Lorna seemed surprised to be addressed so directly. She clamped her mouth shut and nodded, tears streaming down her soot-stained cheeks. “I was outside,” she hiccupped. “I was getting the mail from the box. I felt the ground shake and then ... it happened so fast. I just remember thinking, ‘The roof is gone.’ Then I realized Adam never came out.”
I turned my eyes to Thistle, wondering if she had the same thought. She was already shaking her head, so it seemed not.
“Don’t even think about it,” she hissed, moving closer to me. “We can’t go in there.” Even as she said it, her eyes traveled back toward the building. The flames stretched high into the sky, the roof completely obliterated. The first floor looked relatively unscathed, which seemed to be something of a minor miracle.
“We won’t go far,” I reassured her, my voice more solid than I expected given the fear coursing through me. “We’ll just look through the door.”
Mrs. Gunderson, perhaps reading our minds — or even lips – extended a warning finger in our direction. “You can’t go in there.”
“Adam!” Lorna was back to screaming. “Adam!” She would lose her voice soon, or maybe even pass out from the overwhelming smoke.
“We have to at least check,” I insisted. “We’ll be okay. We know what we’re doing.”
The look Thistle shot me was incredulous. “You get more and more like Aunt Tillie with each passing day. That’s something she would say.”
Well ... that was hurtful. “That’s the meanest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“And I stand by it.” Thistle refused to back down, her blue hair picking up flecks of gray from the small bits of ash and debris raining down on us. “You don’t run into a burning building. That was one of the first lessons that crazy old bat taught us when we were kids.”
“Since when do you listen to Aunt Tillie?”
“Since she occasionally makes sense. We’re not going in there.”
She was right. It wasn’t smart or safe. Slowly, I nodded, causing her shoulders to relax. Then, because I couldn’t get the notion of Adam suffering and dying on the ground only feet from us out of my mind, I tore in that direction before she could stop me. “I have to look.”
“Son of a witch!” Thistle screeched behind me. I heard her feet pounding on the gravel as she followed. “You’d better hope that fire kills you, because if it doesn’t I’m going to rip your hair out and choke you with it.”
As far as threats go, it wasn’t even close to her usual level of snarky sass. I couldn’t dwell on that, though. I had a mission, and I couldn’t turn away from it.
I pushed through the swinging doors. It was an enhancement added two years ago. It gave the building an “Old West” vibe that most tourists found charming. It was helpful now because there was no way we could get trapped without an exit.
“This had better be worth it,” Thistle griped from behind me. “I’m not kidding. If he’s already dead, you’re going to join him.”
It was an empty threat and we both knew it. Sometimes when fear overtakes a person it comes out as belligerence. That’s how Thistle always rolled, ever since we were kids. She couldn’t show the fear, so she had to control it. If that meant threats, so be it.
I paused for a moment to get my bearings. I’d visited the building a number of times for photographs and to collect ad information from Adam. I was familiar with the layout. The thick smoke momentarily threw me for a loop. Once I regained my senses, I pointed to the right.
“That’s the workshop,” I rasped. The smoke, in addition to causing my eyes to water, was overtaking my lungs. This would have to be a quick search. “If he’s anywhere, he’s there.”
“Then let’s go.” Thistle wrapped her hand around my wrist. At first I was taken aback because I thought she might be feeling vulnerable. Then I realized it was simply because she didn’t want to lose me should darkness overtake us. “Stop dilly-dallying. We have to find him and get out. This building won’t stay erect forever.”
She had a point.
I put one foot in front of the other as I cut through the building. It was hard to see because of the smoke, and the occasional sound of something falling from above was nerve-wracking. Thistle kept up a nonstop litany of curses and threats as she followed. Her fingernails dug into the soft flesh of my wrist and I tried to push the pain out of my mind. Now was not the time to complain.
There was a change in the amount of available light when we reached the workshop. Thanks to a window on the west side of the building, we could see at least part of the room. It was there, on the floor behind a bench, that a pair of legs were clearly visible.
