Dying to Read (28 page)

“I don’t know. But we’re out of time. This will have to do. We’ve got to get out of here now.”

With shaking hands Cate looped the makeshift rope around the bracket that supported the shelf of shoes, and tied one more knot. The most important knot of all. She flung the other end out the window. They watched it drop to within a couple feet of the ground.

“You go first,” Cate said.

“Oh, great. You want me to be the test subject. Then if it comes apart, you’ll know not to try it.”

Cate ignored the grumble and boosted Willow to the window. She managed to scoot around and sit with her feet hanging out the window.

“Am I supposed to do a Tarzan yell when I do this?” Willow asked.

“Whatever.”

Willow grabbed the makeshift rope dangling from the shelf bracket and swung out into empty space. Cate leaned out to watch Willow slither and slide down the makeshift rope. She was going to make it!

But a few feet from the end, a scarf ripped. Willow screamed as she slammed to the ground, torn end of the makeshift rope still clutched in her hands.

But she hit so close to the house that she didn’t tumble and roll down the slope to the street below. She jumped up on the uneven ground and waved the tied scarves victoriously. “I made it! C’mon. Do it!”

Behind Cate the closet lit up as a tongue of flame ate through the wall. The escape rope was shorter now, farther for Cate to fall. Which made tumbling on down the slope more likely.

With no one to give her a boost, Cate shoved clothes and fur jacket under the window, then clambered atop them. She spotted where a section of the rope had almost torn in two, cut by a shard of glass clinging to the window frame. She climbed down, grabbed a high heel, hammered the spot smooth, and replaced the torn scarf with a long black skirt. Smoke poured out around her. Sirens wailed closer. But not close enough for rescue. The fire would engulf the closet first.

She scrambled back to the window, legs dangling over the edge. Then hand over hand, feet dangling, body swaying, she skidded downward. Her hands hung up on the knots. Flames shooting from the first floor grabbed for her. Smoke billowed, enveloping her in an acrid cloud that choked her lungs. She hung on grimly. Only a few feet more . . .

A knot gave way. Cate felt it slipping loose. Going, going . . . gone! Falling. Dizziness swept through her. She’d hit and go right down that slope, right onto hard pavement . . .

Her falling body hit something softer than dirt. Something that crashed beneath her to the ground and tangled around her. Sirens were right out front now.

Hands shoved at Cate. “Get off me,” Willow snapped.

Cate scrambled away, grabbing at dirt, weeds, anything to keep from tumbling down the slope, astonished as she realized what Willow had done. “You broke my fall! You stood right under me and caught me.”

“You need to go on a diet.” Willow stood and shook herself. “You practically squashed me.”

Cate still felt amazed. Again, when the chips were down, Willow had come through. Under the force of Cate’s fall, they could easily have both tumbled down the slope. But she’d put her own safety on the line for Cate.

Above them, flames shot out their escape window. More flames fully engulfed the tower now. Glass exploded as a lower-story window burst from heat and pressure.

“You rescued me twice today,” Cate marveled.

“So I win my hero badge. You can pin it on later. Let’s get out of here! The whole house may collapse.”

They scrambled through weeds and blackberry vines toward the corner of the house. Heat radiated off the old boards. Flames and smoke poured through ragged holes. Sparks and ash fell around them. Cate slapped away a hot spot in her hair. A section of roof collapsed with a whoosh, and a galaxy of sparks filled the sky overhead.

Scott must have set half a dozen fires, maybe a dozen! Flames danced inside every window.

And where was Scott? Long gone. Figuring they were dead by now. Busy establishing his alibi, if he even needed one. Tallying his fire insurance payoff.

They finally rounded the corner of the house, into the unkempt grass of the backyard. Flames hadn’t reached this back side of the house yet, but windows glowed like red devil eyes hungry for victims. A riot of sirens now. Yells. A tangle of boards littered the old rock garden below the stairs. Except there was no stairway now. Only a lone broken board dangled below the open doorway.

Firemen dragging a hose burst around the other corner of the house just as flames erupted through the third-floor doorway. Their sloping yellow hats gleamed in the flame light. They aimed a blast of water upward. One of them spotted Cate and Willow.

