“That was Kipling. I have to go to the harbor.” His voice was tense.
“Why? What happened?” I felt panic grip my chest. I knew whatever he was about to tell me was bad.
“A shipping boat is on fire.” He ran out of the flower shop.
Chapter Thirty-Four
As soon as I reached the harbor, I could smell the smoke. It mingled with the scent of the sea.
“You must be looking for the chief inspector, lass,” Old Milton said. “He just ran by here toward the fire.”
His two companions agreed. All three men’s faces were tense with strain.
“Where’s the …” I trailed off then, because there was no need for me to ask. There was a fishing boat anchored a hundred yards from the dock’s end just on this side of the breakwater. In the fading light of day, orange flames ran up the boat’s mast and ate away its ropes.
“Aye, lass, you see it, don’t you. That’s the Mourning Star, a boat in Ferris Brown’s mighty fleet. In all my days working the seas, I have never once seen a boat ablaze like that,” Ewan said.
“Aye, the same for me,” the one-eyed man agreed. “I never saw such a sight even when I had two good eyes to see with.”
As I watched the flames engulf the deck of the boat, fear gripped me. Where was Craig? He couldn’t have possibly climbed onto that boat. It would be madness.
“Where’s the chief inspector? You said he went to the fire,” I said, not even attempting to cover the fear that laced my voice.
“Aye, lass, that’s right. He jumped on a dinghy with Kipling,” Old Milton said, as if he was sorry to tell me this.
“With Kipling?” It was worse than I thought. I would have felt better if I’d known Craig was tackling the fire alone. Kipling was clumsy at best and quite forgetful. Craig would have to worry about the volunteer police chief and himself in the middle of that blaze. “What was Craig thinking when he went to the fire before the fire department arrived? He doesn’t have a water hose. What kind of backup is Kipling?”
“We saw someone on the deck,” Ewan said. “The chief inspector could not wait. It is his duty to save another person whenever possible.”
I knew what he said was true, but it didn’t make me worry any less.
“Someone on the deck?” I gasped. At the moment, the deck appeared to be completely engulfed in flames. Would Craig climb onto that boat to see if a person was trapped there? I knew he would. He would make any attempt to save another person’s life, even if it cost him his own. My hands began to shake. I couldn’t lose him.
“The volunteer fire department will be here soon,” Old Milton said. “They just have to get to the water boats. The boats are always filled and ready for such a crisis.”
As if he’d beckoned them, two fireboats with lights flashing and sirens wailing flew around the end of the harbor. They approached the fire at top speed. The two boats stopped on either side of the burning ship and trained their firehoses on the blaze.
I wrapped my arms around myself. I was at a loss. There was nothing I could do to help Craig. The fire crew was already there, and they sprayed the ship with gallons of water. I turned back and faced the village. Maybe I would be more help if I called Aberdeen’s fire department. I was sure they must have been alerted, but it could not hurt to call again.
I started to walk away, back in the direction of the village, when there was a loud bang, so loud that it made my ears ring, and a flash of heat on my back. I fell forward onto my hands and knees. A piece of charred wood landed just inches from my right hand. There was still a small flame on it.
I struggled to my feet and stamped the small flame with my boot.
Only an explosion could have knocked me to the ground like that and thrown the piece of smoldering wood so far. I spun around. The mast of the fishing boat had fallen into the sea, and there was a black hole in the side of the boat. The fireboats backed off from the scene, as if to stay clear of any flying debris. The fire workers moved around the decks of their boats and retrained their hoses onto the flames from a safer distance away. There still was no sign of Craig or Kipling.
The three old sailors were frozen in shock. All three lay on the dock. In a moment of horror, I thought they were dead, but then Ewan groaned and sat up. The one-eyed sailor did the same. I let out a sigh of relief. Old Milton was thrown from his wheelchair and lay facedown on the dock. I ran to him. “Are you all right?”
“Aye, help me up, will you,” he grunted. He wasn’t even able to lift himself up on his elbows, he was so weak.
