by L E Fraser
“Is my sister dead?” Jennifer’s skin looked mottled with bright spots of red high on her cheeks. There was something odd about her eyes, and her upper lip kept twitching.
Reece suspected she was in shock. “Jordanna’s going to be okay. She’s a hero.” He wrapped his arm around her thin shoulders. “So are you.”
Brandy’s growl deepened and she cowered on his opposite side. Fire frightened animals, and Reece needed to get the old dog back to the car. He took the leash from Jennifer, patted Brandy, and made soothing noises to try to calm both the dog and Jennifer.
“Did you smell it? Did you smell the burning skin?”
Preoccupied with the dog, Reece thought he’d misheard. He looked up and her face was without expression.
He waved over a paramedic. “She’s in shock,” he whispered.
The man nodded. “I have her sister in my ambulance. I’ll take her with us.” He said something to Jennifer that Reece didn’t hear. Jennifer grinned. On her soot-covered face, the smile was unsettling.
A different paramedic than the one who attended Sam marched up to him. “Sir, my partner’s dealing with your friend, but I need to take a look at you before we leave. Come with me.”
Reece shook his head in defiance. “I’m fine.”
“Sir, refusing treatment is your right, but I strongly advise you to let me examine you.”
Irritated by the delay in getting Sam to the hospital, Reece looked pointedly at Brandy. “Go, please. I’ll follow you guys and check in at emergency.”
The woman frowned at the car keys in his hands. “Sir, I can’t allow you to drive until we’ve cleared you.”
“Reece, can you drive?”
He turned to find Detective Alston from York Regional standing behind him.
Reece nodded curtly.
“Let him go,” Alston told the paramedic.
The woman glanced at Alston’s badge, shrugged her shoulders, and left.
Alston gazed pensively at the burning barn. “This is one unlucky family,” he commented to Reece. “At least there wasn’t another fatality. My case load is high enough.”
Offended by his flippant tone, Reece retorted, “Sam was inside. Someone had barred the doors. This is arson and attempted murder.”
“Is that so?” the detective said with a condescending smirk.
Reece clenched his fists at his side. “Someone stuck rebar between the sliders so the rollers jammed. There was a new padlock on the side door.”
“How’d Sam get in?” Alston asked pleasantly, seemingly unconcerned by a near homicide.
“That’s the point!” Reece shouted. “Someone blocked the sliding doors and padlocked the other door after she was inside.” He pointed at the firefighters. “They’ll find an accelerant when they investigate. Probably gasoline.”
Alston studied him. “You know you have a major burn on your shoulder? What’s wrong with your leg? Are you sure you’re okay to drive?”
The man’s lackadaisical attitude infuriated Reece. “Are you going to bother to investigate this?” he demanded forcefully. “I remind you, Detective, that I outranked you when I was with the OPP. You want a political nightmare on your hands, I’m happy to call in a few favours and oblige you.”
The detective folded his arms and stood aggressively with his feet wide apart. His face was rigid with anger. “Contrary to your belief, Mr. Hash, I’m proficient at my job. If this is arson, I assure you we’ll discover the underlying cause. If we’re dealing with attempted murder, we’ll apprehend the perpetrator. The same as we’ll find the person who killed Graham Harris.”
“Well,” Reece said with disgust, “you haven’t had much luck on that front.”
Alston’s face darkened. “If you hadn’t interfered in an active investigation, we’d have Caitlyn Franklyn in custody.” He pointed at Reece. “You and I are going to have a serious discussion over that, Mr. Hash.” He turned his back. “I’ll see you at the hospital.”
The detective started to leave and turned back. “By the way, we contacted Brenda Harris. She’s on the way with your good friend, Roger Peterson.” His smile was ugly. “The key suspect in a homicide. You should pick your friends more carefully.”
Reece glared at Alston’s back as he walked away. His shoulder throbbed, and he couldn’t put weight on his ankle. Ignoring the pain, he limped to where he’d parked his car beside Sam’s Grand Am. He’d have to figure out how to get her car back to Toronto, but that could wait. All he wanted to do now was to get to the hospital so he could be with her.
