American Heroes Series - 03 - Purgatory (7 page)

Alec wasn’t distressed about the
dogs. “Cool,” he said. “We can go to the local pound and get a pack of them.”

Elliot wriggled her eyebrows,
watching as Nash’s flashlight drew nearer to the house. They could also hear
his sheriff’s radio crackling as he spoke to dispatch.

“I don’t know about a pack, but
at least two or three,” she said. “Maybe tomorrow we’ll go and take a look.”

“Tomorrow is Sunday,” Alec
reminded her. “I don’t think the dog pound is going to be open on a Sunday.”

“Why not?”

“Because everybody is in church
down here,” he looked at her. “I’ve been doing some reading about the South and
everybody down here belongs to churches. You’re nobody if you don’t belong to a
church. This entire section of the country practically shuts down on Sunday.”

Elliot shrugged, noticing that
Nash was now up on the porch, talking into his radio and surveying the massive
back yard that stretched all the way to the bayou beyond.

“So we’ll go on Monday,” she
said. “Tomorrow, I’d really like to unpack and look around our property anyway.
We can see in the daylight what we’ve gotten ourselves into.”

Alec snorted in agreement,
watching Nash as the man began to make his way around the house towards the
front porch. Elliot and Alec began to follow him when the sound of breaking
glass abruptly filled the air. It was coming from the front of the house. 

Alec and Elliot took off at a
dead run, tearing through the central hall towards the front door. Elliot was
behind her son when he turned towards the double parlors, fired off a curse
word, and disappeared into the parlor.  Elliot came up behind him, shrieking
when she saw what had him cursing.

Someone had thrown a Molotov
cocktail into the front window, which had landed smack on a cluster of moving
boxes.   The liquid in the cocktail had sprayed all over the boxes, igniting
them, and a swiftly spreading fire was beginning to consume the cardboard. 
Dark smoke was already filling the room as Alec grabbed at the flaming boxes.

“Mom, open the front door!” he
bellowed.

Elliot ran to the front door,
turning the old tumblers and yanking open the warped panel.  There was a body
standing in the doorway and she yelped until she realized it was Nash.  He
caught sight of the flames and charged past her, helping Alec pull out the
flaming boxes.

 Elliot jumped in, pulling out a
large box that had one entire side of it on fire. Nash helped her pull it out
of the house, pushing her aside as he tossed the box out into the gravel drive.
But Elliot would not be moved aside, not when her possessions were burning. She
ran at the burning boxes and, fighting the heat and flames, tried to pull them
open to get at the contents.

“Alec,” she cried. “Help me get
the stuff out of these boxes!”

The flames were consuming the
cardboard. Alec helped his mother as much as he could as Nash ran to his patrol
car and snatched the fire extinguisher. He returned to the blaze, beating it
down with the extinguisher, trying not to spray Elliot or Alec in the process.
Soon enough, the blaze was out and Nash tossed the extinguisher aside, moving
in to help Elliot and Alec.

“Are you okay?” he asked Elliot.

She nodded silently, digging her
way into one of the boxes in particular.  She seemed extremely determined and
Nash didn’t understand why until she pulled herself out of the box, pieces of
burnt paper in her hand. At least, she thought it was paper until he looked
more closely. They were pictures of a man in uniform.

Elliot stood there with the
singed and burnt photos in her hand, staring down at Rob’s smiling face.  Nash
began to realize why she was so determined to fight the flames, feeling about
as bad as he possibly could, as Alec went to his mother and carefully pulled
the photos out of her hand.

“These will be okay,” he assured
her.  “I can scan them with Photoshop and make them look like new again. Don’t
worry; they’ll be fine.”

Elliot watched her son as he
brushed at the pictures, trying to see just how badly damaged they were.  She
watched him as he dug into the box again, searching for more photos that might
have been damaged.  As he wandered back into the house with his hands full of
photos, she went to the steps of the front porch, sat heavily, and burst into
quiet tears.

Nash watched her, his heart just
about breaking.  He wasn’t sure what to say to the woman. Silently, he went
over to her and sat down next to her on the stairs. He watched her gently
heaving shoulders, the hands over her face, and did the only thing he could
think of. He put his big arm around her shoulders and hugged her gently.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

Elliot felt his hand on her
shoulder and she reached up, clasping the warm fingers, taking strength from
the reassurance.

“It’s not your fault,” she wept
softly. “But what in the hell… why would somebody do that? They don’t even know
us. Why would they firebomb my house?”

Nash shook his head and gave her
another squeeze, holding on to the warm fingers that were clasping his.

“I don’t know, darlin’,” he said
softly, hearing the distant scream of sirens draw closer. Looking up, he could
see at least three squad cars barreling down the quarter-mile long gravel driveway.
“I’m sure they weren’t after you personally. I told you that this house
attracts freaks. Maybe that’s all this was, somebody trying to scare you away.”

She sobbed into her hand,
struggling to compose herself. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m not usually
such a cry baby. But I just finished a three-day drive across the country, found
out that the house I bought is full of ghosts and pirate treasure, and now
somebody tries to burn it down. I guess… I guess it’s just been a big day.”

Nash didn’t say a word. He just
sat there with his arm around her shoulders, watching the police units pull
into the circular drive in front of the house. There were actually four units,
two City of Sorrento police units and two sheriff units.  He gave her a quick
squeeze before rising to his feet, facing the officers now bailing out of their
cars.

“Someone prowled the place and
then threw a Molotov cocktail into the front window,” he pointed out the broken
parlor window to the arriving officers.  “Better see what we can come up with.”

The two Sorrento officers called
for a watch commander while the two deputies moved closer to Nash. They were
both experienced and crisp in their pressed uniforms, looking to their sheriff
and awaiting orders.

