by Willow Rose
Chapter 29
Jean was on the porch outside when I drove up to the house. She gave me a nervous look as I got out and walked up the stairs.
“What’s going on?” I asked anxiously. “Did something happen?”
She pulled me closer, then pointed across the street. “That car.”
“What about it?”
“Someone is sitting inside it, and they’ve been there all day. I have a feeling this person is watching us, watching this house.”
I stared at the gray Buick, scrutinizing it. I had seen it parked there in the morning when I left for work. I hadn’t noticed that someone was sitting inside of it, but I did now.
“I didn’t say anything to Josie. I didn’t want to scare her. That’s why I thought I’d wait for you out here, so I could tell you before you went in.”
Jean’s blue eyes looked up at me. I felt like hugging her close to me. I didn’t like seeing her in distress like this.
“Go inside,” I said. “I’ll deal with it.”
She nodded, still looking deep into my eyes. I stared at her lips, remembering the kiss we had shared a little over a month ago. I could still feel it, and often it was the last thing I would think about before falling asleep at night. I couldn’t forget about it. It was impossible.
“Okay,” she said, then pulled away and walked back inside. I watched her go, and as the screened door slammed shut, I felt for my gun in my holster and kept my hand on the grip as I walked down the stairs with my eyes focused on the grey Buick. I walked quickly toward it, hoping to get to it before it could take off. Using my long legs to take big steps, I rushed toward it, and the driver didn’t see me until I was almost there. He started the engine, then drove out of the parking spot.
“HEY!” I yelled and tried to step out in front of it to stop it. But the driver didn’t intend to stop. He stepped on the accelerator and rushed toward me, forcing me to jump to the side of the road in order not to be hit.
I rolled in the grass, then lifted my head just in time to see the license plate and memorize it. I got to my feet and brushed off the grass, then hurried back to the house and slammed the door shut behind me, locking it carefully. I took a few breaths to calm myself. I didn’t want Josie to notice that anything was wrong.
“Dad!” Josie yelled as she saw me. She hugged me, and suddenly a sweet aroma filled my nostrils.
“I’ve made lamb for dinner,” Josie said. “Well, not completely by myself. Jean helped me.”
“It smells heavenly,” I said and kissed her forehead. I stared at Jean, who was checking on the meat in the oven. Lamb was one of my favorite meals, and Jean knew this. Seeing her in my kitchen cooking again made my heart overflow with happiness. I had missed her terribly over the past month. She used to take such good care of all of us, and I guess I hadn’t appreciated her enough.
“Dinner will be ready in half an hour,” Jean chirped. “I called your dad, and he’ll be over shortly. He just got back.”
I smiled happily. Just like old times, I thought, then felt guilty. I couldn’t do this to myself. I couldn’t romanticize the time before Camille woke up.
“I’m sorry I was late today,” I said as I put the keys down and opened my laptop. “It wasn’t my intention to ruin your entire day off.”
Jean smiled. I hadn’t seen that smile in quite a while, and even though I didn’t want it to, it filled me with warmth.
“It’s okay,” she said. “I actually enjoyed myself. It feels good to be here again. Josie and I had some catching up to do.”
I looked into her eyes, feeling all kinds of sadness. Why did I feel like this when looking at her? Why did I have all these emotions that I didn’t have when looking at Camille? Was my dad right? He was the one who told me he believed I loved Jean more than Camille, even before Camille overdosed.
He couldn’t be right, could he?
I shook my head and looked down at my computer. It didn’t matter. There wasn’t anything I could do about it now anyway. I was married, and my wife was sick. She needed me more than ever.
Chapter 30
When Savannah woke up, she was lying on the floor. Her face felt sore, and her lips tasted like blood when she licked them. She felt drowsy and had a hard time opening her eyes. It was so hot; she was sweating like crazy. What was that awful smell? She tried to recall what had happened before she ended up there.
She remembered playing the violin. She remembered it getting dark and that she had decided to go to bed. Then she remembered there was a noise and then there was something else. A man, yes, that was it. A man had entered her house and was standing by the back door. Then what had happened?
“Who are you? What are you doing here?” she had asked.
The man had stepped into the light, pulling down the hood on his raincoat. That was when she had stopped breathing. Recognizing the eyes staring at her, she knew he had come for her. He had finally found her.
“I never told anyone,” she said. “I kept it to myself.”
But the man didn’t seem to care. He rushed toward her, and as she saw that, she went for the front door. She turned around and made a run for it, but the man was faster. He grabbed her by the collar and pulled her back, then put his arm around her neck and dragged her backward.
Savannah had screamed, but he was too strong. He had punched her, then put his hands around her neck, holding tight till she had fainted.
Why am I not dead?
She asked herself this as she took a couple of breaths, trying to get back to reality. Her eyelids still felt heavy and hard to lift, so she focused on her hands, trying to move them. They weren’t strapped down. The same went for her legs, and she could move them with ease. But the stench was getting worse, and it was getting harder to breathe.
What’s going on here?
She finally managed to lift her eyelids and look. But all she could see was deep darkness.
