She knew the mental activity was a coping mechanism. It kept debilitating terror at arm’s length. She knew because the same thing had happened the night of the fire as she trudged through the darkness, lantern in hand like now. Again with the talk of fire. Before. After. And now—during ? Prayers formed again, too, darts flung skyward. God, keep us safe. God, keep Tuyen safe. I really don’t like Tuyen. I wish she hadn’t come. But Nana . . . God, keep rattlesnakes away. Mountain lions . . . Lexi wondered if Nathan Warner would contact her. Should she call him? He was nice. Easy to talk to. Easier than Zak. Zak the fireman was all about that night, that night of The Fire. Zak was during. They had tramped a different direction that night, to the east, a much farther distance from the house. There’d been no semblance of a path. No stars shone because of the smoke. “Tuyen!” Max shouted for the umpteenth time. Like someone in the middle of killing herself would yell back, “I’m over here!