“Anyone inside?” he yelled over the roar of the fire.

“There was a man inside earlier,” Cate yelled back. “I think he got away!”

“Get back, farther back!”

Cate and Willow, staying well back, circled around to the front of the house. Fire trucks, police cars, and an ambulance overflowed the driveway. Onlookers filled the sidewalk and street.

“Let’s find a police officer,” Cate said. “We have to tell them what happened.”

“You know what Scott’s going to tell them, don’t you? He’s going to blame
us
! Guess who they’ll believe. I want to get out of here!”

Willow looked as if she might take off at a run. Cate grabbed her arm and dragged her over to a police car, where an officer was talking on his radio. Still holding on to Willow, Cate told the surprised officer a jumble of information about Scott Calhoun locking them in the closet and setting fire to the house. He didn’t sound skeptical, but he asked the obvious question: why? Then Willow finally started talking too, about embezzlement, missing jewelry, murder, and blackmail.

Willow lifted her hand to motion at the now-missing upper level of the house, and the officer spotted the blood running down her arm.

“We can finish your statement later. Right now, you let the EMTs take care of that hand.”

Cate jumped when a voice barked from the radio. “We’ve found somebody back here! Can’t tell if the person’s alive!”

The officer took off at a run around the flaming house.

“You go over and get that cut looked at!” Cate yelled and took off for the backyard herself, but Willow was right behind her.

Flames blazed up the back side of the house now. Firemen and officers together, working dangerously close to the burning house, were frantically throwing boards out of the tangled pile of the fallen stairway as if they were toothpicks. Two EMTs hovered over something under the pile. A minute later they loaded a motionless form on a stretcher. Cate saw a leg. A loafer. No socks. A moment later the back wall of the house collapsed, burying what was left of the stairway.

The EMTs ran with the body on the stretcher. And Cate knew it was a body, not a living man, as they passed by her. Twisted arm, oddly bent leg . . . and the grisly sight of the broken antler from that old metal statue sticking out the side of his head. The officer following was carrying something else he’d found in the pile. The gun.

Scott had planned the stairs as his escape route after setting the bedroom fire. But his weight, or perhaps the force of his dash down the stairs, had brought them down.

He’d used the word
ironic
earlier. Cate still didn’t know what he’d meant then, but she saw the irony here. Scott had used the stairway to kill Amelia. Now the stairway had killed him.

Cate and Willow went back to the front of the house. “Let’s get an EMT to look at your arm.”

“I just want to get out of here.”

“We’ll go to my house. You can stay there tonight. We’ll go to the police again tomorrow morning. You have to tell them about Coop too.”

But they couldn’t leave in the car, Cate realized when she reached the street. Fire trucks and police vehicles with lights flashing still surrounded the car.

“We’ll have to wait—”

Willow wasn’t waiting. She broke away from Cate and ran for Coop’s bike. She fumbled with the footrest and threw a leg over the big machine. A moment later it roared to life, and Willow proved she did indeed know how to handle the bike as it wove through the vehicles. Coop’s helmet swung wildly from the handlebars.

Cate couldn’t see her and the bike once they were out on the street, but she heard the departing roar of its engine even over the roar of the flames behind her. The sound echoed with an odd finality.

Cate just stood there, dismay flooding through her. Where was Willow going, roaring off into the night? A suspicion washed through her. Coop.

And Cate? Déjà vu. Stranded again.

 21 

Cate looked at her watch. She couldn’t do this again. She just couldn’t.

But she took another look at her trapped car, felt the aching muscles in every part of her body, picked out a guy with a cell phone clipped to his belt, and asked if she could borrow the phone. He took one look at her bedraggled appearance and handed it over. She glanced at her watch again, groaned when she saw the time, but punched in the numbers.

A sleepy, “Hello?”

“Hi. It’s, uh, me. Cate. Do you suppose you could come get me again?”

Mitch let out a big sigh, but he asked for no explanation, just directions.

She was waiting halfway down the street when he stepped out of the SUV a few minutes later. He stared at what was left of the house for a moment, but then, looking for her, his gaze roamed vehicles and people. She stepped out of the lingering crowd. “I’m, uh, sorry to bother you again.”

