by Meg Macy
“Hey, what’s going on?” Jay asked, so I beckoned him to follow us.
We met Elle in front of Mary’s Flowers. White-faced, she held Cara’s hand in a tight grip. “I can’t find Celia! I called the cops. They’re looking all over the village.”
I could tell she was on the edge of breaking down, but didn’t want to scare her older daughter. “What happened?” I asked. “Did Celia wander off?”
“I kept both of them beside me, but stopped to chat with one of the room moms from Cara’s class. One minute Celia was there, the next she was gone.”
“She ran after a dog, Mommy,” Cara said. “I couldn’t stop her—”
“I know.” Elle hugged her tight. “It’s not your fault, darling.”
I realized that Matt and Jay had left, without telling us. Not good, because we might end up overlapping in our search, but it couldn’t be helped now. The streets were clogged with pedestrians, people drinking beer or eating all types of food, and observing the dance contest. Teens slipped in and out of the crowd, in groups or individuals; the chatter, music of the band, and dancers mingled together and sounded deafening. I couldn’t see Jay or my cousin in all the mass of people surrounding us.
“What should I do, Sasha?” Elle’s breath caught, and she trembled in panic. “What if someone snatched her? I looked away for a few seconds. Celia doesn’t walk that fast.”
I recognized her terror and squeezed her hand. “Before we search, let’s take Cara to the coffee shop,” I suggested. “That way we won’t lose her, too.”
“Good idea.”
We race-walked around the crowd with the little girl, panting for breath, until we reached Fresh Grounds. A line snaked out the door. I pushed our way inside and waved frantically at Wendy Clark, who had ditched her costume; Mary Kate was busy in the hot kitchen putting a fresh batch of fat, salted, and twisted pretzels into the ovens. Two young workers slid cooled ones off wire racks and onto a tray, and then rushed them out to the food tent.
“Can you keep an eye on Cara in the back?” I asked Wendy while she cashed out a few customers. “It’s an emergency, so keep her safe until we get back.”
“Sure thing.” She beckoned to Cara, who skipped around the counter. “Sit on that little bench, okay? Thanks, sweetie!”
“We’ll explain later. Sorry we don’t have time right now.” I dragged Elle out the side door and ran smack into Maddie. My sister gobbled the last bit of an apple pastry. “Hey, Mads. We need your help searching for Celia. She’s lost, and we—”
“Lost in this crowd? Oh, man!” Maddie swiped crumbs from her apron and hugged Elle, who shook from head to toe. “We’ll find her, promise. Where do we start?”
“How about you two circle the Village Green?” I said. “That’s where most of the dogs are. Cara said Celia ran after one. I’ll head east of here and circle around. Have you got your phone? Call if either of you find her first.”
Gulping hard, wiping tears that streaked her face, Elle sprinted across the street. Maddie ran after her. I wondered how the police put out an Amber Alert. I wasn’t sure if they had to wait a specific length of time, or if they needed proof that a stranger had taken a child.
“Officer! Over here, over here!”
I hailed Hillerman’s patrol car near the corner of Main Street and Kermit, but my cousin Matt raced to reach it first. He blurted out the story while the policeman took notes. When the dispatcher’s tinny voice squawked over the radio, I strained to hear any update.
“Nothing yet,” Matt said to me. “First I’m under suspicion of murder and get dragged out of my bookstore. And now my baby’s gone missing.”
“Stay positive. We have to find her, she can’t have gotten far.”
“Got it. Okay.” Hillerman set the microphone aside and turned to Matt. “Your kid’s missing, right? Fifth one today. We found all the others, so don’t worry.”
“She followed a dog into the crowd,” I said. “Celia adores dogs.”
Hillerman listened again to the quick report via the radio. “Okay, someone brought in a little girl to the station. Blue T-shirt, white shorts.”
“No, she’s wearing a dress and a yellow sweater.” Matt described Celia’s dark curls and brown eyes. “She’s got a pink teddy bear with her. The one you gave her this week, Sash. I’m gonna check over by that Bling Bear. Maybe she found her way to it.”
