0373447477 (R) by Shirlee McCoy Page B

in his voice. There never was.
    “I don’t...” His voice trailed off as a plume of smoke snaked up from the western edge of the field. “There,” he pointed, but Chance had already seen it.
    “That can’t be coincidental.”
    “Neither can that,” Malone said, pointing to another plume, this one billowing up from the area he’d just walked. “They’re flushing her out.”
    “Stella?”
    “Who else could it be? I’m going in. You go back to the house.”
    “We’re both going in. August knows how to take care of himself and his sister.” He hoped, because he’d made keeping Quinn safe his business, and he never backed down once he made up his mind to do something.
    Chance darted into the cornfield, following a trail of broken and smashed stalks. Smoke snaked through the plants, curling up toward the sky in twirling black fingers. Malone could see flames eating along the plants a hundred yards away, the blaze moving rapidly.
    Not good.
    Chance had to know it, but he was plunging forward anyway, his focus on the tracks and whatever he was hoping to find at the end of them.
    Stella alive. Unhurt.
    That was the goal, but she’d never gone radio silent for this long. Not without forewarning.
    “There!” Chance shouted, his voice hoarse from smoke and running, and Malone could see it—the Jeep, surrounded by corn stalks, the driver’s door open.
    “Stella!” he shouted, racing toward the vehicle a step behind his boss. Her purse was on the seat, her cell phone lying on the ground near the open door. Chance grabbed the purse, checking its contents. “Firearm is missing.”
    Malone snatched up the cell phone, saw an unsent message, partially written. Blue Toyota Camry has passed the house twi
    “Looks like she spotted someone and planned to send you a text. She got interrupted.”
    “And now she’s somewhere in this mess,” Chance muttered. “Go back to the house,” he continued. “Get August and Quinn out. I’ll contact you when I have Stella.”
    He plunged into the cornstalks, fighting his way through tangled plant growth.
    Malone could have let him go. Chance was smart, driven and tough, but he was acting on emotion, and that could get a person killed. Malone grabbed the back of his jacket, yanking him to a stop.
    “Don’t be a fool, Chance. There’s no way you’re going to find her by—”
    “I won’t if I keep standing here discussing it with you,” Chance spat.
    “You won’t find her by running off without a plan,” he finished, his words as calm as he could make them.
    “I have a plan. You go. I’ll stay.” He jerked away, angrier than Malone had ever seen him. “That’s a direct order, Malone. You disobey it, and you’re off the team.”
    “Then I guess I’m off the team, because I’m not leaving you to burn to death in this mess,” he responded, following Chance deeper into the cornfield, fire snapping at their heels.

SIX
    T hick and acrid smoke filled Quinn’s nose as she ran toward the burning cornfield. Malone was in there. So was Chance.
    “What do you think you’re doing?” August growled, grabbing her shoulder, spinning her around so rapidly she almost toppled.
    “Going after Malone and Chance.”
    “They’re smart. They’ll find their way out. When they do, we’re not going to be the reason they run back in.”
    She knew he was right.
    She’d had dozens of firefighters in her classrooms over the years, teaching kids about fire safety. Never go back into the house. Your parents will find you outside.
    Never go back in for a pet.
    A toy.
    A man who’d saved your life?
    She’d do that, because she couldn’t sit around hoping for the best.
    She tried to yank out of her brother’s hold, but he had a grip like steel. He shoved her into the backseat of the SUV, slamming the door before she could right herself.
    “Don’t move,” he ordered as he opened the driver’s door and climbed in. “You get out of this vehicle again, and I’ll truss you up like