Wildfire: A Paranormal Mystery with Cowboys & Dragons

by Mina Khan

  “What was there to question?”

  Her gaze flickered away to a painted butterfly caught in a carefree dance. “I told them that someone else was there, that she was killed. Murdered.” A sob tore from her throat. “But they didn’t believe me.”

  Jen pulled her into a hug again and held on.

  Lynn skipped over the period when they thought she’d killed Obaa-chan. Those memories —the accusing words and looks— still gave her nightmares, bled her dry. Her mind had crumbled under the pressure like a weak wall. Stop. Don’t go there. She shied away as if from an attacking knife. “In the end, they decided she’d set herself on fire. Old dragons tired of life sometimes resort to self-combustion.” A shivering breath escaped her. “And that I was a grief-stricken mess.”

  “What do you believe?”

  “I don’t know. With my dragon powers wacked out and me losing control…I’m scared.” She grasped Jen’s hand. “I’m scared that I’m going to lose to the dragon and turn rogue.”

  She let go of Jen and stared into her empty wine glass. “I’m scared that I will never have what Brenda Jarvis has— a family. If I can’t control the dragon, people are not going to be safe around me.” She blew an unruly curl out of her face. “Not that I really need a family to further complicate my life.”

  Jen slipped an arm around her shoulders. “I want you to get this clear. You’re my best friend; you’re very important to me and you deserve every kind of happiness. I’m going to be right next to you as we get through this.”

  Lynn nodded. “I know. I just wish I knew how.”

  Jen bit her lip. “Well, Obaa-chan always said,” she began.

  “A calm mind can conquer anything,” both of them ended together.

  Jen smiled. “Maybe, she did know what she was talking about. Meditating and focusing on the good of the dragons might be the answer. Like people, dragons can be good and bad. You have a choice.”

  Lynn nodded and snatched a couple of Cheetos. “That’s what I hope. I figure if I can do something about the fire-starter here that should bring me some good karma and balance the scales.”

  “Did you sense anything at the fire?”

  “Not enough.” Lynn licked her fingers clean of the neon orange powder. “I could sense a dragon, but nothing useful as to who it might be.” Of course, her libido had recognized the dragon as male, but Jen didn’t need to know that. She’d never hear the end of it.

  The phone rang again. Startled, Lynn stared at it. Another ring shattered the silence. “Must be Rob ready for round two.”

  She pushed the talk button and returned the phone to her ear. “Hello?”

  Rough breathing echoed down the line.

  Lynn rolled her eyes. “Hello?”

  “I can’t stop thinking about you.” The gravelly whisper scraped her nerves raw.

  “What?”

  “I dream of dragons.”

  A cold click ended the call. Lynn listened to the droning dial tone for a long moment, then jabbed *69.

  The mechanical voice announced the last call came from an unlisted number.

  Sheriff Dan Roberts shut the arson file and kneaded his forehead. The words had started dancing together and clues didn’t lead anywhere straight. He looked up at the clock on the wall. 11:45 p.m. With a sigh, he pushed out of his chair and grabbed his car keys from the hook near the door.

  As he stepped out of his office, he looked around and nodded at Jenkins. As an ex-military guy, the deputy did intimidation well. All he had to do was stand around, freeze his face and flex his muscles. “Let’s go.”

  Jenkin’s dropped his cards and unfolded to his six-foot two-inch height. He lumbered to the door and held it open. Another benefit of the military, the fellow didn’t ask too many questions.

  “We are going to the Chadbourne Street bridge downtown, contact me only if it’s something you guys can’t handle.” He nodded to the remaining deputies.

  One of the older guys snorted. “Going fishing at this time of night?”

  “Yeah, fishing for information.”

  He swung through the outside door and jogged down the stairs to his personal vehicle. An unmarked Ford Taurus. He didn’t want to announce his arrival and spook his prey. He clicked the car open and both men climbed in.

  “I’m just looking to talk to the guys that camp down there, shouldn’t be any trouble.” He started the car and drove out into the street.

  “So you’re playing good cop to my bad cop?”