Savannah sat up and tried to look around, trying to figure out where she was. She reached out her hand, and it hit something, and she felt it, then used it to lean on, to get to her feet. She recognized her bed, and leaned against it, then felt her way to the nightstand with the lamp, found the button, and turned it on. Except nothing happened. There was no light. She flipped the button again and again, but nothing happened. She then felt her way past the dresser to the door, where she flipped the switch on the wall next to it.
Still nothing.
Did the power go out?
There was like a rumbling noise coming from outside the room. Savannah walked to the window, then grabbed the thick velvet curtains that had been closed to shut out all light. As she pulled them aside, she suddenly saw light, and lots of it, in the shape of flames licking the side of the house.
Startled, Savannah pulled back with a scream.
Oh, dear God, it’s a fire. Someone set fire to my house!
She backed up to get away from the window, then ran for the door. She grabbed the handle, but the door was locked.
Who locked the door? I can’t get out!
Savannah pulled it, again and again, shaking the door, but it wouldn’t budge. A huge pop startled her as the windows shattered, and the fire soon grabbed the curtains inside and spread to the bed, moving faster than seemed possible. Savannah screamed at the top of her lungs, then shook the door handle again and again, then started kicking the door till it finally broke open. Thinking she had found a way out, Savannah crawled through the opening she had made and into the hallway when she realized it too was surrounded by flames on all sides.
She was trapped.
Chapter 31
At dinner, Camille sat in her wheelchair next to me, so I could feed her to make sure she got enough to eat. She seemed very insistent on trying on her own, so I let her eat by herself, at least till she gave up and let me take over.
After dinner, Josie, my dad, and I cleaned up while Jean took Camille to her room and put her back in bed. I told Jean she didn’t have to do that, but she wan
ted to, she said. She loved Camille and enjoyed taking care of her again. Camille got exhausted quickly these days, but at least she was present now. It was an improvement, and hopefully to her life as well, even though there still was so much she wasn’t capable of doing.
“At some point, you have to forgive her,” my dad said.
Josie asked if she had helped enough by now and would be allowed to go back upstairs. I nodded and let her leave. My dad handed me a plate, and I put it in the dishwasher. I turned to look at him once I was sure Josie was completely out of sight and wouldn’t be able to hear us.
“What do you mean?”
“Camille,” he said. “You’re angry with her for doing drugs again and for causing this overdose, but at some point, you have to let it go, son. It’ll only eat you up and come between you two.”
“I’ve already forgiven her,” I said.
“Have you now?”
I gave him another look. My dad, the former pastor, always had a way of seeing straight through me to a point where it annoyed me.
I smiled. “It’s a work in progress.”
“It always is,” he said. “It’s rarely something that happens instantly. It takes time, and sometimes it’s a process that lasts an entire lifetime. But letting go of that resentment and anger toward her is vital if you want to move on.”
“I know,” I said, sounding like an annoyed teenager. “I just…it’s still hard for me to understand why she would do it, why she would hurt us all like this.”
“Pray about it,” he said and handed me the last dish. I placed it in the dishwasher, then turned it on. My dad and I each grabbed a glass of iced tea and sat in the living room. I poured some in a glass for Jean and gave it to her as she came out to join us. My dad turned on the TV and watched the news, while Jean and I sat in silence for a few minutes.
“So, did you figure out who was in that car?” she asked, using a low voice. “Did you see him?”
“No, he drove off. I didn’t even get a look at his face. But I did get the license plate and called it in and had them run it in the system before we ate dinner.”
“Did you get a name?”
I nodded.
“So, who is it, anyone we know?”
I nodded again. “You won’t believe it; I hardly did myself. It doesn’t seem to make much sense. I’ve been pondering about it all night.”
“Try me.”
I leaned forward.
“David Smith.”
She wrinkled her forehead. “As in the same David Smith, who is the…”
“The father of Emilia García, yes, the girl who gave Josie her heart.”
Jean leaned back and took a sip from her glass of iced tea, a puzzled look on her face. “He was here? Keeping an eye on us? But…why?”
I shrugged. “Beats me. But he sure was in a hurry to get away when I approached him. I had to jump for my life so he wouldn’t hit me. Scraped my arm.”
“Do you want me to take a look at it?” Jean asked.
I chuckled. “I think I’ll survive.”
“Why do you think he was there all day? It is strange, don’t you think?”
I sighed. “I don’t know. There’s a lot I can’t seem to figure out right now. But I intend to dig deeper into it. Something is very wrong in this town, and I don’t like it one bit.”
Chapter 32
When my dad left, I told Josie to get ready for bed and walked Jean home. She lived right next door, but with what she had seen earlier in the day, with Emilia’s dad watching us, I didn’t like for her to be out on her own. I felt uneasy at the thought of him lurking out there. I was extremely grateful for what he had done, giving my daughter a new heart, and I still wanted to thank him for it, but showing up like that, sneaking around my house? Running off when I approached him? It made me very uncomfortable. I couldn’t figure out why a man like him would do that. Why didn’t he just come to our door if he had something he wanted to talk to us about?
