The Fire and the Veil (Veronica Barry Book 2)

by Sophia Martin

  “How’s that?” Veronica asked. She frowned and stopped walking. Harry obliged her by interesting himself in the smells among the roots of a tree near the sidewalk.

  “Do you know where your student, Lola Hekili, is, Veronica?” Daniel asked.

  Veronica blinked. “Not at the moment,” she said. “Why?”

  “Because it looks like her house burned down, and so far we’ve found two bodies.”

  Veronica gasped. Then her throat closed up and she couldn’t breathe. She raised a hand to her mouth and pressed her fingers to her lips.

  “Veronica? Are you there?”

  She squeezed her eyes shut and inhaled through her nose, feeling dizzy. At her feet, Harry sat on his hunches and whined. She opened her eyes and looked down at him. She crouched to give him a reassuring pat, but then the dizziness surged and she found it just easier to sit down on the sidewalk. Harry nudged her shoulder with his muzzle.

  “Veronica?”

  “Who?” she managed, grateful that cars parked along the sidewalk shielded her from view.

  “Who what?”

  “Whose bodies?”

  “It’s hard to tell, but we think it’s her mother and father. But don’t talk about that to anyone, we’re not releasing that information.”

  “Step-father,” Veronica said.

  “Hm,” Daniel said. There was a pause. “Ah, yes. Second marriage. You look her up in the school files, or something?”

  Veronica’s eyes began to tear up. “Um, yeah,” she managed.

  “Look, I need to find Lola and her brother and sister. I’ll call you back in a while, okay?”

  “Sure,” Veronica answered. She hit end on her phone and sat, stroking Harry’s wavy, thick fur. Harry sat beside her, panting, but apparently content to wait for her to get her wits about her.

  Okay, she told herself. He said it was her mom and step-dad. And Lola got kicked out last night. So she’s okay. It’s terrible that this happened, but she’s okay. And it sounds like her sister is okay, too. It’s just a shock. And a terrible tragedy.

  One part of her mind remained aloof from her reaction, and watched her critically. That part wondered why she was so upset she’d had to sit down in the middle of the sidewalk. Especially knowing that the way Lola felt about her parents, she’d probably rejoice at the news that they were dead.

  God, but what a nightmare—for the house to burn and for people to be trapped in it! And surely Lola would grieve, at least for her mother? And what would happen to her now? What would happen to her little sister? How old was she again? Six? Foster care, no doubt.

  Veronica felt a tear roll along one nostril, and she wiped it away, only to realize that both of her cheeks were wet.

  “Was I supposed to prevent this?” she whispered.

  She covered her mouth with her hand. Had the spirits tried to give her the task of saving Lola’s family? Could she have prevented the fire and saved their lives? Had she been too busy chasing Amani Ahmad to see what was going to happen?

  A sob escaped her throat. Harry whimpered and licked the back of her hand.

  Veronica stroked him again. She couldn’t stay sitting here, hiding behind parked cars. Someone was sure to see her sooner or later. She grabbed the edge of the hood of the car nearest her and hauled herself up, but once she was standing, she felt shaky. What if she could have saved those people? What a horrible death. What if she could have prevented it, if only she’d paid attention to what the spirits were trying to show her?

  Veronica turned and trudged back to her duplex, and Harry did not resist. They entered and Veronica freed Harry from his harness. She stood for a moment, feeling numb. Blossom appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, giving an arched back stretch by way of greeting. Veronica walked slowly into the kitchen, noting that the water bowls for the cats and the dog were both empty, so she refilled both. She set the cat bowl back in its usual spot on the counter and the dog bowl on the floor, and Harry trotted over and began to drink.

  Veronica watched him, her arms wrapped around herself.

  She began to think back to the dreams she’d had.

  Had anything hinted at the danger of the fire?

  Lola and her friends running across the freeway. Lola falling, Shelby saving her from being hit by the car. Lola meeting Shelby on the corner. But wait, before that. Lola and the matches.

