“No…” he whispered, staggering back a step. Mel. Everything of his life with his wife was still at that house. If the house went up in flames, he’d lose everything that was her.Chapter 23Rowe wasn’t listening. Noah had tried to convince Rowe to call the cops during the entire twenty-minute drive across town to the quiet, tree-lined neighborhood, but he flat-out refused. George’s death. The threat to his friends and business. Gidget’s betrayal and the dark questions surrounding her son. It all culminated to a single-minded focus: Catch the arsonists.
Not that Noah could blame him. He was ready to walk in with guns blazing, cutting down the pair if it meant bringing Rowe some peace. The problem was that Rowe wasn’t thinking clearly any longer and that made it far too easy for one of them to get killed.
It wasn’t until Rowe slowed the truck, parking it in on the street in front a quaint two-story house with dark brown shutters and dark red front door that Noah grew worried about what would happen to Rowe when he walked back inside that house. Would he lose himself to the memories of his wife?
Checking the glock holstered at his side, Noah slid out of the truck and followed close on Rowe’s heels as they briskly walked up the narrow sidewalk, the cracks filled in with weeds. The lawn was overgrown and the bushes along the front of the house needed to be trimmed back.
“How long has it been since you were last here?” Noah asked as Rowe paused at the front steps.
“Few months,” he bit out. He quickly motioned to the left. “You go around that side. I’ll go the other way. Check for signs of any kind of accelerants or cut wires.”
Noah nodded and quickly started around the house, running his hand over the rough brick, pausing here and there to check for any indication that someone might have crushed the nearby vegetation underfoot. But there was no sign that any intruder had stepped onto the property.
“Nothing,” he said as he met Rowe in the backyard. It was a medium-sized grassy area with a tall wooden privacy fence that had been stained a honey brown. The dogs must have loved running around here.
“Maybe we beat them,” he mumbled, but he didn’t sound particularly convinced. He pulled a key out of his pocket and handed it to Noah. “Go in through the front door. I’ll go through the back.”
Noah took the key and started back the way he’d come, but Rowe grabbed his arm, stopping him sharply. “Keep your eyes open.”
A ghost of a smile drifted across Noah’s lips but didn’t linger. Rowe’s concern was nice, but it wasn’t enough to plow through the tension digging deep lines through Rowe’s handsome face. The strain hanging in the air was a palpable thing, weighing down on them until Noah could barely draw in a full breath. The other man was hanging on by a thread and Noah was praying that he could hold it together a little bit longer.
Bounding up the front stairs, Noah used the key Rowe had given him and slipped silently into the house. At the same time, he heard another door open and close at the back of the house, announcing Rowe’s entrance. Noah stopped in the doorway to the living room and the air rushed out of his lungs as if he’d been punched hard in the gut. With a shaking hand, he reached out and braced himself on the edge of the pocket door, trying to hold himself up when his knees wanted to collapse.
Ian had warned him that the house was a mausoleum, but this…this was not what he’d been expecting.
A harsh, bitter laugh escaped him, echoing through the silence and he blinked back the sudden sting of tears. He’d been an idiot. A fucking idiot.
Before him lay not an empty room with shining hardwood floors and bare walls, but a house—no, a home—filled with furniture, rugs, lamps, books, pictures, and various knickknacks. Magazines were scattered across the coffee table, a multi-colored afghan was thrown over the back of the couch, and a pair of women’s running shoes sat beside one of the chairs. It was an entire life put on hold. Waiting.
“Hey! See anything?” Rowe barked, snapping Noah’s horror-filled gaze up to his harsh face.
“Too much,” he forced out past the lump in his throat.
“What are you talking about?”
“What the fuck, Rowe?” His companion made a face of confusion and Noah just threw his arms out to encompass the entire room, the entire house. “Is this your way of moving on?” He stepped a little farther into the room, anger putting him on stronger footing so that he could face his friend.
“It’s a long process.” Rowe started to turn away but Noah’s sharp voice stopped him.