  Roberts grinned. Jenkins was alright. “Yeah. You just stand around and scare the crap out of them, and I’ll be Mr. Friendly.”

  He tapped the steering wheel. “But be prepared for anything. We might stumble across the arsonist. I don’t expect to, but we might.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  They drove past hulking, ornate churches lit up by spotlights. Stone angels and crosses stood silent and glowing like eerie sentinels on either side of the street.

  “The old Sheriff, my dad, used to say it’s best to catch people by surprise.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Half a block from the bridge, he killed the lights. Moonlight illuminated the empty street. Decent folk were all tucked up in bed, unaware of all the life going on without them. Being Sheriff didn’t afford him that luxury. He parked the car at the closed shop nearest to the beginning of the bridge. 11:55 p.m.

  He twisted the key out and both men slid out of the car. The doors shut behind them with soft clicks. They fast-walked to the railing. Despite the full moon, darkness shadowed the steps. Roberts clung to the wall as he eased his way down. The smell of smoke wafted in the air, reminding him of long-ago camping trips.

  They rounded the corner and came across men huddled around a bonfire built inside a metal trashcan. Some held their hands out toward the warm flames, while other stared mesmerized at the glow. A few lay scattered on the incline, already asleep or drinking from bottles hidden in paper sacks.

  The tableau froze as he and Jenkins emerged into the light. Only the drinkers and sleepers ignored them.

  Roberts pulled out packs of cigarettes from his jacket and held them up. “Just want to talk, that’s all.”

  Jenkins took a step forward and folded his arms across his big slab of a chest. Roberts winced. He could see the whites of eyes and the twitch of muscles. He waggled the packs in his hands. “Got some smokes for your trouble.”

  A young blond with a bruised nose stepped forward, eyed the pack.

  Roberts took a cigarette out and offered it to him.

  The man grabbed it. “What you want to know?”

  He held out a few more cigarettes and looked around. “Any other smokers in the group?”

  Several men shuffled forward. The stench of old sweat and body odor wafted forward. Roberts kept on smiling as he handed the bribe out. “How come you guys don’t go to the Salvation Army?”

  “Don’t like sleeping indoors.”

  “Can’t stand the preaching.”

  “Don’t got no room last time I checked.”

  Roberts nodded, feeling like a bobble head toy. “You guys out here two nights ago?”

  Shrugs and murmurs of ascent rippled all around.

  “Anybody go out to the country? Out by Carlsbad or Paradise Valley?”

  Silence.

  “Come on guys, we were getting along so well.”

  Jenkins twisted his head this way and that, until the bones in his neck popped in the silence.

  “You can talk to me or to my deputy.” He thumbed at Jenkins.

  Wide-eyed gazes darted from one officer to another. Quick, jerky shakes of heads answered.

  “Alright, anybody see anything interesting lately?”

  Uneasy glances flickered around. Roberts shook the remaining pack in his hand. “I’m looking for information. Anybody see anything strange? I’ll give you the entire pack if you give me something useful.”

  “What’s this about?” The blond kid piped up again.

  Robe
rts shrugged. “I’m the sheriff and I need to know about all kinds of things happening in my town.”

  “I saw something, maybe.” The quavering whisper came from one of the drinkers.

  Roberts ambled forward and held out a cigarette. “Yeah?”

  The man licked already wet lips, revealing missing and rotting teeth. “Yeah.”

  “Where were you?”

  The guy snatched the cigarette and brought it to his nose. Took a deep sniff. “Behind the library, near the dumpster.”

  Roberts held out another. “There’s more here. So what time was it?”

  The second cigarette got tucked behind an ear and hid by greasy hair. “Still dark. Sometime before dawn.”

  The timing fit Jen’s fire. His chest tightened as he remembered her pretty face all puffy and red from tears and worry. He wanted to close the case, reassure Jen, hold her hand. The sheriff leaned forward. “So what did you see?”

  “I was behind the dumpster.”

  “Doing what?”

  “I got hungry in the night. So I was snacking on an old burger I found.”

