Green-Eyed Monster by Gill McKnight

Mercifully, it would not be her killer. She would not burn to death. No, she would merely drown in thick smoke.
    “Hey! You can’t go in there,” a man’s voice was calling out.
    “The fire crew’s on its way. Hey, you. Wait.” Gunshots rang out deep in the woods. Panicked cries, and then someone was standing beside her. A strong body brushed past her, wheezing, gasping in the acrid gloom. She heard a clank, the screech of metal levered on metal. And then her hands were free, she could pull the cuffs away from the stove. A loud thump as the lever was dumped on the floor. Clumsily, she reached out to her rescuer as a wrenching wail, almost human in its sadness, filled the room around them. A resounding crash, and a scorching wave of heat flooded the small kitchen. Part of the cabin’s structure had collapsed, and soon, the rest would disintegrate on top of them.
    Strong hands scrabbled for her chained ones. She recognized them as Mickey’s. Mickey had come back for her! Into this death trap! They clung together for an instant, both sucking in the clean air that rode on the back of the structural collapse. It was a small reprieve. Flames would find this new fuel, and find them, too.
    Now their enemy was fire, not smoke. Victoria could already feel heat flaying her skin. The rear of the building was in flames, blocking the exit. They had to move, but there was no way out.
    Groping through billowing blindness, Victoria lurched forward, dragging Mickey behind her.
    Five paces to the door, where the tiles turned to hallway carpet. The heat here was worse, but not unbearable.
    Six paces along the hall to the garage door. Please let the garage still be sound. Please don’t let it be a burning wreck. She inched the door open. There was no rush of heat. It was cooler, with less smoke, but still total darkness.
    Fourteen paces now, to cross the floor to the window where the sun had poured in on her first day.
    Mickey seemed to sense where Victoria had brought her.
    She elbowed through the small window, punching out the sharp shards, blood running down her forearm.
    Victoria was suddenly lifted bodily and pushed through the opening, until she dropped onto the scorched grass below. She had barely time to draw a cool, clean breath when Mickey landed on top of her.
    She lay in a dazed heap, sucking in rasping lungfuls of air when paramedics and police swarmed over her, pulling her clear of the burning building. She was immediately bundled on a gurney and surrounded by the emergency crew. She glanced over anxiously. Mickey had staggered to her feet pushing away helping hands.
    “Careful.” A gentle hand steadied Victoria’s shoulder. “Lie back. Let me fit this mask—”
    A shot rang out in the woods. Everyone instinctively ducked. But not Mickey. Victoria saw her standing upright even as everyone dived for cover. A second shot, and more scrabbling from the police and paramedics before it became clear the shooting was too far away to be dangerous.
    Victoria lurched upright on the gurney, searching for Mickey through the milling uniforms, blue flashing lights, and swirling smoke. But she had disappeared in a blink, like a magician’s assistant.

Chapter Eight
    “And so, Ms. Gresham…” Detective Spacek continued to report from the foot of her hospital bed. He used the bored drone he’d adopted days ago, when he’d obviously realized his investigation was never going to get anywhere. “After that, we apprehended Ginette Felstrom running around in the woods.  She claimed to be disoriented and suffering from amnesia.  Forensics showed she had discharged a firearm within the past forty-eight hours, but the weapon has so far not been located. It probably never will be if she just dropped it in the woods during her wandering.” His mouth pulled a particularly sour twist, as if he were sucking on something incredibly unpleasant. Victoria coolly observed his discomfort as she sat plumped up on starched white pillows in a