Secret Hollows

by Terri Reid

  Mike appeared beside him. “What the hell?”

  “Mary’s inside,” Ian yelled, jumping off the porch and running alongside the house. “We’ve got to do something.”

  “Yeah, well I will,” Mike said, disappearing through the front door into the house.

  Ian continued his run to the back of the house looking for anything he could use to rescue Mary. He could see flames licking past the plywood on the windows and thought he saw the shimmer of fire from the second floor, too. He ran to the back of the house where there was a large wooden porch. The porch was skirted with lattice, that used to be painted white, but was now faded and brittle. A large door, made of two by fours and lattice, was at the end of the porch. Ian pulled the door open and looked underneath. There was an assortment of lengths of wood laying in a large pile, several lengths of garden hose, a few old planters and finally, along the back side, an old wooden extension ladder. Ian started to pull it out when his phone rang.

  “Hello?” he yelled into the phone.

  “Is she safe?” Bradley’s urgent voice came over the line. “I heard the 911 call.”

  “I don’t know,” Ian said. “I just got here and the place is up in flames. Front door’s locked and the whole front of the first floor is ablaze. Mike’s here, he’s gone in after her.”

  “I’m halfway there,” Bradley said. “Save her Ian.”

  “I will, Bradley.”

  He shoved the phone back in his pocket and pulled on the ladder, a sliver slicing through his hand. “Damn,” he whispered, paying no heed to the pain as he continued to pull the long ladder out from under the porch.

  Mary pushed a tall stack of boxes next to the chimney and climbed on top of them. Reaching up, she unlocked the access door, and pushing with all her might, tried to open it. She looked down at Mrs. Forrest. “It won’t budge,” she said.

  “Well, dearie, it’s been twenty years. Try again.”

  Mary pushed against the door again, but her arms just weren’t strong enough. “I can’t do it,” she panted.

  “Sure you can, sweetcakes, you’re just pushing with the wrong set of limbs.”

  She looked down and nearly cried with relief to see Mike standing below her. “What should I do?” she asked.

  “Move a bunch of these boxes and pile them up,” he instructed, “Then lay this card table of top of them.”

  She scrambled down and pushed another pile of boxes next to her first pile.

  “You need a couple more on top of that,” Mike said.

  She followed his instructions and finally laid the table on top.

  “Now climb up there and lie on your back, then use those sexy legs of yours to kick the door open.”

  She situated herself under the door and kicked with all of her might and, to her relief, felt it give a little.

  “That’s my girl,” Mike shouted, “kick it again.”

  She kicked again and the panel flew up and into the air. Mary heard it tumbling down the side of the roof.

  “Sure hope that crazy Scot is looking up,” Mike laughed. “Now get off your butt and get the hell out of here.”

  The opening above her was not large, only about two feet square. When she stood up, her head and shoulders were above the roof level. She braced her hands on either side of the opening and pushed herself up. Once her hips were past the opening, she crawled forward on the roof to get her legs out.

  The tiles on the steep roof were brittle and when she put pressure on them, they crumbled beneath her, cascading down the roof and off the side to the ground. There were ice dams in several spots around her and she realized, as she looked around, she was a good forty feet above the ground. Grabbing onto the chimney for support, she stood up to see how she could possibly get down.

  “Give Ian a call,” Mike said, appearing next to her. “He’s down below and can give you a better perspective.”

  Ian’s phone rang again and he was very tempted not to answer.

  “Answer your phone Ian,” Mike said appearing next to him. “It’s Mary.”

  Ian dropped the ladder and grabbed for the phone. “Darling, where are you, are you alright?”

  “I’m on the roof,” she yelled into the phone. “There’s a gas leak and the fire is going towards the back of the house near the gas appliances.”

  Ian looked around and saw the basement door was propped open. Not a leak, he thought, this was arson.

  “So, darling, we need to get you down in a bit of a hurry,” he said. “I’ve a ladder, but it won’t reach the roof.”