Ewan was at my side, and the two of us lifted Old Milton into his chair. All the time, all I could think about was Craig. Had he been on the boat during the explosion? Was he alive?
Behind us the boat continued to blaze, and there were more pops and snaps as windows broke and doors to the lower decks cracked from the heat of the flames.
I removed my phone from my pocket and called emergency services. I didn’t know if any more help could be there in time to save what was left of the vessel or if it was a lost cause. As I did that, my dream or vision from the night before came back to me like a wave crashing against the break wall. This was what the vision had been trying to show. This was the piece of the future it had revealed. Despite everything, relief flooded through me. If that was true, if I was right, that meant the garden wasn’t really dead. It was dormant but not lost. I could and I would bring it back from the brink.
The relief was short-lived, because I still didn’t know where the chief inspector was.
I stared at the fire. “Maybe we should step back from the dock in case there is another explosion.”
“There is no fear of that,” Old Milton said. “The fire is too far away from us to hurt us.”
I noted that this was said by the man who’d been knocked out of his wheelchair by the initial blast.
The smell of burning wood and gasoline permeated the air. It was now much stronger than the sea. It took everything in me not to steal a boat and go look for Craig in the sea and fire myself, but I knew that was the last thing he would have wanted me to do. I shook my head. I needed to concentrate on keeping the three old sailors safe.
“I really think we should step back,” I said “A lot of these boats, if not all of them, are filled with gasoline. We don’t want to be anywhere close if a flame catches a gas tank.”
“That’s a good point,” the one-eyed sailor said. “I’ve already lost one eye in my time; I don’t want to lose another.”
Ewan was at the end of the dock, squinting at the boat ablaze. “Ferris Brown will lament the loss of the Mourning Star.”
Old Milton nodded his head. “Aye, won’t he be hot under the collar when he sees that. You know he hates to lose money, and now he must save every penny he has to bring the crumbling old manor back to life.”
“I don’t much care for him or any man with so much wealth,” Ewan said. “But the men working on that boat will be out of work.”
“Won’t the crew be able to save the boat?” I asked.
Old Milton shook his head. “Nay, there is no way to do it. The Mourning Star has met her sad end.”
What did that mean for Craig and Kipling, who were on a small dinghy looking for someone on that ship? I felt ill.
The flames tickled the gray sky and rushed up the smaller mast of the boat, since the first and larger one had fallen.
A bell somewhere in the village tolled. It sounded like the bell of St. Thomas Church on Sunday morning, but the ring was much more frantic.
“Aye, the sexton at the church has sounded the alarm,” Old Milton said. “It’s a little too late for that now. The fire is already dying back.”
I looked closer and saw that he was right. The firemen on the two boats, both of which were a third of the size of the massive fishing boat, were finally making some headway with the flames.
I stared hard at the boat and was shocked when I saw something fly from the bow. No, it didn’t fly off, it jumped. It was a person.
“Craig!” I cried, but my voice was eaten up by the sound of the fire before it could ever reach the burning ship.
A police officer from Craig’s department ran into the harbor. I grabbed him by one arm.
“Get back!” he cried.
I didn’t let go of him. “Someone jumped off the ship, and Kipling and Chief Inspector Craig are somewhere on a tiny boat in the water.”
“I said get back,” he cried.
I let go of his shirt sleeve. That’s when I realized it wasn’t just the three old fishermen and me on the docks any longer.
Half the village was there, watching the proceedings with their mouths hanging open. Kenda Bay was among them. Her orange- and red-tipped braids glowed in the firelight and looked like flames of their own.
One of the fireboats came into the dock. “Medic! We need a medic!”
I spun around. On the deck of the fireboat, one of the crew leaned over a prostrate man. I gasped. It was Craig.
I ignored the shouts and warnings from the police officers and ran to the end of the dock. An EMT walked passed me and climbed onto the fireboat. She knelt next to Craig, checking his vitals, while another EMT placed an oxygen mask over his face.
