by Dana Mentink
“Go,” Sadie had said, her eyes half closed. “It will be all right.”
But it wasn’t. As soon as Ivy cleared the window, the blaze grew, engulfing the car. Then the whole thing was aflame. And Sadie was gone.
She felt the anger as though it had happened only moments ago.
Tim was holding out his hand to her. “Life or death is not up to you, Ivy. You don’t always get to be the hero.”
She could not speak. Grief filled up her throat. “You are cruel.”
He took a step toward her. “I don’t mean to be, Ivy. I just want you to see how heavy the burden is you’re carrying. You’re so busy trying to save lives you aren’t living your own. I want to help you. I…”
Her whisper was fierce. “Don’t help me. Don’t do anything for me. Leave me alone.” She spun on her heel and left him there, arms slightly raised as if he meant to embrace her.
“At least let me drive you home,” he called.
“I can get home myself.” She stalked down the sidewalk.
Tim was arrogant and judgmental. Self-righteous was more like it, telling her how she wasn’t living her life right. Right with whom? With God? Why should she try to make it right with Him? After what He’d done to Sadie.
Why had Ivy gotten out when her sister had not? Why hadn’t the glass given under the weight of Ivy’s frantic hands as she tried to free her sister?
And why hadn’t the firefighters been able to get there before the flames engulfed the truck in a white-hot inferno? Her fingers balled into fists. Maybe Tim was right. She was carrying around a burden since her sister died, but so what? So what if she made it her mission to save people when God wouldn’t?
It wasn’t Tim’s place to judge, anyway. He was…what? The truth filled up her brain before she had a chance to screen it out. Closer than family. A bigger part of her life than she had realized before.
How had she let him in when she’d done such a thorough job of keeping everyone else out?
She exhaled sharply. It wouldn’t happen again. The very moment, the second her shoulder healed up, Ivy would be back on the line, back where she belonged. And she would take care of Mitch herself, somehow. She was so lost in her thoughts it took two rings before she heard the cell phone beeping in her pocket.
“Hello?”
“Ivy? It’s Madge. I’m sorry to bother you, but I need help. Please. Right away. Moe got so upset when I told him about Cyril he took off. Oh, please help me find him. I’m frantic.”
Ivy calmed her as best she could. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
She didn’t want to talk to Tim, let alone sit next to him, but she had to find Moe before he got hurt. With resignation, she dialed Tim’s number. “Moe’s disappeared. Mitch has my car. Can you pick me up?”
“Yes. I’ll be there in sixty seconds.”
“What? How…?”
“I’m only two blocks behind you.”
She whirled around. Sure enough, there was Tim’s truck approaching.
“Why are you following me?” she said as she got in.
He looked sheepish. “You were upset. I wanted to make sure you got home okay.”
She wanted to be angry at him, to sustain the fury she’d felt at his earlier words, but the rueful expression on his face melted away her hostility. “I’m still upset.”
“I know.”
“And I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I figured as much.”
“So let’s just concentrate on finding Moe.”
“Okay by me.”
Madge had the door open when they drove up. She danced back and forth on her thick legs. “He was so upset. He just sort of screamed and shut himself in the bedroom. I figured he would be okay in there but then I realized it was really quiet. I checked on him, and the window was open. He’s gone.” Her breath came in pants, and an unhealthy paleness crept into her cheeks.
“Sit down,” Ivy said, guiding her to a chair. “Tim and I will go look for him. He can’t have gotten far. You stay here in case he returns.”
She nodded, dashing the tears from her plump face.
Tim and Ivy went in separate directions down the quiet street, calling Moe’s name. A half hour later they rendezvoused in the wooded lot behind the library.
“I didn’t see him anywhere.” Tim wiped the sweat from his forehead.
“Me, neither, but the librarian said she saw him running north through the trees.”
“North? Where would he be headed in that direction?”
Their eyes met and they spoke at the same time. “The apartment.”
They jogged back to Tim’s truck and took off.