“I wasn’t doing anything except sleeping. Did you have anything to do with this?” He jerked his head toward the house. Firefighters had tamed the blaze from a roaring inferno to occasional flares, but only the garage, a ragged section of the kitchen side of the house, and the fireplace and gaunt chimney remained standing.

“You mean, did I start it?”

“The thought occurred to me.”

“No, I did not start it. Someone tried to kill me. And Willow.”

He nodded as if that didn’t surprise him. “The same guy as before?”

“No, this was a different one.”

“What do you do, give out numbers so they can get in line?”

“I’m thinking about it.”

“Where’s Willow?”

“Good question.”

Cate and Mitch were heading back to the SUV when a car cautiously crept around the corner. A silver BMW. The driver started to drive on by them, then spotted Cate and stopped short.

Cheryl jumped out of the car. “Why are
you
here?” she demanded. “Where’s Scott?”

“You’d better talk to the police.”

She ran up to Cate and grabbed the neck opening of the sweatshirt with both hands. Her face twisted in panic. “Something’s happened to Scott! He was supposed to meet me after—” She broke off without saying after what. She shook Cate with hysterical strength. “What have you done to Scott?”

An interesting take on the situation, considering the circumstances. And no questions about Willow or the burning house.

Mitch stepped up and broke Cheryl’s grip. “Talk to the officers.”

Cheryl suddenly went from edge-of-hysterical to limp as she stared at what was left of the house. “I told him this was a bad idea. I told him, I told him!” Then she fisted her hands and glared at Cate. “So, what do you think of the house you stole from us now?”

“I didn’t steal your house,” Cate said, bewildered by the venom in Cheryl’s peculiar question. “Scott burned it down.”

“You don’t even know, do you?”

The same puzzling words Scott had used. Cate shook her head.

Mitch took Cheryl by the arm. “C’mon. I’ll take you to talk to an officer.”

Cheryl suddenly thought better of being here and resisted with tiger ferocity, but Mitch marched her up to an officer and left her.

The eastern horizon was paling by the time Mitch parked the SUV in front of Uncle Joe’s house. In astonishment, Cate spotted the big bike in the driveway. The front door flew open. “I heard you drive up—”

Rebecca stopped short when she saw that Cate wasn’t alone. Willow’s head appeared behind Rebecca.

“What are you doing here?” Cate demanded.

“You said I could stay here tonight. I was just going to leave on the bike . . . but then I didn’t.”

“Willow has been telling me what happened, but she didn’t mention Mitch,” Rebecca said.

“He came to rescue me.” Again.

Rather than demanding instant details, ever-practical Rebecca said, “Sounds to me as if Mitch deserves breakfast.” She stood back from the door. “But ssshh, so we won’t wake Joe.”

“He’s home?”

Rebecca rolled her eyes. “It was either bring him home or have him out there on the street thumbing for a ride.”

Cate headed for the bathroom attached to her room. Rebecca showed Mitch to the other bathroom. By the time she got back to the kitchen, both Mitch and Uncle Joe were sitting at the table getting ready to dig into the pancakes Willow was piling on their plates. Cate noted that Willow’s cut hand was already neatly bandaged.

“Joe decided he wanted breakfast at dawn,” Rebecca said by way of explanation for Uncle Joe’s presence.

“Which you sure can’t get at that place,” he grumbled.

Over breakfast, Cate and Willow told the full story of Kidnapping by Coop and Fire by Scott. Rebecca made occasional murmurs of dismay, but Uncle Joe just sat there listening.

“So you not only located Willow, you also solved the mystery of Amelia’s death.”

“Blundered into it,” Cate admitted.

Uncle Joe stabbed at a pancake. “And now you’ve broken my record.”

“Your record?”

“I’ve never had more than one attempt on my life in a single day.” Uncle Joe sounded undecided whether to chastise or commend her. “How do you feel about being a private investigator now?”

“The way things have been going, I’m not sure how long I’d survive.”

Uncle Joe nodded. “I’ll expect a complete report on the Amelia Robinson case for the files.”

“Yes, sir.”

