Deadly Echoes (7 page)

“Take the easy way, Sarah. Please. We're all fine.”

She didn't mention Mom and Dad, but I knew she was referring to them. I tried to explain to her that I couldn't walk away. That I had to know the truth, but just as soon as I opened my
mouth, her presence was gone. I felt as if I were being drawn toward the left path even though another part of me yearned to go right. I woke up gasping for breath. When I looked at the clock I realized it was almost time to get up. I stared up at the ceiling. Today would be extremely emotional. I prayed for the strength to get through it.

“Please, God, help me today. Give me the right words to say to Cicely. Let her know she's loved, and that she'll be all right.”

I stared at the ceiling for a while longer, and then sat up on the side of the bed. The curtains were open a crack, and I could see flakes of snow falling. After getting out of bed, I pushed the curtain all the way open. The snowfall was light, but I wondered if we were in for a storm that would make it hard to get home. The remote control for the TV was on the stand next to the bed. I turned it on and changed the channel until I found local news and weather. The announcer was talking about a murder on the city's south side. From there he switched to a gang shooting. I couldn't help but shiver at the violence in Kansas City and feel grateful for Sanctuary. Not sure how long it would be until the weather segment, I'd just decided to find my brush and work on my hair when the announcer mentioned a house fire in south Kansas City. Then they switched to video of the fire. I cried out and sunk back down on the bed as I watched a house partially engulfed in flames.

It was Hannah's.

“Oh, Sarah. What will you do now?”

All morning I'd been trying to stay calm, but hearing Janet's voice ignited a sudden rush of homesickness. I felt out of my depth in Kansas City. First Hannah's death, and now I was suddenly responsible for a young girl who'd just lost her mother. How would I find the words to tell her that her home was gone too? That all of her belongings were nothing more than ash?

“I called the landlord and talked to him. He told me firefighters pulled out some furniture, but it was water soaked and probably beyond saving. He offered to help me go through what was left if I wanted to look, but there's not much hope of retrieving anything else. The house is a total loss.”

“Are you going?”

“I think I have to. How can I walk away without making sure there's nothing salvageable? Don't I owe it to Cicely?”

“I suppose so. Closing down Hannah's accounts and contacting creditors is going to be very difficult without a paper trail.”

“Actually, I removed almost all her papers last night when I cleaned the house,” I said.

“Well, that's a huge blessing.”

“Yes, it is. I guess God knew I'd need them. Oh, Janet, what am I going to say to Cicely?”

“Just tell her the truth, honey. I'll be praying for you. For both of you.”

“Thank you. I'm really going to need your prayers.”

“So when will you come home?”

“I plan to drive back today as scheduled unless something comes up that keeps me here. I don't see why the fire would change my plans. Since it's a rental house, the landlord will probably be the person who takes care of the details.”

“All right. You'll get through this, honey. You're not alone.”

“I know. Thank you, Janet. See you soon.”

“I love you, Sarah.”

“I love you too.”

After hanging up, I sat on the bed thinking. Cicely couldn't learn about the fire from someone else. I had to be the one to tell her. Picking up the phone again, I called Cora and asked her to keep Cicely away from the TV. Cora was saddened to hear about the house and promised she'd keep Cicely from finding out about it until I could tell her.

Then I called Mr. Hanson and arranged to meet him at eleven. It would be very hard to see the charred remnants of Hannah's house, but I thanked God I'd gotten the papers, the photographs, and Mr. Whiskers safely out.

After talking to Mr. Hanson, I called Detective Sykes and was grateful when he immediately answered his phone. He seemed stunned to hear about the fire.

“Do they know how it started?” he asked.

“According to the landlord, it's way too early. He mentioned there had been a problem with the wiring and wondered if the electrician he'd hired had done something wrong.”

Sykes was silent for a moment. In all the craziness of the last few hours, I hadn't realized that the fire might not have been an accident.

“You think someone set the fire on purpose?”

“I don't know,” he said slowly. “I'd need some kind of proof to make that leap. It could take weeks to determine the cause. I'll contact the investigator in charge and ask to see the report when it's completed.”

“Thanks,” I said. “At least I got out all the important paper work.”

“That's good. If you find anything helpful in her papers, let me know, okay?”

