You Again

by Ashlee Mallory

  Why?

  Chapter Four

  The hint of cloves and cinnamon was like a drug. Within seconds of consuming the first oatmeal cookie—almost burning the top of her mouth in the process—the tightness in Allie’s shoulders and neck finally eased. Something an hour on the treadmill and a long, hot shower hadn’t been able to accomplish.

  “That bad, huh?”

  She looked up to see her tall, waif-like sister watching her with a smirk. So caught up in her culinary bliss, Allie hadn’t heard her arrive.

  “Do I need to ask?” Laney dropped her purse on the kitchen table and slid onto one of the barstools.

  “I’m that predictable?”

  Laney raised her arched brow. “From my experience, I’d say a batch of your mom’s raisin oatmeal cookies registers as a red alert on the stress scale. Are you still upset about your old teacher? Or is it the return of Mr. Teenage Heartthrob that’s got you all hormonal?”

  Allie sighed. She knew she shouldn’t have told her sister about Sam. Ever.

  She pretended not to have heard the last part. “Mr. Williams was more than just my old teacher, Lane. He helped me through some stuff, believed in me when it seemed no one else did. I’ll always be grateful to him. And to think someone killed him…why would anyone want to murder him?”

  “You’re taking this awfully hard.” Her sister’s brow went up. “Are you sure there wasn’t something more between you and this teacher than just a student-teacher relationship?”

  “Yeah,” Allie drawled. “Because men were falling over themselves to sleep with the fat chick with a bad perm and overbite.”

  Laney laughed and tucked a piece of her naturally-blond hair behind her ear. “Come on. You weren’t that bad.”

  “How would you know? When I was in high school, you were still in elementary school idolizing Barbie and the Care Bears.”

  “You’re changing the subject now.”

  “I think it’s important that after everything he did for me, I do something for him. For his memory. I know Mr. Williams made a difference in a lot of people’s lives, not just mine. But when I brought it up tonight at the planning meeting, all anyone could think about was the unflattering publicity the school would receive because of the taint of murder.”

  She noticed her younger sister eying the cookies and pushed one toward her. Allie’s father had married Peg almost a year after Allie’s mom died, and Laney had followed the next year. Allie’s half-sister had been blessed with Peg’s tall, slim build, so her figure had always been lithe. But lately, it had become alarmingly thin.

  Laney grabbed the cookie but didn’t take a bite. “They should be more worried about the new teacher they brought on board than any video you could put together. You mention the name Sam Fratto at my ward, it’s like saying Salman Rushdie at a mosque. It’s a good thing you stopped obsessing about that jerk.” She shook her head. “Good grief. Love at first sight while serving detention? You must have watched too many John Hughes movies.”

  Allie bit back a smile. If only that first meeting had been as romantic as the movies. But Sam hadn’t even known she existed that day when he stood in the doorway of the detention room. Back then, he’d worn his hair longer, a bit shaggier, and he’d had to brush his bangs back to survey the room. Giving her the first glimpse of those grayish green eyes that were to haunt her for far too many nights from that moment on.

  “I still can’t believe what he said to you at the airport,” Laney muttered.

  “He did apologize for that,” Allie said half-heartedly.

  To tell the truth, the days since Mr. Williams’s body was discovered had passed in such a blur that up until now, she hadn’t really given Sam Fratto much thought.

  Well, at least in the daylight hours.

  She had seen him a handful of times in the halls, and at the assembly yesterday, but other than a brief nod, they hadn’t spoken. Kind of like high school all over again. Probably best to change the subject and keep Sam where he belonged—in the past. “How are things with you and Mark? Any better?”

  Laney took a nibble of her cookie, as though stalling for time. “I could tell you better if we actually crossed paths once in a while. The whole issue has become moot since I’ve hardly seen my husband for weeks—let alone been intimate with him.”

  “He is a fire fighter. His hours have always been crazy. I wouldn’t read anything into it.”