I spotted Jay near the Ham Heaven, where Mary and Tyler Walsh had a food stand, and hurried in that direction. A crowd of people lined up while the Walshes served thick sandwiches, fry pies, and nonalcoholic drinks. I met Jay in the middle of Kermit Street, trying to avoid the worst of the jostling mass who waited impatiently for their food and beverages.
“Elle told me she’s wearing a dress and a sweater,” Jay said. “Right?”
“And carrying a small teddy bear,” I added. “Pink.”
“Wait. I found a pink teddy bear. With a tag from your shop.”
“Where?” My heart sank, and I felt sick. “On the Village Green?”
“No, over on Archibald Street.”
“Great.” I rubbed my damp forehead in dejection. One less way to find Celia, with so many other kids roaming around the village. “What did you do with the bear?”
“I gave it to Elle.”
“I’ll go check over by the vet clinic. She loves dogs, right?”
Jay headed off. I slowly turned in a circle, wondering which way to go. I couldn’t imagine how someone would succeed in luring Celia away. Even by promising to let her pet a dog. Elle had taught her kids about “stranger danger.” But what about Holly Parker? Celia might have trusted her, being a woman, if she’d offered the little girl candy or a toy. The idea seemed crazy. But I couldn’t discount it, in case there was a remote chance.
I set off walking fast, my dirndl swirling around my legs, along the street toward the church. If she’d been frightened, Celia might have recognized the steeple and made her way to the familiar building. I checked behind every pillar in vain. Down Church Street, I saw several people admiring the Hippie Bear at the antique shop. The noise of the crowd from the Village Green’s food and beer tents sounded dim this far away.
“Celia? Are you hiding, honey? Come on out! It’s me, Sasha.” I circled the church and raised my voice. “I’ll take you to Mommy.”
A little path led to a cemetery plot surrounded by an ironwork fence. I doubted that she’d come this way. Too scary, for one thing. Celia couldn’t squeeze between the narrow bars or climb over the railing’s pointed tips. Instead I returned to Kermit Street. A few cars rumbled past, so I kept walking. Past the shuttered houses and then around Through the Looking Glass’s side yard, also fenced with the same type of iron bars and railings.
Was Holly passing out her campaign flyers in the village somewhere? Or was she holed up inside the shop, keeping Celia quiet? The little girl would easily have been drawn to the play structure—if she’d gotten this far. The butterfly chair. I had to check behind it.
Noting the dense patch of shrubbery behind it, I rattled the gate. It creaked open. “Celia? Are you hiding somewhere, sweetie?”
A peculiar scent tickled my nose. What was it? I couldn’t tell at first, but headed toward the thick green bushes. Parted the branches. Recoiled at the sight of a huge cobweb behind it, and an overly large spider. I gave a shaky laugh. Spiders, ugh. I thought I’d gotten over that fear long ago. Guess not. I turned away, leaving the creature alone.
“What is that smell?” I muttered aloud. “Kerosene?”
I couldn’t tell its origin until I approached the bookstore’s side door. It gleamed wet in the dim light. Someone had splashed fuel over the door, the threshold, and the foundation.
“Holly, Holly Parker! Are you in there?”
I shook the doorknob. Locked tight. I heard a piercing scream. I flew, heart in my throat, back through the open gate and around to Theodore Lane. Without any fairy lights strung along the eaves or around the porch supports, the steps were
dark. I stumbled to the door, the stench of kerosene nearly gagging me. Had that been a child’s scream? It was certainly shrill enough.
Had Holly gone absolutely crazy? Was she that much of a monster to kill a child and burn her shop down? I pounded on the locked door, shouting at the top of my lungs.
“Open up! The police are coming—Holly!”
At a second scream, cut short, I wrapped my right hand in a fold of my skirt. Bashed the windowpane’s corner, right above the doorknob. It took several tries, but at last glass rained down. Luckily inside, and not on the bare tops of my feet in flats. Careful of one jagged shard still sticking down, I reached in and unlocked the door.
And then pushed it wide open.
Chapter 26
“Holly? Are you in here?”
I crept forward, ignoring the powerful stench. My eyes finally adjusted to the darkness. Although I’d stubbed my toe, I managed not to cry out. A hissing sound from the back reached my ears. Not knowing the store’s layout, I groped in that direction.
