by J. J. Cook
“Sorry, Stella.” Charlie/Adam pressed his face against the window. “This old shack should’ve been burned down years ago. I think I’ll take care of the job now.”
She smelled the gas long before the smoke started flowing under and around the old door. She ripped off some of her large petticoat and stuffed it into the cracks the best she could.
She couldn’t page her volunteers or use any other normal outlet to call for help. She thought about screaming for Eric. It seemed absurd to call a ghost to help her, yet it appeared to be her only hope.
* * *
John poked his head inside Stella’s booth at the festival. Walt was drinking cider and helping himself to some chocolate and pepper cookies.
“Are you supposed to be eating those?” He grinned as Walt jumped.
“Oh, it’s you. I thought you were one of those festival ladies.”
“Where’s Stella?” John asked, looking around.
“There was an emergency at the firehouse. Old Tagger was at it again. He said he couldn’t reach any of the other volunteers.”
John looked at his pager. There were no messages, not even partials that might indicate a problem with communications. His heart started pounding, adrenaline kicking in. “How long?”
Walt’s face grew serious as he staggered to his feet. “You don’t think—”
“Let’s go. I’ll call for help on the way.”
* * *
The communications room was heating up fast. Adam had started the fire right outside the door. Stella had moved Tagger to the concrete floor. He was still unresponsive. If he didn’t get help soon, she knew he could die.
Of course, if they didn’t get out of the firehouse, he’d die a lot sooner.
She’d screamed until her throat was raw. She could see the flames spreading through the old wood as she looked through the window in the door.
Where is Eric?
Or was this what happened when you believed you were talking to a ghost and it wasn’t real? All this time, she’d convinced herself that Eric existed. Now was a bad time to find out he didn’t.
The office was filled with heavy smoke. Charlie/Adam had doused the firehouse in gasoline, a much faster- and hotter-burning accelerant than the kerosene Victor had used at Tory’s. The irony was that the volunteers would have nothing to fight the fire with even if they got there in time.
As she lay on the concrete, trying to breath, Stella wondered how long it would be before the flames reached the engine and pumper.
She gave up calling for Eric. She closed her eyes and prayed as she had rarely prayed in the past. It wasn’t that she hadn’t considered that she could die in a fire—it was a hazard that went with the job.
Stella was suddenly afraid that she was going to die far from home, alone, the victim of a crazy arsonist. She was angry enough to beat on the metal door with her fists, if she could have stood up. She was having a hard time breathing, rapidly losing consciousness.
She thought it was a trick of desperation her brain was playing on her when the metal door swung open, bouncing back hard against the wall. She realized it wasn’t when she saw someone enter the office and bend over her.
“Stella? Can you walk?”
She didn’t recognize the face in the smoke, but she knew the voice. She coughed and nodded. “Get Tagger out of here. He can’t do it alone.”
Eric picked up the unconscious man and helped Stella to her feet. “The back door is open. Stay low. Move as fast as you can. The walls won’t make it much longer.”
Stella followed Eric through the kitchen. The flames were eating all the new appliances the town had purchased for the fire brigade. She focused on getting out, keeping her head down, and moving as fast as she could.
She could hardly think, but the one thought that consumed her was that Eric was real. He’d come to save her.
The door leading into the back parking lot was open. She could see the trees and the sunlight, the mountains, dark in the distance. The flames around them were hot, making it even harder to breathe. She was near the end of her strength. She’d felt that way before, when she’d been trapped inside a burning house a few months after she’d joined the fire department back home.
Home.
Stella started thinking about home. She could see her mother and father. She saw herself playing ball in the street when she was a kid. The heat she felt was from the summer sun high up in the sky. Her mom needed to turn on the sprinkler so she could cool down. Everything would be fine.
Eric put Tagger down on the rough asphalt. Stella had been right behind him. She’d faltered inside the doorway, the place most people died during a fire, inches away from being saved.
He ran back for her. The smoke and flames made it difficult to see, even for him.
She was leaning back against a smoldering wall. He grabbed her and put her across his shoulders, then headed back outside within the fifty-foot proximity that seemed to be allotted to him.
Vehicles were pulling up at the front of what was left of the firehouse. The volunteers had arrived. It was time for him to go.
* * *
Stella only told Walt what had really happened at the firehouse. She didn’t think anyone else would believe that a dead hero had rescued her and Tagger from the fire. She waited impatiently to see Eric again for three days, while visitors came and went and balloons and flowers filled her room at the hospital.
Tagger was okay. He wandered up and down the hospital corridors telling people about his brush with death. He believed Stella had saved both of them—the story John had told when he’d come around the back of the firehouse and found both of them unconscious.
He’d even confessed to taking Adam Presley’s folder from her desk. “I didn’t want you to keep investigating, Chief. I thought you might get hurt. I didn’t know Adam was still alive. Please don’t fire me.”
Stella thanked him and assured him that she wouldn’t fire him. Maybe he really was a hero.
She took the praise from the mayor, the town council members, and the newspaper with a heavy heart. Eric deserved the honors and awards they’d promised her before she went back home. The only thing she could do was to relay the sentiments when she talked to him again.