Why did he rush off in such a hurry?
But if I was completely honest, it wasn’t just that. I had another reason that I wanted to walk her home. I had enjoyed her company this whole evening, and frankly, I didn’t want it to end.
“So…” she said as we walked up her stairs and stopped by her door. The old porch swing was moving in the wind, the chains squeaking. There was a nice breeze tonight, and it felt good on my skin.
“This is me.”
“Thank you,” I said with a deep sigh. “For everything. For helping out today with Josie and Camille, for cooking, for just being there and for…well… being who you are.”
That made her chuckle. “Wow. That was a lot.”
“I just…I don’t know how to thank you enough. I know the past month has been…well, it’s been terrible, to be honest. I missed you, and I know it’s selfish and I…I want to make sure you understand that you don’t have to hang around us if it makes you uncomfortable. I don’t want to force you to come over if it’s too unbearable; I hope you know this.”
She placed a hand on my arm. “I know, Harry. No one is forcing me. I do it because I enjoy it. You never meant for any of this to happen. It’s not your fault. None of this is. It’s just…bad timing.”
I nodded, pressing back tears. I looked into her eyes, feeling my emotions stir again. She smiled, her sweet eyes narrowing, creating small lines in the sides. For a second, I thought I’d kiss her, and leaned in slightly, but then pulled back.
“Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” she said, and let go of my arm. “Us hanging out too much.”
I nodded. She was right. What we were doing was dangerous. The more time we spent together, the more I was falling for her. But being without her this past month had made me miserable. I didn’t want to go back to that.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I am so, so sorry…for everything.”
She chuckled, but it didn’t sound happy. She then lifted herself onto her tippy toes and placed a kiss on my cheek. I closed my eyes as her lips met my stubble, genuinely wishing it could have been on the lips.
“Good night, Harry Handsome,” she whispered, her eyes closed, leaning in against me. I grabbed her wrists and took in a deep breath, smelled her, trying to take as much of her back with me as I could.
She sighed. I sighed. I could feel her warm breath against my skin. I wanted to stay like this forever. I wanted to hold her in my arms forever.
“I should go,” she whispered, but she didn’t pull away, and I didn’t let go of her. Neither of us dared to move because, in doing so, we’d ruin the moment; we’d rip our lives apart yet again.
“I’m gonna go now,” she said, finally pulling away from me. It felt like someone pulled away the very ground I stood on. I took a deep breath and looked at her again when out of the corner of my eye, I spotted someone coming down the street. A guy walking his dog. He gave us one look, then said:
“Did you guys see the fire? It looks like it’s only a couple of blocks down. It looks big.”
I turned around, walked down the stairs, then looked behind Jean’s house where the man was pointing. And there it was. What looked like a few streets behind ours, a thick pillar of smoke reached the sky.
“Oh, dear Lord,” Jean said. “I hope no one is hurt.”
“I’m gonna go check it out,” I said, grabbing my phone and calling nine-one-one.
“I’ll go with you,” Jean said and followed me into the street.
Chapter 33
Flames were licking the windows of the house. A window popped as we approached it, sounding like gunfire. The thick smoke was hanging deep from the ceiling, emerging through doorways and the vents. The heat greeting us was immense, like a brick wall, the air thick with toxic components from the burning synthetic materials like furniture and paint inside the house.
A couple of neighbors were outside in their front yards, looking at it, and in the distance, I could hear sirens. I had talked to dispatch, and now the firetrucks were approaching.
<
br /> “Do you think whoever lives there was home when the fire started?” Jean asked.
“I hope not,” I said. “With a fire like this, you’d have barely two or three minutes to get out.”
As we stood there, staring at the flames, listening to the sound of them devouring the old house, we heard a sound. One so terrifying, it made my heart stop.
“Did you hear that?” I asked.
Jean gave me a look of distress.
“Yes. It sounds like…knocking.”
“Someone’s in there,” I said. “Hammering on a door somewhere.”
I looked around me, realizing the firetrucks were still at least a minute out. If this person, whoever it was, was trapped inside, there wasn’t time to waste. A minute could mean the difference between life and death.
“I’m going in,” I said.
“Harry, no,” Jean said. “You’ll only get yourself killed; the smoke alone is poisonous. You know better than this. Harry, are you listening?”
I wasn’t. I had already left her and was rushing up toward the house. Thick smoke emerged from all the passageways behind the front door. The door handle had to be too hot to touch, so instead, I kicked the wood again and again. It broke into pieces, and thick warm smoke hit my face. I turned away but was still blinded by it. I coughed as the heat forced me to my hands and knees.
“Hello? Is someone in here? Hallo?” I yelled.
I crawled forward into the house, staying close to the walls. I had been through training programs for situations like this when I was just a young police officer in the force, but that was years ago now. Yet I remembered the important stuff, like staying low, and as I was inside, I found an umbrella in the hallway, grabbed it, and used it to sweep the floors since I couldn’t rely on my eyes. They were burning badly, and I kept them shut most of the time while searching the surroundings.
