Incandescent (4 page)

Saying goodbye to the Martins and Lacey had
been a sad, dismal affair with rain beginning Monday morning and
continuing all day. The dog days of August were giving way to fall,
which always came early in the mountains of Pennsylvania. Anna
stood in the rain, an umbrella shielding her from the deluge,
watching the ambulance, followed by the Martin’s rental car, as it
left the hospital parking lot.

Now, on their way home to Eaton, Anna stared
out the passenger window while James drove the winding road with
care, splashing through puddles. A couple of times the Lexus
hydroplaned, but he handled the wheel with expertise.

“You can move back here, honey.”

“I know, Dad. Thanks, but Gretchen doesn’t
want to be alone right now.”

The rest of the drive was spent in silence.
Back at his north side home, he used the remote to open the garage.
After parking, they walked through the side door and into the
kitchen. While James hung their trench coats in the hall closet,
Anna filled the coffee maker with fresh beans.

“I’m making a pot. Do you want a cup?”

James returned to the kitchen and opened the
refrigerator door. “Yes. I have apple pie.”

“I don’t want any,” Anna said, forlornly.

“Maybe not now. You will when you smell
it.”

He put the pie into the oven and turned it on
to 350 degrees. The gas pilot thumped and flames licked their way
around the coils.

“Dad, why did this happen?”

“Anna, we’ve gone over this. You know what
Chief Thatcher said. Lacey must have left candles burning and fell
asleep.”

“If I had been there, Dad, this wouldn’t have
happened.”

“You can’t blame yourself, honey. It was an
accident. Chances are you would have been hurt, too. Or
killed.”

“No. I always lock the house. I would have
made sure Lacey didn’t leave candles burning. I should have been
there.”

“You are feeling sad and guilty, Anna, but
you’re not to blame. You can’t always protect the ones you love. I
can’t protect you and that would drive me crazy, if I let it. It
was an accident. No one is responsible.”

Anna leaned into her father, resting her
cheek on his shoulder. James put one arm around his daughter and
kissed the top of her head.

“Smell the Apple pie? Do you want some
vanilla ice cream with it?” he asked.

She sniffed back her tears, forcing a
tremulous smile.

After a lengthy phone call to police
headquarters and Eaton’s Fire Chief, Ellis Thatcher, Anna received
permission to return to the house she’d shared with Lacey. She
parked along the street since an Eaton City Police car sat in the
driveway, and in front of it, a large red pickup truck with
black-tinted windows.

Across the street, two elderly women gawked
at and gossiped about the fire-damaged house, with it soot-stained
walls and broken windows. The grass and bushes had been trampled
into muddy mire.

Anna slipped under the yellow caution tape,
ignoring the warning “Police Line – Do Not Cross.” Tuesday’s blue
sky and warm temperatures chased the chill of Monday’s rain, but
couldn’t penetrate into the gloom of the burned house. The wooden
front door hung open, clinging to the sill with one hinge. The fire
fighters used a battering ram to force their way in when repeated
knocks failed to rouse the occupants.

She walked through the doorway and covered
her nose and mouth, trying to block the oppressive stench of burned
plastic and wood. Rand stood in the corner of what used to be the
living room, listening to someone as he wrote notes on a
clipboard.

He did a double-take when he spotted Anna and
spoke again, his voice too low for her to hear. Anna moved towards
him and caught sight of the state fire marshal crouched behind the
sagging sofa, poking debris with a telescoping rod. He stood and
raised a hand, halting her in her tracks.

Aaron’s eyes narrowed. “We’re in the middle
of an investigation, Miss Johnson. You need to wait outside.”

The guilt Anna experienced from skipping out
on their first meeting vanished, replaced instead with a flash of
annoyance. Hands on hips, she took a deep breath. “I have
permission to be here. I need to get my clothes,” she said. “And my
computer.”

He murmured a few words to Rand, who then
approached Anna, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder as he
passed. He left through the gaping doorway, leaving Anna alone with
the marshal.