The festival ladies brought her samples of all the winning foods from the festival and forgave her for leaving before the judging took place. “We’ve never had anything so exciting happen to one of our judges,” Elvita said. “Why it was all over the TV news that one of our judges solved a murder. It was wonderful publicity!”
Not enough for Eric’s candied peppers to win the festival prize, but there was a consolation green ribbon for their recipe.
The only one who didn’t compliment her was Chief Rogers. He criticized her foolhardiness, as he called it. “Here you are—a victim of your own crazy schemes, lucky to be alive. You almost killed Tagger too. I know everyone else thinks you’re a hero. I think you and I know the truth.”
Don and his officers had caught up with Adam, and he was in the county jail awaiting arraignment. He wasn’t talking about his fake death or how he’d pulled that off, but he had confessed to killing Tory. “That crazy woman didn’t know when to leave well enough alone,” he’d complained, according to Don. “Neither did the fire chief. Why couldn’t they just let me be?”
Adam said he’d come back to Sweet Pepper two years before, when he’d read an article in the Sweet Pepper Gazette about Tory trying to prove he hadn’t died in the fire forty years ago. He’d almost taken care of Tory right then. He’d left her alone when people seemed to ignore her story about him.
He’d stayed to help his father, who had Alzheimer’s, and couldn’t even remember him.
Adam admitted that he’d followed John and Stella to Walt’s place and knew Walt might get them started on the same path Tory had taken, trying to figure it all out. He’d meant to kill Walt, though. The fire hadn’t been meant as a warning at all.
John came by at a bad time—Marty and
her grandfather were both visiting her. They’d brought an elaborate flower display that was almost too large to wheel into the room. John brought a handful of daisies he’d bought at the grocery store on the way from Sweet Pepper.
The three men stood and glared at each other before John dropped his bouquet on the bedside table and left. Marty and Ben stayed for a while, Ben talking about Stella’s future in Tennessee politics after her heroism.
Marty casually held her hand and sat on the side of her bed. When they were ready to go, he lightly kissed her cheek. There was nothing improper about it, but it made Stella uneasy.
It had taken a while to remember that night at the mansion, after her wreck on the motorcycle. Now that she did, she felt certain it was Marty and Vivian standing beside her bed, talking about her like she was a piece of meat. She still wasn’t sure what they were talking about that night, but she was beginning to think John was right about the two of them having it in for her.
She might never know why Marty had saved her that night either. Could it have been to get close to her? Is that why he’d joined the fire brigade too?
Stella was more than ready to leave the hospital. John drove her back to Sweet Pepper in the red Cherokee. She wished John would drive faster, almost wishing Ricky had picked her up. She couldn’t wait to get back to the cabin and assure herself that Eric was still there. She planned to demand that he show himself as he had at the firehouse.
Or was that a trick of the smoke and the fire? Maybe he couldn’t appear to her.
Mostly she wanted to understand how any of it was possible. He’d saved her life. She could still hardly believe it.
“Well, this is it.” Stella started to get out of the Cherokee when they reached the cabin. “Thanks for the ride.”
“Are you sure you’re okay? You’ve been really quiet all the way back. Would you like me to stay awhile? Do you need anything from the store or something?”
“I’m fine.” She glanced at the cabin. The outside light was on. Her heart did a little somersault. “I’m tired. I thought I might go in and lie down. Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He smiled and kissed her very gently on the forehead. “I’ll come back later and check on you. We’re starting work on the firehouse. All that old timber has to be torn down so we can rebuild. Lucky thing how the pumper and engine rolled right through the bay doors. They’re in good shape. Just need a new paint job. The science teacher over at the high school said the trucks moving that way had something to do with the heat in the bay doing something to the tires. I don’t know, but it was lucky for us.”
Stella wasn’t surprised. After being pulled from the fire by a ghost, she couldn’t imagine being surprised by anything ever again.
She said good-bye to John and walked up the familiar stairs to the cabin. The door opened before she could reach it. She took a deep breath. “Eric?”
“Out here.”
She walked out to the porch and sat in a rocking chair beside him. He was completely visible, from his long blond hair tied back with a leather thong to his red Sweet Pepper Fire Brigade T-shirt and hiking boots. He was a tall, handsome man with a broad chest and wide shoulders. She would have recognized him anywhere from the picture in the firehouse.
He had to have been strong in life, Stella thought, to be able to lift her and Tagger after being dead for forty years. Maybe all those Paul Bunyan–sounding legends about him were true.
“I’m glad you’re back,” he said. “I’m sorry I couldn’t come and visit.”
“Me too. Thank you for getting me out of there. I know Tagger thanks you too. You managed to get the trucks out too, didn’t you?”
“They were in my proximity. I’m sorry I couldn’t get all the gear out.” For the first time since she’d sat down, he looked at her. His eyes were a stunning blue. “I’m sorry it took me so long to get there. I should’ve known about the fire right away. I don’t understand what happened. Usually, I can hear a mouse run through there. I think I was too wrapped up feeling sorry for myself.”
