Out of the Ashes

by Cynthia Reese

  Rob gently pulled the fire extinguisher from her clenched fingers. “Based on my professional firefighter’s opinion, I have to say, yeah, I’m pretty darn sure. But I’ll check if it will make you feel better.”

  “Please?” she whispered.

  He made a show of moving the pot around on the stove, checking the chemical-covered baked goods, inspecting the underside of the vent fan. “Yep. That fire is a dead soldier.”

  Kari closed her eyes and wobbled backward to the table. She sagged against it. Then, just when Rob thought for certain she was going to faint on him, her eyes flew open and her face turned a curious shade of green.

  She bolted for the back door. He followed her, but she waved him off as she knelt down on the porch steps. “No—please, I just need—air—”

  He reached for her. She turned away and began to retch, tears streaming down her face. Still she waved him away.

  Pride. Instantly he understood why she’d motioned for him to leave her alone. It was Kari’s pride. She wanted to hold onto her last shred of dignity by not having him witness this.

  Rob went back in, switched off the smoke alarms and stepped to the kitchen sink to dampen a paper towel. By the time he’d retraced his steps to the back stoop, Kari had gotten hold of herself. She leaned against the house, pushing away the wisps of hair that clung to her damp forehead.

  “I hate fire,” she muttered. “Oh, how I detest fire.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  KARI GULPED AT the clean, fresh air scented by her mom’s backyard roses. Out here, the sky was blue, the grass was green, and there was not a hint of smoke or fire or ashes. She took the dampened paper towel from Rob and swiped at her face.

  “Try putting it on the back of your neck and your head between your knees,” Rob suggested. He was down on his own knees beside her, a concerned expression etched into his features. “You’ve had a shock.”

  “I had a complete loss of good reason, that’s what I’ve had,” she retorted. She let her face drop into her hands. “I know how flammable sugar can be, and I let myself get distracted—oh, how could I have nearly burned my mother’s kitchen down?”

  “Hey, you handled it. No lasting damage,” he assured her. “Maybe you should train to be a firefighter. I’ve never seen someone with such quick responses.”

  His joke couldn’t budge the sick queasiness that kept rippling through her. All she could think about was what it would be like to be a firefighter—actually walking into a burning building, surrounded by hungry flames...

  Kari still had nightmares about fire even now as an adult. As a kid, first locked up in juvie, she’d been plagued with horrific dreams of fire surrounding her, burning her alive. She recalled waking up in her cot, screaming, soaked in sweat, sure she’d been left to burn to death.

  She shuddered. No, thank you. No firefighter’s job for her.

  “Better?” Rob asked.

  He tipped her chin up so she had to meet his eyes. He was the last person she wanted scrutinizing her. Would he guess, what with the way she freaked out about a little kitchen blaze, how crazy scared she was of a fire? Would he figure out that it hadn’t been her who’d set that first fire?

  It hadn’t been Jake who’d burned the downtown. She’d asked her brother about that propane tank, and he’d told her he’d gotten it to grill steaks for a buddy’s birthday ages ago.

  But if Rob had found out about that tank, and he knew about Jake’s involvement in that fire so long ago, he’d put two and two together and get five.

  What else would an arson investigator think? Of course he’d believe Jake had something to do with this one. Wasn’t that why Rob had focused on her so much? Why he kept coming around? Because he really believed, despite what he kept assuring her, that she had started the downtown fire?

  Kari groaned, disgusted with herself over how much that hurt. She had to admit that it would be nice if Rob Monroe were just a normal guy who dropped in for normal guy reasons...to steal her baked goods. To talk with her. To flirt with her. So that the two of them could let time take its course and turn them into a normal, everyday couple.

  But as she felt the pressure of his fingers under her chin, she had to be honest with herself. She and Rob were never going to be a normal, everyday couple. Not ever.

  She was a convicted arsonist.

  And Rob?

  He was an arson investigator.

