Flames from Ashes

by Caitlyn Willows

  “I saw. You realize you’ve now been added to our hotline.”

  He frowned. “What’s that?”

  “Group texts about anything and everything. They consider you family now. They can’t wait to meet you. But”—she lifted her index finger—“as buddy-buddy as you all are right now, as much as I care about them, I still need time. You’ve seen how protective they are. You’ve heard how badly they feel. I’m not ready for them to turn that on me yet. And they will. They won’t be able to help themselves.”

  “I understand and support you.” He caught her hand and kissed her fingers. “I’m going to get showered and shaved and head to work.” He scooted to the edge of the bed and stood. Sandy followed.

  “I’m ready to go whenever you are. I made us oatmeal muffins for breakfast. We can eat them on the way to work. The threat might not be imminent, but the fear won’t fade. I can’t stay in this house alone.”

  “Very much like me not being able to sleep last night.” Clint would feel better having her with him for the same reason. “We’ll carve out a spot for you in my office, so you can do whatever you need to do.” He smiled. “And if you run out of stuff, I can always sit you down behind a sewing machine and put you to work.”

  Sandy laughed so hard she snorted. “Oh my God, you are asking for trouble. I draw the line at sewing. When the kids need costumes, that’s on you.” She swatted his backside and walked away to dress.

  “Duly noted.” He aimed for the bathroom. “By the way, I can’t guarantee Dwight won’t find out about the burner-phone incident. The deputy guarding Keith might be from a different jurisdiction, but he would report it. It might be in our best interests—”

  “No.” The tone of her voice called the subject closed. Clint wasn’t going to push her.

  “I won’t be long.” He ducked into the bathroom without another word.

  Sandy shoved herself into the doorway before he could shut the door. “You won’t pressure me if Posner shows up?”

  “Nope. But I also wouldn’t delete the message if I were you. It’s proof you need in order to help get a restraining order, and I will stand firm on that. One for Keith and the other for Annie.”

  Her eyebrow lifted. “You do realize restraining orders aren’t worth the paper they’re printed on for a determined person.”

  “It’s better than nothing, and right now, it’s the best way I’ve got to protect you, outside of murder. And I really don’t want our child growing up with me in prison.”

  “I’d alibi you.” Her lips quirked with the hint of a smile.

  “Good to know, because there’s only so much more I can take before I go bat-shit crazy on someone’s ass.”

  She snorted. “Yeah, well, get in line. Call your attorney, and set it up. But right now, I’m thinking it might be time to reconsider your stance on guns.”

  Frankly, Clint was thinking the same thing.

  They fell into a nice rhythm at work. In no time Sandy was on the phones, giving Clint, Tommy, and the other two employees precious time they needed to work on orders. Her help seated home the need for permanent office staff, something Clint balked at for a number of reasons—cost, compatibility, and efficiency. Here was proof they needed the help. Clint was selfish enough to want that office assistant to be Sandy. He liked having her with him. Always had. They could work for hours on a project together and never say a word, yet have it feel as if they’d talked the whole time. That’s how it was now. Tommy and the other two guys felt it too. There was comfort in having her present. Calm in the eye of the storm, so to speak. So Clint really didn’t appreciate it when Dwight Posner came into the shop as he and Tommy were locking up for the day.

  Sandy tensed the second she saw him. Dwight’s dour expression didn’t help. He didn’t come bearing good news. He clutched a brown accordion file in his left hand and raised it to his chest as if to shield himself against her glare. Clint didn’t want to hear it, didn’t want to deal with it, and Sandy’s stance showed she had dug in for a fight. Clint was prepared to do battle by her side.

  “If this is about that text—”

  “No. I am aware of it, though. Keith Randall’s under guard. He’ll only talk through his lawyer. All he’ll say is some nurse gave him the phone and the info on Ms. Freeman. Your sister-in-law admitted to the act. After a lot of pressure, I might add. I’ve never seen anyone more filled with hatred and jealousy. She said you have no right to be happy, and as long as she had breath in her body, she was dedicated to see you were as miserable as she is. Then she started rambling about how you dared to run out on her, and you were going to pay.”