Twenty minutes later they’d arrived back at the complex.
The elevator took too long so they ran up the steps two at a time until they came to the sixth floor. Panting, they hammered on Moe’s door.
“Moe, it’s Ivy. Please open the door. Your mother sent us.” She tried the knob only to find it locked.
Tim grabbed her arm.
“What?”
“Do you smell something?”
Ivy’s eyes widened, amazed that she hadn’t noticed it right away.
The faint smell of smoke wafted out from under the door.
Ivy’s actions became automatic. She ran to her own apartment and grabbed the spare key Madge had given her. On the way back she snatched the fire extinguisher from the wall. Tim held the extinguisher while she unlocked the door, and they both burst into the room.
Moe crouched on the living-room floor, watching the small pile of rubbish smolder. Flames burst forth between the gaps in the books, magazines and clothing he’d dumped there. He didn’t look up at Tim or Ivy, just continued to stare at the tendrils of fire. A spark caught his pant leg and still he didn’t move, even when it started to smolder.
Ivy manhandled him as gently as she could to the floor. “Cover your face with your hands, Moe,” she called.
Amazingly, he did as she told him and she rolled him until the fire was out.
While she was treating Moe, Tim aimed the extinguisher at the base of the flames and set to work. Though the room was permeated with acrid fumes, it didn’t take long for him to knock down the small fire.
Ivy moved Moe close to the door, grabbed a broom handle and spread the materials out to be sure the fire was finished. Tim opened the windows to help air out the smoke.
Moe began to rock back and forth. “It’s got to go,” he said. “It’s got to go.”
“What does, Moe?” Tim approached slowly, his tone soft and soothing. “Why were you burning these things?”
Ivy picked up a sodden sweater with a patch on the elbow. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Moe wear this kind of thing before.” A thought occurred to her. “Moe, are these Cyril’s things?”
Moe’s eyes widened.
Tim exchanged a look with her. “Uh, it’s okay, Moe. Really. It’s okay, we’ll just clean these things up and it will be fine.”
Moe rocked forward on his heels. Before Ivy could stop him, he’d grabbed some foam-covered items from the sodden pile.
“Tim, don’t let him…” It was too late. Moe bolted for the open door and vanished down the hallway.
“Wait a minute, Moe,” Tim yelled as he took off in pursuit.
Ivy made sure the fire was completely out before she called Detective Greenly. When he was en route, she looked over the pile on the singed carpet: two journals called Medical Horizons, one about birds, and a mangled sweater. There was also a half-eaten box of crackers and what appeared to be an unopened pack of gum.
Was this odd collection really Cyril’s? Why had he given it to Moe?
Cyril’s words came back to her. Tell him to take care of what I gave him.
She poked at the mess with her toe, knowing Greenly would not appreciate her disturbing whatever evidence might be present.
Tim returned, panting, twenty minutes later. “He’s gone. I couldn’t catch him. He runs like an Olympic sprinter. I
called Madge and alerted her.” He flopped onto the love seat. “Man. This whole thing gets weirder all the time. Why did he set fire to this stuff?”
“I don’t know. It just looks like a bunch of junk to me.”
“Yeah.” Tim surveyed the mess. “I wonder why the guy was reading medical journals, though. He didn’t seem like the type.”
She had no answer to give. “Moe looked terrified, poor guy. He doesn’t understand what is going on here, either.”
“What did he take from the pile before he ran?”
“I’m not sure. It was something small. I didn’t get a good look.” She paced the small room. “I’m worried about Moe. After we talk to Greenly do you want to help me search for him? If you don’t mind playing rescue hero with me, that is.”
Tim smiled. “There’s nothing I’d rather do. And, Ivy, about what I said before…”
She held up a hand to stop him. “Let’s talk about it later. Okay?”
He smiled. “Anytime, Ivy, anywhere.”
She enjoyed the inexplicable hint of comfort that crept into her heart just before Greenly stepped in the door.