What was he going to do with Brandy? He couldn’t leave her in the car for hours while they were in the hospital. His mind cleared for a split second and he saw the solution. He used his key to open Sam’s trunk. What he wanted was in plain sight, which was a relief.
After he put Brandy in the backseat of his car, Reece sat in the running vehicle, waiting for the ambulance to leave with Sam. His impatience rose as the paramedics spoke with the driver of the second ambulance.
“Hurry up! What are you waiting for,” Reece muttered and slapped his hand against the steering wheel.
Finally, they closed the ambulance doors. The frustration from just a moment earlier faded. Reece felt helpless and terrified as he watched the flashing lights on top of the ambulance. Sam was inside. Alone. Probably scared. A sinking feeling of dread and loss made his limbs weak as blood pounded in his ears.
He was twenty-four again, holding the phone to his ear while an Illinois State Trooper told him his parents and brother had died in a car accident. A car Reece should have been in, but he’d fought with his father that day.
This is an unattractive quality in a grown man, son. I’m disappointed in you.
The last words his dad had spoken to him. He couldn’t lose Sam, too.
At the end of the lane, Reece followed the flashing lights as the ambulance turned right onto the country road. The driver put on the siren and raced toward the hospital. Within seconds, Reece had lost sight of the vehicle that carried the only family left to him.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Sam
“OH BOY.” SAM laughed as she reached for Brandy. “I haven’t seen that vest in ages.”
The golden retriever trotted over with a big doggy grin. Her tail wagged so hard it made a slapping sound every time it hit the side of the hospital bed.
The red St. John Ambulance vest was snug around her middle. The white embossed letters spelling Please Pet Me and Therapy Dog had yellowed with age, and the SJA logo was tattered from too many spins in the washing machine. Wrinkled black letters spelled out Brandy’s name across the collar of the faded vest. There was now more grey than gold fur around her snout, and her left eye had a milky cataract, but Brandy still looked proud and fetching in her old therapy vest.
“How did you get her in the hospital?” Sam asked Reece. “The vest doesn’t work if they don’t recognize the dog, and her ID tag expired last month. Didn’t they ask for your photo card?” She tugged at Brandy’s floppy ears and leaned down to have her cheek slobbered.
“Roger and Brenda arrived while the nurse was arguing with me about it,” Reece explained. “Roger flashed his spiffy, impressive medical credentials and vouched for Brandy.” There was more than a touch of sarcasm in his tone. “Anyway, I didn’t want to leave her in the car and remembered that you kept the vest in your trunk. I thought Eureka and grabbed it.”
“Well, I’m glad to see my golden beauty. But be forewarned: If it’s the same nurse I’ve had all evening, you better make sure she doesn’t check Brandy’s toenails.” She rolled her eyes. “They aren’t regulation length. Hospitals were strict about that back in the day when we did friendly visiting.”
“She won’t be going anywhere else, so we’re fine.”
“Aw, you should take her down to pediatrics. The kids love her. Don’t they, sweetheart?”
Shifting her focus off the dog, Sam studied Reece. “I’m also glad to see you. What on earth have you bee
n doing for the past six hours?”
Exhaustion had carved lines in his face, and the edge of a dressing protruded from the filthy sleeve of his charred T-shirt. “How bad is your shoulder?” she asked.
“Second degree, but on the low end of the spectrum. It’ll take a couple of weeks to heal, and I have antibiotics.” He grinned. “Guess you’ll have to change the dressing since I can’t reach. Want a nursing outfit from the adult store?” He wiggled his eyebrows at her but sobered when his eyes came to rest on the bandage on her forearm and the oxygen tubes in her nose that gave her voice a slightly nasal sound. “How about you? How are you doing?”
“Also second degree.” She patted the bandage on her forearm. “Can we go home?”
Reece ignored her request for escape. “And your lungs? Any permanent damage?”