“I haven't had time to go through them. If I find the file that belonged to that reporter, I'll have to mail you copies from Sanctuary.”

“Sounds good,” Sykes said, “but don't worry about it for now.”

“Actually, I have a question about something I found in Hannah's house yesterday.” I told him about finding the drawer open next to Hannah's bed and the metal box with the bullets. “Do you have Hannah's gun?”

“No. It wasn't on the list of items removed from the house.”

“Then the killer must have taken it,” I said. “Did the man you picked up have it?”

“No, but he had plenty of time to ditch it. We'll certainly look for it. We just brought him in, so it will take some time for us to do a thorough investigation.”

“I hope you won't focus solely on him,” I said.

“Frankly, the missing gun makes this look even more like a burglary,” Sykes said. “Why would someone who was targeting your sister spend time going through drawers? And why would he steal a gun?”

“I think Hannah heard a noise, grabbed her gun, and went out to the living room. She was afraid, Detective. I'm sure she had that gun for protection.”

“Okay. So why would he take it?” Sykes sighed. “Probably either to sell or to use in his next break-in.”

“Maybe.”

“Look, Miss Miller, we'll keep an eye open for it. That's all we can do.”

It was my turn to get exasperated. “How will you identify it? Do the bullets tell you what kind of gun it was?”

There was silence for a moment. “Sorry,” he said finally. “Just looking through the report. In this case, the bullets help us narrow it down, but they don't tell us the exact model or make. And without the bullets themselves, if the gun is used, there's no way to say for certain it's your sister's gun.”

“I'm certainly not an expert on guns,” I said, “but isn't there some kind of, I don't know, license or something Hannah had to get to buy it?”

“Not in Missouri. Not unless she intended to carry it with her,” Sykes said. “There should be a record of the sale though. We'll check it out.”

I sighed. “I'm sorry. I know you're doing everything you can. I'm just frustrated.”

“We're working the case, but it will take time. Don't give up on us. When do you plan to head home?”

“I intend to leave today. I don't know why I'd need to stay any longer, but with the fire, I guess that could change.”

“I'll call you in a few days, after you've had time to get your niece settled. I hope by then I'll have some information for you. Is this number you gave me the only number I can use to reach you?”

“Yes, it's Janet's number.”

“Do you have her phone with you?”

“No, it's a land line. In Sanctuary.”

“Have you ever considered getting a cell phone? You're really doing things old school.”

“Everyone I know is in Sanctuary, Detective. I don't need a cell phone. Or at least I didn't until recently. Once all this is over, and I'm home, I can talk to anyone I want to face-to-face—or on our home phone. Makes a cell phone kind of useless.”

“I see your point,” he said. “I guess life in a small town is a lot different than it is in Kansas City.”

“Yes, and I'm thankful. This place isn't for me. Give me the peace and quiet of Sanctuary.”

“Every town has its challenges, Miss Miller. Evil can erupt anywhere.”

“Maybe so, but I know I feel safer at home than I do here.”

“Well, good-bye for now.”

I hung up, called the front desk, and asked if I could stay another night if I needed to. Once I explained the situation, the manager assured me I could remain as long as I wanted. And if I decided to head home later today or tonight, I wouldn't be charged for an extra day. I thanked her for her thoughtfulness.

I dressed quickly and drove to Hannah's house. As I neared her street, two large fire trucks drove past me. When I pulled up in front of the ruins of my sister's home, I discovered another fire truck parked across the street. Mr. Hanson was standing in front of the damaged structure. Part of the house was still standing, but the roof had caved in and two sides of the building had partially collapsed. I got out of the car and met Mr. Hanson on the sidewalk.

He held out his hand, and I took it. “I'm so sorry,” he said.
“After everything you and Cicely have been through, this is just so awful.”

“Thank you,” I said. “But it's your loss too.”

He shook his head. “I have insurance that will take care of everything.” He frowned. “Hannah had renters' insurance, by the way. You should be able to get some money to help you take care of things you'll have to replace.” He stared at the smoldering remains. “I guess all of Hannah's records are gone now, but I know her insurance agent. I recommended him when she moved in. At least I can point you in the right direction.”

I was hopeful Hannah's policy was somewhere in the papers I had, but just in case I thanked him. Any information Mr. Hanson could give me would be helpful.

