Hot Flash (18 page)

I went back to the living room, sat at the end of the couch, and stared at her, feeling quite helpless and willing her to wake up. Unsuccessful, I couldn't decide whether to shake her, slap her, or leave her be.

I went into what used to be my parents' bedroom and called Dulcey. I sat on the bed that was half made up with a sheet and blanket spread over the top of the plastic-covered mattress.

“Did you find her? Is she all right?” Dulcey squealed loud enough to damage my eardrums.

“Dulce, remember when my parents died and Nareece was acting the fool and I was never at home to keep a check on her, working my last chance to stay on the force? You remember, I had just started with the forensics unit? Well, Jesse Boone had his hooks in her back then.”

“What do you mean, ‘had his hooks in her'? She was just a baby then.”

“Yes, she was. She was one pissed-off baby at some point, because she stole a lot of drugs and a lot of money from him. And I bet it was Jesse Boone who raped and beat her half to death all that time ago and now he wants his money. She says that's why John is dead. I'm sure he wouldn't give up her location, so they, Boone, killed him. I have to get Reece back to Philly to the FBI.” I hesitated and took a deep breath. “Damn, I need Laughton right now.”

“When you coming back?”

“Got a six a.m. reservation. So we'll be on the road and home by noon, one o'clock.” There was a moment of meditation between us.

“Dulce, I think you should take the girls to your sister's house. Jesse Boone is a psychopath. There is no telling how far he'll go or how far his reach is. As comfortable as I am that he could never find this place, I'm not. He found Nareece.”

“I got these babies covered. You just make sure you cover your behind.”

A rustling noise under the window made me flinch. I threw the phone on the bed and grabbed my gun off the dresser. I flicked the light off and stood against the wall listening. I looked in the living room to check on Nareece. She had not budged. I peeked out the window. More rustling. Dulcey yelled my name in the phone. I tiptoed over to the bed and picked up the phone. “Shhhh, Dulcey. I think someone is sneaking around outside.”

“Muriel, you're scaring the hell outta me.”

“Shhh.” I put the phone down and went to the living room, hugging the wall and peering out the windows into the thick blackness. I stopped and listened more. Silence. Nareece remained as still as a body in a casket.

I hastened back to the bedroom and picked up the phone. “Probably a skunk or a deer or some other forest creature. Black as black can be out there. Someone would have to be familiar with the area to find us in these woods.”

“Who are you trying to convince?”

The nervousness in my stomach lingered long after Dulcey and I hung up. Over the years, I'd learned to heed the grumblings.

Nareece lay on her back with her arms crossed and resting on her stomach, her lips slightly pouted as though molded for viewing at her wake. I got the blanket off the bed and covered her, then I settled in an upright position at the opposite end of the couch. I made sure I had my purse and my gun was in its holster.

I sat up, rubbing my eyes, and took in a deep breath that threw me into a coughing fit. I tried to open my eyes, but they burned and I couldn't see anything. The realization that smoke filled the room propelled me to action. “Nareece. Nareece!”

I reached forward and shook her, but she did not respond. I slid to the floor and pulled my purse and Nareece down with me. She hit with a
thud
but still did not respond. I crawled along the floor, dragging Nareece and my purse behind me. When I got to where I thought the door was, I reached up and rattled the doorknob until it opened, but there was no air, only more blackness. I inched farther along the floor, staying close to the outside wall, dragging Nareece behind me. Rest a minute. Need to get out before the smoke . . . I lay on the floor and closed my eyes from the burning.

Next thing I knew, a fireman was carrying me away from the house and handing me off to an EMT, who carried me to the back of an ambulance where they labored over Nareece. I knocked away an oxygen mask one of the EMTs tried to corner me with, as another EMT called, “Clear,” and zapped Nareece. He rechecked her pulse and rubbed the paddles together. “Clear.” He checked her pulse again. “I got a pulse,” he announced and pulled an oxygen mask over her face.

“She's fine, right?”

“For a minute I thought we lost her, but . . .” He lifted the stethoscope from his neck and listened to Nareece's chest. “She'll live,” he assured me.

An EMT helped me into the ambulance and sat me on the cot next to where Nareece lay. “Miss, you need to wear this for a while,” he insisted, now on full attack with an oxygen mask.

I pushed it away, taken by the scene—red, orange, and yellow flames boogied skyward against a black easel, embers dancing like disco lights.

The EMT followed my gaze and came at me again. “Miss, please.”

I fell back and surrendered.