“Hey, Nash,” a big blond man
propped his boot on the first step of the porch, looking around. “What do you
want us to do?”

Nash pointed to the rear of the
house. “Someone was prowling back there,” he said. “Dust the kitchen windows
and doors and see if we can pull some prints.”

The blond deputy nodded.
“Anything else?”

Nash nodded his head, glancing
over at Elliot, who had since composed herself and now stood up on the porch,
struggling to look like she wasn’t deeply upset. He motioned his deputies with
him.

“Come here,” he said quietly.

The men followed him up on the
porch.  Nash smiled at Elliot when he approached, indicating her to his
deputies.

“This is Elliot Jentry,” he told
them. “She and her son just moved in today.  If she calls, you jump. I don’t
care what time of day it is or what ya’ll are doing at the time. If she needs
you, ya’ll come running. Understood?”

The men nodded seriously, looking
at the beautiful blond woman with the big blue eyes. The blond deputy tipped
his hat at her.

“Ma’am,” he greeted.

Nash indicated his deputies. “Elliot,
this is Ken Havereau,” he indicated the blond, “and his tall counterpart over
there is Steve Pitot. They work out of the substation in Brittany, about four
miles up the highway.  If you need anything, anything at all, you call over
there and ask for them by name.”

Elliot forced a smile. “Please
call me Ellie,” she said. “It’s nice to meet you both.”

“A pleasure, Ms. Ellie,” Steve,
the very tall deputy with bright blue eyes, looked at Nash. “We’re going to
check around back, Nash.”

Nash nodded, watching the men
disappear around the side of the house. When they were out of his line of
sight, he turned to Elliot.

“Can I call you Ellie, too?” he
teased softly.

She broke down into soft
laughter. “The only person who ever calls me Elliot is my mother,” she said.
“To everyone else, I’m Ellie.”

“You could have told me that
before I introduced you as Elliot.”

“You didn’t ask.”

He was glad to see she was
smiling again. “All right, Ms. Ellie,” he turned to look at the open front
door, smelling the smoke from the fire. “I’m thinking that maybe you and Alec
should stay at a hotel tonight.  It would be safer than….”

She shook her head strongly,
cutting him off. “No way,” she said firmly. “This is my house and I’m staying.
I’m not going to let some dumbass chase me out of my home.”

Nash scratched his head. “I
didn’t think you would take my advice,” he muttered. “Well, I suppose the only
thing to do is to post a couple of deputies here tonight.  Tomorrow we can
figure out what we need to do to secure the place.”

“Wait a minute,” Alec was
standing in the doorway, his young face serious. He looked at his mother. “Mom,
I think the sheriff is right.  You need to go to a hotel. I’ll stay here and
watch our stuff.”

Elliot shook her head at her son.
“Sweetie, I appreciate what you’re saying, but I’m not leaving. I survived Los
Angeles and the Rodney King riots. There’s no way a bunch of hillbillies are
going to chase me from my new home. I’m staying. But I think you should go to a
hotel. You wanted to, anyway.”

Alec backed off. “If you’re
staying here, I’m staying here. I’m not leaving you alone.”

“I won’t be alone,” she assured
him. “Nash said he’s going to station a couple of deputies here tonight.”

Alec shook his head vigorously,
much like his mother had a few moments earlier, and backed off into the house.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said
as he walked down the central hall towards the staircase.  “I’m going to go set
your mattress up.”

Elliot let him go, turning to
Nash once her son disappeared from view. She smiled weakly at him.

 “You’ve run into a couple of
stubborn people,” she told him.  “We’re staying.”

Nash wasn’t particularly pleased
but he understood.  He tried one last time. “Are you sure I can’t talk you into
going?”

Her smile broadened. “No. Like I
said, we’re stubborn. Plus, I spent a hell of a lot for this place and I’m not
leaving my investment.  But you already know how much I spent for it so I don’t
have to tell you.”

His grin was back. “Are you
sure
you don’t want your money back?”

She laughed softly. “Never,” she
insisted. “The only way someone else will get this place is if I die or if they
marry me.”

Nash’s smile faded. It occurred
to him that the latter part of that statement was not such a bad idea.

CHAPTER FOUR

When Elliot awoke the next
morning, bright sunlight was streaming in through the cracks in the taped-on
newspaper.  The room was fairly bright. Wrapped up in her comforter on her
California king mattress, she blinked her eyes several times, orienting
herself.

Propping herself up on her elbows,
she looked around the enormous bedroom.  The bed, as big as it was, was dwarfed
by the size of the room. Four massive beds would have fit very comfortably into
the chamber.

 Sitting up, she yawned and
rubbed the sleep from her eyes. It was difficult not waking up in her bedroom
in her home in California, the same bedroom that she had her husband had shared
for twenty years.  As much as she had wanted to get away from it, as she gazed
around the dilapidated bedroom of Purgatory, she realized that she equally
missed it. It was an odd, somewhat depressing, realization.

But there was no use dwelling on
it. She had moved here for a reason and today, she was going to jump into this
life that she had sought for herself and for her children.

In spite of the humidity already
in the morning air, the floor was cold when she put her feet on it and she
hopped around, digging in a couple of boxes until she found a pair of socks. 
Pulling them on her feet, she went into the bathroom that was part of the
master suite.

The claw foot tub was truly
something to behold. It was deep enough to swim in and she stood over it a
moment, trying to decide if she wanted to take a bath in the old tub or a
shower in the equally old shower.  She settled on the tub, simply because she
liked baths, and she really wanted to take a nice, long one.  That brought
about the issue of no hot water.

Last night in the midst of their
unpacking, they had found an old Merker gas-fired water heater positioned under
the flight of backstairs that led from the kitchen up to the second floor.