“Stay back.”
“Holly, is that you? Is Celia Cooper here? A little four-year-old—”
“No, but Holly’s here.” The low voice puzzled me until the room flooded with light from an LED lantern. Kip O’Sullivan held it up. “Too bad Maddie’s not with you, Sasha. But I’m glad you’re here to witness Judgment Day.”
I blinked in confusion. “Judgment Day?”
Holly, wearing her short dirndl and cleavage-baring blouse, struggled against cords that secured her onto a chair. And a gag tied tight around her mouth. Kip set the lantern on the counter, next to a metal tin of kerosene. I froze.
“Or Judgment Night. Everyone will see the fire, for miles around.”
“Kip, have you lost your mind? Arson is a crime.”
“So it is.” He sounded so matter of fact, so determined, and splashed kerosene over my rival’s bare legs and shoulders. Holly grunted. “So many people have tried to stop this witch, but nothing worked. Think of all the harm she’s caused to so many people over the years. And then Holly destroyed Maddie’s bear and poisoned your dog. So she’ll burn.”
“Two wrongs don’t make a right,” I said stubbornly. “Stop this. It’s not too late.”
“It needs to end. And it’s a fitting end, too.”
“You can’t be judge and jury—”
“I wouldn’t have to do this if she’d been wearing that pink jacket.” Kip stared at me, his dark eyes narrowed in rage. “That was a mistake. I am sorry Gina was killed, but she wasn’t all that innocent. She helped Holly up in Traverse City, stealing from people.”
I swallowed hard. “Then go to the police! Tell them what happened,” I said. “Holly will plead guilty, to vandalism and theft.”
“She’ll never admit anything. And why do you want to save her measly life? Holly’s the last person you ought to care about.”
I glanced her way, noting the terror and pleading in her eyes. “I do care. This is wrong. Morally wrong.”
“As far as I’m concerned, this is the only way. Even if I have to spend the rest of my life in jail. She ruined me, Sasha. And she planned to do it again.”
I inched closer to Holly’s chair. “In what way?”
“She stole my oil painting, you know. Up in Traverse City.” Kip grabbed her ponytail and pulled her head back so hard, Holly grunted in fear. “Maddie told me about that trophy box the cop found here in the back room. I had a deadline for a big commission, but Holly convinced the client to demand changes. And then she stole my underpainting.”
“How—”
“It doesn’t matter! I’d already spent too much time, painting two or three versions. Isn’t that right?” He knocked her chair over sideways, and I gasped when Holly’s head hit the floor with a thud. “She gloated the day I left Traverse City for good. Told me to go to hell. But that’s where she’s going now.”
“Listen to me,” I said, desperate now. Holly moaned against the gag, so I knew she was still conscious. “Detective Mason will help clear all this up.”
“Sure, like the last time. Sharon Edwards found that out the hard way. So what if people have family to take care of? She doesn’t care. Holly only cares about herself.”
He stalked behind the long counter. Pulled open drawers, as if looking for something. A match? While Kip was distracted, I punched 911 on my cell phone. Turned sideways, hoping the dispatcher would answer without him noticing.
“You’ve taken advantage whenever possible, Holly. By whatever means—”
I hissed the address into the phone. “Yes, it’s a fire—oh!”
Kip had crept up behind me and grabbed my cell. He threw it so hard against the wall, it shattered into pieces. “Maddie said you were resourceful, but come on. Don’t bother calling for help. I’m not going to hurt you, Sasha,” he said, his tone coaxing. “I’d never hurt Maddie’s sister. I’m doing this for you both. I love her. I want to save her.”
“She wouldn’t want this.”
“I’m saving her career,” Kip roared. “And your family’s business!”
“By killing Gina?” I stepped forward, but he backed away. “And now Holly?”
“You of all people ought to understand. It’s come full circle,” Kip said, “unless someone stops her. I will stop her. I’m the only one who can.”
I took a deep breath and chose my words with care. “I learned something important a while ago. Letting Holly see how she affected me only fueled her satisfaction. And a sense of triumph, so I ignored her. She hates that most of all. Let her go, Kip. Let all of this go.”
