“It’s these against this wall,” she said, and turning away she reached for the case on top.
“Not so fast,” Reading said in a throaty bass, and Jenny’s heart skipped a beat as she felt his hand land heavily on her shoulder. Then Reading’s voice rumbled out, “I’ll get these. You can open the cases and put them in the coolers.”
With a deep, cooling breath, Jenny pulled away from his hand and skittled sideways from the room, mumbling her thanks. She was so flustered that she forgot to ask him what kind of coffee he would like, and it was only after they had successfully transferred several dozen plastic bottles of water and soda that she remembered her offer.
“Reading, thank you so much! What can I get you?” Jenny gushed enthusiastically in an effort to compensate for her unrealized suspicions.
“Plain coffee, large one, please.”
“How about a muffin?” she encouraged.
“No thanks. I’ve got to go.”
“Aren’t you going to watch the parade?” Jenny asked as she went behind the counter, filled a large paper cup with the fragrant liquid, and slipped a sleeve over it.
Jenny heard Reading give a short, contemptuous laugh. “I prefer real excitement to this Mayberry crap.”
As she handed Reading the coffee, Jenny looked up at him, and her newfound warmth cooled a bit.
He was watching her so fixedly that she couldn’t help comparing his gaze to a predator’s. This, she thought to herself, is what a rabbit sees when it spots the coyote midpounce. His eyes were somehow attached to her every movement; he seldom blinked, as though to miss something in that fraction of a second would be an unpardonable weakness.
But Jenny was no rabbit, and her trepidation morphed quickly into anger.
“Is something wrong, Reading?” Jenny asked sharply.
He started, his eyes widening in surprise. “I’m sorry, was I staring?”
“Yes, you were.”
Disarmingly, Reading looked slightly embarrassed. “Mindy says I do that. I don’t notice it. I guess it comes from being trained as a sniper in the army.”
Jenny leaned weakly against the counter, which she was very grateful to have separating them. “You were a sniper?” she asked weakly.
“Yeah, in Desert Storm, and the whole thing is, focus, and don’t blink. Plus”—he leaned down and she saw him consciously look away and then back—“don’t tell Mindy I said this, but I always had a thing for pregnant women, and you’re about the prettiest pregnant woman I ever saw.”
Jenny waited two beats before saying pointedly, “Except for your wife, of course.”
“Goes without saying,” Reading said with a wink that was anything but innocent. Before Jenny could whip up some indignant anger, he had turned and was out the door.
“Okay, that was disturbing,” Jenny said out loud to herself to dispel the shakiness that felt as though some heavy object had crawled down her throat and was oscillating rapidly inside her.
The door chimes sounded again and she started anxiously. But it was Leah who came in.
Relieved, Jenny sang out, “Morning, girl! What the hell are you doing up this early on a holiday?”
“Hi. Oh, I’m supposed to represent the business sector of the community by sitting in the stands with the councilwoman, mayor, et cetera.”
“The parade doesn’t start until ten,” Jenny noted, glancing at the time.
“I know. I couldn’t sleep, and I wanted to talk to you.” Leah had reached the counter now, and crossing her arms protectively, she leaned against it and shuffled her feet.
“Oh no. What’s wrong? Please don’t tell me that nice fireman turned out to be some kind of asshole.”
Leah looked shocked. “Weston? No! He’s been . . .” Her face reddened quickly with an accompanying smile. “He’s been fantastically sweet. And patient,” she added. “In fact, he was at the house last night.”
“Oh ho!” Jenny said. “And?”
Leah frowned. “And he got called out on a brush fire.”
“Oh, was it bad?”
“Yes.” Leah’s face took on an exaggerated pout. “He didn’t get done until it was too late for him to come back. As far as the fire goes, I suppose the good news is that only about a hundred square feet near the road were burned. Somebody tossed a cigarette out a car, they think.”
Jenny was shaking her head. “Damn shame on both counts,” she said. She’d automatically made Leah a non-fat latte and poured herself a cup of coffee. “Okay, let’s go sit down. What is it you want to talk to me about?”
But a customer came in, then another, and Jenny was busy for a few more minutes, during which Leah moved to a table by the window and nervously tapped her manicured nails on the tabletop. She knew that the thoughts she was harboring were serious accusations, and she desperately needed to sound them off someone with sense. In the last few months she had come to realize that the high school graduate who ran the coffee shop had more sense than most of the university-educated community leaders put together.
Finally, there was enough of a lull for Jenny to join her. “Okay, spill,” she said. “And you’d better make it brief. I have an idea that today is going to be insane.”
“Okay.” Leah took a deep breath. “Here goes. Weston took me up in the helicopter and I took the plans for the Golden Door development with me. I just had a sneaky suspicion that something was up.”
“Really?” Jenny’s attention was fixed on Leah.
“You see, the phase three, which the community is fighting, has basically been approved by the county and city zoning offices, except for one thing.”
“Which would be . . .”
“A second exit road. There has to be more than one emergency access for that many homes so residents can vacate in case of a catastrophe, or to let emergency vehicles in if the primary access is blocked.”