Craig grabbed the mask and removed it. “Where’s Kipling?”
“Here, sir.” Kipling stood in the shadow of one of the massive water guns that had attempted to put the fire out on the Mourning Star. It had failed. While the other fireboat gallantly tried to put out the blaze, piece by piece, the fishing boat sunk to the bottom of the harbor.
“Are you all right?” Craig rasped.
“Fine, sir,” Kipling answered, and he did look fine. He looked a whole lot better than Craig did.
The female EMT forced the oxygen mask back onto Craig’s face. “Keep this on. Stop trying to be a hero.”
“Tell me, what is it like seeing your boyfriend in so much peril?” Someone shoved a microphone into my face.
I jerked back and found Trina and her cameraman eagerly awaiting my comment. “Leave me alone.”
“Miss Knox seems too distraught to give us a message,” Trina said into the camera.
I had a message for her, but it wasn’t suitable for repeating. I hurried to the fireboat. “Let me on.”
A fireman pushed me back. “No civilians.”
Craig removed the mask again and coughed. “Let her on the boat.”
The fireman frowned but stepped back, allowing me onto the boat deck. I knelt next to Craig. His face and clothes were covered in soot.
“We are going to transfer you to Aberdeen to the hospital, Chief Inspector.”
“No,” he said. “I’m fine.”
“Sir,” she said. “I strongly suggest that you agree to be transferred to the hospital. It is for the best.”
“I’m fine. It’s just a little smoke inhalation,” Craig said with a cough. “All I need is a ride home and rest.”
I grabbed his hand and squeezed it in both of mine. “No,” I said with force.
Craig tried to prop himself up on his elbow.
I pushed him back down. “No. If you’re not going to the hospital, you’re coming to Duncreigan with me.”
“All right,” he agreed, and there was a faint smile on his face as he replaced the oxygen mask and laid the side of his face on my knee.
Chapter Thirty-Five
I sat up in bed and was drenched in sweat. Ivanhoe wasn’t at the foot of my bed where he usually slept. I fell back onto my pillow. “It was just a dream,” I whispered to myself. A dream of what, I didn’t know. The moment I sat up, the scenes my imagination conjured in my sleep had vanished, but the feeling of fear remained.
Rain pattered on the windows and the old roof of the cottage. It was one of the few times I still wished Isla lived in the cottage with me. I hated tripping over her shoes and clothes or having the bathroom counter buried under her makeup, but to know she was there and safe made me feel so much more at ease. I supposed knowing that all those I loved were safe was what I wanted most in this world. It was also completely out of my control.
There was a tap, tap, tap on my window. It was a tap from a hand. It was not the sound of rain. I knew the difference.
“Someone is out there,” I whispered, and wriggled further down under the covers.
Tap, tap, tap came again.
Guilt started to eat at me. What if a hiker was lost in the rain and looking for a place to dry off for the night?
Tap, tap, tap. Whoever it was couldn’t get inside. I had to see who or what was there. The cottage bedroom was small, and I could reach the tiny window in the corner of the room without setting a foot on the floor.
I pulled the curtain back and saw the fox. There was just enough break in the clouds amid the rain to see him clearly in the moonlight. He stared at me and slapped his brown paw on the glass. Startled, I fell off the bed. When I got up, I found the fox had jumped back twenty feet from the window. He hadn’t expected my reaction. Neither had I, to be honest.
The fox turned and dashed away.
I rubbed my forehead. There was no hope now of me falling back to sleep. In my bare feet, I crept into the main room of the cottage. Craig lay on his side on the couch. His arms were wrapped around Ivanhoe like he was squeezing a teddy bear in his sleep. Ivanhoe stared at me with his round amber-colored eyes as if to say help me.
I tried to insist that Craig sleep in my bed and I take the couch, but he wouldn’t hear of it. Even after battling a fire and suffering smoke inhalation, he was a gentleman to the end.
I tiptoed to the kitchenette, hoping to get a glass of water without waking Craig. I thought I was moving silently.