  That was when Clint realized… “She’s the one who destroyed Sandy’s garden.”

  “Makes more sense than anything else. I’ll check it out. If we can prove it, we’ve got her for vandalism. She’d probably lose her job, but I have a feeling that’s a given anyway after this burner-phone crap. I should probably warn you that the doctors expect to release Keith on Friday.”

  “We’ll have restraining orders in place as of tomorrow morning.” Clint had handled those details telephonically with his attorney that morning, right before the SunSpots representative brought in the paperwork to set the sale in motion.

  “Good.” Dwight shifted the file to his other hand and looked at Clint. “I came here to talk to you. Is there someplace we can do that alone?”

  Every hair on Clint’s body prickled to attention. “We can talk here.” He waved his hand, encompassing the shop. “The customers and employees are gone. There’s nothing you can say that I wouldn’t want Sandy and Tommy to know.”

  Tommy sidled up behind him, quietly lending support.

  “All right,” Dwight conceded. “Is there someplace we can all sit down?”

  Clint frowned. “What’s this about?”

  Dwight shifted the folder from one hand to the other. “Please. Trust me.” He looked like he wanted to be anywhere other than there.

  “Has something happened to our parents?” Tommy asked.

  “No.” He avoided looking at them.

  Sandy touched Dwight’s arm. “The office should do.”

  They trooped in single file. Clint sat behind the desk, suddenly feeling like he needed the barrier between himself and Dwight. Sandy stood behind him to his left. Tommy took the right. Dwight sank into the only chair in the room, the one in front of the desk.

  “There’s no easy way to tell you this.” He folded shaking hands on his lap, covering the folder. “We found what we believe to be your wife’s body.”

  A wave of dizziness passed over Clint. He white-knuckled the chair arms. Sandy curled her hand over his shoulder, tethering him to a reality he’d waited for but wasn’t ready to hear.

  “Where?” he choked out.

  Dwight pulled in a breath and released it before he replied. “In the refrigerator cooler of the homestead’s store.”

  Clint struggled to breathe, to think, to not fucking cry. “It was sealed.” By Chuck, presumably the day after the Easter incident.

  “Yes, it was. We continued our investigation yesterday and focused on the store, looking for evidence. We noticed heavy pry marks around the door, as if someone had opened it or tried to. At that time, we didn’t realize it had been spot-welded. We surmised that since we couldn’t find the shooter, the only place he could be hiding was in that cooler. All access to the barn was locked from the outside. There was no handle on the cooler door, so we finished prying it open. A look inside revealed…” He gripped his fingers together. Clint watched the slow plunge of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed. “It revealed two bodies. A woman cradling a baby. Both were in a state of mummification.”

  “My God.” Sandy’s whisper echoed Clint’s thoughts.

  “We’ve been working through the night to gather evidence. We found a small wallet with Marjorie’s driver’s license in her pocket. She had her camera with her as well.”

  The information buzzed around Clint’s head. Chuck had sea
led that door with Marjorie inside. His heart beat so hard it hurt. Clint pressed his fist against his chest to quell the ache.

  Sandy placed one hand on his back and the other over his fist. “Easy breaths, love. In and out. In and out. Slow and steady.”

  Clint focused on her voice, on how she coached him as he had her. He laced his fingers with hers and held on.

  “Are you sure?” He didn’t know why he asked. Who else would have her purse and camera? “Her car…” But if someone had killed her, they would have been smart enough to get rid of the car.

  “DNA is pending, but there seems to be little doubt now that we’ve started to process the main evidence. I’m sure the investigation will tell us what happened to her car. If it matters, we do have a suspect. A warrant was issued. That person is being taken into custody as we speak.”

  “Chuck,” he spit out.

  Dwight frowned. “No, why would you say that?”

  “Because he sealed the cooler.”

  “Then he did so without realizing she was inside. Marjorie sustained blunt force trauma to the back of her head and was placed inside.”

  “How does that explain the baby?” Tommy asked. “Who’s the suspect?”