The siren sounded off in the distance and sputtered to silence, as we pulled into the emergency entrance of Martha's Vineyard Hospital. An EMT rattled off stats to the attending nurse until we reached a treatment area.

“You two are lucky.” He squeezed my hand and headed out.

“Thanks,” I mumbled. “What about my car?”

“Call the fire station in the morning, they'll know.”

I swung my legs over the side of the bed and reached for my purse. The attending nurse snatched it back. “Now, young lady, you lie down,” she said, guiding me to a lying position, objection not an option. She took my blood pressure and pulse and said the doctor would be in shortly.

I was uncertain how much time had passed when the doctor woke me.

“Your sister is going to be fine, but we're going to admit her and watch her overnight. She's got quite a bump on the back of her head,” he said.

“She banged her head when I pulled her off the couch trying to get out.”

“Good thing you did. Better a bump on the head.” He lifted my eyelid and flashed a light, then listened to my lungs and heart and checked my pulse. “I'm admitting you for the night, as well. You're clear but better to be safe.”

The next morning, before I left the hospital, I checked on Nareece. She was resting peacefully. I thought about waking her, but decided more sleep would serve her better.

I took a taxi to the Edgartown Police Station. An officer drove me to the impound yard to pick up my car, then I drove out to the house. When I turned into the driveway, I gasped at the sight of charred objects strewn over the lawn. Only the foundation of the house remained. Its confines trapped a black hole.

I got out and walked the perimeter. A charred refrigerator and dishwasher and the scorched remains of an electric floor-sanding machine stuck up from inside the black hole. I remembered that Nareece had said John refinished the wood floors.

An unscathed soccer ball rolled along the property edge. I retrieved the ball, tossed it in the backseat of the car, and got in. While I was backing out, a car pulled in and blocked the way. My heart leaped before I recognized the man exiting the car as Mr. Galloway, our closest neighbor since we were kids. We were separated by a block of woods.

“Nareece, that you?”

“It's Muriel, Mr. Galloway.”

“Muriel, girl, I haven't seen you in a coon's age. How are you, young lady? You're all grown-up, that's how you are.” He didn't wait for me to answer before offering his condolences. “Sure is a sorry sight. Good thing no one was hurt, though, and they kept it from spreading”—he waved his arm in an arc to indicate the entire wooded area—“or we'd all been in trouble.” He searched the scene with his eyes. “Nothing left. Not a thing. Shame.”

“Nothing that can't be replaced,” I offered with the conviction of an ant.

“Will you rebuild?”

“I guess.” I struggled not to seem anxious to leave.

“How are those little ones doing? They are something else.” He chuckled and bent down to rest his arms on the car, so he was on my level, head to head.

“They're fine. Growing up,” I said, pulling back a bit to allow more breathing room between us, though his breath smelled of spearmint.

“There were two cars here early this morning. It wasn't Lambert's truck, though. Lambert's the fire chief. Bret Lambert. I think one was blue and the other gray. I was out for my morning walk. They were leaving as I approached from the right, so I didn't get a good look at who was inside. I did see that there were two men inside. What started it, anyway?”

“Actually I'm on my way to the fire station now.”

“I won't keep you then,” he said, straightening up and moving back from the car. “Don't mind if I nose around a bit, do you?”

“Not at all, but be careful.”

“You take care. Tell Nareece and John—nice fella, that John—tell them I came by and asked after them,” he said on his way back to move his car. He got in and pulled alongside my car. “Frances and I will support her and John any way we can if they decide to rebuild.”

“Thanks, Mr. Galloway.”

I did not tell him John was dead. More questions would arise that I did not have answers for. I drove away wondering about the two visitors.

When I arrived at the West Tisbury Fire Station 2, Chief Lambert ushered me into his office and offered me a seat. “Good thing your neighbor called. We would have arrived sooner, but it's hard getting down those roads.” He leaned forward in his chair and rested his elbows on the desk, clasping his hands together in a prayerful fashion. “I'm glad you and your sister got out in time. We suspect arson, but we're still investigating. I'll know more in a few days.”

I flashed back to the noise I'd heard outside the window while I was talking to Dulcey.

The chief sat back in his chair. “Ms. Mabley, you know anyone who'd want to hurt you and your sister?”

“Who knew you were coming?”

“That's just it, nobody. Neither of us told anyone we were coming here. It was an unexpected trip, and what's more, nobody even knows about the place down here.”

“Might be that someone sure the hell does,” he said.