  “His regular hours are crazy. Then he went and signed up to be on a paramedic rotation, and now it’s unreal. I barely see him three hours a week.”

  “Why did he do that?” Allie got up and slid the last cookie sheet into the oven.

  “He said he did it to save up for our future.” Laney didn’t sound particularly convinced, and Allie didn’t really blame her.

  “Mom?” A voice echoed in from the foyer, and the front door slammed. Allie’s daughter skipped in.

  “Hey sweetie,” she managed to say before her six-year old flung herself into her arms. She saw the wistful look in Laney’s eyes and sent her an understanding smile over the top of Violet’s head.

  “Hi, Aunt Laney. Guess what, Mom?” Violet slid onto the barstool next to her aunt. “Dad and I went skating at the parkway today, and I didn’t fall even once! It was so-oo cool,” she said with a slight lisp as the air hissed out of the area where her right front tooth had been.

  The tall figure of Allie’s ex-husband, Ryan, appeared at the threshold of the kitchen a moment later. He came to the counter, grabbed a cookie, and took a bite. “Yum. I always did love it when you had a bad day.”

  She scowled and ignored his comment. “You’re both taking some of these with you. My hips will thank you.”

  She also sent out a silent thank you to the universe for sending her such a timely reminder of why she really, really was not interested in romance.

  It always ended in disaster.

  …

  A heavy, musty odor assailed Allie when she pushed open the door to the archive room. With quick fingers, she found the light switch and flipped it. The lights flashed a couple times before staying on.

  The archive room at St. Andrew’s Academy was located in the basement of the old admin building. Despite its hundred year old history, the room was surprisingly clean and organized. Anything of significant value had disappeared decades ago.

  The heavy door wanted to close behind her, something the odor and her nerves wouldn’t allow. She kicked a few heavy boxes over to the door to hold it open in an attempt to get some kind of air flow.

  Twenty minutes in, she had managed to locate and stack four boxes of assorted videos and photos onto the dolly. She’d spied two more boxes along the back wall that, from their labels, looked like something she might want. Unfortunately, a long, heavy trunk blocked access to them. Maybe she could climb over the trunk and slide the boxes across the top? Or come back with someone who had more muscle.

  Satisfied for now, she maneuvered the dolly through the room, careful to keep an arm on top to prevent the boxes from tipping over. Their odd sizes made balancing them tricky. Because she planned on returning after she dropped these off upstairs, she left the lights on and the door unlocked. School had ended an hour ago, so it was unlikely any of the students would find their way down here.

  Plus, the room could stand a little fresh air.

  She wheeled the dolly down the hall and to the elevator. Darn. She’d removed the key from the elevator panel so she could unlock the door to the archive room. And now the elevator had been called somewhere above. She tapped her foot impatiently while she waited for the old elevator to respond, and a few minutes later, the loud mechanical noises told her it was on its way.

  The doors creaked open, and she slid the key into the front panel, wheeled in the dolly, and waited again for the ancient car to make the slow trip up to the second floor. Instead of depositing the boxes in her own classroom, she continued down the hall and around the corner until she reached the journalism room. She’d alread
y decided it would be easier to carve out a space for the project here rather than her crowded classroom.

  Unfortunately, drawing near to her destination, she had become sloppy. When she pushed the dolly through the door, a box corner caught on the jamb.

  Crap.

  She tried to save the boxes as they tipped forward in a race for the floor and was relieved when an extra set of hands appeared to secure them upward again. Mess averted, she looked up and was able to see who had been her rescuer.

  Damn.

  Sam Fratto. What was he doing here?

  …

  Sam had thought a cup of coffee was a good idea when he’d started out the door of the Crimson Press room. Until a stack of boxes had almost dropped on him.

  He shouldn’t have been entirely surprised to find himself staring into an equally shocked pair of blue eyes as he slid the top box securely back in place.

