by E B Corbin
Roxanne took the phone and stared at it for several seconds before returning it to Kate. "I don't know her number. I...I put it in my contacts and f...forgot it." Roxanne bit back tears, afraid once she started she would never be able to stop.
"We'll find a way to let her know." Kate took Roxanne's arm. Holding tight to Jonathon's hand on her other side, she led them into Oilville's newest B&B.
The center hall held a round table with a large vase filled with calla lilies. Through double french doors to the right, two wing backed chairs and a sofa surrounded a carved wooden mantle above a large fireplace. Unlike the blaze outside, this fire offered real warmth. The pungent smell of burning wood, plastics and other contents of her house lingered only slightly underneath the comforting aroma of pine and lemon.
Bookshelves lined both sides of the fireplace. Two overstuffed chairs with ottomans sat in the far corner with a small table between them and a floor lamp centered behind, perfect for a lazy afternoon or evening of reading. Taking in her surroundings was just what she needed to calm down.
Before she had time to semi-process the rest of the giant Victorian, Jonathon threw off his parka and kicked off his boots. He looked up at his mother through the steam fogging the lenses' of his glasses. "Can I have some hot chocolate? Please, Mommy, please?"
"Put your coat and boots in the mud room first." Kate tousled her son's wavy blond hair. The little boy grabbed his paraphernalia and ran off down the hall. She watched him go then turned to Roxanne. "Let me take your coat."
"Oh, no, that's all right. I'll keep it with me." Roxanne took off her coat and threw it over her arm. Holding onto it made her feel more grounded somehow.
"I better get that hot chocolate started." Kate pointed to a closed door. "There's a powder room under the stairs, if you want to freshen up."
Roxanne followed her past a small desk holding a laptop computer. She groaned inwardly as she realized she had to replace her computer, along with underwear, clothes and everything else she owned.
Kate nodded at the desk. "That's my attempt at a reception area," she said with a laugh. "Though we haven't had any use for it so far. I didn't open until after hunting season, so I may have to wait until spring for my first guests. There's scissors in the drawer if you want to cut off that... that thing." Kate pointed to her neck.
Roxanne grabbed the scissors before she entered the powder room and sank onto the lid of the toilet with relief. A few tears trickled from her eyes but she quickly brushed them away. She would not fall apart--would not let this catastrophe win.
As she stood and looked in the mirror while cutting the difficult blindfold from her neck, her determination faltered. Residue from the duct tape remained, with a rectangular shaped red welt where the adhesive had stretched across her cheeks and lips. She slapped cold water on her face and used her fingernails to remove the sticky lines of gunk. Then she finger combed her auburn hair into a semblance of order, realizing she didn't even have a hairbrush or comb to call her own. Her irises had gone from bright turquoise to washed out gray, giving her a ghostly appearance. She bit her lips for some color and opened the door with a sigh. It was the best she could do for now.
She spotted Jonathon in a nook off to the side of the kitchen, sitting at a large oval table as he happily slurped a mug of steaming chocolate. He looked up when she approached. "You want some hot cocoa?" he asked. "My mom makes the best!"
"It looks delicious," Roxanne told him, "but I don't think I want any right now."
Jonathon shrugged his slender shoulders. "Whatever," he said, sounding more like a bored teen than a five year old.
Roxanne pulled out a chair opposite the boy and looked around the massive kitchen. A six-burner stove with double ovens sat against one wall, close to a large aluminum sink. The heavy-duty dishwasher beneath the sink showed scratches from a lot of use. At right angles to the other appliances stood a huge refrigerator. A KitchenAid mixer, a blender, a four piece toaster and a waffle iron were tucked into the corner. A working kitchen, no mistake. Roxanne returned her gaze to Jonathon. "Where's your mother?"
"She's getting my bath ready," he said between noisy sips of his hot drink. "I tried to tell her I'm not tired, but she said it's past my bedtime." He looked at her over the glasses which had slipped down his nose. "What do you think?"
"She thinks you should listen to your mother," Kate declared, entering the kitchen from a side door.