THIRTEEN
He could virtually smell the fear that crept through the phone line. Nick listened as his boss talked into the receiver.
“If you’ve finished, then? Your obligation is clear whether or not your conscience is. Unless you’d like to repay the hundred thousand with interest?”
Silence.
“I didn’t think so. We have only a small wrinkle on this end, a delay that has briefly prevented our shipment. It will be resolved quickly. At that time you will supply the other piece of information.”
The forced calm in his boss’s voice did not fool Nick.
“Do you understand me, Roger?”
He waited a beat before he continued. “Very good. And Roger? Please do not contact me again. I abhor discussing business on the phone. Goodbye.”
He watched as his boss hung up and made himself a cup of tea.
Nick sighed, feeling again the sting of humility because he had not been able to resolve things. A distant memory rose to the surface. He remembered his father’s face when the men lifted their sticks. Heard him cry out for mercy. They didn’t know it, but the brutes collecting their protection money at his father’s small shop in New York decades ago had made him a man that day. He resolved in that white-hot moment that he would never be weak. What’s more, he understood in that same moment that the real power was not in the big men with their clubs, but in the quiet, faceless man who sent them. He worked for just such a man now. A man who expected results.
Cyril’s face swam before his. How had he been duped by a nobody? Chances are the stolen item would never be recovered and if it was, it would mean nothing to the finder. But that was a dangling thread in the fine cloth his boss had woven. A dangling thread that needed to be cut.
His boss looked up from his tea. He didn’t speak, but Nick understood.
They searched everywhere they could think of, from the library to the comic book store and every square inch in between. Tim finally forced Ivy to join him on a bench along the main street as the sun blazed in the late afternoon sky.
Tim stretched his legs in front of him. Frustration piled on top of fatigue. “My feet are killing me.”
Ivy yawned. “Mine, too. Where could Moe have gotten to? He didn’t get that much of a head start and he doesn’t drive. He must have holed up somewhere for the night.”
They turned at the sound of a familiar voice. Mitch joined them on the bench.
Ivy stared at him. “Where did you come from?”
“I was doing some shopping.” He picked at a spot of lint on his jeans. “So, um, well, I wanted to apologize. You know, for throwing you out of my place and all that. It was…”
“Terrible of you?” Tim helped.
“Yeah. Anyway, how about I make it up to you and buy dinner?”
Eyeing Ivy’s reluctant expression, Tim shook his head. “Thanks anyway, but we’ve been on our feet for the past few hours. We’re too tired to go out to eat.”
“Did you find him?”
“Who?”
“The kid. That nutty kid who lives in your complex. Isn’t that who you’re looking for?”
“Yeah,” Ivy said. “How did you know that?”
He shrugged. “We got a bulletin at work to keep our eyes peeled for him. I knew it had to be the kid you’re always talking about. Come on, let’s go get some food.”
Tim struggled to his feet and held out a hand to Ivy.
She stood, shaking her head. “No, Mitch. The only thing I want now is a long bath.”
“Okay. How about a coffee then?”
“Thanks, but I’ll take a rain check.”
Tim found his keys. “I’m going to drive her home. Maybe another time.”
“Suit yourself.” Mitch shuffled away.
Tim waited while Ivy buckled the seat belt carefully over her shoulder. He watched Mitch pull out his cell phone as he walked away. He wondered again who the faceless friend was supplying him with supposedly string-free money. He resolved to try keep an eye on Mitch if he could.
“Thinking about Mitch?”
Tim started. “Oh, yeah. Just wondering where he got that money.”
“Me, too. I think I’ve got an idea. Can we make a stop on the way back?”
“Sure. Where to?”
“I think it’s time to see Charlie.”
Charlie? Tim’s mind raced. Maybe to help out he’d loaned Mitch the money. He was the type who would do it, but something didn’t feel right about the idea. He didn’t comment as they drove toward Charlie’s well-kept Victorian on the outskirts of town, stopping only long enough to grab a couple of sodas on the way.