  He ran behind the house to get a better look. “On the west side of the house is a big tree with limbs stretching over above the roof. Can you see it?”

  Mary moved around the chimney and looked over to the west side of the house. A huge oak tree limb, about a foot in diameter, was hanging about two feet above the lower part of the roof. “I see it,” she said, “but the roof is old and it’s already crumbling beneath me. I don’t know what kind of support I’m going to have when I cross it.”

  “Lie on your stomach and slowly slide down the roof until you reach the branch,” Ian suggested. “You’ll be distributing your weight better and it will give you a better traction.”

  She lowered herself to the rooftop and slid her feet down the incline. “Okay, Ian, I’m going to try it,” she said. “Stay on the line and I’ll let you know when I make it.”

  Hanging on to the roof’s ridge, she lowered herself slowly toward the limb. Once she was stretched out as far as she could, she released her hold and tried to slowly move down the incline. Large chunks of roofing came loose and slid off the top of the house as she continued down.

  Blindly feeling around for a foot hold, she inadvertently placed her foot on a spot of ice. Her foot slipped and she lost her hand hold on the tiles above her. Her entire body and the brittle material under her began a small avalanche towards the edge of the roof.

  Mary dug her hands into the roof, trying to catch on to anything. Her speed had increased and she was sure the edge was close. She flipped over and tried to use her heels to stop her progress, but the tiles just broke under the pressure. She was headed for the edge with no way to stop.

  Then she saw the limb just ahead of her and two feet off the roof. She sat up and threw her arms around the limb, praying it would hold. Her downward slide stopped and she just hung on for a moment to catch her breath. She pulled her phone out of her pocket. “Ian, I’m at the limb,” she said.

  “And how was the climb?” he asked.

  “Oh, a piece of cake,” she replied, gasping for air.

  “And how are you, love, at climbing trees?” he asked, trying to keep the panic from his voice.

  “Normally, I’m an ace,” she said, “but with the incentive of being blown to pieces in a gas explosion, I’d have to say, I’m a superstar.”

  “Then start climbing, darling. and I’ll meet you half way with a ladder.”

  Mary wrapped her arms and legs around the limb and, with her back against the roof, started to shimmy towards the center of the tree as fast as she could. She reached the edge of the roof and looked down. She had to climb another ten feet across before she reached a major bough and then she’d have to climb down to the trunk. If she slipped… Well, she decided, she wouldn’t think about slipping.

  She boosted herself up on top of the limb and it dropped down a few inches, crashing against the tiles. She held on tightly and prayed she wouldn’t hear a cracking noise. When nothing came, she began to slide backwards, away from the house, as quickly as she could. She could hear the crackling of the wood from inside the house and could see flames through the boarded windows on the second floor.

  Small branches ripped her pants and scratched her legs, but she continued to move back at a rapid pace. She paused, halfway across, wanting to gage her distance. With one hand on the limb in front of her, she turned to look behind. Her leg, anchored against a small branch, slipped and she lurched forward. She grabbed onto the limb,
ripping her skin on the rough bark, but she couldn’t stop her forward motion.

  Falling sideways, she frantically reached for anything to keep her from dropping to the ground. Her arm made contact with another branch and grabbed it with both hands, praying it would hold her weight. She slid one leg around the limb and, using the smaller branch, pulled herself back up.

  “Okay let’s not do that again,” she panted, her heart beating against her ribcage.

  “Are you okay up there?” Ian called from below.

  Mary took a deep shuddering breath. “Sure, just testing my ninja skills,” she called.

  She sat up and continued to move backwards, finally finding herself up against the large bough of the tree.

  Slowly turning, she lifted one leg from around the limb and moved it over to the most vertical bough. Then she slid her body from the limb to the other side. She wrapped her arms and legs around the thickness of the tree and slowly began to lower herself towards the main trunk.

  “Darling, you’re doing a great job,” Ian called from below as he positioned the ladder against the trunk. “But the fire is beginning to reach the kitchen and I daresay I’d rather have you a wee bit more scratched up than in pieces.”