“Is that ... ?” Thistle drew up beside me, releasing my wrist.
“Adam.” I dropped to my knees. He was covered in debris, but I didn’t have to clean him off to know that he was dead. His eyes were open, sightless, and his lungs had stopped drawing oxygen before we made the decision to enter the building.
“Oh, well, this is just great,” Thistle drawled, glaring at me. “He’s dead. We came in here for nothing.”
I shot her a dirty look. “Are you honestly telling me you would’ve been okay with not checking?”
“I would’ve been fine with it.”
I didn’t believe her, but it hardly mattered. “He’s gone. I’d suggest we drag him out, but I think it will take longer than we have.” The sound of something falling on the floor above us caused me to cringe. “We have to get out of here.”
“Oh, do you think?” Thistle’s eyes flashed as she stomped back in the direction from which we’d come. “I could’ve told you this was a bad idea. Does anyone listen to me, though? Of course not. I’m just the youngest cousin. Nobody listens to the youngest cousin.” She was silent for a beat. “Are you even listening to me?”
“Of course not. You’re the youngest cousin. Why would I listen to you?” The words were meant as a joke, but there was no mirth in my tone because at that moment Thistle moved to slide through the opening, and a cavalcade of whispers assailed my senses.
I reacted on impulse. I still don’t know why. It wasn’t as if I could make out a single voice in the din. That didn’t stop me from grabbing the back of Thistle’s shirt and pulling hard. Murder etched across her face as she swiveled, and I knew I was in trouble. Before she could say a word, the ceiling in the room we were about to enter gave way with enough force that we both fell backward, landing on Adam’s body.
“We can’t go out that way,” Thistle said dumbly, her face blank.
For some reason, her reaction struck me as funny and I laughed.
“It’s not funny,” she argued, adopting a dour expression. “Why are you laughing?”
“I don’t know.” That was the truth. I had no idea why I was laughing. “It just struck me as funny.”
“That’s because you’re a moron.” She flicked me between my eyebrows and glared. “How are we going to get out?”
I sobered. The lack of oxygen was causing us to act stupidly. It most certainly wasn’t a good thing. I didn’t want to suffocate. I didn’t want to burn. We had to get out. I thought it was a great idea to enter in the first place. It was on me to get us out.
“I think we should go through there.” I pointed to the window, which was now only offering the faintest bit of light.
“That’s great.” Thistle grunted as she stood. “How do you think we should do it?”
That was a ridiculous question. “We break the glass.”
“Great, Einstein. With what?”
“Well ... .” I was starting to feel fuzzy around the edges. What I really wanted was to curl up in a ball and sleep, but I knew better than to give in to that urge. “Just a second.”
Aimlessly — because having direction was more difficult than it should’ve been — I wandered toward the work bench and picked up the first thing that I found. It happened to be a hammer, which was good because I was certain a hammer could break glass.
“I’ve got it.”
I reared back with the tool and aimed at the window. I felt weak and struggled to stay upright. The voices in the back of my head were back ... and they were warning me.
“You can’t throw that without help now,” a woman whispered.
“You need help,” another voice added. This one sounded decidedly male.
“Let us help you,” the first voice persisted. “You’ll die here if you don’t.”
I was confused. I’d never heard voices before. Okay, that wasn’t exactly true. I talked to ghosts, ethereal beings others couldn’t see. But they were real. These voices sounded otherworldly, as if they were talking to me from a great distance.
“Did you hear that?” I asked.
Thistle shook her head. “Bay, we need to get out of here. I can’t last much longer.”
The somber admission was enough to jolt me out of the floating reverie. She was right. If we didn’t get out of this building now, we never would. Because it seemed like a good idea — I really did need help — I opened myself to the voices. They reacted in an instant, helping me lift the hammer. When I let it go, it soared faster and harder than it should’ve under only my power, and when it hit the window the glass exploded.