  “Thank you,” Allie said and took a deep breath. Her lips thinned as she added, “But if you’re going to make another snide comment about not taking better care of my packages, I’m going to dump this entire load on you right now.”

  He smiled. “I suppose I deserve that. Can I help you get these somewhere?”

  “If you wouldn’t mind.” She paused, battling with some decision as she chewed on her full bottom lip. She raised her gaze to his again, her lip still wet and glistening, and he tried to focus on her words. “Actually, maybe I could ask another favor. There are a few more boxes downstairs, but I couldn’t get to them. Once I unload these, would you be willing to help me out? I could really use the muscle.”

  That was a tough one. Stuck alone in the basement with the elusive pretty teacher?

  “Sure.” He stepped aside to let her pass, then followed as she pushed the dolly to the back of the room. He took the top two boxes, and at her instruction, placed them on a long table.

  A light, floral scent wafted towards him as she pushed a third box onto the table. Nice. Subtle. He stepped back, grabbed the next box, and set it with the rest. She bent down and heaved the last box up. He couldn’t resist admiring the view of her nicely shaped ass. He was careful to hide his smile when she stood and turned to face him. Her face, rosy from the exertion, offset the blueness in her eyes. “Thank you.” A strand of golden hair had fallen forward across her cheek.

  He nodded. “No problem.” Before he could do something stupid, he grabbed the dolly and led her to the elevator.

  “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever been down here,” he said as they slowly descended.

  “Don’t get too excited. There isn’t really much to it.”

  Sam had been thinking about Allie far too often these past couple of days, and not just because he found her an attractive—albeit irritating—woman. He’d been surprised she’d taken such a personal interest in honoring their late teacher, even at the risk of angering some of the more influential members of the centennial planning committee. “I was impressed with your performance last night. Mr. Williams must have meant a lot to you.”

  “He did. He deserves to be remembered.”

  She didn’t venture more, and the opening of the doors distracted him from asking anything else. He followed her down a narrow hallway, the wheels of the dolly squeaking loudly. The air was stale and dusty, and, despite the usual dry, Utah desert climate, the cement floor felt cold and damp.

  Allie headed for the rear of the room. “They’re back here.”

  His foot struck a box sitting on the floor, and immediately there was a loud sliding sound. Then the door slammed behind him. Damn. The heavy door must have been propped up by one of the boxes now at his feet. Not very well secured, either, but he resisted the impulse to say as much.

  “Sorry. I should have warned you. It was so stuffy and, honestly, kind of eerie, being down here on my own, so I shoved those boxes against the door to keep it open.”

  The smell inside the room was a little more pungent than the hallway. But also…different. Almost like… He smelled again and looked around. “Do you smell that?”

  “You think it smells bad now, you should have smelled it before,” she said, and kept walking. “Here it is. If you could just push the trunk a few feet to the left, I can squeeze by and see what’s back there.”

  She waited for him. But call it his journalistic instinct, or just plain paranoia, something wasn’t right. From his left, he could hear a low crackling, and he glanced over. A small drift of white smoke threaded up through the air.

  “Shit.” In three strides, he’d reached the spot where the smoke was coming.

  “What is it?” Allie asked at his outburst. But she choked off whatever she was going to say next when she saw the smoke, too. “What on earth—”

  In the far corner of the room, a stack of boxes was smoldering, and as he watched, the bottom box seemed to implode, and flames spilled up the sides, immediately engulfing the boxes on top. Before their eyes, the fire came to life and jumped to the stack next to it. There was no way he could get this under control.

  “We’ve got to get out of here and spring the fire alarm.” He swept his gaze to the ceiling above them and saw two ancient smoke detectors. “I don’t know why they haven’t gone off yet.”

  Allie still stood there, looking at the flames with horror. He grabbed her hand. “It’s okay. But we need to get moving. Come on.” He pulled on her arm, and she followed him, almost dazed.

  He reached the door and turned the knob. It didn’t budge. “What the—”

  He jerked on it. Locked?

