Wildfire: A Paranormal Mystery with Cowboys & Dragons

by Mina Khan

  Earlier that evening, Henry Chase had visited Tavistock trying to convince him to sell his property. They visited on the front porch, since Tavistock wasn’t going to let anyone into the house. “The house is mine and Elsie’s,” he said. “I don’t want any strangers tromping about.”

  They’d said goodbye at about 8 p.m. and Tavistock retired an hour later. At midnight, he woke up when Elsie shook him awake and smelled the smoke. She told him what she’d done, begged him to let her die. He’d tried unsuccessfully to put out the flames. In the end, when he couldn’t budge Elsie, he’d decided to join her. Then Jack Callaghan arrived on the scene. “He’d been driving by when he saw the flames and stopped,” Tavistock said. “I tried to get him to leave but he wouldn’t. Bullheaded Callaghan. He’s the one who called the fire department.”

  Lynn stopped taking notes. Both Henry and Jack had been on the scene. One of them had to be the dragon, the whisperer. Hope flickered in her. Maybe Jack really was innocent and his presence merely a coincidence. Unfortunately, she didn’t trust coincidences. Henry seemed like a harmless flirt… could he have a darker side?

  Why did the both of them have to turn up on the scene? Would Jack have called the fire department if he had wanted the fire? Didn’t the arsonist call her?

  “Did you mention Henry and Jack to Anderson?” she asked. Tavistock nodded. Good, the arson investigator could figure it out.

  “How did you and Elsie meet?”

  The old rancher’s face broke into a happy grin. “My dad actually introduced us. I laid eyes on her and knew she was the one. Happiest day of my life.”

  “She was a very lucky woman.”

  Tavistock took a long drink of his lemonade. “We were both very lucky that we found each other and found love.”

  Lynn leaned over and covered one of the old man’s hands with hers. She gently squeezed. “Yes, you were both lucky to have found that,” she said. An aching need blasted through her, she remembered how she’d felt dancing with Jack. Would she ever feel that content again?

  Tavistock looked up and smiled. “Yeah, nothing else matters.”

  Lynn thanked him for sharing his story, collected her photographs and left. As she drove away, she saw Tavistock gently swinging on the porch and smiling to himself.

  Back at the office, Lynn focused on the facts. She reported the fire accurately and mentioned that Elsie set the fire and died at the scene. Conscientiously, Lynn put in that the county sheriff’s department was still investigating and that the Justice of the Peace was waiting on an official autopsy report from Lubbock.

  She wrote a second story focused on the love between the couple. She reported how they met and how they stood by each other. For all concerned, Mrs. Tavistock had been a well-loved and loving spouse. What she did in the end didn’t matter, not to the love story.

  Lynn wrote about Mr. Tavistock, who loved his wife deeply, perhaps so much that he gave in to Elsie’s last wish. She wrote about his anguish at her death. She wrote about the serene smile that lit up the old rancher’s face as he relived the memories of his wife. By the time she ended, Lynn had tears in her eyes and a lump in her throat.

  After reading the story once more, she sent it to the editor. She’d done her best. Hopefully, her best was good enough. Lynn hoped she’d portrayed the couple with respectful dignity. She really didn’t want to add to Tavistock’s pain. The story was good, but the people involved were more important. A yawn escaped as weariness rolled over. Folding her arms on the desk, she rested her head. When she closed her eyes, Lynn saw Amos and Elsie dancing. Another couple whirled close by— Jack and herself.

  Lynn jumped out of bed at 7 a.m. and scooted out the door. Only to find Jen already sitting on the porch with a neglected cup of coffee and the paper.

  She looked up with red-rimmed eyes and thrust the paper at her. “You’re up early.”

  Lynn almost stopped breathing as she grabbed the paper and eyed Jen uneasily. “Is my story in there?”

  Jen nodded.

  “Did you read it?”

  Another nod.

  “Well?” Lynn asked, exasperated.

  Jen burst into tears. “It’s so sad,” she wailed. “It’s so… so… beautiful.”

  Lynn shuffled her bare feet uncomfortably, shivering in the morning air. “So do you think a lot of people might be upset by my story?” she asked. Then in a whisper she added, “Do you think it was tasteless of me?”

  Jen took a tissue from her pocket and wiped her face. She shook her head vigorously. “No, no,” she said. “I think it’s very moving. I think you’ve paid a great homage to their love.”

  Lynn’s whole body loosened in relief. “Oh good,” she said. “That’s what I was trying for.”

  After Jen left for the studio, Lynn finally looked at the paper. Hernandez had run the picture of the dancing couple on the front page. After reading the story, Lynn quickly changed and left for work.

  She hurried into the office and slipped into the unoccupied desk near Missy. The buxom blonde looked up, smiling, and held out a blueberry muffin. “For you.”

  Her stomach growled, reminding her that she’d missed breakfast. She grabbed the muffin. “Thanks. These are in your diet plan?”

  “Yup, these are low-fat— I baked them myself,” Missy said. “Low in fat, but not on taste.”

  Lynn looked dubiously at the muffin. In her opinion, most low-fat and no-fat foods tasted like cardboard. Her stomach rumbled again and she bit into the muffin. Mmm, she had to agree with Missy.

  “This is really good,” she said, swallowing her first mouthful.

  Missy grinned back at her. “Hey, listen, I’m sorry for poking my nose into your story yesterday,” she said. “You did good.”

  Lynn nodded. “Thanks,” she said. “And don’t be sorry. I’m glad you talked to me yesterday. Made me think about the story more.”

