by Sara Rosett
“It looks exactly the same,” I said as I climbed out of the car. Mitch had assured me everyone was fine, that he had both kids with him. They hadn’t even smelled a whiff of smoke, much less been anywhere near the fire, but I ran around the side of the house to the backyard. Everyone was in a group at the far end of the pool. Nathan saw me and ran. “Mom! Mom, the fire truck came. A real one. It had its sirens on and everything. It was the coolest thing ever.”
I swept him up in a hug. “Where’s the fire truck now?” I asked.
His lower lip popped out in a pout. “It had to leave and the fireman said we can’t go back inside. Not for my Legos or for clothes or anything.”
Livvy ran up to me. “The Spiral Secrets is inside and I have to have it. And my blue purse. I have to have my purse. It’s got my reading list.” Tears sparkled in the corners of her eyes. Nathan wiggled out of my arms and sprinted off to Mitch, who was making his way toward us across the lawn. I squatted down to Livvy’s level. Losing her reading list would be a huge calamity for her. And she’d been so proud of her signed book from Maggie Key, too. Losing either—or worse, both—would probably be a tragedy. “Do you remember where you left them?”
“By the front door. Dad told me to leave them inside, so I did,” she said, and shot a dark look at Mitch.
“I’m sure your book and purse are fine. The front of the house looked okay, so they’re probably sitting right where you left them. We’ll get them as soon as we can. And if something happened to them, we can re-create your list. You’ve got your books at home that you’ve read and we can ask the library for a list of all the books you’ve checked out. It probably won’t be long before we can go back inside,” I said, and gave her a quick hug.
She swung away from me to follow Nathan sluggishly to a plastic playhouse set up at the far end of the backyard, as Mitch reached my side.
“How long have—” My words halted as I turned to look at the back of the house. Until that moment, I’d been facing the backyard, concentrating on the kids, but now the house had my full attention. “Oh, my,” I said, reaching for Mitch’s hand. The back corner of the house, the guest bedroom, and part of the sunroom looked like something from the local news. Charred window frames surrounded broken out windows. I could see at least three holes in the roof. Black smears radiated up from the windows, marring the white-painted brick. Water pooled in a few shallow spots on the patio and in the grass. The sunlight glittering off the surface of the water was an odd contrast with the dry, yellow grass. “No one was hurt? What happened?”
“No one was inside. Mom was out showing a house. I was in the garage with Dad, unloading the tools. The kids were playing in the front yard when we saw dark smoke drifting over the roof. We called nine-one-one and Dad used the water hose to wet down what he could until the fire truck got here, but there wasn’t much we could do.”
“I’m so glad you’re okay,” I said, leaning against him.
He squeezed me closer. “Of course, I’m okay.”
“And the kids . . . ,” I said, and my legs suddenly felt like I’d run a mile or two. “If they’d been inside . . . alone . . .” I turned and looked across the lawn. Livvy was inside the plastic playhouse. Nathan was rhythmically opening and closing the shutters on the house as fast as he could.
“They weren’t,” Mitch said firmly, but I heard the slight quiver in his voice.
“How bad is it inside?” The sunroom and adjacent guest room formed the back wall of the house.
“I haven’t been inside, but the fireman who talked to Dad earlier said the rooms at the back of the house are the worst. Sounds like they’ll have to be gutted and rebuilt. I don’t know if the fire reached the family room or kitchen. Someone from the fire department is in there now.”
“Then that means everything we brought is probably gone,” I said, trying to remember what we’d had in our suitcases and what we’d left at home. I gestured at our clothes. “This is it—all we have are the clothes on our backs.”
Mitch nodded. “Everything else is probably ruined, either from the fire, or if it didn’t spread back that far, then from the smoke and the water.”
Mitch’s parents were a few feet away. Caroline was sitting motionless on the edge of a chaise longue near the pool, her hands tucked between her knees, staring at the decorative blue tiles that surrounded the patio. Bill had his hand on her shoulder, his gaze riveted to the house as he spoke on his cell phone. Caroline was still in her Realtor clothes, a taupe sweater and black skirt, and heels. I remembered she’d had a home to show after the reading of the will. She’d probably come straight here when she got word about the fire. “Your parents must be devastated.”