Cate and Willow went to the police station and filled in details about Scott and the fire. Willow, though she looked uncomfortable doing it, told them about Coop, the dairy farmer’s fall, and her escape from him after Cate’s kidnapping. As soon as they got back to the house, Willow said she was leaving. Cate brought up arguments. The police might need to talk to her again. She had no clothes or other belongings. She had no title to the bike.

“I’ll manage,” Willow said stubbornly. “I’ve got my wallet and my driver’s license and a little money.”

Cate filled a sack with clothes from her own closet, and they stuffed it in a saddlebag on the bike. Rebecca loaned her some more money. Although Cate suspected she’d better consider it a gift.

Willow buckled Coop’s flashy helmet on her head. As she sat there astride the bike, she said, “Tell Beverly I’m really sorry about her ring.”

“Where had you hidden it?”

“In a little metal box in the medicine cabinet in my bathroom. I’ll call you when I get . . . somewhere.”

Yeah, sure you will. But all Cate said was, “I’ll look forward to hearing from you.”

“And maybe sometime, when you think of it, you could do the prayer thing for me?”

Cate nodded. She waved as Willow zoomed off, red hair flying out from under the helmet. God worked in mysterious ways. Maybe he was working on Willow.

Cate saw Mitch every day or two. They hiked along the river. They helped with a Feed the Hungry rally. They went to church services on Sunday. They barbecued ribs in the backyard. They drove by Amelia’s house once. It was surrounded by yellow crime scene tape and a lingering odor of watersoaked, burned debris. The police interviewed her twice more. She read more of Uncle Joe’s books on crime. Remembering her regret over things undone in her life, she and Mitch went to a Chinese restaurant that served squid. Not bad! She painted her toenails blue and surveyed the results. Like ten little unseeing eyes staring up from her feet.

Not everything undone in life needed to be done.

She wrote up a report on her investigation into Amelia Robinson’s death, with full information about Scott Calhoun’s method and motive for murder, for the files.

She could tie up most of the loose ends in the case. Newspaper reports said Cheryl was facing various serious charges. Other details came from Doris McClelland. Texie had returned to her home. The key, which was now buried in the ashes of a house that no longer existed, had belonged to Hannah. Krystal was suing someone over her investment loss, although Doris wasn’t sure who. Doris herself, although the news was not relevant to the case, had just found a lovely purple lace blouse at Goodwill. One loose end couldn’t be tied up. Radford Longstreet, when Cate inquired at the address Mitch had found for him, had moved out, no forwarding address. Had that engagement ring ever existed? She’d never know.

Uncle Joe read the report one evening. “Very thorough,” he commented. “Although I believe I did tell you not to get involved.”

“Yes, you did.” She waited, but Uncle Joe simply closed the file. He didn’t bring up the subject of further assignments.

With considerable reluctance, Uncle Joe finally admitted he needed more physical therapy than he could get at home, and returned to the rehabilitation center. Cate started job hunting again. She read local newspaper ads and made phone calls. She searched online and sent emails.

Then she received two phone calls. The first came before she was even out of bed one morning. She answered with a groggy hello.

“Hi, Cate, it’s me, Willow!”

“Well, it’s, uh, good to hear from you.” Cate blinked at the clock.

“Did I wake you up? I keep forgetting. There’s all that time difference between here and there!”

“Where’s ‘here’?”

“Grandma’s, of course. In Florida! Though I won’t be here long. I’ve got a job! I just wanted Rebecca to know I’ll be sending her the money I borrowed as soon as I get my first paycheck.”

“A job,” Cate repeated.

“It’s with these people who’re doing a research project in the Okefenokee Swamp! Three months at least. I met them when I went through Georgia on my way down here.”

“But don’t you have to . . . I don’t know . . . have a degree or something to be on a research team?”

“I’m going to be their cook! Don’t you just love that name? Okefenokee, Okefenokee,” Willow bubbled the string of syllables. Cate winced. Bubbles hurt her head so early in the morning.

“What about Coop?”

“Coop is a monument to all the mistakes in my life.” Willow had sobered now. No bubbles. “Mistakes I’ve learned enough not to repeat.”

“I’m doing the prayer thing for you,” Cate said.

“Keep up the good work! I’ll call you again. And give Octavia a big hug for me too, okay?”