Jenny nodded. “That makes sense.”
“Anyway, here’s what I noticed.” Leah leaned in and lowered her voice, even though the nearest customer was two tables away. “The Caseys, that nice older couple who had an unexplained fire on their land, are smack-dab in the perfect place for that road to go through.”
Leah glanced around and dropped her voice to a whisper. “In fact, there’s really no alternative route.”
“Wow. Have they refused to sell to the developers?” Leah shook her head to show her bafflement. “That’s the thing! I’ve spoken with them, and except for a stray real estate agent almost a year ago, no one has made an offer on their land. The neighbors got an offer not long ago, but they’re still holding on and there’s been no other interest.”
“But”—Jenny held up a bright orange acrylic nail—“if it was arson, don’t forget that the development site was the second victim.”
Leah dropped her elbows heavily onto the table. “I know,” she moaned. “It doesn’t really make any sense. That’s why I’m talking to you about it.”
“Why don’t you bring this up to the city council?”
Leah frowned deeply. “Think, Jenny. The Hughses have gotten this development through in spite of major environmental and community opposition. I’m talking about a massive, organized push to keep them out. I think it’s unlikely that there isn’t some kind of kickback going on. It might be a legal kickback—politicians are great at writing those into their job descriptions—but even I have to admit that it looks like big money won out against all odds—again.”
Jenny was staring knowingly at Leah. “You’ve left something out,” she said.
Leah sighed. “I know. The man heading up this opposition turns up dead. In a fire at the very development he was opposing. Is he the one who set the second fire, which would mean it has nothing to do with the first one?”
“Could be. Was he the kind of person who would do that, you think?”
“I have no idea,” Leah said with a firm shake of her head. “From what I hear, he was very passionate about his causes, but I never heard about him doing anything illegal.�
� She paused and shrugged. “And just as importantly, do I think the Hughses are capable of murder?
The answer to that is a flat no. I mean, they love money, but they seem decent enough, and the additional homes were already approved, so what would be the sense of that? I mean, as far as Susan Hughs is concerned, this second road is just one more bureaucratic hoop out of hundreds for her to jump through, and trust me, she’s a show dog. What do you think?”
“Okay, listen. Every year we have fires. Every year, it seems, some psycho idiot has to go turning the hills into bonfires for their own personal entertainment. So these fires might just be random, unrelated incidents. In fact, that’s far more likely than a conspiracy. On the other hand, I trust your instincts. But I think you need proof before you make any accusations, especially if these developers have the city council in their pocket.”
“I know,” Leah groaned. “But if it is a possibility and people’s lives and homes are being endangered, then I can’t just do nothing.”
Jenny sat back and grinned wickedly at her friend.
“What?” Leah asked, confused.
“Well, look at you,” Leah said, crossing her arms over her chest. “You care.”
“Oh, shut up,” Leah said, but she couldn’t hide the grin that commandeered her own face.
“Okay, here’s what you have to do.” Jenny leaned in.
“You have to get someone at Golden Door to confess something to you. You need inside information.”
“How do I . . . Oh.” Leah leaned her head back and looked up at the ceiling. “I think I have an idea.”
The door chimes rang, and Jenny rose from her chair. “You always were a bright child,” she said, and left Leah and her mind to their own machinations.
Chapter 38
Even sitting perfectly still on her porch, Greer could feel beads of sweat forming on her chest and beginning their slow trickle toward one another until they were heavy enough to slide freely down between her breasts. But she ignored the feathery sensation and focused instead on the images inside her head.
But, search as she might, she could find nothing to help her, only a vague crackling energy that was carried to her on the rising, hot wind. Danger hung in dark masses, hovering somewhere over the forest around her, but revealing only its impending presence to her, no hints of where or when it would strike. One word kept repeating itself to her: soon.
Beside her on the table was the hiking map on which she had marked the keys that she had seen in R.J.’s paintings. She tried to focus on his energy, but all that came to her was anger, which didn’t help much. She sighed impatiently and tried to let go of her frustration as it was only blocking any real indications she might receive. Finally defeated, she opened her eyes. Cupping her chin between fingers and thumb, she ran one hand down her neck, wiping away the perspiration like a squeegee on a windshield.
Joshua stood at the window and watched her come out of her trance. He could see that she was worried, and after her assertion that she had seen herself in danger—in a web—he had not slept well. Moving suddenly, as though motivated by a spasm, he went to the door and opened it.
“Mom?” he called softly.
“Morning, honey.” She turned tired but smiling eyes on him, and he could see that her pupils were slightly dilated for so bright a day, a side effect of deep meditation.
“Are you okay?” It felt awkward to ask the question. As though he were the parent, and she the child in need of help or supervision. He twisted the doorknob absentmindedly.
“I’m fine. Well, actually, I’m a bit frustrated. Come sit down.” She gestured to a porch swing near her, and Joshua moved to it and sat stock-still, using the tension in his legs to keep the swing from rocking in its pendulum-like motion.
“What’s up?” he asked, trying to keep his face relaxed.