  Veronica’s stomach lurched and she gripped the edge of the counter with both hands for support.

  Lola and the matches. The game of burning them down to her fingers.

  Had Lola set the fire that killed her parents?

  She certainly hated them enough.

  Veronica remembered wondering if she was meant to stop Lola from committing a murder. She’d thought her victim would be Caitlin at the time, but what if instead, it was her parents?

  The brutality Lola had suffered at Owen Carver’s hands when he threw her out—and Veronica was sure that it was nothing new—had it pushed Lola into a killing rage? Or was it the fear of what Owen or his son Paul would do to Leinani without Lola there to protect her? Had she killed her mother and step-father in some desperate attempt to rescue her sister?

  Veronica shook her head violently. She didn’t know that Lola did it. She had no proof. Let Daniel do the investigating. She was no good at it. All she did was find a poor girl who was trying to start a new life away from a violent and oppressive family—she wasn’t about to convict another girl who might turn out to be innocent, and trying to do the same.

  Chapter 13

  One good thing came out of the evening after Veronica heard about Lola’s parents. She had nothing else to do but finish her grading. It was hard at first to quiet her thoughts and set aside the horror of what had happened, but after a while she managed to focus on the assignments. The fear that she could have saved Lola’s parents if she’d only figured out some way to intervene in time faded into a background hum—not quite possible to ignore, but more like the low buzzing sound of a fly somewhere in the room.

  That night she didn’t dream of anything—or at least, nothing she remembered. The next day, when grades were due, all she had to spend time on was entering them. It was a minimum day, with shorter classes. She hadn’t much in the way of lesson plans. Once the kids left Veronica sat at her desk with her spiral bound grade book and put the grades into the computer. Considering the disaster she had courted with putting off the grading for so long, she was relieved to have come through in the end.

  She hit the submit button on the last of her classes and sat back in her chair. It was nearing two o’clock. Not bad at all, she mused. She could remember being here until seven more than once before, especially in her first year.

  The classroom was still and outside, it was sunny. Veronica looked out the windows. Should she call Daniel? She hadn’t heard from him again since yesterday. Hadn’t he said he’d call her back? Maybe he was finally done with her.

  It made her throat constrict to think so, but she also felt helpless to do anything about it. Having a romantic relationship just might not fit in her life right now. Still, the whole Amani fiasco was over, at least. And she had learned her lesson. No chasing mysteries unless the spirits gave her the info to begin with. She was just going to have to trust that they knew more than she did, and if they were stonewalling her, there was a good reason for that. So, her life, it would seem, was mostly settling down. She’d failed to stop the deaths of the Carvers, and that was awful. She’d gotten distracted by the whole Amani drama and ignored the warnings she got about Lola. She could have saved those people if she’d put her attention where the spirits were directing it. An awful weight of guilt wrapped around her insides, squeezing her bowels. It was over now, she told herself. She’d had no dreams the night before.

  So, if that was the case, maybe this was the perfect time to try to reconnect with Daniel.

  Until the next dream came her way.

  But for all she knew, it wouldn’t. The spirits might just give up on he
r after this.

  Veronica felt rotten. Sick to her stomach. She hadn’t eaten breakfast or lunch. Her satisfaction over her grades had been a bright spot in the day, but now that she was done with them, she had nothing to do but contemplate her failure.

  Did she really want to call Daniel now, and say what? “Hey, Daniel, turns out I was chasing Amani who was better off left alone when I should have been focusing on these dreams I was having of Lola. I might have been able to prevent her parents’ deaths. Isn’t that a kick?”

  Or, how about: “Hey Daniel, looks like my schedule got swept clean of all psychic phenomena for at least a few days. You have any free time?”

  The door of her classroom swung open and Veronica straightened in her seat, expecting a student. To her surprise, Daniel walked in.

  “Veronica,” he said as he strode across the classroom, between the desks and the board.

  “Daniel, what’s going on?”

  “I’m glad you were still here—the office wasn’t sure and they offered to call but I just had to get over here—”

  He looked really upset.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, standing up and coming around from behind her desk.