“I think they’re in shock,” Mitch spoke quietly, but I didn’t think he needed to worry about his parents overhearing his words. They looked so lost and withdrawn that I doubted they’d even noticed he was speaking.
“Someone should get them a blanket,” I said, making a move to break away from Mitch’s embrace. But at that moment, Aunt Nanette came into the backyard, carrying a lilac Windbreaker and a brown blanket. She draped the blanket over Bill’s shoulders and put the Windbreaker over Caroline, who reached up mechanically to hold it in place.
A man in full firefighting gear emerged from what had been the door frame on the back of the sunroom. He crossed the patio and walked around the end of the pool to Bill and Caroline. We were close enough that I could hear him as he said, “Well, we were able to contain the fire to the two rooms at the back of the house. The fire damage is minimal. The smoke and water damage are more severe. You’re fortunate that the French doors to the sunroom were closed. That helped keep the fire from spreading into the main portion of the house.”
I breathed a sigh of relief, since it sounded like Livvy’s most precious belongings were probably safe.
Bill asked, “Can we go back in?”
“Yes, you can go in now, but I wouldn’t recommend staying there. You’re going to need to get someone in here who specializes in fire cleanup—water and smoke removal. Contact your insurance company. They’ll have some names for you.”
“Can you tell us what happened? Where it started?” Bill asked. Caroline continued to sit on the chaise longue staring at the water lapping at the edge of the pool.
“Looks like a candle was the source of ignition.”
Bill’s forehead wrinkled and he looked toward Caroline. For the first time, she pulled her gaze away from the pool and looked at the fireman. “We don’t usually burn candles. They make me sneeze.”
“A candle fell onto a rug—a light brown rug. Woven. Natural fiber.”
“The sisal, yes,” Caroline said quickly, looking more animated.
“The burn pattern indicates that the fire moved pretty quickly. It spread to a sofa that was on the rug, then up the wall that separates the sunroom from the room next to it, the back bedroom. Not as much damage in the bedroom,” he added. “So why do you have candles in the house, ma’am, if you’re allergic?”
Caroline shrugged. “Gifts. I keep them because they’re a nice decorative touch, but we don’t burn them.”
I looked at Mitch and said softly, “Why didn’t you tell me? I sure hope the candle that caused all this trouble wasn’t the peaches-and-cream one I gave her for Christmas.”
“I didn’t realize. She never said anything,” Mitch said.
“She probably didn’t want to hurt our feelings,” I said. How many candles had I given her over the years?
The fireman asked, “You’re sure you didn’t light that candle? It could have been yesterday, even. We see that a lot—someone lights a candle and forgets to blow it out. These candles that are three, four, five inches in diameter can burn for a long time and people forget to blow them out.”
Caroline shaded her eyes as she looked up at Bill. “We’ve had quite a few visitors lately. I suppose someone could have lit a candle either today or yesterday . . . ,” her voice trailed off uncertainly.
Bill ran his hand down over the scruffy stubble of his beard, then glanced in our direction. “No,” I said quickly. “It wasn’t us. I didn’t light it. Mitch never lights candles—doesn’t even notice them, actually,” I said, cutting a look at him, “and our kids know candles and matches are strictly off limits.”
“It could have been someone who came by yesterday,” Caroline said. “Maybe Julia? We’ll have to ask her or Wes. Of course, the whole family has been in and out of the house for days and we’ve had so many visitors.”
“It’s a fairly common occurrence. I wouldn’t worry about it, ma’am,” the fireman said.
Through the open gate at the side of the yard, I saw a police car roll to a stop at the curb. Detective Rickets’s insinuations came flooding back. I pulled Mitch a few steps away. “Did you meet with Felicity recently?”