  Mary took a deep breath and threw caution to the wind. She slid down the bough, her arms and legs loosely holding to the circumference of the tree. A few moments later, her bottom crashed against the secondary bough where the trunk split. She nearly fell, but a sturdy hand caught her.

  “Ian,” she cried. “Thank you.”

  “Come on, we have to be quick,” he warned, guiding her onto the old ladder.

  They both heard the sirens approaching at the same time. “Do they know there’s a gas leak?” she asked Ian.

  He shook his head, pulled out his phone and called 911 again. “I called earlier about the fire in Lena,” he said. “I hear them approaching, but they need to know there’s a gas leak. The place is going to go any moment. Don’t let them send any men inside.”

  He hung up the phone and slipped it back in his pocket. “We’ve done all we can, now we have to get as far away from this place as we can.”

  He went down first and was only a few rungs below her, so he could catch her if she stumbled or a rung gave out. “Quickly, darling,” he called. “Quickly.”

  They hurried down, the old ladder shaking beneath them. When they were four rungs from the bottom, Ian wrapped his arm around her waist and yelled, “Jump.”

  They both jumped and landed in the snow a few feet away. Ian pulled Mary’s hand and they ran from the house towards the open field. Only a few moments later, a thunderous explosion knocked them to their knees and Ian threw himself over Mary to shield her from any flying debris.

  They lay in the snow, pieces of wood and glass all around them. “Are you breathing?” Ian asked, lifting himself off of her.

  Mary nodded. “Yes, but my body feels like it just ran a marathon.”

  “Well, it did, darling,” Ian said, pulling her into sitting position, placing his arm around her shoulders and giving her a brief hug. “And you did a fine job.”

  “Pretty pathetic way to try and make it with Mary,” Mike said, appearing a moment later.

  Ian dropped back on snow-covered ground and started to laugh. “I was just looking for a softer landing spot,” he said, coughing between his words. “Can you blame a man?”

  Mary looked down at herself; her pants ripped to shreds, her jacket torn and her hands covered in ash and dirt. “Oh, come on, admit it,” she said. “I know I must look darn near irresistible about now. You just couldn’t help yourself.”

  He sat up and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Darling, if your frantic fiancé wasn’t headed this way with a gun at his waist; I’d show you just how irresistible you really are.”

  Mary looked up to see Bradley about fifty yards away dashing across the field towards her. He pushed through the firemen trying to stop him, merely flipping his badge at them without lessening his pace and continued towards them.

  “That’s a man with a mission,” Mike joked. “I wouldn’t want to be the guy who has to stop him.”

  “I suppose we could meet him halfway,” Mary said, struggling to her feet.

  Ian stood and gave her a hand up, and they started walking across the field.

  Mary turned to Mike. “Have I thanked you for saving my life yet?” she asked him and then she looked at Ian. “Both of you?”

  Mike grinned at her. “Hey, saving damsels in distress is what I do best. Besides, it would be pretty boring not to have you around to tease.”

  She met his eyes. “Kidding aside, without you I would still be trapped in that attic. Well, actually,” she said, looking at the debris scattered across the field. “I’d be all over the neighborhood… literally.”

  He shrugged. “You’re welcome.”

  She leaned over to Ian. “Thanks for coming for me.”

  “Ah, darling, anytime you need a lift, you know who to call,” he said with a wink.

  Bradley ran up to them, pulled Mary into his arms and just held her. “When I heard the 911 call and knew you were in the house…” he said, his voice shaken. “I thought…I thought…”

  “Aye, Bradley, we’re all fine, thanks for asking,” Ian said.

  “Yeah, I’m dead, but I’m good too,” Mike added.

  Mary giggled into his chest and he held her even tighter. “You’re okay then?” he asked, kissing the top of her head.

  She nodded. “Yeah, thanks to these two, I’m fine. It’s weird that a fire would start on the very day we’re searching the house.”