  “It’s your student, Lola,” he said.

  Veronica’s mouth went dry. She put a hand to her chest but said nothing.

  “You have to come with me,” he said. “They’ve arrested her.”

  ~~~

  Veronica didn’t say anything until they were sitting in his unmarked police car. As Daniel backed out of the parking spot, she took a deep breath. “The thing is, Daniel, I think maybe she did it.”

  Daniel frowned at her. “I don’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Why do you think that she did?”

  “I’ve been dreaming about her, a lot, this last week or so. And I think I saw her doing some things that should have clued me in about what was going to happen. I feel terrible that I didn’t pay attention. I might have saved those people from dying.”

  Daniel shook his head. “I don’t think so, Ronnie,” he said. She was surprised to feel a rush of warmth when he used her nickname. “I’d rather not get into it now. I don’t want to influence you.”

  “You’re taking me to the scene?” she asked.

  “Yeah. I want to see if you pick anything up.”

  Veronica crossed her arms over her chest and repressed a shudder. She hadn’t expected to see the place. She felt like she might be able to put this whole screw-up behind her, as long as she had no images to plague her when she shut her eyes. Seeing it would definitely make the whole thing much more real.

  They drove for a little while in silence, and then Daniel turned onto a street that was familiar to Veronica, although she had never really been there. She was coming in from a different direction, and it was daylight, but she recognized Lola’s neighborhood from the dream when Mos picked her up with Shelby.

  First came the awful smell, then she saw the blackened shell that remained, only broken walls and beams from the roof, almost immediately after she recognized the street. Unthinking, she grasped Daniel’s arm. He glanced over at her, and she caught the grim look on his face.

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “The bodies have long since gone to the ME’s.”

  Veronica shuddered.

  Daniel parked by the curb. A van marked SPD parked ahead of them, and a fire engine stood ahead of it. Two dumpsters rested in the driveway of the ruined house.

  “The FD and the forensic unit,” Daniel said as he took the key out of the ignition.

  When he came around to her side and opened the door for her, she took his hand and allowed him to help her out. The smell of smoke and burnt things assaulted her. His hand was warm, and his grip was firm, and it comforted her. She straightened and met his gaze. “So what should I do?”

  “Just wander. Go wherever… the spirits take you,” he said, and after a pause, he cracked a grin. “That sounded kind of funny. Anyway, I just want to see if you get anything.”

  Veronica nodded, swallowing. She wished she was anywhere but here, standing in front of the black hull of Lola’s former home. It stood like a monument to her arrogance and blindness, and anyway, there had been such misery there, before the flames destroyed it. She wanted to take a deep breath, but the air was burnt.

  Taking a step forward, she looked around her. Much of the contents of the house that hadn’t burned, or that were only partially damaged, had been dragged out onto the front lawn. Perhaps the forensic team did so, she mused. A glance at the dumpsters revealed that they each were about half filled. The forensic team must have done some kind of sorting. They’d left a lot of toys on the lawn, she noticed.

  She stepped closer to the outside of the house. Something caught her eye among a pile of stuffed animals. Under a singed, blue stuffed dog, a piece of paper fluttered. It came free, and as it tumbled away from her, she saw that it was a photograph. Veronica jogged towards it and grabbed it before the breeze could take it farther.

  The photo showed four people. In the foreground, two women, one heavyset, one thinner but older looking, wrapped their arms around a toddler. All three smiled. In the background, Veronica could make out Lola, about to step outside of the frame. The heavyset woman was Lola’s mother, Veronica realized. She looked different. Younger, and happier. Lola couldn’t be more than ten or eleven. The baby was probably Leinani, although Veronica couldn’t be sure—she had only seen Leinani a couple of times, and the baby was all pudgy cheeks and scrunched up eyes.

  Happier times, Veronica thought. Maybe before Terri had met Owen Carver. Although from what Veronica had gleaned, Lola’s father was no prize either.

  She thought about putting the photo back on the ground, or giving it to Daniel, but neither option seemed right. She didn’t want it to blow away like so much debris, and what would Daniel do with it? Instead, she slipped it in the inside pocket of her purse, zipping it shut.

  Veronica stepped along the outside of the remains of the house. She looked around. If she asked for them to come, would Terri and Owen appear to her? Where would she find the courage to face them after the way she’d failed them? She reached down and touched her finger to a blackened beam that jutted out from the rumble on the ground. Her finger came away with a dusting of black on the tip. She looked around. Did Lola do this? Could Veronica have stopped her?

  Glancing over her shoulder she saw Daniel on his cell phone over by his car. She sighed. The only technicians were across on the other side of the ruins, discussing something they had found. She was more or less alone.

  Again, she wanted to take a deep breath, but the smell of the air stopped her.

  “Hello?” she murmured. “Anybody here?”

  Nothing happened. She took a few more steps, careful not to enter the ruins. The technicians wore heavy protective gear—she didn’t think they’d like some civilian in street clothes stomping through the house.

  “Terri?” she said. “Owen?”

  Still nothing.

  “If you want to talk to me, I’m here,” she whispered. “Maybe you don’t. I’m sorry. I wish I could tell you how sorry I am.”

  She turned around, looking at the remains. There were fewer solid objects and more ash if she headed in the direction of the technicians. One step at a time, she made her way. When she set her foot down on one spot of white ash, everything changed.