Greer’s full mouth shaped into an o, and she exhaled slowly. “I told you that a key, the old-fashioned kind, has appeared in my visions when I have had a presage of a fire. Does that mean anything to you?” Joshua shook his head. “It showed up over the image of the two fires that have happened. What I haven’t told you is that I’ve seen two more keys—not a fire, just the key—over two more paintings.”
Joshua felt his heartbeat quicken and his skin flush as though he’d just been stung by something poisonous. “Two?” he croaked.
His mother nodded.
“And when did you see yourself in the web?”
She placed her hand over his. “Earlier that day, but I don’t think that meant I was in danger anytime soon. I don’t even think that they are necessarily connected,” she finished quickly, trying to erase the panic that had appeared on her son’s face like an obscene word on a playground. “I’m far more worried about Jenny. She’s the one for whom I sense imminent danger.”
“Mom.” Joshua’s voice felt harsh, as though the dry wind had roughened his throat. “There’s something I
didn’t tell you either. That spider image. I saw it on Simon. He has a tattoo, here.” Joshua pointed to the small of his back, on the right side. “I still don’t think it’s him, and I can’t even figure out why I don’t, but if it is him, and that has somehow put you in danger . . .”
The back of Greer’s fingers brushed his cheek. “Thank you for telling me, but I saw a web of darkness. I think it means that I was caught in some kind of dangerous intrigue. I told Detective Sheridan about it because he asked if we’d seen anything, but a web and a spider are two very different images. Do you understand?”
Joshua’s head felt as if it were filled with Cream of Wheat, and though he nodded, the starchy, lumpy mass turned to quicksand that sucked in every negative possibility and spit out self-loathing.
“Perhaps,” Greer said softly, her thoughts apparently far away, “Simon’s spider signifies that he’s trapped as well.”
“I should have told Detective Sheridan he was here! I should have stopped him from going! What if it is him starting these fires and I could have stopped it?” Joshua blurted out in an anguished voice.
To his surprise, his mother turned to look at him with complete calm. “But you don’t think he is,” she said as though that settled it.
“I think I should find him.”
“No. Remember what we discussed. He has to help himself first. I’m going to go to the coffee shop and watch the parade with Jenny. I’ll feel much better about her if she’s near me. I don’t suppose she can get into too much trouble with the milk steamer.” Greer smiled to herself and shared it with Joshua.
“No, I don’t suppose you can either. Promise me you won’t go anywhere else?” Joshua asked, amazed at the proprietary tone in his own voice.
With an overwhelming sense of love and gratitude, Greer leaned forward and kissed the top of her son’s head, vowing silently to love him like this forever.
“I promise,” she whispered. “And could you, until this is over, stick to hiking near the house?”
He had to laugh at her barter. “Sure, I can do that.” She gathered her purse and keys, and Joshua waved as she drove off. As he stood to go back into the coolness of the house, he saw a mug of tea sitting on the little side table and moved to pick it up, but halfway there his eye was arrested by the sight of a map.
With his lifelong passion for hiking, he recognized his own map of the local mountains instantly; that was not remarkable. What had attracted his interest were the markings that someone had made on it.
Keys. There were four of them, with dates underneath. Breathing shallowly, Joshua picked up the map and studied it. Two of the keys were at the locations of the fires that had already happened, and the dates below them confirmed to Joshua that that was what they represented. The other two keys were in locations that were, as far as he knew, still unscathed. He held the map closer to his face to read the tiny numbers written underneath them, dates that shouldn’t be there because the fires hadn’t happened.
At first he thought he was misreading it, and then he had to
think for a minute about what his mother had said: She had seen two more keys on different locations, but she hadn’t said she knew when the fires might happen.
Both of the dates were the same.
Both of them were today.
With a jolt, Joshua stood bolt upright. “She knows when,” he said out loud to nobody. “And she knows where they’re going to be.”
Suddenly, as though it were only a few feet from his face, the little dog was barking at him with silent fury.
“Oh Christ,” Joshua moaned, letting the map fall to his side as an acidic bile rose up in him. “Simon.”
Chapter 39
Plumes of gray smoke, buffeted by the wind, were just beginning to gather visibly over the farthest ridge when he reached his second chosen spot. The sight of it sent a thrill of accomplishment through him, charging him with power and control. It had caught beautifully, just as he’d planned it, and the hot wind that fed it gusted against his face as he reveled in the ominous reality of what he had created.
But he would have to work more quickly now. He had chosen the first spot because it was in a location that was not likely to be sighted until the fire was large enough to create a huge amount of smoke, and the winds were on his side, breathing life into his monster and erasing the early traces of its presence at the same time.
Leaning down, he gathered an armful of dry brush and took a plastic water bottle filled with lantern oil from his backpack. He soaked the brush liberally and then scattered it around, careful to place it underneath the edges of large swaths of sage so dry that the leaves crumbled at his touch and released their sweet fragrance into the air. He smiled at that. These idiots used burning white sage to cleanse their expensive homes, a Native American ritual they had abominated with their artificial hipness. Well, he thought with a furious satisfaction, this’ll be a cleansing they won’t soon forget.
Speak of the Devil Page 25