She hadn’t noticed much about him at the
police department late Saturday except for his intensity. She
recalled him wearing a white shirt with official insignia. Today,
he wore a tight, dark blue T-shirt and a pair of black combat
pants, tucked into boots. His formal uniform must have been
longsleeved. She would have remembered the thick biceps and
forearms, covered with black hair.

“Look, I don’t want to interrupt, but I need
my things,” she said. “Chief Thatcher said I could come by and get
them.”

She glanced toward the blackened staircase
wondering if the steps to her bedroom were safe to use. Her eyes
darted back to Aaron in askance. “Can I go up?”

When he didn’t respond, she added
impatiently, “Are you going to stand there all day brooding? You
don’t intimidate me.”

She flinched when he started towards her,
giving lie to her brave words. Her eyes riveted on his chest as he
approached. Within moments, he towered over her.

“Okay, maybe a little,” she admitted, tilting
her chin bravely.

She watched with fascination as his upper lip
curled into a smile.

“This is the second time you’ve interfered
with my investigation,” he said.

“What are you talking about? I haven’t
interfered with a thing,” she said, trying not to feel guilty about
running away from their first interview. “And you call this an
investigation? The chief has already blamed the fire on Lacey. He
said she left candles burning.”

“How do you know that, ma’am?”

“Would you quit calling me ma’am?”

He studied her flushed cheeks. “I’ve told
you, until we know the cause, we assume all fires are suspicious.
Especially a fire with a near-fatality.”

She hissed. “And I told you, her name is
Lacey Martin. She’s not a notation in your report. She’s my best
friend.”

Aaron was the first to break the standoff
lifting a large, callused finger to her cheek and catching the lone
tear. Anna reeled back and stumbled against the broken door, her
wide eyes fastened on his. He took a deep breath. “Yes, her name is
Lacey Martin. I’m sorry.”

Anna bit her trembling bottom lip as she
blinked back tears. She didn’t want to cry in front of him. One
tiny gesture, one small act of kindness didn’t make him a
friend.

“If you follow me carefully, I’ll take you
upstairs,” he said. “The fire was pretty much contained to the
first level. There’s no telling how much structural damage there is
without opening the walls and floor.”

She traced his cautious steps until they
reached the landing. “That room,” she pointed to the first door on
the left. He walked through the opening and surveyed the room. The
carpet squished beneath his boots as he entered.

Although flames hadn’t reached the second
floor, thick black soot coated most of the surfaces. Fire fighters
had broken windows to prevent back draft and used high-powered
water hoses to subdue all sparks. Between fire, smoke and water,
the house was destroyed.

Aaron opened the closet door and shoved aside
clothes on hangers. Next, he opened dresser drawers and rummaged
through some of the contents.

“What are you doing?” Anna asked, aghast as
he searched through her underwear drawer.

“Making sure there are no hot spots,” he said
over his shoulder. “You don’t want to pack a burning ember and take
it with you. It could start another fire.”

“Oh,” her voice sounded weak. She tiptoed
toward her desk and surveyed the equipment. Although her laptop was
closed, the top of it was wet. She wiped some of the moisture off
with her shirtsleeve, and then did the same for her scanner. She
hesitated before unplugging it.

“It’s okay. All the electricity has been
turned off,” Aaron said.

“I hope these work,” she mumbled as she
looped the cords on top.

“Take the battery out of the laptop. Put the
whole thing in a box and fill it with rice. It should help draw out
any moisture. Let it dry for a day or two,” he said. He turned back
to the closet and lifted her suitcases from the top shelf. “Use
these to pack your clothes. Take what you need. They smell of
smoke, but you can use them for the time being.”

Anna thanked him and opened the suitcases.
She placed her laptop and scanner in one, using handfuls of
clothing from the dresser drawer to pad it. She filled the second
case with clothes from the closet. “Can I get my toiletries?”

Aaron escorted her along the blackened
hallway to the bathroom. Beyond it was Lacey’s bedroom. Anna
stumbled, recalling her best friend lying silent and still in the
hospital bed.

Aaron caught her elbow. “Are you
alright?”

