by Vanessa Vale
“Girlfriend?” I squeaked. I never knew he thought of me as his girlfriend.
Ty shut his eyes. I guessed he was counting to ten. When he opened them, he said, “You. Only you would pick out that word from everything I’ve said.” He swiveled and pointed at Goldie. “Okay, maybe you, too.” He shifted back to me. “Your camper disconnected, ran off the road and into the creek!”
“If I hadn’t been there and seen it first hand, I wouldn’t have believed it either,” the Colonel said. “I think I’m calm in most situations, say, war for example, but I tell you, when I saw that camper alongside their car, I almost had a heart attack. Jell-O?”
The Colonel scooped up his lemon and whipped cream concoction onto a plate and held it out to Ty. For about five seconds, Ty just stared at the yellow and white jiggling glob. He had no choice but to take it. He dropped down into an empty seat and started shoveling it in. With a full mouth, he couldn’t do a lot of talking.
After a few bites, he pointed his spoon at me. “How does a pop-up camper with only two wheels manage to stay upright long enough to do”—his wrist rotated his spoon around in circles—“whatever it does to roll down the road and into the creek?”
“That’s the part that bothers me,” Paul added, holding Goldie’s hand. He’d switched his on-call shift with another doctor after he heard of our camper fiasco and stuck like glue to his wife’s side. “Jane said she raised the wheel jack and connected the safety chain to the hitch on her car before they pulled out of the campsite.”
Ty looked at me and I nodded.
“I checked it, too,” the Colonel said. “It was hooked up just like it’s supposed to be.”
I looked at him, surprised. He smiled at me. “I like to make sure everyone’s safe.”
I smiled back.
“Then how? If the hitch didn’t hold, the chain would have caught the camper and kept it from rolling away. Besides, the front jack would have hit the ground and just dragged. There’s no way anyone could miss that. The sound would have been terrible and sparks probably would have shot up in the air.”
“The wheel jack was down,” I said. I poked at the remainder of my Jell-O. “When the tow truck pulled it out of the creek, it was down, not up like it’s supposed to be for travel.”
Ty sat forward in his chair, placed his arms on the table, gazed at me with a new intensity. “Are you telling me someone tampered with the camper?”
“Looks that way,” Goldie added. She’d been unusually quiet since the incident. It was a treat to have her off my back, but I could live without the reason why. “We stopped to fish at the bend above the beaver dam. We were all down by the water for close to an hour. It could have happened there.”
“I didn’t see a thing. I fell asleep,” I told Ty.
“Let me get this straight. Someone disconnected the safety chain and unlatched the hitch so it would come loose around one of the turns or over a bump. They lowered the wheel jack so that when it did come loose, it wouldn’t tip over, but ride on three wheels, at least for a little way.”
I nodded.
“The question is: Why?” added the Colonel. He looked between me and Ty. He was a smart man. He’d been to war. He knew when things had been left out. People didn’t just sabotage a camper for the hell of it.
I glanced at Ty. He grimaced, nodded his head but stayed quiet.
“In this particular case, someone wanted to scare me, but I think someone is trying to kill me.”
* * *
I related all that had happened over the past week, sharing the details about the gnomes, the vial, Morty Moore, the explosion, the convenience store holdup and the derby car. No one said a word. Goldie’s mouth clamped tighter and tighter as I went on until her lips were barely visible. Paul remained quiet. Most likely contemplating all the details.
“The only thing that doesn’t fit is the convenience store robbery. That was happenstance, although I have to say you have a knack for finding trouble,” said the Colonel.
Ty looked at me as if he wanted to say, I told you so.
“Everything that’s happened up until today has all been directed at you,” Paul pointed out. “Your gnomes, your doorstep, your camper. Even the derby car. Ty was there too, but he aimed for you.”
“At work today, I had time to check with the fairgrounds and friends with the police.” Ty scraped smears of yellow on the plate with his spoon. “A derby car was stolen from the ready area. A driver was pistol whipped and left behind a hay bale.”