He shook his head. “No. She’ll pay here and now. Here’s proof of how she planned to ruin your Silver Bear Shop. I found this in the drawer.”
He held out a sheet. Holly’s eyes widened when I reached for it. Read the list of how winning the election would lead to rezoning Theodore Lane back to residential. I shrugged and waved the paper in the air.
“We’re not the only business on the street.”
“‘Number three, renaming the section where the tea room and restaurant are to a new street,’” Kip recited. “Only your shop would be on the rezoned part. And there’s more.”
“It reads like Holly’s New Year resolutions. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Like number four? ‘Get Kip fired.’ Holly persuaded some chick in one of my classes to file a harassment suit with the provost. I have an appointment Monday.” His anger flared all over again, and he held up a wooden match. “He’ll never listen that it’s a setup. What college would hire me after that? Like I said, it’s over. Judgment Day has come.”
I stared in horror when he struck the match against the counter. It didn’t flare, though. The moment Kip focused on finding a better surface or another match, I darted forward and tugged at Holly’s cords. I needed a sharp knife.
I ran to the door and fetched a shard of window glass. Holly had loosened the gag and began screaming at the top of her lungs. I flinched, especially since I saw flames leap along the shop’s back wall. I ran forward again and sawed at the cords. Cut my hand instead.
Black, greasy smoke billowed up, choking me. Tossing the shard aside, I dragged her, chair and all, toward the front door.
“No! You won’t ruin this for me!”
Kip clamped an arm over my neck and chest from behind. That brought back Sandra Bullock’s quick self-defense lesson in Miss Congeniality. SING—solar plexus, instep, groin—oops, forgot the nose part. Groaning, Kip fell like a rock. He toppled over Holly, who kept screaming. The fire roared, no doubt fed by all the books and toys.
“God help me—”
With a surge of adrenaline, I shoved Kip aside and tugged Holly’s chair a few inches. But Kip had risen to his feet, a gun in hand. The ceiling above had caught fire. I coughed, sputtering hard. When the door crashed open, flames whooshed upward in a fireball.
“No!”
I screamed again when Jay wrapped strong arms around my waist. Dragged me outside and do
wn the porch steps. We rolled onto the lawn, both of us gulping fresh air. My lungs felt seared. Two blasts rang out before sirens shrilled in the distance. I heard a huge crash inside the building and felt sick.
“You’re safe,” Jay said. “It’s over.”
“I know.” My raspy voice surprised me.
“Come on, we’d better move.” He pulled me to my feet and helped me hobble away from the burning house. “I should have guessed he’d try something—”
“Oh, Jay.” I hid my face against his chest. “Don’t blame yourself for this.”
By the time I turned back to see the carnage, the township’s fire engine sat in the middle of Theodore Lane. Firefighters in their gear streamed forward with hoses, passing us; they aimed gushing streams of water, keeping the fire from spreading to the neighboring buildings.
People streamed down Kermit Street from the Oktobear Fest and congregated at a far distance. More stragglers joined them. I saw Sean Jones, one of the hefty volunteer firefighters, clearing fallen debris around the area. My throat burned. Floating cinders stung my eyes. When Bill Hillerman arrived, Jay helped me walk down to Kermit Street to meet the policeman.
“Celia Cooper—she wasn’t in the shop,” I croaked.
“She’s been found, she’s safe,” he said. “Kirby, take her to the EMT truck for medical attention. It’s over by the church.”
Once the techs checked me over and watched me drink from a water bottle, I leaned against their vehicle’s bumper. Static and buzzing from walkie-talkies hurt my head. Jay drew me away at last, back to Theodore Lane. I didn’t realize we’d reached my porch until he sat me down on the swing. Grateful, I leaned back and closed my eyes. Kip had used his gun, so both he and Holly at least had been dead before the flames devoured the shop.
I’d failed to save either of them. That would haunt me for a long time. Jay sat beside me, silent but supportive. I curled my legs into my chest and rested my cheek against a knee.
“I had no idea Kip was that crazy,” Jay said. “What kind of friend does that make me? Why didn’t I call him, get him to talk things out?”