  “Well, not so weird when the basement door’s propped open and there are footprints in the snow from the road,” Ian said.

  “Where?” Bradley demanded, stepping away from Mary. “Where are the footprints?”

  Ian shook his head. “By the time the firefighters have hosed this place down; you’ll not be able to isolate anything, much less a footprint. I’m afraid this investigation has reached another dead end.”

  “Funny thing about dead ends around here,” Mary said, reaching into her coat and pulling out the bag and envelopes. “They have a funny way of reappearing.”

  Chapter Thirty-two

  “Who the hell are you people and what are you doing on this property?”

  “Well, if it isn’t Uncle Chuck,” Mike said. “This ought to be interesting.”

  Bradley turned and stepped forward, hiding Mary behind him so she could return the evidence back to its hiding place. He took a good look at Lena Police Chief Chuck Richards. He was tall, well over six feet, and big-boned. He could have been a professional football player. His hair was fashioned in a crew cut and his eyes were cold and hard. His uniform jacket was stretched over a large abdomen and his breath was coming out in short puffs; this was a man who was not in shape.

  “I’m Chief Alden, from Freeport,” Bradley said, extending his hand. “Just continuing my investigation.”

  Chuck pointedly placed his hands on his hips, not accepting Bradley’s handshake. “And you realize you’re trespassing on private property and breaking and entering, another offense,” he said. “I hope you don’t mind spending a little time in the Lena jail.”

  Mary scooted around Bradley. “Hi, we haven’t been introduced,” she said. “I’m Mary O’Reilly, a private investigator, and I represent Emil Forrest. I believe you will find, if you check your records, Emil still owns this property and he not only gave me permission to search it, but also gave me access to the key. There was no breaking and entering involved.”

  “Boo-yah,” Mike said. “You tell him Mary.”

  “Did he also give you permission to burn it to the ground?” he asked.

  “Actually, we were wondering the same thing about your department,” Ian said, strolling up to be part of the conversation. “Hello, I’m Professor Ian MacDougal, a consultant with the City of Chicago Police Department. I was, let’s just say, disappointed, with the lack of se
curity given this home, especially since you were notified there was an ongoing investigation. One would think you would have been much more…prudent to safeguard the dwelling of the main suspect in the case.”

  “Ouch,” Mike said. “That one had to hurt.”

  “No one told me you’d be searching the house,” Chuck argued.

  “Oh, we thought your contact at the prison would have given you full details,” Mary replied innocently.

  “How’d you know…”

  “He walked right into that one,” Mike said. “Very good fishing expedition, Mary.”

  “I think it would be best for our departments to cooperate in this matter,” Bradley said. “Don’t you?”

  “What do you need?” he snarled.

  “Wow, he’s not a happy camper,” Mike whispered.

  Mary bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling.

  “We’d like to see the original case files and we’d like to know who else was suspected in the murder of the boys,” Bradley replied. “We can either borrow the files, or make copies of them and you can keep the originals.”

  “Well, it’s gonna take a couple of days…”

  Bradley shook his head. “No, I’m sorry; we believe this fire was arson, as I’m sure your fire chief will eventually testify. So, this has moved up to top priority. I’ll just follow you over to your station and get the files.”

  “Who the hell do you think you are?”

  “Tell him that if he doesn’t cooperate you’ll call the mayor,” Mike suggested. “He hates the mayor and, fortunately, the mayor feels the same way about him.”

  “I’ve already told you who I am and what I need you to do. But, if you feel you can’t rearrange your schedule to expedite the needs of an ongoing investigation, I’ll be happy to call your mayor and see if he can help you set priorities,” Bradley said with a shrug.

  “Who’s the mayor,” Ian whispered to Mike.

  “My dad,” Mike said. “It’s a part-time thing; he’s actually a full-time farmer.”

  “You don’t know the mayor,” Chuck pushed back.

  “Allen and Alice,” Mike supplied.

  “Allen, Allen Richards?” Bradley asked. “He’s still mayor isn’t he?”