“Why is the fire department still here?” I asked. “It looks like the fire is completely out.”

“They keep an eye on things just in case something ignites and starts the fire again. It's policy. After a while they'll leave, but they'll come back to check off and on throughout the day. Maybe tomorrow as well.”

“You said on the phone that the fire may have been caused by a problem with the wiring?”

He nodded. “Seems like too much of a coincidence that we just had some wiring replaced a week ago and then the house catches on fire.” He rubbed his chin with his hand, a thoughtful look on his face. “Does seem a little out of character for my electrician though. His work has always been so good. Don't see how he could have made such a huge mistake. 'Course, electricity is electricity. Can't always trust it. It will do whatever it wants to do.”

I nodded and gazed around the yard. “So there's nothing I can salvage from the fire?” Mr. Hanson's assessment on the
phone looked accurate. It was clear almost everything Hannah owned was gone, destroyed in the fire's rage.

He sighed. “I went through almost everything before you got here. Pulled a few things to the side, but the rest of it . . . Well, if it isn't burned, it's been pretty much waterlogged.” He pointed toward a pile near the neighbor's driveway. “You can rummage through it, but I don't think you'll find anything you'll want to take with you.”

It appeared that most of what remained came from the kitchen. If it wasn't broken, it was black with smoke. I'd told Mr. Hanson as much when I noticed something shiny a few inches away from my shoe. I bent down to pick it up and found a refrigerator magnet with the words
I
Am With You
printed on it
.
Below that was
Isaiah
43:2.
The blue magnet with the silver lettering was in excellent condition. Odd with the state everything else was in. I slid it into my purse.

“I don't see anything worth taking,” I told Mr. Hanson. “I really hate that Cicely lost all her possessions. It will be devastating to her.”

Mr. Hanson snapped his fingers. “Where is my brain? I'd completely forgotten about Hannah's car.”

I stared at the red Honda parked across the street. “I did too. It will take some time for me to get the title transferred, but maybe I can sell it.”

“Yes, that's true, but I'm talking about all the stuff Hannah loaded into the trunk.”

“Loaded into the trunk? I don't understand.”

He crossed his arms and stared at me. “I drove by last week and found her carrying boxes to her car. I stopped and asked her if she was trying to skip out on the rent. She laughed and told me I knew her better than that. Said she was taking some
things to The Salvation Army. It might be too late, but we can sure look. Might be old clothes, but if some of them belong to Cicely, it's better than nothing.”

I felt a little guilty knowing that Hannah had lied to Mr. Hanson. From her letter, I knew she was getting ready to leave town. However, I felt certain she would have tried to treat her kind landlord fairly.

“I'm sorry. I don't have copies of her car keys,” I said.

“Maybe you don't, but I do!” he said with vigor. “She gave me one in case she locked herself out. Which she did more than once.” He pulled a large key ring out of his jacket pocket and began to sort through it.

“Thank you for helping her,” I said. “I'm relieved to know she had such a good friend in her life.”

“You're welcome. My wife kept an eye on her too. Hannah reminded us of our second daughter, Becky.”

I was touched to see how much he'd cared for my sister. I wondered if she had any other good friends. She'd never mentioned anyone she was close to. I still hadn't decided what to do about a funeral. I wanted to have some kind of service in Kansas City, but there wasn't time to do anything about it now. Cicely was my first priority. A local funeral home would get Hannah's body sometime in the next few days. Maybe I could set up a viewing in Kansas City and then have them ship her to Sanctuary so we could bury her nearby. I figured it would be easier for Cicely if she had a grave to visit—a place where she could remember her mother.

“Here it is!” Mr. Hanson exclaimed finally. “Let's see if there's still something in the trunk that will help you.”

I followed him over to the car and waited for him to open it. He unlocked the driver's-side door and pushed on the button
that unlocked the trunk. I quickly scanned the inside of the car, wondering if Hannah had stashed anything there, but it was empty except for a few CDs. I scooped them up and put them in my purse. Then I checked the glove compartment. Just the car's registration, an owner's manual, and some napkins and condiment packages from a fast-food restaurant. I closed the small door and walked around to the back of the car, where Mr. Hanson pulled the trunk open. Inside were several boxes and two large plastic bags. I opened the bags and almost cried when I found clothes. Obviously, they were Cicely's.