On Shadow Beach (32 page)

Lauren sucked in a sharp breath.
Oh, God!
It was Lisa, not Abby, who had a crush on Tim Sorensen. She felt sick to her stomach. Abby must have threatened to reveal their relationship, so Tim Sorensen had killed her.

Why hadn’t Lisa come forward? Why hadn’t she
told the police?

Had the coach threatened Lisa, too? Was she afraid to turn him in, terrified she’d be next?

But if that were true, why would Lisa have stayed in town all these years? Why wouldn’t she have left, put some space between herself and Abby’s murderer?

Lauren remembered the shock on Lisa’s face when she’d walked into this room a few days earlier, seeing it look exactly like it had thirteen years ago. She’d asked about the journal, probably knowing that Abby had written about her. Was she still afraid her affair would come out?

Lauren’s eyes began to water, and she drew in a breath that turned into a cough. The door to the bedroom was closed, but the air had become smoky. She glanced toward the heater, wondering if it had sparked, but there was no heat coming from it. Had her father gotten up and started cooking again?

She jumped to her feet and ran to the door. It was warm but not sizzling hot, so she opened it—and gasped. Heavy smoke was billowing down the hall and flames were coming out of the kitchen, licking their way up the wallpaper in the hallway.

Why the hell hadn’t any smoke alarms gone off? She ran down the hall, pulling her sweater over her mouth and nose to protect her from the smoke. Her father’s door was closed; she pushed it open and found him asleep. When she shook him, he didn’t wake up. Had he passed out from the smoke? He seemed to be breathing. She ran to the window and
tried to open it, but it wouldn’t budge.

She had to get him out. She had to call 911. Which to do first?

Across the hall flames came out of David’s old bedroom, and there was plenty of fuel in there, with all the paper and old magazines. She grabbed her father’s hands and tried to get him into a sitting position. He began to stir.

“Dad, wake up!” she yelled, but as she did so, she took in a blast of smoke and began to cough.

He looked at her blearily. “Lauren?”

“We have to get out of here. The house is on fire!” She put his arm around her shoulder and helped him up, but he started coughing and couldn’t catch his breath. He sank to the floor, taking her down with him.

“Go,” he said. “Save yourself, Lauren. Go.”

“I’m not leaving without you, Dad. Come on.” She struggled to get him back up to his feet, but he’d fallen unconscious. She grabbed his hands and pulled him toward the door. Half the hallway was on fire, and the curtains in the living room were going up now. The kitchen was consumed with flames. How had the fire spread so
fast
? There was no way to get to the back door, and in another minute they might not be able to make it to the front, either.

She dragged her father down the hall, coughing from the smoke, trying not to breathe too deeply. If she passed out, neither of them would ever wake up.

*   *   *

Shane rode his motorcycle back into town, feeling just as restless as when he’d left. He knew what he had to do. He had to put it all on the line. Lauren was running scared, and he couldn’t let her go without trying to convince her to give their relationship a chance. Though it was late now, maybe she’d still be up.

He turned down her street and saw the smoke, then the flames.

Lauren’s house was on fire!

Where the hell was everyone? No neighbors were out on the street, no alarms going off, no sirens in the distance. He stopped his bike, pulled out his phone, and dialed 911. He gave Lauren’s address, then ran up the steps. The front door was locked. He hit it with his shoulder, once, twice, finally breaking through.

The house was filled with smoke and fire, the heat intense. He stumbled through the living room. Lauren was in the hall trying to drag her father out, but his weight was slowing her down.

She cried out with relief when she saw him.

“Get out of the house! I’ll take your dad.”

But she waited while he grappled with her father’s dead weight, finally getting the man over his shoulder. “Go!” he told Lauren, urging her ahead of him.

But she didn’t listen, running back down the hall.
Shit!
He rushed through the front door and laid her father on the grass, then went right back inside. He was not going to leave Lauren in a burning house.

What the hell had she gone back for?

Abby’s diary had been missing for too long to be lost now. Her father would be all right. Shane would get him to safety. The smoke was thicker when she re-entered her bedroom and it took a moment to find the diary. She stuffed it in her purse, with the envelope of photos, and headed back into the hall, but the fire was roaring now, the flames barring her escape, the heat unbearable. She saw Shane enter the other end of the hall, but they were separated by a wall of fire.

