Fifteen
A crowd gathered in the street, some crying for
others to call the fire department, others yelling back that the call had
been made. Lori stood on the front porch with her arms about Wendy and
Leslie's shoulder. Together, they waited helplessly for the arrival of
the fire trucks and watched in horror as the house across the street
burned to the ground.
Fire coiled from beneath the overhang of the roof. An intense glare shone through the bare windows.
Smoke thickened and obscured the flames until the glass shattered, and
then tongues of fire and smoke rolled into the night sky.
The entire house burned like a giant candle. A wall
caved in, and the roof toppled to one side. A vast cloud of burning
embers exploded into the sky and fell on Sorrel like a rain of meteors.
Two small fire trucks arrived. Rather than try to
extinguish the blaze itself, they parked a safe distance down the block
and trained their hoses on Carol's roof and on smoldering pine trees
nearby. In time, the intensity of the fire began to die. Only a skeletal
framework of the house survived, and that caved into the cellar to smolder
for the rest of the night. Ruddy light flickered from the depths of the
basement like a door opened onto hell itself.
The street became crowded with silent spectators
dressed in pajamas and robes, mostly elderly citizens of Sorrel watching
in stoic silence, strangely acquiescent to the conflagration, as if the
fire symbolized the funeral pyre of the woman who had owned the house for
forty years and who would have preferred to die with it.
A familiar figure emerged from the crowds and the
growing collection of state and county police cars with their flashing
blue and red lights. Trent Scarelli stopped at the foot of the porch and
gave Lori a weary smile. "Any idea of what may have started the fire?
Did you see anyone about tonight?"
Lori gave a shake of her head. She knew full well
who had started the fire and why, but to confide in the handsome deputy
now would be at Carol's expense.
"It's bad enough watching the old folks dying off
without having to watch their homes burn as well." He turned to watch the
dwindling flames for a time. "The fire was set. I'm not sure how much
sense I can make of an arson, but it should be interesting to check into
Mrs. Robinson's affairs for an idea of who might stand to profit."
Trent was playing cat and mouse games. He knew about
the drug search of Carol's house. He was aware of the coincidence of the
fire and the possibility of a connection, and he was giving her time to
fall prey to the temptation to confide in him. He looked frustrated when
she turned away, pushed Wendy and Leslie back into the house, and locked
the door behind her.
Lori took the balance of the week to gather the
courage to phone Carol and tell her of the fire.
"Then they think that stuff has been destroyed,”
Carol said. “I can come home now."
Lori had already mulled over their remaining
options. "I'll get back to you in a day or two. I have an idea."
Early Sunday morning, she sent Wendy and Leslie to
the pool at the nearby county park and called both Amy and Karen over to
the house. With the twins snoozing in the bedroom, Lori made coffee and
briefed them on Carol's affair with Ruben and the presence of the drugs in
the basement. "We were waiting for Ruben to come back for the drugs and
leave. If his friends think they have destroyed the drugs, it might be
safe for Carol to return home, except that those packages need to be moved
elsewhere, just in case Ruben comes back for them."
"Now I understand why you were so adamant about
including Carol in our agreement," Karen said. "I'm shocked Carol managed
to put herself in such a terrible situation. I can't believe you lied to
those horrible men. What if they find out they burned the wrong house?"
"Who's going to tell them? They made their mistake.
They're gone. If Ruben hears of the fire, he won't have any reason to
come back either."
"And if he does?"
"He'll tread mighty carefully. If he confronts
Carol, she'll let him know that his secret is out. We'll give him back
his drugs and he'll leave for good."
"Why don't you go to Sheriff Danielson?" Amy wanted
to know.
"For the same reason you're afraid to press charges
against your husband. Sheriff Danielson is too far away to protect you.
He's too far away to protect Carol. We have to be able to deal with our
own problems as best we can."
Karen leaned back in her chair. "I don't think it
wise that we involve ourselves in something so dangerous. We could get
ourselves jailed, or killed."
"Karen, it was your idea that we help one another. I
know you don't like Carol, but she's been supportive of my problems.
Without her, I wouldn't have been any use to you or Amy in dealing with
yours, and we still have the rest of the summer to go. Is it going to be
a peaceful summer, do you think?”
Karen shook her head in misery.
"We're the four Musketeers," Amy said happily, and
blushed furiously when Karen scowled at her.
"If we help you, we have to make a real commitment
never to mention this to anyone for any reason,” Karen said. “Not ever."
"I would trust you and Amy with my life," Lori said
solemnly, "but we also have to agree that what we're doing is morally
proper."
Karen stared into her lap for a time. "We have a
right to defend ourselves," she said softly.
Lori phoned Carol and invited her to dinner to
discuss the proposal. She prepared a rare steak dinner for the evening's
meal. Carol failed to show on time.
"Are you okay?" Wendy said as Lori grew increasingly
restless and paced the house. "Carol's always late, isn't she?"
Lori smiled, annoyed that her anxieties had grown so
transparent. "It's nothing much, just run-of-the-mill headaches worth a
nervous breakdown and ten years off the one hundred years I was planning
on living."
"Boy, you'd be old!" Leslie declared. "Too old to
get me to go to bed so darned early!"