  An arson investigator who had lost his own father in an arson.

  Kari pushed herself up off the rough pebbly surface of the steps and wobbled into the kitchen. She nearly ran out again. It was a disaster zone—half her morning’s work lay under the fire extinguisher’s foam.

  But at least Rob had saved the caramel cake that had been the cause of the whole mess.

  No, that wasn’t true. She’d been the one to start the mess. She’d been the one careless with the caramelized sugar.

  Just like that, and she could have destroyed her mother’s house. As it was, she’d burned up her precious profits by wasting all the raw materials and labor that had gone into the now-trashed baked items.

  “I can call over to the fire station and see if we can borrow one of the ventilation fans,” Rob offered.

  “Thanks, but I can’t bear the thought of anybody knowing I’ve nearly burned down a second kitchen in as many months—” Kari held up her hand. “That was not a confession, by the way. I meant—”

  “I know what you meant, Kari. Why are you convinced I believe the worst of you?” Resignation ate into Rob’s words.

  He didn’t belabor the point, though. Instead, he began opening the windows and parting the curtains. He reached over and flicked on the vent fan over the stove. Then, without a word, he grabbed a trashcan and began sliding the ruined baked goods and foam into it.

  Something about the quiet way he went about helping her made her heart ache all the more. If he’d yelled at her or accused her of carelessness, she could have benefitted from the numbing anesthetic of anger. His kind forbearance had the opposite effect. She wanted to melt into a puddle of tears and confess everything.

  I’m not an arsonist, she wanted to tell him. I didn’t set any fire. I hate fire. It terrifies me.

  If she told him that, though, she’d be putting Jake squarely in the center of the investigation. Suspicion would fall on him, fairly or unfairly. That boss Rob had mentioned a few minutes earlier would take one look at Jake’s past criminal mistakes—nothing big except the fire, but a lot of dumb, idiotic arrests—and he wouldn’t rest until he’d slammed the prison gates behind Jake.

  And if she did that, what were those four years in torment for? What good had that sacrifice meant? It would have all been in vain. Her mother would have to live through another of her children behind bars—the shame of it, the agony of the forced separation, the worry that something might happen to that child, something she would be powerless to fix.

  No, better for Kari to keep her mouth shut and let Rob prove her innocent. She hadn’t done this. There was absolutely nothing that could tie her to that fire. Rob Monroe could look as deeply as he wanted, and he’d never find evidence that she started the downtown fire.

  But Jake? The worry that he could be mixed up in all of this nagged at her. She prayed that when all was said and done, Jake could just as easily bear Rob Monroe’s scrutiny.

  * * *

  ROB SURVEYED KARI’S mom’s house as he switched on the ignition of his truck. He couldn’t figure out what to make of Kari’s reaction to the fire. He’d seen fear before, but never pure blithering panic like she’d shown in there.

  A glance at his watch told him it was five minutes to five. Too late to head back to the office—and his head was crammed full of the case anyway.

  But his apartment in town held little appeal for him. He didn’t want to be alone wi
th his thoughts, either.

  No, what he needed was some manual labor to burn off the mental fatigue and confusion his brain was bogged down by.

  He pointed the truck to the farm. He’d use the last few hours before dusk to cross off some chores for Ma.

  Ma waved from the back porch as she snapped what looked to be green beans.

  “Well, I’m glad to see you,” she greeted him. “It was a mite lonesome out here. Maeghan’s off for training, and Andrew’s on duty—and of course, Daniel seems to always be working these days. And the grandbabies are all back in school. Sometimes I worry about the way I talk to myself.”

  “As long as you’re not answering back, I guess you’re okay,” Rob told her. He pulled up a chair and started by sheer habit helping her snap beans.

  “You come by to get those eggs for that Hendrix girl?” Ma asked.

  “Er—no, why would you think that?”