  “I’m not at liberty to divulge that information at this time. I will tell you that Marjorie lived long enough to name her attacker and…”

  Birth their child. Clint’s chin quivered. He pressed his hand over his mouth. Tears drifted over his fingers. “What… Was the baby a boy or a girl?”

  “A little boy.” Dwight’s eyes teared up. He blinked them clear. “Marjorie used her camera to record the birth and provide us with a wealth of information.”

  The camera she had to have. The one they’d argued over. “I want to see it.”

  “I know. I’m doing my best to convince the district attorney to allow us to make a copy of it for you. It’s evidence, but she also left personal messages on there for you and someone named Danny. I wish I could have told you all this yesterday, but I couldn’t until we were absolutely sure.”

  “You mean you wanted to make sure Clint hadn’t done it,” Tommy snapped. “That’s why you flashed her bracelet.”

  Dwight flushed. “Yes. At that point, we hadn’t processed the information on the camera.”

  “I want her bracelet.” Clint’s voice shook with a combination of rage and grief. Sandy was right when she’d said Dwight wasn’t to be trusted.

  “Again, it’s evidence, and it’s not something we can release. Once the trial process is over, I’ll see you have it.”

  Which meant years from now. Clint jerked his chin toward the folder. “Do you have pictures? I want to see.”

  Dwight tilted a nod his way. “Families always want closure. So yes, there are pictures. I wish you wouldn’t look at them.”

  “I don’t really give a fuck what you wish for! I want to see what that bastard did to my wife and son!” He smacked his fist on the desk, knocking his coffee mug to the floor. It exploded into pieces.

  “No, you don’t.” Sandy scooted into his line of sight. When he refused to look at her, she grabbed his face and forced him to do so. “You want to remember her as she was, not like this. If you look at those pictures, it will erase every sweet memory you have. It will overshadow the joy. It will haunt you forever.”

  He shook his head. Sandy wouldn’t let go. “I’m going to have to identify her body. I’d need to know. I can’t walk into that.”

  “The coroner is trying to get fingerprints that identify her. You won’t need to do so,” Dwight said. “The coroner will work with the funeral home when it’s time.”

  Funerals. People had to be told. God, Danny and the kids. Her family. His family. Friends. The enormity of it all overwhelmed him. It felt like he’d lost everything all over again. He refocused his vision on Sandy. She was his calm in the storm. His future.

  “My baby. My son. Julian.” Sobs were wrenched from his throat.

  Sandy clutched his head to her chest. “I know. But you’ll see him. She made sure of that.”

  Using the camera he’d pitched a fit over. Clint pulled away from Sandy. “Goddamn Chuck. Goddamn him! He might not have put her in there, but she’s dead because he fucking sealed the door! How could he not look? How could he not look?” he screamed.

  “Believe me, that’s something I intend to find out,” Dwight said.

  “Then you better find him before I do. Because if I get my hands on him—”

  “Don’t.” Tommy clamped his hand over his shoulder. “Is that all, Detective? Has her family been notified?”

  “Not yet.” He stood. “But we will be handling that notification. In light of your revelations about your brother, I would request you wait to tell your family until I have a chance to talk to him.”

  “You know what”—Clint pushed to shaky legs—“that’s fine by me.” The last people he wanted to talk to were Marjorie’s family, and if he saw Chuck now, he would beat the hell out of him. “I have enough to do as it is.” Arrangements to make for Marjorie and Julian. Calling Danny. Falling apart all over again.

  Dwight stood. “I’ll be in touch soon and will let you know when we have apprehended the suspect. Although it’ll probably hit the local six o’clock news.”

  “Did Marjorie say why she was attacked?” he asked.

  “Wrong place, wrong time. Saw something she wasn’t supposed to see. That’s all I can say for now.”

  Rather like what happened when Sandy, Tim, and his mom had gone out there. But that was now. Chuck and Annie had been living on the homestead when Marjorie was killed. What in the world could she have possibly seen that would cause someone to want her dead?

  “It won’t be much longer. I want you to know that we’re also getting a warrant to search the barn,” Dwight said.

  “You can search it now,” Tommy told him. “We don’t give a damn.”