I was too slow to cover my face, and a few stray pieces landed on my cheeks. The rush of fresh oxygen was welcome. The second I inhaled, my brain started firing on all cylinders.
“We have to get out of here right now.” I hopped on the bench by the window and poked my head out, sucking in gaping mouthfuls of air. When I turned to make sure Thistle was with me, I almost fell out of the window because her face was so close to mine. “Make a noise next time,” I complained.
“Oh, I’m going to make a noise.” Thistle’s voice was low and full of warning. “I’m going to make so much noise you’ll hear me in your dreams the rest of your life.”
That was an ominous threat. “Hey ... we’re both alive. In fact, ... .” I yelped when I felt a set of hands on my hips. I was flying through the air before I could register what was happening. As I turned, I found Chief Terry Davenport’s eyes on me as he gripped me tightly against him.
“I’m going to lock you up for the rest of your life for stupidity!” he barked. “And then I’m going to tell your mother what you did and laugh when she withholds dessert from you.”
Ah, well, at least I was alive.
Three
Chief Terry didn’t stop until we were safely away from the building.
“Thistle?” I struggled against him, but he didn’t release me.
“She’s fine.”
“Where is she?”
“She’s fine!” He snapped out the words with enough force that I jolted. He must’ve immediately regretted being so harsh, because he held up his hands. “I’m sorry. I just ... are you stupid?”
That didn’t sound like a rhetorical question. “Not last time I checked,” I said dryly, rubbing at my irritated eyes. “Adam Harris is inside. He’s dead.”
Chief Terry’s eyebrows rose. “You saw him?”
“He’s in the workshop.”
“Do you know how he died?”
I shook my head. “He had debris on him and his eyes were open. Maybe something hit him in the head. I would think if he was overcome by smoke his eyes would’ve been closed, but what do I know?”
He held my gaze for an extended moment and then snapped his fingers to get a uniformed officer’s attention. “Tell the firefighters to try to protect the workshop area,” he ordered.
The officer didn’t offer up a word of argument, leaving Thistle with a paramedic as he disappeared toward the front of the building.
“She needs oxygen over here, too,” Chief Terry demanded of the first responder, a pretty blonde with big eyes.
“I’m okay,” I protested, taking a moment to catch Thistle’s gaze. She looked blissed out as she reclined on a gurney, an oxygen mask covering her mouth and nose. “Don’t worry about me.”
“What makes you think I’m worried?” There was a darkness to his voice that I’d heard only a time or two over the years I’d known him. I sensed trouble ... and it wasn’t the sort I wanted to grapple with right now.
“I’m just saying ... .”
He barreled forward as if he hadn’t heard me. “Only an idiot rushes into a burning building. I knew you were rash, but I never thought of you as an idiot. Well, that’s not entirely true. There have been a few instances when I’ve wondered after you let your cousins talk you into the most moronic things imaginable. This, this is too much.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but I didn’t get a chance. The paramedic directly in front of me slapped an oxygen mask over my mouth.
“We had to look,” I protested, my voice muffled.
“Take it easy,” the woman instructed. “You’ve been through an ordeal.”
“She’s only been through half of an ordeal,” Chief Terry countered, his expression serious as he held my gaze. “It’s going to get worse when her mother and aunts find out. Oh, and her boyfriend. I can’t wait to see his reaction.”
My heart stuttered at the thought. “You’re not going to tell them?”
“Of course, I’m going to tell them. I can’t keep this to myself. You were reckless ... and I can’t abide recklessness.”
I didn’t know if I wanted to laugh, yell or cry. In all honesty, it was a mixture of all three. “You can’t tattle. That’s not allowed.”
“I can do whatever I want.”
“But ... .”
“No!” His eyes flashed with fury. “You’re in big trouble. Do you have any idea how terrified I was when I found out you were in that building? You’re in deep, Missy, and I’m looking forward to you getting punished.”