Jonathon let out an exaggerated sigh, tipped the mug to get every last drop of chocolate and looked up at them with a milk mustache before he slid off the chair and skipped out of the room.
"Make sure you throw your dirty clothes in the hamper!" Kate called to his retreating back. To Roxanne, she said, "Sorry about that, he insists he's a big boy and can take a bath by himself, but..."
"He's a sweet kid. I imagine children that age can be a handful...especially at bed time."
"Oh, he's very good...almost too good. Ever since his father died, he walks on eggshells around other adults." Kate's brown eyes turned somber. "Having Pete around helps." She looked up at the clock on the wall. "He should be here soon. But you should know that I have three rooms upstairs all available and ready for guests. You're welcome to stay here as long as you need. No charge."
"I...I don't know what to say. That's so kind of you," Roxanne answered. In truth, the thought that she needed a place to sleep tonight had not even entered her mind. "I might take you up on it. But I insist you charge me the going rate."
Kate laughed. "There isn't one yet. We're still working on some of the bedrooms and I wouldn't feel right charging you. If you can put up with Pete or me hammering at all hours, you can be our first guest."
"That would be great, if you charge me the regular rate," Roxanne insisted. "I can live with just about anything as long as I have a roof over my head."
"Then it's settled. We'll talk about rates later. Follow me; you can have your pick of the finished rooms." Kate glided into the hallway as Roxanne trailed behind, feeling like a puppy following its master.
Puppy...made her thing of dog. "Oh, God," she moaned. "I completely forgot about Puka!" She froze on the first rung of the stairs. "My golden retriever. I left him in the house! I've got to find him!"
Kate gazed back at her before saying in a soft voice, "It may be too late. If the smoke got him, at least it was quick."
"No...no-o-o." The tears Roxanne had managed to control up until now coursed down her cheeks. She held tightly to the bannister as a wave of grief washed over her. She loved that dog! The retriever had been good company, always attentive and happy to see her, no matter her mood. He didn't deserve to die such a horrible death.
Everything rushed at her--the abduction, the fire and now the dog. Too much to absorb, she swiveled and sat on the closest step, her head in her hands.
Kate joined her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, offering comfort without saying a word.
Eventually, her tears ran dry. Roxanne sucked in a deep breath and said, "I'll deal with it later. Let's go."
A few rungs of the wide stairway squeaked as they climbed to the second floor. Roxanne saw three doors to the right of the stairs, three to the left, as well as a more ornate door in the center.
"That's Pete's room," Kate said, pointing to the middle one. "It's the biggest and has a small kitchen. Not that he uses it much." She smiled and turned right. "Over here are the three finished rooms. We're still working on the other side, but you can choose any of these. They all have attached baths, decent locks, and fairly large closets."
"Closets won't be a problem for me," Roxanne quipped, ignoring the black cloud of despair that threatened to smother her. "I'm sure any will do."
"Sorry, I wasn't thinking," Kate bit her lip as a tiny voice called from below. Jonathon needed help washing his hair. "The rooms are unlocked now. Look around but if I were you I'd pick one on the front side of the house. That way you'll have a better view." With an apology, she left to attend to her son.
Afte
r peeking in all three bedrooms, Roxanne decided that Kate's choice was the best. The room had a four-poster bed with a grey-blue comforter, loads of pillows and a brushed chrome candlestick lamp on the night table. Blue and grey striped wallpaper gave the room a masculine touch but she preferred that to one with girly pink flowers.
The selling point: she could look out the window and not be forced to see the burned out shell she used to call home. She shut the door, and joined Kate and Jonathon in the kitchen.
"He wanted to say good-night," Kate told her.
Roxanne looked at the pink-faced child with wet blond curls and the same big, brown eyes as his mother. "You're all cleaned up!"
"Yeah," Jonathon looked at the floor, shuffling his feet. "I wanted to tell you I'm glad you're not a zombie."
Roxanne laughed. "Well, I'm glad I'm not a zombie, too. Good-night, sweetie."