Tim knocked on the heavy oak door.
Charlie answered their knock and invited them in.
They settled into leather chairs in a beautifully appointed parlor. Neatly stacked file folders lay on a polished cherry desk. A pair of glasses sat on top of the pile.
“So what brings you here?”
Ivy cut in before Tim could answer.
“I want to talk to you about Mitch.”
“Sure. What about him?”
“You two are pretty close. You hang out together all the time.”
“Yeah. We’re good friends. We’ve worked together for more than five years now. He’s an excellent flight nurse.”
“So you’ll understand why I’m asking. Did you know about his gambling?”
He blinked. “Gambling?”
Ivy nodded without looking away from Charlie’s tanned face.
Groaning inwardly, Tim cleared his throat loudly. “What she meant to say is—”
Ivy cut in. “Yes, I said gambling.”
“We play a few rounds of online poker sometimes, and blackjack.”
“Still?”
“Still?” He raised one eyebrow, the faint white line of a scar cutting through it.
“You know what I mean. I can see in your face that you know Mitch has a gambling problem. Did you loan him money to pay off someone who was muscling him?”
“No.” He put his cup down. “I wasn’t aware he was in that kind of trouble. Mitch and I do things together for fun but I’m not married to him. His life is his own.”
“And you’re not helping his life by gambling with him. Is that how you afford this nice place, Charlie?”
“Ivy…” Tim started, but it was too late.
The easy smile vanished from Charlie’s face. “I’ve been pleasant up to this point because you are Mitch’s cousin, but I do not appreciate your accusations. Gambling is like a gun, Ivy. It’s only bad when people misuse it.” He stood up. “I think it would be a good idea if you left now.”
Ivy stood and Tim followed her to the door. The door slammed as they went to the truck.
Tim stared at her, trying to keep his exasperation in check. A couple of deep breaths didn’t help.
“What?”
/> “I wouldn’t say that was brimming over with tact.”
“Well, hasn’t it occurred to you that Charlie might be the one who got Mitch into this mess?”
“Mitch got Mitch into this mess.”
“You know what I mean.”
Tim sighed. “It did make me wonder if he was the one who bailed Mitch out with the mob guys, but, Ivy, if we’re wrong, would Mitch want the people he works with to know about his problem?”
“I’m sure Charlie already knew.”
“Well, what if he didn’t?” Tim gripped the steering wheel. “You’re messing around with people’s reputations here. In particular, a person who didn’t want us involved in the first place.”
“Then…” Ivy’s voice trailed off. She groaned. “Oh, man. I shot my mouth off again, didn’t I?”
“I wasn’t going to put it like that, but, yes, you did.” He reached out and took her hand, keeping his tone light. “Sometimes you batter down the door before you check to see if it’s locked.”
She gave him a wan smile. “You are very sweet to put it so gently. I’m an idiot.”
“No, not an idiot. You just want to protect Mitch.” He loved her for her unflinching desire to protect her family. He felt the same way about his own, only he included her on the list.
Her cell phone buzzed, startling them both. “It’s a text message.” He watched her face change as she read it. “It’s from the chief. She wants to talk to me about my return date. She’s going to let me come back.”
Tim made himself smile, though he couldn’t avoid the truth. When she returned to the line, he’d be lucky to see her ever. He forced a cheerful tone. “There, you see? I told you it would work out. When does she want to talk to you?”
“Right now.”
“This late in the day?”
“We work twenty-four-hour shifts, remember? The fire department is never closed.”
“Ah, yes. I forgot we aren’t talking about mere mortals here.” He put on his blinker and signaled a turn. “I assume your calendar is free to meet with her now?”
Ivy laughed. “I’d walk through fire to get there.”
He felt a mixture of love and regret. “Somehow I can believe that.”
They pulled up at the station a scant half hour later. Ivy inhaled deeply, the smell of chili on the stove mingled with the pungent scent of the floor cleaner. She wanted to wrap herself up in the joy of being back.