  “Because I see you’ve got a spot of what looks like caramel cream frosting on the corner of your mouth, and I seem to recall she makes a mighty fine caramel cream cake.” Ma’s brow arched in question. “Did she decide she had to have organic eggs after all? Ours wouldn’t do?”

  Rob wiped at the telltale spot. Sure enough, his finger came away with some of the ganache. It occurred to him that he’d never told his mom about his decision on supplying eggs to Kari. “No, she’s all for it. But you know...ethics and all. I need to wait until the case is closed before I start swapping money and eggs with...”

  What was Kari? A victim? A witness? A suspect? He didn’t believe that, didn’t want to believe that. But even with her honesty and her warm and open heart, Kari Hendrix was hiding something.

  Ma gave him a shrewd look. “This case is a hard one, huh?”

  “It’s panning out to be that way. I’ve just got to keep thinking of angles of attack, that’s all.”

  “Well, while you’re doing all that cogitating, you mind pitching in? Daniel’s sure to be in late, and I know he’d appreciate someone to help with the chores. Besides...the hens always perk up with their egg production when you come around.” She winked at him and laid a gentle hand on his arm.

  * * *

  IT WAS MIDNIGHT before Kari got her orders done and the kitchen cleaned up. Her mom had sprung for pizza and had washed dish after dish for her, all of which made Kari feel all the worse.

  Maybe she should just give this dream up and find a job and try to pay her mom’s retirement money back. With the edge of a fingernail, Kari flicked open the lid of the pasteboard box holding the caramel cake. The golden frosting glistened underneath the kitchen’s fluorescent lights, perfection for any sweet tooth.

  Was it really worth it? All the work? All the sacrifice? All the stress? Maybe an office job or a retail position would be easier.

  But then, who would hire an ex-con? So many times, the moment she had to confess that she was a convicted felon—regardless of how long ago it had been—the job offer evaporated. And even more often she didn’t even get as far as the interview if the application had the question, “Have you ever been arrested for and/or convicted of a felony?”

  “It’s okay, honey,” her mom told her now. “We’re okay.”

  Kari looked up to see her mother standing in the door to the kitchen. Without her makeup, wearing her glasses and a scruffy bathrobe, her mom looked inexplicably younger than she did all dolled up—younger, but still more tired.

  Kari closed the lid on the box. “It nearly wasn’t. I can’t believe it—how quick that fire spread.”

  “You must have been terrified. Oh, I wish I had been here—I know how you are about fire.” Now her mom bit her lip.

  Kari hadn’t always been phobic about fire. But after her mom convinced her to confess, something about all she went through had made her terrified of anything that burned. They didn’t talk about it.

  They never talked about that other fire. Talked around it, sure, but never about it.

  And that suited Kari just fine, thank you. She didn’t want to think about it—or where it had sent her. Those four years she’d spent locked up were better off forgotten.

  But what if Rob—or Rob’s boss—decided she was good for the downtown fire? What if she wound up behind bars again? She’d seen enough of that sort of thing when she was in juvie, girls who were in the wrong place at the wrong time, and had their whole lives upended because of it.

  Hadn’t she been just such a girl?

  “Mom—I’m really afraid,” she confessed quietly.

  Her mom closed the gap between them, the shuffle of her bedroom shoes the only sound. She wrapped her arms around Kari and pulled her close. “I won’t let them take you away again, Kari. Not even if I have to confess myself. That’s what I should have done the last time—if it hadn’t been for me and my bright ideas, you wouldn’t even be a suspect in this fire.”

  Kari pushed her mom away. “No! No more false confessions! That’s not the answer, Mom, and you know it. You couldn’t have known what the judge would do.”

  “Yes, but, Kari... I should never have put you in that position to begin with. I’m your mother. I should have seen the danger for what it was.”

  “If we want to place blame, Mom, let’s place it where it belongs. Jake. Jake should have never started that fire.”