  Roberts stared at the brown paper bag the man cradled in his lap. “So what you see beside the burger?”

  A crafty light glinted in the old man’s eyes and he flashed a toothless smile. “Another smoke might help jog my memory.”

  The old coot had nerves. Roberts snorted and handed over another stick.

  “I was hidden behind the dumpster, when this large, black shadow swooped over me, swallowed all the light.” The man took a swig from his bottle. “I looked up.”

  “And?”

  His gaze shot away and boomeranged back. He leaned forward. “It was a dragon.”

  Roberts shook his head. The geezer ought to get points for originality. Most others just saw space ships.

  The old guy’s chin shot up and his eyes narrowed. “I know what I saw. A dang big dragon flew right over me and headed west, toward Paradise Valley where they’se been having the fires.”

  A boot sailed through the air and thwacked the speaker in the head.

  “Oww!”

  “Shut the fuck up you old fool.”

  The sheriff whipped around toward the angry voice and saw one of the sleepers glaring over his shoulder. This guy looked like what he’d imagine Rasputin looked like. Crazy, gleaming gray eyes stared out of a dirty gaunt face covered in ropy, knotted hair. It ran from the top of the head into the moustache and beard. A dusty black overcoat covered most of his long, thin body.

  “Some people are trying to sleep here.” The man glared and then turned away.

  Roberts’ gaze landed on the boot lying near the whimpering old dragon-sighting guy. An old, scuffed and creased brown work boot. He studied the sole of the shoe. His mouth felt dry. The tread pattern seemed familiar. He nodded to Jenkins to bag it and made his way to the sleeper.

  “Hey, you can’t go about throwing things at people.” He stood with hands on his hips, close to his weapon and handcuffs. “I might have to haul you to jail for that.”

  The man cracked his eyelids open and sent out a bleary stare. “Just trying to sleep.”

  Roberts eyed the other boot peeking out from under the coat. He stepped forward and tapped the foot with his own. “You got some nice boots there,” he said. “Aren’t you lucky? Where’d you get them?”

  The man pushed himself up and hunched over his knees. “Found ‘em.”

  “Where?”

  A sullen glare. “By the library dumpster.”

  “Everything seems to happen around this dumpster.”

  Bony shoulders rose and fell. “I was there same time as the dumb ass claims he saw the dragon.”

  “Did you see the dragon?”

  A laugh wheezed out of him. “I ain’t crazy or drunk.”

  “So you were at the dumpster in the middle of the night.”

  The man moved his head in a slow shake. “It was morning, I was hunting breakfast.”

  “And you found the boots?”

  “How about one of those smokes?”

  Roberts tossed him the entire pack. “Tell me about the boots.”

  The man turned the pack around in his hands. “Thanks Sheriff.”

  “The boots?”

  “A beat-up green truck drove up and a man chucked them out the window. I grabbed them.”

  “You see the man’s face?”

  The cigarette pack disappeared in the coat. “Nah, he wore a hat pulled low over his face.”

  Roberts massaged his neck and nodded. “I’ll need the other boot.”

  “Fuck.”

  Chapter 7

  Lynn basked in the early morning sun streaming through the bedroom window while she balanced on one leg, eyes closed, and pretended to be a tree.

  She focused on her breathing, trying to follow Obaa-chan’s advice and calm her mind. A calm mind can conquer anything. Now if she could just convince herself.

  The weird phone call and writing about the fire had riled up the dragon again, so much that she’d felt the heat and smelled the smoke sitting in Jen’s guest room. In the quiet hours of the night, fear of the unknown adversary had clutched her heart until she’d concentrated on Timmy’s face as he watched the fire.

  She’d started the article with that image and gone into how Timmy would be having a birthday soon without any presents. However, he would have his family and Lucky. She wrote about the hard work and heroics of the Paradise Valley volunteer firefighters, and mentioned Jack and the part he played. She ended with the community pulling together to help the Jarvis family. Lynn read the story almost half a dozen times before emailing it to the Herald. That’d been almost a half-hour ago.