"You'd be a grown man yourself, Dork," Wendy pointed
out smugly.
"You call me a dork and I'll tell Mom about Brad
trying to pull off your bra at Marilyn's house!"
"That was my halter, not my bra, and he was trying no
such thing!"
"Enough!"
But Lori took due note of Wendy's concern. "It's
nothing I can't handle. Don't worry about it."
"You're a worry wart," Wendy said petulantly. "You
know she’s always late."
"So we eat without her and save the leftovers."
They ate dinner in silence. Leslie fell asleep
watching television. Karen phoned at ten. "No show?"
"Not yet. I'll let you know."
Wendy sat curled up on the couch close to midnight,
the blue-white light of the silenced television playing across her face.
When she grew suddenly alert and began looking about with a frown, Lori
took immediate notice. "Something else burning, I hope to God not?"
"Don't be silly. I hear a cat is all."
Lori hurried to the front door. A kitten wailed from
somewhere in the darkness. Wendy pushed in at her side. "It sounds
hurt. Please go help it."
Lori fetched the hand-held lantern. "Where's it
coming from, front or back?"
"Back, I think."
Wendy followed her to the kitchen.
"Stay inside," Lori commanded. "I'll just be a
minute."
The desperate mewing of the kitten sounded louder
from the direction of the shed. Lori swept the beam of light across the
yard to clear her way. She jogged barefoot across the damp grass.
Treading carefully across the gravel, she unlatched the doors facing the
alley and pulled them open on creaking hinges.
The frantic mewing was coming from inside. Lori
swept the light through the maw of darkness and pinned the kitten in the
glare of white light. It was a calico stray, caught on string or fishing
line and pulling frantically against its entangled back leg, probably a
wild little creature and apt to scratch if she wasn't careful.
She started down the tunnel of darkness. The door
creaked slowly shut behind her. She had no premonition of danger until
she saw the neat bow tie on the string binding the kitten's leg to a work
bench along the wall. Knowing in an instant that she had been lured into
a trap, she gave a low moan of anguish. She whirled about and dived for
the door.
A shadow leaped out at her and a powerful forearm
snaked around her neck, cutting off her breath. The lantern slipped from
her fingers and clattered to the ground, throwing about a wild pattern of
light and shadow as it rolled.
Lori clawed helplessly at the arm, bare feet kicking
air, completely unable to breathe. Patterns of light and color sparkled
in her field of vision. She went limp, feigning unconsciousness in the
hope that he would think it safe to relinquish his death grip. Given a
moment's respite, she would flee like the wind.
He did release her, but she dropped to the ground
like a rag doll and lay stunned on her back, conscious of the cool dirt
floor beneath her and the kitten screeching in rage and terror, and then
of distant street lights glimmering against the side of a broken mason jar
to the right of her bare foot, a grim reminder of the glass eye of her
nightmare.
Metal snicked against metal.
A switchblade flashed in a stray
beam of silver light in front of her face. A roll of tape appeared. A piece was
peeled loose and cut free. The man’s weight descended upon her, a knee
across her body pinning her in place. His ragged breathing sounded in her
ear.
Lori rolled her head from side
to side, but the piece of tape slapped across her mouth, muffling her
cries. He rolled her over, put his knee in the small of her back,
wrenched her wrists against her spine and whipped a length of tape about
her wrists. He then dragged her to her feet, pushed her toward the
door, and through the crack, she could see a van parked in the shadows.
Once inside that van, her life
would be over.
A distant rattling sounded in the night and grew
quickly near. At first, she thought it a freight train, but the seven
o'clock train had already come and gone. This sound was different, and
Lori dropped to her knees, vying for time, forcing the man to drag her by
the collar of her blouse. The fabric tore away in his hands as did the
seams of the cotton shorts she wore when he tried for another convenient hand-hold.
He tossed the ruined garments aside with a chuckle of sadistic amusement and
grabbed her by the hair, pulling her upright in a bright shimmer of pain.
The sound became the familiar roar of the
Volkswagen's new engine. Headlights shone through the spaces between the
wall boards. Alternating bands of light and shadow swept through the
garage and stopped as the chugging engine idled just outside the garage in
a tumultuous racket.
Her assailant put the blade to her throat to keep her
still, muttering a slurred profanity, a sound too dim to be coherent, too
brief for identification. He lunged for the kitten in a last-ditched
effort to silence the animal, but it ducked into the pile of boxes and
wood along the wall where it commenced to shriek all the louder in rage
and indignation.
The headlights went off. The Volkswagen engine
rattled and died, intensifying the scream of the kitten in the wake of
silence.
Wendy called out from the back porch. "Mom went into
the garage after the kitten! Carol, something's wrong!"
Carol's inquisitive voice sounded from just outside
the garage. "Lori, are you in there?"
A brutal shove sent Lori tumbling to the ground.
Footsteps thudded against the dirt floor. The garage door flew open and
slammed against the rear bumper of the Volkswagen. Moments later, an
engine roared, and the van drove off sliding tires on dirt and gravel.
Lori fought desperately with her bindings. She
didn't want Wendy to see how easily she had fallen prey to her assailant.
If only Carol would hurry and keep Wendy away…
Too late. Shadows blocked the glow of the street
lights, and Wendy began to scream.