“It doesn’t matter. You were amazing. I don’t understand how it happened, but I’m glad you were there. Walt was completely calm and understanding about it when I told him. Everyone else thinks I got us out.”
“That’s the way it should be—except for your plan. I hope you never try anything like that again. You’re a firefighter, not an undercover cop. You should act like one.”
She was a little surprised at his criticism. “It worked. Adam is in custody. I hope I can get my laptop back since his shop is probably closed.”
“Stella—”
There was frantic knocking at her door. “Hold that thought. I’ll be right back.”
It was John. He had a terror-stricken look on his face, like a kid seeing a monster movie for the first time. “I’m sorry. I know you’re trying to rest—you have to come with me. There’s something at the firehouse you have to see.”
Stella glanced at the deck. She couldn’t see Eric anymore. “What’s wrong?”
“Just come with me. It’s impossible to describe.”
Reluctantly, she left the cabin with John. “What is it?”
“You have to see it. No one is going to believe it.”
John raced down Firehouse Road like the devil was chasing him. He pulled into the parking lot, which was filled with her volunteers, and a large group of people she didn’t know. A coroner’s car was pulling up as they got out of the pickup.
For a minute, Stella thought it was some kind of surprise party—except for the coroner. Everyone shook her hand, said they were happy to see her. They all mourned the loss of the firehouse.
Petey and Kimmie managed to hug her very carefully.
John brushed them all aside as he led Stella into what was left of the garage bay area. Most of the walls were gutted. She saw sledgehammers and crowbars ready to take out the rest. The beautiful wood beams were gone forever. The mayor had already described the red brick building the town planned to put up in its place.
“We were starting the demolition,” John explained as they approached the back wall of the bay. “I hit it with the sledgehammer and a piece of sheet metal fell out. I couldn’t believe what was behind it.”
Stella looked into the wall cavity. There were dried bones. It looked like a complete skeleton, the skull staring back with empty sockets. Covering parts of the upper torso were bits of red fabric.
She felt like she’d been hit by the sledgehammer. “Who is it?”
“I took this out.” John held up a sealed plastic bag with a badge in it that said “Chief Eric Gamlyn, Sweet Pepper Fire Brigade.”
“I think this is what’s left of him. I don’t know how it got here.”
Stella looked at the badge as the coroner knelt in front of the skeleton in the wall. Had someone brought Eric here after the fire that had killed him?
The coroner, a jolly, gray-haired man who seemed more likely to play Santa than look at dead bodies, took the skull out of the wall. “Not sure who this poor fella was, but here’s your cause of death.” He stuck his gloved finger into a hole in the back of the skull. “He was shot. Probably died quick. Any idea when this happened?”
Stella saw Eric standing in the blackened ruin of the firehouse. He was staring at the skeleton with a look of disbelief and horror on his face.
Then he disappeared.
“I think we can safely say this is a murder case,” the coroner said. “It’s been here awhile. Might be hard to figure out exactly what happened.”
Stella staggered out of the firehouse and sat down at the old picnic table that had survived the fire. How was this possible? People saw Eric die in the grain silo fire. How would they ever figure out what had really happened?
There was only one thing to do. Eric had saved her life. It didn’t take long for her to make a decision.
She called her mother while she still had cell phone service. “Mom, it looks like I’m staying in Sweet Pepper a little longer than we
planned.”
The Sweet
Pepper Difference
Sweet Pepper, Tennessee, grows the hottest, sweetest peppers in the world! It’s a combination of our soil and our proximity to the Smoky Mountains that makes our jalapeño peppers superior. Sweet, but with a bite that makes your eyes open. Not too hot—not too tame either.
These are some of the award-winning recipes from our annual pepper festival. Try a few, or some of your own, with our peppers. We’re sure you’ll agree that our peppers are the best! Enjoy!
Know Your Peppers
Because knowing the strength and taste of the peppers you use can make or break your meal, it’s best to know your peppers! This time, we’ll talk about the jalapeño.
The Jalapeño
The jalapeño is one of the most commonly used peppers in the United States. It is spicy but not overpowering. Jalapeños are usually red or green and are about two to three inches long. Their Scoville Heat Index (pepper ranking from hottest to mildest) is 5,000, which is somewhere in the midrange. These peppers can be added for an extra zing without offending the palate.
Recipes
ERIC AND STELLA’S CANDIED HOT PEPPERS
These are good on their own or as a garnish for everything from ice cream to chocolate cake!
1 cup water
1 cup sugar
1⁄4 teaspoon ground cardamom
2 large mild or medium-hot red chili peppers
Preheat oven to 325 F.
In a small saucepan, mix together the water, sugar, and cardamom. Bring the mixture to a simmer over very low heat and let cook for about 5 minutes. Remove the seeds and membranes from the peppers. Thinly slice the peppers horizontally into rings. Add the pepper slices to the syrup and cook on low for about 15 minutes. Drain the syrup and put the peppers on a baking tray lined with parchment paper. Cook in an oven on low for about 30 minutes or until the peppers are crisp.
These store well in a covered container for a long time. They are spicy and sweet with just the right amount of bite!