“Is he going to be all right?” I asked, alarmed. It only confirmed it hadn’t been an accident. It also confirmed whoever wanted me harmed was serious, hurting some innocent person like that. Besides me, that is.
“Just got his clocked cleaned. Concussion. He’ll be fine in a few days.”
“Unlike the derby car, the camper today seems more like a warning. Like someone’s trying to tell you they’re watching you,” said the Colonel.
I didn’t like the thought. Someone had been there in the canyon, following us. Watching us. Not just me but Goldie, the boys, the Colonel. My family. They’d seen me napping, and then messed with my camper.
“Exactly,” Paul continued. “It wasn’t meant to kill you, just shake you up. To make you know their intentions. Thankfully, no one was driving the other way and got hit.”
“The boys,” Goldie said, her voice rough.
Just what I’d been thinking. I hadn’t decided what to do with them yet, but I knew they needed to be somewhere safe, somewhere away from me. And that ripped my heart out, knowing we had to separate. I hadn’t been away from them for more than a day or two since they were born. The farthest I’d ventured was to an adult merchandise convention in Vegas with Goldie when Bobby was one.
“The boys were in the car. That’s where I draw the line. We need them away from here until all this is settled,” Paul added.
“I’ll take them to your mom’s. The boys will think it’s an adventure and you know she’ll be thrilled to have them. She’s coming next month anyway so we’ll bring them back then,” suggested the Colonel.
Relief washed over me at the idea. In Georgia, they couldn’t get any further from the danger. “Thanks, Colonel. It’s a great idea. And reassuring. I’ll feel better knowing they’re with Mom. And you.”
“I’ve wanted an excuse to get down there. And stay.” A small smile played about his lips. Maybe a few weeks with my mom could move their romance along. “Now I’ve got one.” The Colonel patted my hand again. “Get the boys packed up. We’ll fly out tomorrow.”
* * *
Ty and I were sitting on the couch in my living room watching TV, although I didn’t think either one of us was absorbing anything about the ballgame. I didn’t even know which team was ahead. I didn’t even like baseball. But I did like sitting near Ty. Over a foot of empty couch separated us, but felt like a mile. I knew if I crossed the line, I’d never go back. Figuratively and literally. Ty probably had the same thought, so we kept the No Man’s Land there between us. For now.
I had two dark green couches in an L shape facing the TV. Two wood end tables with lamps on the far ends, another one in between. An area rug was beneath a wooden coffee table. On the other couch sat the gnomes, watching the game. The boys had propped them up to watch TV and left them there before they went to bed. They’d said the gnomes were going in their suitcases to Georgia but I planned to change their minds. The gnomes carried some bad mojo and I didn’t think it was best to move the mojo across the country. Besides, they’d definitely break. Again.
Goldie and Paul had left. So had the Colonel, to pack. The boys were in bed, asleep. They’d burned off all the excitement from the camper incident and then the news of their trip to see Nana and crashed hard.
I’d spent over an hour talking with my mom on the phone, getting her updated on the whole fiasco my life had turned into. Agreeing the boys would be safest with her for the time being, she immediately hung up on me to book flights online. Be
neath her worry, I figured she was secretly excited about seeing the Colonel. For three weeks.
At least they’d have two boys as chaperones. But I wouldn’t. I’d be on my own, without any supervision. I could do things I would never do with the boys around. Like fulfilling Goldie’s hopes for my non-existent sex life. I wouldn’t even have the Colonel in his house separating me from Ty.
“I guess I owe you for saving my life,” I told him, beer in hand.
“Which time?”
I stopped to consider. It seemed I had quite a bit of thanking catch-up to do. “I’m thinking of the derby, but I guess the explosion, too. Thank you.”
“Great. You’re welcome. You owe me dinner. Tomorrow night.” Ty slouched down, feet up on the coffee table, arms crossed.
I tilted my head. “For saving my life? That’s all you want?” I flushed realizing what I’d said.