I knew it was abrupt and there might be a better way to handle the question. Maybe I shouldn’t ask it at all ... just wait and see what happened, but there was something about seeing the burnt rooms and the smoke scars above the windows that made everything very basic. I’d never liked manipulation and innuendo and strategy. I’d much rather be straightforward. Either Mitch was sneaking around or he wasn’t. Either he’d tell me the truth or he’d lie. Better to get everything out there and find out what he had to say.
“What?” Mitch said, frowning. I knew him well enough to know he wasn’t playing for time. He was puzzled at the unexpected turn our conversation had taken. “Did you see Felicity? Give her a package?” I asked.
“Oh, yeah,” he said, his face clearing. Then he lowered his voice. “The birthday stuff.”
“What?” I scanned his face. All I saw was his normal open expression.
“Remember, Felicity threw that surprise birthday party for Dan about a month ago?”
“No.”
“She called and wanted to know if I had any pictures of him . . . baby pictures, T-ball, stuff like that.”
“Why would she call you?”
“You know Aunt Jenny. How she’s always on the cutting edge—ready to try anything new. She’s into recycling and, what did she call it? Living light, I think.”
“Yes,” I said, thinking that was a phrase I’d have to remember. I could identify with trying not to accumulate clutter.
“Well, she scanned all her photos, everything from when Dan was born right up until a few months ago and saved it on her computer. Then she got a virus and lost all her data.”
“What does this have to do with you?”
“Felicity was throwing Dan a surprise party and wanted to do a slide show. Dan and I did almost everything together when we were growing up. I had tons of pictures of him in all those photos that Mom sent me last year after she cleaned out the garage.”
“So you gave those photos to Felicity. Why don’t I remember this?”
“Well, she called the day after Nathan got sick with that croupy cough. You were pretty tired.”
“Oh, yeah,” I said. “I vaguely remember you digging through photo albums and boxes one afternoon after work.” I’d been so tired, I’d gone to bed right after dinner and Mitch had taken care of the kids that night. The next morning, he’d left on a short trip.
“Why didn’t you just mail them to her? Or scan them?”
“Man, you really were out of it that night. You don’t remember that I had a RON in Montgomery that night before we went on to Oregon?”
“Your trips always blend together for me,” I said. The big ones, the long trips, stood out, and the exotic locations were easy to remember, but Mitch was always coming and going and it was hard to remember every destination.
I knew RON was military-speak for Remain Over Night, so that meant Mitch had landed in Montgomery one day and departed the next day for Oregon. “So you met with her in a parking lot somewhere?” I asked.
“At the gym. She didn’t want Dan to know, so I met her after work. Now, why the third degree?” Mitch’s normal relaxed and good-natured attitude had slipped into something more serious.
I blew out a breath, a sigh of relief, because I knew Mitch. I knew he was telling me the truth. This wasn’t some clever lie or elaborate scheme he’d engineered to cover up something. I remembered the next night with Nathan had been another rough one—I’d spent most of it holding him on my lap as we sat on the edge of the tub, the shower blasting hot water so the steam would help his croupy cough. I’d been dead on my feet the next day and I was pretty sure I’d slept every spare moment I could. Mitch probably had mentioned his meeting with Felicity and I’d been so tired and worried about Nathan that it hadn’t really registered. And now that I thought about it, I did remember pictures of Dan’s birthday party. Felicity had posted them on Facebook.
“And after you gave her the photos, you went back to your hotel?”
“Yes,” Mitch said slowly. “I went to dinner with the crew at—it was Applebee’s, I think.”
“So you were with someone? The crew can confirm you were with them at dinner and went back to the hotel?”
“Yes,” Mitch said evenly. “They can even confirm that I gave the package to Felicity. They drove me there on the way to dinner and watched me hand it off to her in the parking lot. Now, I’ve answered all your questions. Suppose you tell me why you want confirmation of my movements that night.”
“Oh, it’s not for me. It’s for the police.”
Ellie Avery’s Tips for Preserving Family Treasures
Digital Memories
• Transferring documents and pictures to digital files can be time consuming, but it does have advantages. Besides having a backup copy, you’ll also be able to copy, crop, and print at will.