  At his frown, she said, “The door automatically locks… Keys—” She cut off and hit her palms against the sides of her pocket, trying to locate them. She glanced up as smoke swirled around them, a sudden look of terror on her face. “Oh, my God. I left them in the elevator.”

  “Hell.” He yanked at the lock again, which was pointless, but gave him a moment to think. From behind them, the dull roar of the fire was getting louder and the air thicker with smoke. She coughed and put her arm over her mouth. He blinked away the stinging in his eyes and looked around for a blunt instrument of some kind. Nothing.

  Maybe he could kick it in.

  “Do you have a cell phone?” she asked, her voice strained. “Mine’s upstairs.”

  He pulled his cell phone from his back pocket. She snatched it from him and held it in front of her. “There’s a couple bars.” She pressed a few numbers.

  “Get down on the floor.” The door was steel. It wasn’t going to budge. Their only chance was to break the lock. He took a step back and, careful to center his gravity, kicked the door close to the knob. From behind him, he heard Allie speaking on the phone, crouching low to the ground.

  He kicked the door again. And again. Each time, a shock of pain radiated up his leg. But he couldn’t stop. He kept up until, around the seventh hit, the doorjamb gave way. Thank God. The fire alarm went off almost at the same time. He looked over his shoulder for Allie and saw the flames had risen higher, spreading to the back of the room. The heat was intensifying.

  “Let’s go!” he called.

  She was beside him in an instant. He grabbed her hand and pulled her from the room. Before they could take off down the hall, he pulled the broken door shut behind them. It might buy the fire department time to get down here before it could spread further.

  They sprinted down the hall. The air was already much clearer, and they both inhaled deeply, coughing out the smoke from their lungs. They stopped at the elevator to grab the keys so the fire crew could access the elevator, then found the stairs. When they rushed out into the main floor hallway a minute later, he was relieved to see the few students and faculty still in the building were calmly making their way out to the front lawn. Thank God school had already ended for the day. An hour earlier, this would have been far more serious.

  He and Allie herded everyone outside, and Sam was relieved to see the fire crew was already out front, securing a perimeter in front of the school. Chaos reigned, with men sho
uting and fire hoses flying, but at least everyone would be safe now.

  He gripped Allie’s hand, reluctant to let go. He needed to see that everything would be okay.

  Then he could think about what the hell just happened.

  …

  Allie tried to take a sip of the coffee Claire had placed in front of her at some point in the last ten minutes, but her hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

  What had the detective just asked?

  His name was Detective Johnson. KC Johnson, if she recalled correctly. The guy who had made the announcement about Mr. Williams. Was the fire connected to that case in some way? She glanced over his shoulder to see Sam leaning against the counter, watching them, but likely unable to hear their conversation.

  He’d saved her life, she was certain of that. She’d never have gotten out of that room on her own.

  “And you didn’t notice anyone lingering around the area who shouldn’t have been there? Nothing unusual?”

  She shook her head and started to speak, but the movement brought on another hacking fit. Her lungs ached from inhaling smoke. “I don’t think so,” she finally managed, her voice hoarse.

  The detective paused, and he looked at her for a long moment, his gaze friendly and sympathetic. A small scar under his eye should have made him look sinister, but instead, he just looked rugged. “Okay. And why were you in the basement? I understand from the principal the area is usually closed off to students, and even most of the staff.”

  “It is,” she croaked. She took a sip of coffee, the liquid easing the dryness of her throat, and tried again. “I was searching through the boxes for footage I could use for a video I’m putting together.”

  “Did many people know about this project you’ve set up for yourself?”

  “Probably everyone by now. There was kind of a power struggle about it at the planning meeting. I guess I won…if you can call it that.”

  He smiled faintly and glanced at the clock above the door. “I know you’re probably tired and just want to head home, but maybe you can write up a list of people who were there? In case I have some questions. Here’s my card. It has my phone number and an email, if you prefer. If anything else comes to mind, please contact me.”