I could tell he had more on his mind than just dinner. “For now.” He had that look in his eyes that I was starting to recognize as the I’m-going-to kiss-you look.
I hopped up from the couch. “Well,” I said, nervous. I did not want him to kiss me now. Not with the kids in the other room. Not when we couldn’t finish what came after a kiss. Besides, I didn’t know if Ty had decided to put a kybosh on his kybosh of our friendship, relationship. Whatever he called it.
Sure, we’d kissed at the derby. But I’d kissed him first. And there’d been tons of adrenaline pumping through our veins along with lust. Maybe I’d get the answers at dinner tomorrow.
He stood up, both of us close and fenced in by the coffee table. His hand came up, brushed gently over my cheek. “Tomorrow. Definitely tomorrow.”
And he wasn’t talking about pizza and beer.
* * *
“How long did you cry?” Ty asked the next night at dinner. We sat at a four top at a brew pub on Main. I had the chicken burrito, Ty the steak. The building was an old warehouse, brick with turn-of-the-century photographs on the walls. A vintage train car was built into the side to add ambiance, and history dating back to the golden age of railroad. Since it was a nice night, we’d ridden our bikes down the Galligator Trail, past the new library, to the restaurant.
“What makes you think I did?” I asked.
Ty didn’t reply, just took a sip of his beer.
I rolled my eyes. “An hour,” I admitted.
I’d dropped the boys and the Colonel off at the airport after lunch. The entire morning had been spent running around trying to find a missing flip-flop, packing enough snacks for the plane and crazily searching for medical release forms. I’d tried my best not to cry until I got home and made it as far as the garage before I’d lost it. I didn’t know how long I’d sat and cried into the steering wheel. After that, I climbed in bed and threw the blankets over my head. I woke up ten minutes before dinner with Ty.
I’d rushed to pull myself together, splashing cold water on my face to reduce the puffiness around my eyes. I’d run a brush through my hair, pulled it back in a loose ponytail so some curls hung around my face. Swiped on some tinted lip balm. I’d thrown on a pair of black Capri pants with a white cotton shirt, slipped on simple black sandals and called it good.
My babies had left the state for weeks and it hurt. Who cared about makeup and pulling myself together for a date when my children were hurtling through the sky in a tin can at five hundred miles an hour…without me to protect them?
Ty took my hand and squeezed. The simple touch felt good. Soothing. Reassuring.
“I heard from the fire investigators about the explosion at the Moore’s house. As we thought, there was a propane gas leak.”
“Duh,” I said. I tucked a curl behind my ear.
“At first, there was talk about a homemade pipe bomb in the garage.”
I looked at him blankly. “You mean like extremists in Idaho?” We never mentioned extremists in Montana like the Unabomber. They were all in Idaho now.
Ty smiled, but didn’t comment on that touchy subject. “That was nixed pretty fast. A propane tank is usually positioned away from the house and down a hill or embankment of some kind to prevent a gas leak from filling the house. The Moore’s tank was next to the house, which is rare. Should have been moved years ago.” Ty took a sip of his beer.
“Okay, go on.”
“Propane inside the tank is liquid then converts to a gas when it mixes with air. Propane gas is heavier than air so it settles low to the ground. It should have spread into the basement and to the hot water heater or furnace where it would ignite.”
“Right,” I said. This whole gas thing was a little over my head. I knew he was speaking English, but not all of it made sense. Some of it. But I never really thought about blowing a house up before. “Go on.”
“The Moore’s water heater and furnace weren’t in the basement, but in a closet off the garage. Not uncommon, although most are in basements. I guess since the house didn’t actually have a basement, they were given a space off the garage.”
This I understood. “My friend Kelly’s house is like that.” I suddenly had a really crappy thought. “Should I be concerned about her house blowing up?”
He casually pointed his fork toward me. “No. She doesn’t use propane, nor did someone tamper with her gas pipe.”
Thankfully true. “How did they tamper with the pipe?”
“Pipe wrench.” Ty took a bite of his steak.