I wasn’t used to being on his naughty list. “Will you change your mind if I cry?” I had to try something. This would spiral out of control quickly if I didn’t manage to contain it.
“Nope. I’m holding strong.”
CHIEF TERRY WAS IN THE MIDDLE OF a serious conversation with the fire chief when Aunt Tillie finally showed up. Her scooter, which had running lights that glowed in the smoky curtain billowing through the street, came to a screeching halt when she saw Thistle and me resting beneath oxygen masks.
“What happened to you two?” she asked, abandoning the scooter and moving toward us. She didn’t look concerned as much as curious.
“They ran into a burning building,” Chief Terry barked. I wasn’t even sure he was monitoring us until he yelled.
“Why?” Aunt Tillie wasn’t nearly as worked up as everybody else.
“Because Lorna was screaming that Adam was in there and we thought we should check,” I replied, my voice hard to make out behind the mask.
“Was he in there?”
I nodded, briefly pressing my eyes shut. “He was already dead.”
“That’s too bad. I always liked Adam. He complimented my scooter yesterday. He had good taste.”
Thistle propped herself up on her elbows and slanted her eyes in Aunt Tillie’s direction. “Speaking of that, what’s the deal with the scooter? Where did you get it? Oh, and why did you get a kick scooter? That seems like a lot of unnecessary work.”
“I found it on Amazon. You can find anything there, including these gummy bears that supposedly give you explosive diarrhea. No joke. It’s in the reviews. I bought some.”
I was confused. “You want explosive diarrhea?”
“No, but I have enemies.”
Of course. I heaved out a sigh. “How do you even know that Mrs. Little likes gummy bears?”
“What makes you think they’re for Margaret?”
That was a sobering thought and I made a mental note to stay away from anything gummy on the rare occasions we served ice cream with a multitude of toppings at the inn. “You haven’t explained about the scooter,” I prodded. It seemed a safe topic. “Does Mom know you bought it?”
Aunt Tillie’s gaze darkened. “First, I don’t have to register my purchases with your mother. I’m an
adult and can buy what I want. I wanted this, so I bought it. Secondly … I guess I don’t have a second. That’s a first.”
“Really, I don’t care either way. We saw you zipping around the block right before the building exploded and we were afraid.”
“Oh, well ... that’s kind of sweet.” She patted my hand. “I was stalking Margaret at the time. I was nowhere close to the blacksmith’s. You don’t have to worry.”
“We stopped worrying once we saw the fire,” Thistle offered. “At least about you. Adam was another story.”
“At least you looked,” Aunt Tillie noted. “You would’ve questioned yourselves after the fact if you hadn’t.”
“See.” I pinned Thistle with a pointed look. “Aunt Tillie gets it.”
“Yes, the one person who agrees with what you did is our great-aunt, a woman who wears leggings with penises on them and rides around on a scooter so she can terrorize the woman who owns the porcelain unicorn store. That seems like a strong argument.”
I wanted to smack her, but that would involve getting up, and I was too tired. Besides, she had a point ... which was beyond frustrating.
“You’re on my list, mouth,” Aunt Tillie warned, extending a finger in Thistle’s direction. “I hope you’re happy.”
Thistle offered up a haphazard wave. “I’m too tired to deal with your crap. We’ll argue about the list later.”
“Fair enough.” Aunt Tillie shuffled closer to Thistle and stared into her eyes. “Why do you look worse than Bay?”
“She always looks worse than me,” I replied.
“In your dreams,” Thistle growled. “Everyone knows I’m the hot one. You’re the ... intellectual. Wait ... no ... I want to be the intellectual one, too. Clove is the whiny one, so that makes you the boring one.”
I rolled my eyes. “Whatever you need to tell yourself to get through the day.”
“I’m serious.” Aunt Tillie’s gaze darkened. “You don’t look good.” She turned her eyes to the paramedic. “Why is she so pale?”
Wicked Witches of the Midwest Mystery Box Set Page 61