She flicked the oxygen tubes attached to her nose. “Not severe enough to intubate. They didn’t schedule a bronchoscopy. I overhead some chatter about hyperbaric oxygenation, but they’re waiting to review carbon monoxide levels in the latest set of blood tests.” She reached out her hand. “Stop worrying. I’m fine. The fire was in the back and there was enough fresh air through the bottom of the door. I’m okay. Where are Lisa, Jim, and Roger?”
He shrugged. “I left two messages for Lisa and Jim on their cells and a voice mail on their home phone, but neither of them called back. Roger’s here, but he’s with Brenda, Jordanna, and Jennifer at the moment.”
Her best friend hadn’t bothered to come to the hospital or even to call. Her other childhood friend was right down the hall and hadn’t checked on her. Disappointment formed a hot ball in the pit of her stomach.
Reece perched on the side of her bed and ran his fingers through her hair. “The ends are singed. You must have been terrified.” He kissed the palm of her hand. “How are you doing on an emotional level?”
A year ago, she would have lied and downplayed her feelings. Sharing honest emotions was important to Reece, his compassion was genuine, and he was her biggest cheerleader. He was the one person she could count on to love and support her unconditionally.
“I’m upset my friends don’t care,” she confessed, swallowing hard and blinking back tears. “As far as the fire, I’m angry. It wasn’t an accident. Someone was lurking outside.”
Reece listened intently as she told him about hearing clanging, seeing someone through the wall gaps, and smelling gasoline.
She concluded by saying, “I never saw the arsonist, but I’m telling you whoever it was knew I was inside, locked me in with intent, and lit the barn on fire to kill me.”
He didn’t say anything for a few minutes. His voice was quiet and deadly when he said, “They jammed the track with a piece of rebar and took the time to hide the ladder.”
“That must have been the metal clanging,” she said. “I did find out what made the background sound we heard on the death threat calls. There was an old, unbalanced fan in the makeshift office. It made a thump, thump sound while it oscillated. The caller was in the barn office.”
Reece raised his eyebrows. “I remember thinking it sounded like muted helicopter blades.”
“If Jordanna risked her life to save me, I guess we can eliminate her as an arson suspect,” she said.
The troubled expression on Reece’s face deepened. “Unless she saw me and realized she’d be caught unless she did something to deflect blame. The thing that bothers me is no one knew you were going to the farm. Whoever did this saw an opportunity and acted spur of the moment. But it took time and materials to set it up. That’s deliberate and calculated.”
“Diabolical,” Sam said. “But if it was Jordanna, wouldn’t that mean Jennifer knew her sister started the fire? She was there, right?”
“She was there,” he agreed. “But I don’t know the circumstances. Brenda said Jennifer was at her aunt’s house. Could be she crossed the field and found Jordanna on the scene of a raging fire.”
Sam frowned. “Speaking of Aunt Rachel, where was she? Wouldn’t she have seen smoke from her house?”
His face was grim. “I hadn’t considered that.”
“How sure are you Jordan was in the city?”
Reece shrugged. “Until Detective Alston checks alibis…” He trailed off and his lips thinned. “Assuming he bothers. Anyway, we can’t be sure anyone was where they claim they were.” He held her eyes. “That includes Brenda and Roger. Could you tell approximate age or gender based on the size of the legs and the type of pants? What about shoes, did you see them?”
She shook her head. “No. It was a flash of denim. What were Jordanna and Jennifer wearing?”
“Jeans. Same as Brenda and Roger. I called Brenda’s cell before I drove out to the farm. She said she and Roger were in the city, but who knows.”
Already upset about her friends’ lack of concern, Sam didn’t want to consider the possibility that Roger had lit the fire. Could misplaced loyalty have blinded her to the fact that one of her childhood friends was a multiple murderer? The concept terrified and sickened her.
The door opened and a doctor entered. “Hi, Sam.” He reached out his hand to Reece. “I’m Dr. Kulkarni. You’re the fiancé from the ER, I assume.”
“Reece Hash.”