Craig shot upright on the couch, and Ivanhoe hissed as he went flying through the air. Craig grabbed his gun from under the couch. It was still in its holster.
I held up my hands. “It’s Fiona. Don’t shoot.”
Craig dropped the gun into his lap. “Fiona, what the …”
I could see his face in the moonlight streaming into the cottage through a crack in the curtains. The rain had stopped. Craig was confused, but then his face cleared, as if he remembered where he was and why he was there.
His shoulders relaxed. “Fiona.”
“That’s my name,” I said. “I was going to get a drink of water. You should have one too. I imagine your throat is sore after the fire.”
He rubbed his neck. “Aye, it is. Thank you.”
I filled two glasses of water at the faucet and handed one to the chief inspector. His feet were on the floor. It was the first time I had seen his bare feet. I didn’t know why that struck me as odd. Northern Scotland wasn’t really a place where someone owned multiple pairs of sandals. I perched next to him. “How did you sleep?”
“All right. This couch is not exactly built for a man my size, but not many are.”
“I told you that you could sleep on my bed.”
He touched my cheek and smiled. “Your little double bed isn’t big enough for me either, so I saw no reason to make us both uncomfortable by having you sleep on the couch.”
I frowned but then smiled. “You and Ivanhoe looked pretty cozy.”
“Was he sleeping next to me?”
“You were holding him like a teddy bear.” I chuckled.
Craig laughed. Ivanhoe, who was curled up in his cat bed on the hearth, hissed softly.
“Why are you awake?” Craig asked.
I told him about the fox. I shook my head. “It’s like the fox wanted to wake me, but I don’t know why. Maybe it was to check on you. You really should have gone to the hospital last night.”
He coughed and sipped his water.
I gave him a look, as if to put emphasis on my point.
“I know,” he said. “I will go this morning when I go back to Aberdeen. I’ll get checked out. Maybe it was stupid of me not to go last night, but I just—” He paused. “I just wanted to be with you.”
“I would have gone to the hospital with you.”
He touched my cheek. “I know. And I promise to go see a doctor.”
“Thank you,” I said, looking down at my glass of water.
He grabbed my hand and held it on his thigh. “Thank you for worrying about me. I haven’t had someone worry about me in a very long time.”
I swallowed. “There was someone on the Mourning Star,” I said abruptly. “I saw whoever it was jump off the boat and into the water.”
He smiled as if he understood my need to change the subject, but he didn’t release my hand. I was happy for that.
“I did too,” Craig said. “That’s why I was on the boat. I thought, stupidly, that I could save the person. Little did I know when I climbed aboard that he didn’t need to be saved. He was the one setting the fire.”
“What?” I almost dropped my glass and set it on the floor.
Craig nodded. “Kipling and I saw a man running around the deck, so I climbed on. Kipling wanted to go, but I wouldn’t let him.” He set his glass on the floor next to mine. “What a disaster that would have been. When I was on the boat, I saw the man, and he was splashing gasoline on the deck.”
I covered my mouth. “Arson?”
“Clearly.”
“Who was it?”
He shook his head. “I couldn’t see in the smoke, but it was a man. I’m almost certain.”
I shivered and squeezed his hand hard. “You’re lucky to be alive.”
“You have Kipling to thank for that. I jumped off the back of the boat just before the explosion, and he came and yanked me out of the water.”
“Now Kipling has saved both of us once,” I said. “Maybe he is a better police officer than anyone thinks.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” Craig said. “But he means well and has a good heart. That holds a lot of value in my book.”
“Mine too,” I said.
Tap, tap, tap sounded on the window. Craig dropped my hand and grabbed his gun.
I placed a hand over the gun. “That must be the fox again, like I told you.” I stood up and went to the window. When I pulled back the curtain, I didn’t see the fox. Instead, a dark figure moved across the moor down the hill toward the garden. I knew it wasn’t the fox because he was carrying a flashlight.
Mums and Mayhem Page 21