She watched Kate lead him out the side door and picked up his empty mug to rinse out. She might as well make herself useful if this was going to be her home for the foreseeable future. She heard the beeps and dings from the alarm system as the front door opened.
"Dammit, Kate, I told you to always set the alarm," a voice called.
Pete Sterling stood in the doorway, his hands on his hips. She'd forgotten how good-looking the newest member of Oilville's police force was. His warm brown eyes matched his sister's and nephew's. They scanned the room and came to rest on Roxanne. "Glad you're okay," he nodded.
"Me too," Roxanne hid her apprehension with a smile.
He shrugged out of his police issue jacket and hung it on the back of one of the kitchen chairs. "You know, until Kate called, there were some pretty intense moments at the fire. No one knew whether you were inside or not and we had to practically tie Callahan down to keep him from running into the place. I don't think he would have listened to any of us if it wasn't for his grandfather."
"They're okay?" Roxanne asked. "No one was injured fighting the fire?"
"No, the guys are well trained for a volunteer department and know what they're doing. They tried to save the place but it went up way too fast. I'm sorry about that."
She swallowed hard. "I had a golden retriever..."
"The dog? He's fine. Your neighbor, Mrs. Patterson has him. Found him barking at her front door. In fact, he alerted her to the fire at your place. She called the fire department."
Relief flooded Roxanne as she collapsed into a kitchen chair. She closed her eyes, taking several deep breaths but tears leaked out and she let them come. If she'd really lost Puka, too, she'd be ready to give it all up.
Pete watched her in silence. Finally, giving in to his discomfort, he stood. "I'm going to make some coffee. Where's Kate?"
"Putting Jonathon to bed."
"Damn, I was hoping to get back in time to tell him a story. He's started to look forward to it and I hate to disappoint him."
"It's too late for coffee," Kate whispered, gently closing the side door as she entered the kitchen.
"Not too late for me. I'm on duty 'till midnight." Pete kissed his sister on the cheek.
Kate saw the tears streaming from Roxanne. "What's wrong?"
"I...I just found out Puka's okay. I can't believe I forgot about him."
"He's safe. That's the important thing." Pete dropped a pod into the coffee machine.
Kate squeezed Roxanne's shoulders. "We'll get him in the morning and bring him over here."
"You don't need a dog hanging around," Roxanne said. "I should give him back to the Madisons."
"He's welcome to stay here with you. Jonathon will be thrilled." Kate assured her. "Don't rush into any decisions."
Roxanne supported her head with her hand. "You're right. I'm exhausted. Can't even think straight anymore."
"I'll get you a few things you may need," the other woman offered. With that she hurried out, giving Roxanne no chance to protest.
Pete brought a cup of freshly brewed coffee to the table. "You want some?"
"I just want to sleep." Roxanne felt so weary she could barely get the words out.
"I'm afraid I have some questions first." He sat and reached for her hand. "I'm sorry, but the sooner we get this over with..."
"I don't think I can answer many questions, but go ahead." She found a tissue on the counter and blew into it.
Back in her seat, she rested her head in her arms on the table. She just wanted this night to end.
Tomorrow had to be a better day.
- 9 -
As much as Roxanne wanted this over with, she needed some answers.
"How did the fire start?" she asked before Pete could begin his questions.
"Not exactly sure, yet. Some of the guys said they could smell gasoline in several places. Did you store any gas cans in the house?"
Roxanne's spine stiffened. "Of course not. I'm not a complete idiot."
"Yeah, well, they think it may have been deliberately set." Pete gauged her reaction over the top of his coffee mug.
"Son of a bitch," she muttered.
"We won't know for sure until the arson inspector gets here tomorrow sometime. But right now it looks like someone started it...or you did."
"And why would I do that?" As she returned his stare, she wondered why she had thought so highly of him.
"I haven't a clue." He shrugged. "Where were you? No one could contact you for over three hours. You seemed to have disappeared off the face of the earth."