  ~~~

  The house stood as it had been in her dreams. She was in the hallway where Owen had dragged Lola by her hair to the stairs. Ahead of her stood Owen with his back to her, and beyond him glowered a young man. He looked a lot like the boy in the vision she’d had of Lola fleeing on the bicycle. This must be Paul Carver, her step-brother. His face was livid, setting off his pale hair in contrast.

  “What do you mean, ‘She left’?” Paul shouted.

  “That little slut is gone,” Owen answered. “Just forget she ever lived here, right? She’s gone!”

  “You kicked her out!�
�

  “She chose to leave!”

  “She changed her mind—” Veronica said.

  Owen whirled around, fixing blazing eyes on her. “Shut up, Terri! So what if she did? That bitch has been making trouble since the day she moved in here!”

  “She’s my daughter, Owen—” Veronica pleaded.

  “Terri, so help me—” Owen raised a hand and Veronica felt herself cower.

  “How could you kick her out?” Paul demanded, marching over to Owen and grabbing him by the back of his shirt. Owen spun around and swung at Paul, but missed.

  “She’s a dirty slut!” Owen hissed. He rocked as he recovered from his swing. “I’m done putting food in her mouth! I’m done with all of her bullshit! She’s gone, and she ain’t never coming back!”

  “You had no right!” Paul shouted. He grabbed Owen’s collar but this time Owen’s fists landed where he threw them—against Paul’s face. Paul let go and tumbled to the ground, crying out. Owen kicked him hard and turned back to Veronica.

  “It’s late,” he said, squaring his shoulders and straightening his shirt. “You go pick up Lei. I gotta go to bed.”

  Veronica moved by him. Paul stood in her way. She tried to slip past him.

  ~~~

  Veronica stood amidst charred rumble again. She let out a long breath. So Paul had come home after Lola left. He was distraught about her leaving. And then what had he done? Had he gone after her? Or had he set the place on fire?

  It was almost with a feeling of hope that Veronica pondered this possibility. If Paul set the fire, there was nothing she could have done to prevent that, right?

  She moved forward, and crouched down, digging her fingers into the ash.

  The vision came on right away.

  ~~~

  Paul, dousing a pile of clothes with gasoline. Walking from that room to the hallway, letting the gasoline pour out. Splattering a door until the jug was empty. He stopped and looked around. He produced a small box of matches from his pocket, and took one out, pressing it to the striking strip. And then he stopped, looking back the way he’d come. The stain from the fuel showed on the light carpet. He would have no means of escape if he lit the fire from where he stood.