She flinched at his touch, jerking her arm
from his grasp. “Yes,” she snapped. She went into the bathroom and
pulled a plastic shopping bag from under the cabinet. She scooped
bottles of shampoo and conditioner, her toothbrush and other
toiletries, dropping them into the bag. She tied a single knot in
the handle, before plucking her nightgown and robe from the back of
the bathroom door. In the hall, she knelt by a suitcase, unzipping
an outer pocket and stowing her nightwear. “I think I have what I
need,” she murmured.

Aaron gripped the two suitcase handles and
walked to the staircase. “Be careful,” he cautioned. “Follow my
footsteps.”

He kept walking through the front door. Anna
blinked as she followed him into the sunshine. Her nose tingled at
the absence of smoke. The muscles in Aaron’s bicep stood in relief
as he lifted and pointed a suitcase at the car parked at the curb
next to recycling bins. “Is this yours?”

Anna hurried in front of him. She pulled a
set of keys from her jeans pocket and unlocked the trunk. It popped
open and she leaned in, shuffling aside camera bags and a tripod.
She turned and reached for a suitcase. “Thank you,” she said. “I
can take it from here.”

Aaron ignored her and placed the case in the
trunk. He waited as she wedged it further into the trunk before he
placed the second case in the cavity. She dropped the grocery bag
of toiletries into the recess and slammed the lid.

She crossed her arms and turned back to
Aaron. “When can I come back? Most of the furniture is Lacey’s, but
there are some things I’d like to keep. Some photographs and knick
knacks ....” she faltered, realizing how petty it sounded to ask
for insignificant items when the Martins were fighting to save
their daughter.

He frowned. “Perhaps a couple of days. We’ll
see.”

“Never mind,” she said hastily. “It doesn’t
matter. I don’t want anything,” she added, looking over his
shoulder at the flame-scarred house. She lurched at her car, tears
welling in her eyes, blinding her. She stumbled against the curb,
and again Aaron caught her elbow.

This time she didn’t withdraw. Instead, she
turned toward the warm blue wall, laying her cheek on his chest.
His hand left her elbow and stretched across her back, cupping her
shoulder. He stood impassive as she leaned into him, crying
silently. He stared at the old women on the other side of the
street until, discomfited, they moved on.

Anna inhaled his scent, a blend of wood smoke
and spice. She lifted her lids and saw the faded, red silk-screened
fire marshal insignia. His T-shirt was soft beneath her cheek, his
arm warm around her body. He was a well-padded mountain, strong and
unyielding. She laid her palm on the muscles of his abdomen. She
felt his quick intake of breath at her touch and for a moment, she
forgot why she stood there. When she remembered, she moved away,
out of his awkward embrace.

“Thank you again,” she said as she opened her
car door and slid in.

Aaron’s cheek twitched as he watched her
drive away.

Chapter Seven

“Bullshit!” Gretchen stalked back and forth,
dressed in a cropped T-shirt and a pair of boxer shorts. “Lacey
didn’t light any candles. I should know; I was there. We made
popcorn and watched a movie, and then she went to bed. I know she
was asleep. I went upstairs to tell her goodbye, but she was out
like a light. I put a blanket on her before I left.”

Anna shook her head. “Maybe she woke after
you left.”

She shook her head. “No way. They’re full of
crap. They can’t figure out how the fire started so they’re blaming
Lacey.”

“You’re probably right,” Anna admitted.

“You know,” Gretchen continued, “maybe
someone else started the fire.”

“What? That’s crazy.”

“Well, maybe someone did. When I left there I
was spooked. Like someone was outside. My cell phone rang near the
end of the movie. It was Mark, the waiter from the brewery. He
wanted to get together.”

Gretchen walked into her bedroom and grabbed
a pair of jeans. She slid them up her long legs, wiggling them over
her slim hips before snapping them shut. “So, I figured, ‘why not?’
Lacey was asleep, you were at your dad’s and I had the next day
off. When I left the house, I had the creepiest feeling. You know?
Like when someone is following you. I started walking faster. The
brewery is three blocks away and Mark was waiting outside for
me.”

Anna shuddered. “Did you see anyone?”

“No. As soon as I reached Mark, we got into
his car and drove away.”

“Well, it was probably nothing.”

“Maybe. Maybe not,” Gretchen said. “I have to
go to work. You have your key?”