“Go back!” she shouted, then ran into her bedroom and tried to open the window.
Dammit,
it was painted shut! Her throat burned from the smoke and flames were licking at the doorway now, just inches away from the plastic bags filled with Abby’s clothes. In minutes the room would be an inferno. She dropped her purse, grabbed the desk chair, and hurled it at the window, shattering the glass.

As she gulped in fresh air, Shane appeared at the window and laid his jacket over the shards of broken glass. Lauren quickly grabbed her purse and climbed out, falling into Shane’s embrace.

His arms enfolded her, his face buried in her hair for one glorious moment, then he pulled her away from the house.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he yelled as they ran across the lawn, past the firefighters who’d arrived on the scene.

“I found Abby’s diary. I couldn’t let it go up in smoke.”

“You could have been
killed.”

“I’m okay,” she said, her throat still raw. She paused on the sidewalk, suddenly aware of the fire trucks and the neighbors coming out of their houses. “Where’s my dad? Is he all right?”

“He’s over there. He’s okay.”

Her father was sitting on the curb across the street. He had on an oxygen mask, and a paramedic was attending to him.

Lauren ran over, relieved to see his eyes open, and sat down next to him.

Her father reached for her with a shaky hand. “I was so afraid,” he murmured, his gaze on her face. “I didn’t know where you were, Lauren. I was terrified that you might not make it out. I couldn’t bear to lose you.”

She swallowed hard at the love in his eyes, love she hadn’t really seen since she was a little girl. She squeezed his fingers reassuringly. “I had to get something of Abby’s out of the house. I found her diary earlier tonight.”

“Her book?” he asked in amazement. “It was there, all these years?”

“Yes, tucked in the heating vent. Abby had found the perfect hiding place.”

He let out a sigh, his gaze turning toward their
house. Fire was shooting out of the windows and roof. It was hard to believe that the house that had been in their family for so many generations was going up in smoke. She couldn’t imagine the pain her father was suffering; this was his life—the life he’d been so desperate to hang on to.

“Everything will be gone soon,” he said heavily, echoing her thoughts. “Not just my memories now, but the house, and all that’s familiar to me.”

A tear slid down his face. Lauren put her arm around his shoulders, feeling the frailness of his body. She wished she could tell him it would be all right, but nothing would be the same for him again after this night. Maybe they could rebuild, but that would take time, and who knew how much time her father had left?

“We’d like to take your father to the hospital to check him out,” the paramedic told her.

She nodded. “Dad, you need to go with them.”

He shook his head. “I have to stay here. This is my home and Abby’s, too.” His voice cracked. “Her room will be destroyed, all of her things. I can’t stand it. I’m losing her again.”

His eyes were filled with so much grief, she could hardly look at him, but she couldn’t turn away. He needed her. “They were just things, Dad. Abby was more than what was in her room. She was a vibrant, beautiful girl, and her spirit is everywhere. It’s in all of us.”

“I won’t be able to remember her without the reminders. I need to see her things.”

“No, you don’t. She’s in your heart, not just in your head. I know, because she’s in mine, too.”

Her dad sighed and gave her a sad smile. Then he leaned over and kissed her cheek. “You’ll remember her when I can’t, Lauren. Promise me that.”

“I’ll never forget her. I couldn’t. Now, you should go to the hospital.” She helped him to his feet.

He paused, his hand on her shoulder. “You’re in my heart, too, Lauren. Don’t ever doubt that.”

She bit down on her bottom lip as the paramedic helped him into the ambulance. She didn’t like how weak he sounded, how resigned, almost as if he were giving up. She didn’t want to lose him yet; they were just getting to know each other again.

“Are you all right?” Shane asked.

She shook her head and turned into his arms, burying her face against his solid chest. He held her for long minutes, and amid the chaos of the fire and the trucks and the milling neighbors, she felt safe and protected.

She didn’t want to let him go. She didn’t ever want to let him go.

Lifting her head, she gazed into his eyes. “How did you know to come to the house?”