"I...I was kidnapped." She averted her eyes from his probing gaze.
"Kidnapped." Pete sat back, moving the coffee mug half a turn on the table.
"It's true!" Roxanne gave him a withering look.
"You escaped?" he asked.
"No."
"The kidnapper just let you go." The words dropped like stones from his mouth.
Roxanne ignored his skepticism. "Kidnappers, plural. There were two of them."
"And they just let you go?" he repeated.
"Kind of. They pushed me out of the car a few minutes before your sister and nephew saw me stumbling up their street. I was still bound and gagged."
"Interesting." Pete grabbed the mug for a large swallow of coffee. "Do you know them?"
Roxanne hesitated a beat. "No."
She figured it was only half a lie since she didn't know them when they grabbed her. She needed time to decide whether or not to give them up. If they were truly in the US to help Roxy, she didn't want to hinder them in any way.
"When and where did this happen?" Pete asked.
"Around six o'clock tonight. I was on my way to see Tom O'Malley. They grabbed me at one of the intersections between my place and his."
"What did they want? Money?"
"I'm not sure," Roxanne demurred. "Just information, I think. At least they didn't ask for money."
"What kind of information?"
"About Roxy...my mother." When he nodded for her to continue, she said, "They wanted to know where she was."
"What did you tell them?"
"That I didn't know."
"And they believed you?" Pete asked, looking incredulous again.
"Why not? I don't know her whereabouts."
"But they let you go, anyway?"
Roxanne shrugged under his unflinching stare. No sense in trying to explain all about Roxy's past and her IRA connections. She was too weary to take on a complicated narration and she wasn't sure she wanted to go there. "They brought me back here and dropped me off, like I said."
"Where did they take you?"
"I don't know. I was unconscious on the way there and blindfolded on the way back."
"How long was the drive? Did they hurt you?" The questions came rapidly, with no pause between. Pete's frustration began to break through his poker-faced cop's demeanor.
"They didn't hurt me. Aside from knocking me out when they first grabbed me." She winced lightly touching her jaw. "And I don't know how long we were in the car; it could have been thirty minutes or two hours. It seemed like forever."
"What kind of car?"
Was this a trick question? "I told you, I was blindfolded. I don't know what kind of car. It didn't feel big enough to be a SUV but I never got a good look at it."
"Can you describe them?" Pete added, sounding hesitant. "Maybe we can round up a sketch artist."
"They were older, more Roxy's age than mine. I can probably give some sort of description if you need it. I've never worked with an artist before--don't know how much help I could be."
The officer sighed. "Look, I'm trying to help. You seem like a nice person, but you have to admit your story is...a little far-fetched. There are too many unanswered questions."
"I know how it sounds," Roxanne snapped.
"This is a slow, sometimes even boring, small town. Yet today there was a murder, a kidnapping and a house fire, probably arson. You were the common denominator in all these things."
She looked down at her brown leather boots, unable to think of a response.
Pete's phone rang. He took another large gulp of coffee before checking the screen. "It's the sheriff. He's been calling all night for updates about the fire." Pete stepped into the hallway before picking up, which meant that Roxanne heard none of the conversation.
Her mind raced between Seth's death, Roxy's disappearance and being grabbed by the two Irishmen. Anything to keep from dwelling on the house. She had nothing left...nothing. She hoped Kate returned soon, then maybe she could put an end to the irritating interview with Pete. No matter how much he grilled her, she had no more to say. She was tired of dealing with Pete's skepticism and a sense of foreboding told her that the worst was yet to come.
Roxanne knew it wasn't his fault. He was just doing his job. The only saving grace was that he lacked any preconceived notions of her guilt or innocence. Sheriff Walters and Bud would not be so accommodating.
She wished she knew if she could trust Pete. Then again, she wasn't sure she could trust Callahan, or even Chester, for that matter. Add to that the lies Maureen had told her for forty years when she masqueraded as her mother, the evasiveness of Roxy, her birth mother, and the strange behavior of the two Irishmen. No wonder she felt rudderless and alone.