I nodded my head envisioning someone with a huge wrench crouching down behind the Moore’s house. Conceivable since the yard was lined with very mature lilac bushes. Definitely shielded from neighbors.
“Long story short, we smelled gas because we were downwind. Whoever did it must’ve assumed the water heater was in a basement or a lower portion of the house where they hoped the whole house would be launched to Kingdom Come. But they were wrong and it didn’t cause a huge explosion.”
“This wasn’t a big explosion?” I asked, amazed.
Ty shook his head. “This one just flung crap through the air and made a huge mess.”
“Huge,” I added, thinking of the collapsed garage and Ty’s smooshed truck.
“Huge,” Ty repeated. “But the idiot didn’t know about the water heater off the garage, and when the gas seeped in, it filled just that area and the pilot light ignited it quickly. There wasn’t time for the gas to fill the lower area of the house. Besides, the propane tank itself was almost empty. The Moores never had it refilled before they moved to Arizona. That’s why the most damage was to the garage and the left side, nor overly big. He didn’t make a real explosion, thank God. He just wrecked the house.”
“Like I said, that wasn’t a big explosion? I don’t have a lot of comparison here,” I added, sarcastically.
“Let me put it this way. If it had been a serious propane tank explosion, instead of the fridge being on top of my truck, it would have landed on someone else’s a mile away.”
Okay, that’s a big explosion. “So you’re saying this was done by an amateur.”
“I’d say an Internet-savvy, anti-social person intent on hurting someone.”
“I’m an idiot when it comes to gas, although I can light my grill.” I sipped my iced tea.
Ty nodded. “Yeah, I’d say you’re at least that smart.”
I smacked him on the shoulder. “Funny. But we still don’t know Morty’s whereabouts. All we do know about whoever’s trying to hurt me is that he’s some half-cocked person spending too much time online. That’s probably half of the population of the US.”
“True. But he was obviously trying to blow up the Moore’s house. And just that house. As I said, Mr. and Mrs. Moore have been out of town for a while. They weren’t the target. Someone wants Morty dead, someone who knew he’d been staying there.” Ty ate a couple of bites. “The real worry is when whoever’s doing this decides to get smart.”
“Because they’re trying to kill me now, too,” I added. We didn’t comment more on that but ate instead. My burrito didn’t taste as good
as it had a minute ago. Or maybe it was the whole death and destruction thing that put me off my food.
My cell phone rang. I jumped in my seat and grabbed for my bag, frantic to find the phone.
“Relax, the kids are fine.”
I gave him the evil eye. I looked at the caller ID. Phew, not CNN calling about a downed commercial airliner.
“Hi, Goldie,” I said. I took a deep breath, my heart rate slowly dropping back into normal range.
“We’ve got a doozy of a problem.”
“Okaaaaay.” That could mean a thousand different things.
“No, no, don’t worry, I’m fine. You’re the one with all the secret admirers,” she said sarcastically. “Remember the bachelorette party we arranged to do?”
“Sure, it’s next month.” I absently forked up a bite of burrito. Ty watched me as he ate some fries.
“Actually, it’s tonight. It’s a surprise party. The bride was at the store with her girlfriends and they couldn’t blow it by giving the actual day. So, they told us next month. Unfortunately, dingbats that they are, they forgot to call us and tell us about the real date. Until now.”
I looked at my watch. Six thirty.
“What time’s the party?”
“Eight.”
“Holy crap.”
Ty perked up at that.
“I’ve got everything organized and in boxes here at the store. I just need you to pick them up and get to the party.”
I took a deep breath. “Fine. Call Dingbat back and tell her we won’t be there until eight thirty. She can make do until then. We’ll be by the store in an hour to get everything. And Goldie, make sure you get good directions. The last time I drove all over trying to find the place.”
Goldie hung up. No goodbye.
“Dingbat?” Ty asked.
“Don’t worry, you’ll meet her.”
“Huh?” A fry was halfway to his mouth.
“How do you feel about bachelorette parties?” I scarfed down a bite of my meal.
“Never been to one.”