“I was lucky—and almost too late,” he said, anger in his eyes. “I never should have left you alone tonight. After what happened to Mark Devlin, I should have stayed by your side.”

His words struck her hard. She hadn’t had time to think about how the fire had started. She’d assumed
it had been an accident, that her father had left something on the stove. But the flames had been everywhere. “Do you think this was deliberate?”

“It’s a possibility we can’t ignore. You did find Abby’s diary there,” he pointed out. “Do you know who killed her now?”

“I’m guessing Tim Sorensen,” Lauren replied. “But it wasn’t Abby who had the affair with him, it was Lisa.”

“Are you serious?” he asked in surprise.

“Yes, it’s all in her journal. Abby wanted to stop it. I think she went to the high school that night to confront Mr. Sorensen, to tell him that she was going to turn him in, and he killed her.”

“Tim Sorensen didn’t kill your sister,” Chief Silveira interrupted.

She turned her head, shocked to find him so close. She hadn’t seen him arrive. “How do you know that?”

“Because I’ve spent most of the day checking out his alibi. It’s airtight. He was out of town at a symposium that night. There were plenty of witnesses to verify his whereabouts.”

“Then why would his wife run Mark Devlin down?”

“She said she didn’t like Mr. Devlin’s insinuations.”

“You don’t hit someone with your car unless you’re afraid of something serious,” she said.

But maybe Erica wasn’t afraid that Devlin would implicate her husband—maybe she was afraid he would implicate
her,
Lauren mused.

If Abby had gone to Tim’s house, she could have told his wife about the affair. Maybe that’s how she’d tried to stop it.

“What about Erica? Did she have an alibi?” she asked.

“Mrs. Sorensen was allegedly at home with a small baby. We’ll continue to investigate,” Joe said. “Not only the accident, but also your sister’s murder, and now this fire. I’ll let you know what we come up with. In the meantime, do you have friends you can stay with?”

“She’s staying with me,” Shane said, tightening his arm around her.

“Good. Keep her safe.”

As the chief got into his car and drove away, Lauren realized she’d been so caught up in her dizzying thoughts that she hadn’t told him about Abby’s diary. It was just as well. She wanted to read through it one more time before she gave it up to the police.

“If Tim Sorensen didn’t kill Abby, then maybe his wife did,” she said to Shane. “She might have thought Devlin was getting too close to her. It’s hard to believe, though. Why would she kill Abby for telling her that her husband was having an affair with another student? Why wouldn’t she have gone after Lisa?”

“Maybe she snapped,” Shane suggested. “Maybe she saw Abby as the biggest threat, because she wanted to expose the affair.”

“But Lisa was the one having the affair,” she reiterated,
her mind stuck on the things that weren’t adding up. “Lisa came by here the other day. She almost fell over when she realized that Abby’s room was exactly the same; she’d thought that my parents cleaned it out years ago. She asked me if I’d found the diary, so she knew it was still missing. She was worried that it would come to light.”

With each word that Lauren spoke, a certainty began to grow in her head. “Where’s your motorcycle?”

“Right over there,” Shane said. “Lauren, we should go to the police.”

“No, this is personal. Lisa grew up in my house. She was practically Abby’s sister. I want to see her face. I want to look into her eyes. I want her to tell me the truth. If you won’t take me, I’ll drive myself.”

“I’ll take you,” Shane said. “I have a few questions for Lisa, too.”

It was only a five-minute ride to Lisa’s house, and as they drove down the familiar streets Lauren remembered all the times Abby had walked or ridden her bike to see Lisa. They’d had so much fun together during childhood. Their friendship had been deep and loving.

Shane parked in front of Lisa’s house. There was a light on upstairs and Lisa’s car was in the driveway. Lauren ran up to the door, impatient to get the answers she’d wanted for so long. She rang the bell and pounded on the door, shouting Lisa’s name. She heard Shane calling the police from his cell phone. She didn’t care if they came, but she was going to talk to Lisa first.

“I smell gasoline,” she said, wrinkling her nose. She lowered her face. The door handle reeked of gas. “We have to get in there.”

“If she set fire to your house, we should wait for the cops.”

“If she didn’t set the fire, then maybe whoever
did is after her, too. Tim Sorensen is still roaming free.”