They shook hands and the doctor turned to her. “I have the ABG results and your blood gases are good. The high flow oxygen the paramedics administered at the scene, in addition to the treatment you’ve received with us, reduced the CO in your blood. Your ECG and chest X-ray are normal.” He glanced up from the chart. “We’ll need to do a second X-ray in a day or two to check for atelectasis and pulmonary edema, which can develop later. From all accounts, you are a fortunate young lady.” He closed the chart. “On a scale of one to ten, how’s the pain?”
“I have a high tolerance for pain,” she replied truthfully.
“Any trouble breathing?”
She shook her head.
“Okay, we’ll keep you overnight and—”
“Nope, not happening.” She flung off the blanket. “Where are my clothes?”
“Sam—” Reece said.
“Don’t waste your breath. I’m not staying.” She got up, clutching her gown closed. Her smelly clothes were in the closet but she didn’t have a T-shirt anymore.
“You need to stay overnight,” Dr. Kulkarni insisted.
“I’ll sign a waiver that I’m leaving against doctor’s orders. I need to borrow the gown since my T-shirt went up in smoke.” She closed the bathroom door behind her.
In the other room, she heard a mumbled conversation between Reece and the doctor. They could chat all they wanted. It was her legal right to refuse treatment and leave.
When she came out, the doctor wasn’t there. “Ready?” she asked Reece as she attempted to tuck the ends of the gown into her jeans.
“We need to wait for prescriptions. An inhaler, antibiotics, and some pain meds.”
“He gave up faster than I expected,” she said and grinned.
“I told him it was pointless. You’re the single most pigheaded person I’ve ever met.” He wrapped his arm around her waist. “Besides, Brandy and I want you home.” He tilted her chin up with the tip of his finger. “But if I see one sign of respiratory distress or suspect any complication, I’m taking you to a Toronto hospital, and I mean it. He told me what to watch for. You’ll tell me if you feel unwell, right?”
“Sure.”
He gave her a stern look. “Don’t lie to me.”
She stood on her tiptoes to kiss him. “I promise.” She pulled him to the door with Brandy trotting along between them. “Let’s grab the prescriptions and split before he changes his mind.”
They met Dr. Kulkarni at the nurses’ station, took the prescriptions, and listened to a last-ditch lecture.
On their way out, they ran into Roger, who made a cursory inquiry into her health. It felt dismissive to Sam. Then he offered to drive her car to the loft, stating that he’d driven to the farm in Brenda’s car and didn’t have
a way back to the city.
Roger’s attitude completely pissed her off. But the Grand Am had been her father’s pride and joy. Sam didn’t like the idea of leaving it unattended at the farm. Seeing little option to get her precious car safely home where it belonged, she threw Roger the keys.
He caught them and she circled his wrist with her hand. “Where were you this afternoon?”
Roger glanced at her hand in confusion and tried to tug his arm free. “At my house. With Brenda. Why?”
“Can you prove it?”
His arm went limp. “You’re kidding! You can’t be suggesting we attempted to incinerate you alive.”
“Roger, I’ve made excuses for you because of Suzanna’s overdose, your mother’s mental break, and your estrangement from Veronica,” she shouted. It was all pouring out now, and she couldn’t stop it. “It’s time for you to deal with your anger. You’ve become an embittered, entitled little man. Ever since Abigail’s suicide, you, Lisa, and Jim have been selfish and unreasonable. No matter how hard I try to support you, it’s not enough, and I’m fed up with the lot of you.”
“You’ve been through a terrible ordeal,” Roger said soothingly, “we can talk—”
“Don’t you patronize me, Doctor,” she snapped. “I’m through talking. You’re taking that DNA test. I want to put Abigail—the only real friend I ever had—to rest. That requires knowing if you took advantage of her right under my nose. On top of being a scumbag, who hustles everything in a skirt, I’m inclined to believe you and Brenda murdered Graham.”
His eyes widened with shock. “I didn’t sleep with Abigail. I didn’t kill Graham Harris. What’s the matter with you?”
She released his wrist and crossed her arms against her chest. “Detective Alston told Reece you’re his prime murder suspect. Cops aren’t stupid, Roger, and I’m sick of you implying they are. The entire time I was with Toronto Police, you treated me like I was a clinical experiment on the intellectual development of the simple-minded.”
