead, now roared back with the force of a bulldozer.
    He could’ve lost her for good last night. He took a deep breath, steadied himself on the post at the foot of the stairs and determinedly squashed the uncomfortable sensation in his chest. Dwelling on what might have been was a colossal waste of time and energy.
    Instead he focused on the task. In Bernice’s room, he folded the wheelchair into a manageable position, grabbed the bottles of medication on the dresser, and headed back out. There was no point in trying to retrieve anything from Maxi’s room. Everything would either reek of smoke or be water logged.
    Jason stepped onto the porch and took a deep, cleansing breath. Shep raised his head off his paws and fixed Jason with a forlorn look. Poor dog had probably been outside all night.
    “Come on, boy. You’d better come home with me.”
    Shep stood up, gave a slight wag of his tail, and followed Jason to his truck.
    Lack of sleep caught up with Jason as he steered his vehicle home, fighting to keep his lids from drooping. He hoped his mother would be awake. He needed to run his idea past her before he approached Maxi. Shep followed him up the walkway to the front door of the bungalow.
    His mother stood in her blue bathrobe at the kitchen counter, pouring boiling water into the teapot. She eyed him and the dog and put the kettle down with a deliberate snap. “Why is there a dog in my kitchen?”
    Jason smiled and bent to kiss her cheek without answering.
    She frowned. “You look terrible. What happened?”
    “Sit, have your tea, and I’ll tell you.”
    Ma took two mugs from the cupboard, poured the tea, and brought them to the table where Jason sat with his head in his hands. He took the cup, grateful for its warmth.
    “There was a fire at the Norths’ farm last night.”
    “My goodness, no.” Alarm shot into his mother’s eyes. “Are Maxi and her family all right?”
    He nodded. “I got them out in time.”
    “You got them out? You were on duty?”
    “Actually, I was on my way home.” He explained what had happened and how Bernice and Maxi needed somewhere to stay for a while. “I was hoping you’d let them come here until the repairs on the house are done.”
    “Of course. They’re more than welcome.”
    “The dog, too?”
    She gave a mock scowl. “As long as he’s house broken. And as long as you