• Be sure to create an organizing system in your computer. Most camera software programs download photos by date, but you can rename the file before you download if you’d rather organize by event or other category.
• Take the time to rename your photos with specific labels that will help you find them.
• To make sure your photos are looked at and enjoyed, download them to digital photo frames or create a slide show of your favorites and set it as your screen saver.
• You can even create digital scrapbooks.
Chapter Sixteen
I took the stack of photos out of my jacket pocket. “They’re going to want to talk to you about it. Detective Rickets blindsided me with these.” I handed them to Mitch. “These are copies. I think they’re from an anonymous tip. He thinks you and Felicity were . . . involved . . . and that she convinced you to . . . do something about Grandpa Franklin.”
Mitch stared at me for a moment, then said, “That’s ridiculous!” Bill turned to look at us and I pulled Mitch a few steps farther away from the group around the pool. “I would never—he was my grandfather!” Mitch’s words were as disjointed as mine usually were when I got upset. The difference was Mitch rarely got into the flabbergasted state he was in now, but I knew exactly what he was trying to say.
I tightened my grip on his arm. “I know that. I know you’d never do anything like that. And that’s what I told Detective Rickets, but I’m sure he’ll have some questions for you.”
“But you weren’t sure about the other part,” Mitch said, his dark gaze holding mine. I could hear the astonishment and hurt in his voice as he said, “About me and Felicity?”
Dang it. I’d been trying to gloss over that part, but he knew me too well. I threw my head back to look at the sky, which was now a translucent blue as the sun dipped behind the trees. “Mitch, you’ve been so weird lately—quiet and withdrawn. You don’t talk to me. I don’t know what’s going on in your head. Next thing I know, everything’s fine and it feels like we’re back to normal. Then, you recede again and I don’t know why. What’s going on?”
Mitch shook his head and sighed. “We’ve got to get away, by ourselves, and talk. I’m trying to work something out. It’s complicated and I know how much you worry. I was trying not to stress you out. You see . . . ,” he broke o
ff as Detective Rickets arrived at his side.
“I see you’ve shown him the pictures,” he said.
I had a very base urge to put both hands on his chest and shove him away. Mitch was finally opening up to me, talking to me, and then Detective Rickets butted in. I balled my hands into fists and kept my arms clamped to my sides. “Could we possibly discuss this later? As you can see, Mitch’s family is in the middle of dealing with a house fire.”
Detective Rickets raised his eyebrows at my tone, then looked back at the house. “Not a lot you can actually do right at this moment. Seems as good a time to have a talk with Mitch as any. I’m sure you understand that we have to follow all leads and can’t be distracted with unrelated issues. You certainly were insistent that we investigate Mr. Avery’s death earlier. What’s changed that makes you want us to back off?”
I smiled tightly. “I’m so glad to see you’re taking your duty so seriously . . . now.” I rotated my shoulders and unclenched my fists. “Go ahead, talk with Mitch. I’m sure you’ll find what he has to say is fascinating. I’ll check with Caroline. See if I can do anything.” Mitch caught my hand before I turned away and said, “It’ll be fine.” I nodded and walked briskly to the pool and sat down beside Caroline.
Her shoulders were hunched as she held the Windbreaker closed with one hand. Nathan and Livvy had moved to another corner of the backyard. They were sitting in the yellow grass building something with sticks.
“How are you doing?” I asked Caroline.
She shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t know. To have this happen on the heels of the funeral . . . it’s almost too much to take in. Thank goodness no one was in the house. I’m sure there’s something I should do, but I really have no idea what it is.” Her hand dropped limply into her lap as she gazed at the back of the house. “Everything will have to go—carpet, drywall, everything. We just finished enclosing that patio last summer.”
“I know,” I said, thinking it would be disheartening to see all your hard work destroyed. I knew that sunroom was her favorite place in the house. “It’s amazing that it takes so long to build something and that it can be ruined in minutes,” I said as I twisted around to look for Mitch. He was talking to Detective Rickets, who seemed to be doing more listening than questioning, which I figured was a good thing.