  She hoped the paper would print the story. Should she follow up with a call to the paper?

  Calm your mind. Be in the now. Her arms reached toward the sun like strong branches, allowing her sorrows and worries to drop, spin and flutter away like dead leaves scattered by the wind of her will.

  Exuberant knocking startled Lynn into planting both feet on the meditation mat. Her aching arms sagged to her sides. “Yes?”

  “Phone call for you,” Jen called out.

  Damn, she was popular lately. “Can you take a message?”

  “It’s the editor of the newspaper, I think you better take it.”

  Lynn threw the door open and snatched the phone from Jen. “Hello?”

  “Top of the morning, Ms. Alexander! This is Scott Hernandez, editor and publisher of the San Angelo Herald.”

  Worry niggled at her. “Did you receive my story? Were you able to open the document?”

  “Yes, yes. I read your story about the fire.”

  He probably hated it. She hadn’t written a news story since college. “I’d be happy to rewrite it if you need me to.”

  A chuckle sounded in her ear. “Hey, can you come down to the office and talk to my reporters about accommodating their editor?” He chuckled some more. “The story read fine. It’ll be in the paper tomorrow.”

  Heat swarmed her face. “Oh. Thanks for letting me know.”

  “What I’d like to know is if you’re free for lunch today?” Hernandez cleared his throat. “I have a deal you want to seal.”

  A woman on a mission, Lynn arrived at the San Angelo Herald building fifteen minutes before her lunch date.

  While the editor had amused and intrigued her, what she really wanted was information. If anyone had the dirt on the local people, it’d be the newspaper guy. The challenge would be focusing him on her agenda rather than his.

  The receptionist laid aside her crochet work and smiled as Lynn stated her business, and then buzzed the editor. “Your lunch appointment is here!”

  Lynn had just sat down on the plush couch, when the newsroom door swung open and a big man bounded out, his right hand extended. “Good to see you Ms. Alexander.”

  She jumped up. He still towered over her as he pumped her hand.

  Hernandez was younger than Lynn expected, maybe in his forti
es, with wings of silver at his temples that added a distinguished look. His dark gaze studied her with intense speculation. “Ready to go?”

  She nodded. He stepped briskly ahead, leading the way, but stopped at the receptionist’s desk. “Keep this boat afloat while I’m out to lunch, okay?” he said. “I’m counting on you, Abby.” He gave her a jaunty salute and continued forward.

  Lynn offered Abby a wave and rushed after Hernandez. He barged through a second set of doors, before he stopped and sniffed the crisp, autumn air. “Perfect day for a walk. You don’t mind if we walk to lunch, right?” He marched down the sidewalk not waiting for an answer.

  Lynn hurried, doing her best to keep up and not trip in her heels. She should have worn sneakers.

  “So, who are you? What’s your background?”

  She filled him in about her journalism degree and her previous public relations experience. “I’m between jobs at the moment.”

  He clucked sympathetically, without slowing his pace.

  Lynn thanked the powers that be for the Don’t Walk sign at the corner. She caught her breath as they waited for the light to change at Chadbourne and Beauregard. Her feet ached in the high heels and she could feel blisters forming. So much for the power outfit. “Where are we headed?”

  Hernandez pointed across the street at Fuentes Downtown Café. “All the movers and shakers eat there.”

  She eyed several men and women coming in and out the doors, standing around shaking hands or talking on cell phones. In between the power suits, she glimpsed a scruffy man sitting hunched over on a bench right in front of the restaurant.

  The man raised his head from the folds of an oversized, dusty black coat. Her gaze collided with glittering gray eyes set in a dirty face obscured by straggly salt-and-pepper hair and a beard.

  Traffic ceased flowing, people turned to statues, the dragon within her tensed. Lynn drew in slow, labored breaths. Her racing heart petered to a sluggish rhythm, the blood in her veins congealed. She stood rooted to the spot and held the man’s stare.

  He sent her a mock salute.

  Cold fear wormed inside her. She fisted her hands at her sides. The tips of her fingers burned to grow dragon claws.