  “No. There are too many conflicting interests in your family. We do this completely by the book.” Dwight started to reach out to shake Clint’s hand, then drew back when he realized Clint wasn’t receptive. He left without another word.

  “I need to call Danny.” Hands shaking, Clint pulled out his phone.

  Sandy touched his arm. “I can do that for you.”

  He didn’t argue and left the office so he didn’t have to listen.

  “Do you want me to contact SunSpots?” Tommy called out.

  Clint muttered a curse. Using his power of attorney, Clint had signed the deal hours before, doing as his father had asked. Now the place was a crime scene, or at least parts of it. How was that going to affect the sale? He’d be damned if he paid another penny of the taxes. If the deal fell through, he’d go out there and burn every fucking timber to the ground.

  “Yes, please,” he yelled back.

  In his current state of mind, Clint couldn’t deal with any of it. He paced the workshop, struggling to keep the rage and grief inside. It burst through anyway, nearly bringing him to his knees. He sank into a decrepit chair a customer expected Clint to turn into something wonderful. The springs bit him in the ass. Snapping to his feet, he grabbed the monstrosity and threw it as far as he could. Pieces flew in different directions.

  He beat the heels of his hands on his forehead, trying to quell the emotions. Nothing stopped the noise. Someone had hit Marjorie hard enough to kill. Chuck had finished the job by entombing her. But Clint was the real culprit. He was the one who’d insisted they go there for Easter. He was the one who’d yelled about the bracelet, telling her he’d look for it another time. If they hadn’t gone there in the first place… If he’d just returned for the damn bracelet himself… He’d screamed that he’d done everything for Marjorie, yet he’d failed to do the one simple thing that could have saved her life and the life of their son.

  He crumpled to the concrete floor and buried his head in his hands. Everything he’d tried to hold inside poured out in gut-wrenching sobs.

  Strong arms wrapped around his shoulders
. Sandy kissed his temple and combed her fingers through his hair. “Let it all out. I’ve got you. I won’t let go.”

  Clint curled into her embrace as if he were a child. Conflict added to his burden. If Marjorie had lived, he wouldn’t have Sandy. Right now, he couldn’t live without her.

  What kind of man did that make him?

  Chapter Twelve

  Sandy hated feeling helpless. Clint’s grief tore a new hole in her heart. Uncountable times she’d battled her own tears in order to stay strong for him. It wasn’t easy. Hell, it was impossible. She wished for words to ease his pain. All she could do was offer her arms. Nothing magic there at all. It felt like she was hiding and fearful. Maybe she was. Not hiding, but afraid for Clint, for what this would do to him, for the guilt she knew he’d lay on his broad save-the-world shoulders.

  She wanted to remind him there was no way he could have known. Whoever had done this had covered their tracks well, even getting rid of Marjorie’s car. She prayed that person would spend twenty lifetimes in prison. Chuck too, for shutting her inside. If they could even charge him.

  Negligent asshole.

  Tommy sat cross-legged on the floor with them, waiting. He’d retrieved a box of tissues from the office and pushed it within Clint’s reach. What more was there to do?

  Eventually, Clint pulled in a shuddered breath. “Danny?”

  She kissed his head. “He wanted to come up. I asked him to wait.”

  What he’d wanted was to come up with the kids so that he and Clint could tell them together about their mother. Sandy’s response had been an unequivocal no. She appreciated how much the men shared, how they had bonded to help raise those children, but the kids didn’t need to see this. Clint needed time to shore himself up. That was when the full impact had hit Danny, and he’d fallen apart over the phone, blaming himself in ways similar to what Clint did now. Because she knew Clint blamed himself. And once Marjorie’s parents heard, they’d be gunning for him too.

  Over my dead body. Hell would have to freeze over a million times before Sandy would let them near Clint, and she had the full force of the fire department to help her do so. That was the second call she’d made—letting Tim know what had happened. They’d be rallying support now. Keeping them at bay was going to be even more difficult, but she’d appealed to Tim to continue to give them space for a little while longer. Clint wouldn’t want them to see him this way.