  “He was a kid! A kid, Kari! In with the wrong crowd. A prank gone bad. You really think Jakey wanted to cause that much—”

  Exhaustion rolled over Kari. She didn’t want to refight this battle. There was no coming between a mother and her child. She listened to her mom until her mother ran out of steam. No point in arguing. No point in trying to change what couldn’t be changed.

  “Like you said, Mom. We’re okay. It will all be okay.”

  “I think so,” her mom told her in a brighter, more cheerful voice. “That young investigator certainly seems nice enough—he’s always dropping in.” She’d injected a teasing note into her words.

  Ah, but Kari knew things about cops and how they operated that her mom couldn’t know—she’d heard too many tales from her fellow inmates about how cops would cozy up to you just to get you to trust them.

  Maybe Rob wasn’t like that. He did seem nice. More than nice. He did like her cooking. She was certain of that. And if they weren’t each who they were...

  She saw that her mom was waiting expectantly for her to respond. “He is nice. But don’t get your hopes up, Mom. He’s just doing his job, okay? Nothing more to it than that.”

  Her mom gave her a pat on the shoulder. “I can hope. Not just that he likes you well enough to give you the benefit of the doubt...but that you’ll meet the right man. If it’s not Rob Monroe, then somewhere out there, there’s someone for my girl. Someone who will cherish her dreams.”

  Kari tried to joke. “He’d better like to wash dishes, then, because to me, nothing says ‘I love you’ more than an empty kitchen sink.”

  With an ache, she pictured Rob Monroe standing at the sink, happily scrubbing pots and pans. She couldn’t be doing this. She couldn’t be wasting her time and her heart falling for a guy who was just doing his job.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  A RAP ON ROB’S apartment door pulled him away from the file in front of him. He knew that knock—the classic shave-and-a-haircut twice was Daniel’s signal from the time they were kids.

  Sure enough, when he swung open the door, there was his brother, standing patiently on the porch of his duplex.

  “Hey. Something up?” he asked Daniel.

  “I was about to ask you the same thing. I thought you were going to eat with us tonight. But I see you’ve already made it to dessert.”

  Rob looked from Daniel to the crispy rolled confection he’d carried with him when he answered the door. It reminded him that he had indeed swung by Kari’s again, wh
ich made two days in a row, this time with the dozen eggs Ma had insisted he take Kari as a sample.

  “Oh—I was planning on eating with you and Ma—what time is it?”

  “Just about half past eight. Don’t tell me that’s your supper.”

  “Half past eight? That late? I got that case file from Chase right before I left for the day, and I thought I’d take a gander at it. I guess the time just slipped by me.”

  Daniel cocked his head sideways and raised an eyebrow. “Not like you to miss the dinner bell’s ring, Rob.”

  Rob instantly understood what Daniel meant. It rankled him that his brother, too, was convinced that he was too close to the case to be objective.

  “Nothing about this makes sense, Daniel. Come on in and take a look at the file for yourself.”

  “Only if you’ve got any more of those—whatever that thing is you’re munching on. It looks good. Let me guess—Kari?”

  Rob shut the door and followed his brother into the small living-dining room of the duplex. “Yeah. She said they weren’t pretty enough for the customer who ordered them and that she’d made some new ones—you oughta try ’em. They’ve got this chocolate hazelnut filling that’s mind-blowingly awesome, and the cookie—really crisp, but really buttery.”

  Daniel settled into a dining table chair, pulled the file over with one hand and reached for a cookie with the other. “Hmm. They are good. If she’s as good at setting fires as she is cooking, we’ll never catch her.”

  “Daniel!” Rob protested. “You’re as bad as Franklin.”

  Daniel swallowed the mouthful of cookie and pointed to Rob’s empty milk glass. “Got any milk left to go with this? Or did you drink it all and are all out as usual?”

  “I have milk. I go shopping. Sometimes. I am a grown-up.” Rob got two glasses out of the cupboard and poured the milk.

  “Cookies for supper. Could have fooled me,” Daniel ribbed. “So this is it? The whole file? It’s...kind of thin.”