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the chest, slowing his momentum, but, as he reeled off balance, his shoulder caught hers, bouncing Dani
back against the kitchen counter. Hard fingers sank into her arm and panic exploded. He was close
enough that she could feel the heat from his body, smell the sharp scent of sweat. Acting purely on
instinct, Dani grabbed the flashlight, which was placed on the counter and brought it smashing down on
his head.
With a guttural snarl, he released his hold and clutched at the side of his face.
Fingers numbed, but still locked in a death grip on the flashlight, Dani lunged for the door. Halfway
across the room a hand caught at the fabric of her shirt. Jerking free, she threw the flashlight. The glare of
the beam flashed over his blacked-out face, already lit by the glow of the fire a macabre freeze frame
as he ducked and kept coming. In desperation, Dani put the width of the kitchen table between them and
grasped at the only other object in reach, a broom propped against the wall, but before she could swing
it, a dark form rocketed past her. Carter.
The two men caromed against the far wall, then reeled back, a blur of movement as they smashed into
the table, sending it sliding into the wall. The thud of flesh on flesh was followed by a grunt and the hiss of
laboured breathing. A chair was overturned, another splintered as both men went down. A split second
later, Carter rolled to his feet and the two men engaged again.
Pulse pounding, and keeping clear of the brawling men, Dani inched around the kitchen until her fingers
closed on the fire extinguisher. She didn t know if it would work it had been stored in the same
cupboard for years but she had to try.
Picking up the flashlight on the way, she raced into the lounge. Smoke and heat filled the room. Several
fires had been set and flames had already consumed the drapes on all of the windows and were licking at
faded and peeling wallpaper. The old horsehair sofa the only antique Docherty had refused to take, and
the only remaining piece of furniture in the room smouldered against one wall, refusing to burn. If it had
been made of modern materials by now the room would have been an inferno.
Eyes stinging, lungs burning, Dani dropped the flashlight, wrenched the plastic safety guard off the
extinguisher and depressed the lever. Her fear that the device wouldn t work dissolved as powdery white
chemical blasted the nearest fire, instantly extinguishing the flames and coating the charred wall in a thick
residue. Systematically, she worked her way around the room, putting out the fires, aware that the
chemical wouldn t last more than a few seconds, leaving the sofa until last. When the canister was
exhausted, she backed, choking and coughing from the room. Emptied of most of its furniture,
smoke-blackened and charred, it bore little resemblance to the elegant reception room it once had been.
Blue and red lights flickered through the hallway. Blankly, Dani registered the wail of a siren. The fire
engine had finally arrived. And so had Murdoch.
Dropping the extinguisher, she picked up the flashlight and stepped into the kitchen. At first glance the
room was filled with uniformed police and firemen. Someone had lit a lamp, and the soft glow revealed
the extent of the damage. Chairs were smashed beyond repair the table had a crack clear down its
centre. Shards of crockery and the contents of the first aid kit littered the floor, and the pantry door was
hanging off its hinges, displaying the fact that several shelves had collapsed.
A dark form was lying unmoving on the floor. Carter stepped through the chaos, lifted the man s head
and jerked off the balaclava.
His face was battered, one eye already swelling, but his features were easily recognisable.
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George Lynch.
She had known Lynch for years, ever since he d bought a seaside cottage, but she d never paid him
much attention. Now she registered the scar under one eye, the faint bend to his nose where it had been
broken. For a split second time wavered, the sense of déjà vu disorienting, the old fear, visceral and
fresh.
She remembered the wreckage of his face twenty-two years ago aftershe had hit him, the flat glitter of
his gaze. Then, he had barely registered her existence, but she remembered him. George Lynch.
Carter caught her hand and pulled her close. Real name, Jordan Carlisle.
Dani leaned into Carter s strength. Her father. The one piece of information she had always resisted
knowing, that Susan had never wanted to discuss because she had been protecting Dani.
Lynch/Carlisle s eyes flickered, caught on hers and settled into a cold stare, and suddenly she knew
what else he d done.
Youwere driving the truck.
After years of trying, he had finally succeeded; he had killed Susan.
Chapter 18
Murdoch crouched down and checked Carlisle s condition. A one-man crime wave. Isn t that right,
Carlisle?
Dani s stomach twisted as a flood of old memories renewed themselves. He was driving the truck.
Murdoch s gaze connected with hers, and she saw the moment he registered exactly what
Lynch/Carlisle had done.
Sadness and the remnants of grief shivered through her. She had held herself responsible for the
accident, but there was no way she could have avoided Carlisle; he had been aiming for the car.
Carter didn t have to ask what Dani meant. With Dani there was only one truck the six-wheeler that
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