  They both turned back to their respective computers. Lynn pulled out her arson file with a pang of guilt. She was no closer to identifying the fire bug. Henry or Jack? Well, nothing better than tackling it with a vengeance now. Maybe she’d catch up with missed work and make some progress.

  The Society Page picture of Kate Harrington and Jack lay right on top. Why had she saved this crap? She pulled it out intending to toss it in the trash, but found herself zeroing in on the woman’s face. Kate just rubbed her wrong. Could she be jealous? Lynn dismissed the notion —she didn’t have a jealous bone in her body— and tapped her fingers on the desk. Okay, she was jealous.

  Lynn typed in Kate’s name in the search engine. Let’s get the deets on the competition. Soon she had some court records— divorce and bankruptcy filings. She let out a low whistle.

  Missy stopped typing. “What?”

  “She’s divorced.”

  “Who’s divorced?”

  “Um, Kate Harrington.” Lynn pushed hair out of her face. “I-um-met her at the Fire Department picnic.” Divorced meant single and available. Not good.

  “Oh my, you had the pleasure of meeting the Queen.” Missy shot her a grin.

  “She is kind of intimidating.”

  “You could say that.” Missy glanced this way and that. “I call it looking down her nose at everybody like she’s too good for this town.”

  Lynn studied the screen again. The records were filed in Dallas County. “Looks like she’d been in Dallas for a bit, but chose to come back to Paradise Valley.”

  At this, Missy popped out of her chair and leaned over the cubicle wall. “She didn’t exactly have much choice.” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “The divorce was messy and she got saddled with the ex-husband’s gambling debts.”

  “Oh.” That explained the bankruptcy filing. “Good thing her family’s ranch is held in a trust.”

  Missy nodded. “Yeah, otherwise she’d have lost it too.”

  Before Lynn could ask anything else, Hernandez stepped out of his office and bellowed Missy’s name.

  As the other reporter hurried to th
e editor’s office, Lynn turned back to her computer. She’d wasted enough time on Kate, time to turn her attention to Henry. With a sigh, she typed in his name and hit enter. Nothing happened. She grabbed her mouse and clicked like crazy. Nothing. No, no, no. She let her head fall forward and land on her desk with a thump. A collective groan echoed around the room. The system had crashed.

  Her stomach screamed in hunger. Not sure what to do next, Lynn grabbed her bag and a newspaper and walked to Fuentes.

  The restaurant was packed. Instead of waiting for a table, Lynn hopped onto a stool at the bar and placed her order. She unfolded the paper and looked around the room. A familiar pair caught her attention. Tom Jarvis sat at a table just a few feet away with another man. Henry Chase stood next to them, three-quarters turned away from Lynn.

  She opened the paper at random and buried her head deep into the pages. Lynn wasn’t in the mood for Henry’s bantering and flirting. At the same time, she couldn’t help wondering about the group. She peeked from behind the paper and tried to catch the conversation.

  “Yeah, I read about the fire in the paper,” Henry was saying. “I’m very sorry about your loss.”

  “Not as sorry as I am,” Jarvis muttered.

  “Well, the offer still stands.” Henry spread his hands, smiling wide.

  Jarvis stood up and got into Henry’s face. “Well, I’m still not selling.” He used his finger to drive home the point.

  Henry snarled and pushed close to Jarvis. She couldn’t catch what he said, but the other man dropped back into his chair. Next, Henry pulled out a card and tucked it into the man’s shirt pocket. “If you change your mind,” he said. “It’s easy money Tom. Think about it.” He tipped his hat and left.

  Seconds later, Jarvis pulled out the card, crumpled it and threw it on the table. Then he and the other man got up and left as well. Interesting.

  Lynn’s food arrived. She picked up her fork and dug into it while wondering about the exchange. Her mind kept returning to the nasty smile she’d caught on Henry’s face as he strode out. Of course, Tom got rude first…but she’d expected Henry to deal with it with his usual humor.

  Instead, he’d been…what? Scary. His movements, his smile, even his words now that she thought about it, had exhibited a cool viciousness. Lynn shivered. It was as if she’d just seen the Mr. Hyde part of Henry. Maybe she’d get more insight at their interview Monday.

  Chapter 20

  Lynn gaped through her windshield at the hand-lettered red and white sign attached to the roof of the restaurant. Maybe she’d misread it because of the dying light of dusk, the peeling paint and bullet holes. She squinted and read it again, aloud, slowly. “Jim Bob’s Beer, Bait & BBQ.”

  Somehow, when Henry had mentioned a cozy, quaint restaurant on the shores of Lake Nasworthy, removed from the pedestrian city life, this was not what she’d pictured. She huffed out a breath and rested her chin on the steering wheel. The mustang, she’d wanted to rent something with style, stuck out like a perfectly manicured cherry-red thumb. Neither the sun-bleached wooden shack, listing to the left and billowing smoke, nor some of the patrons emerging from rust-bucket, diesel chugging trucks, inspired her confidence. Well, she couldn’t sit idling in front of the door while she thought things through. Changing gears, she drove to the far edge of the lot to give her vehicle plenty of personal space, half-hidden by a stand of mesquites.

  Maybe it would have been wiser to cancel the interview. Henry’s face from Fuentes filled her mind along with a shiver of unease. What if he was the rogue? What if he was the caller? She pressed her lips together. Damn. The fires were driving her crazy, making her suspect everyone and everything. Or was she so desperate to clear Jack, that she’d started to suspect everyone else?

  Focus on the present. Should she go in to the bar or not? Lynn pinched the bridge of her nose. To be fair, the mouthwatering aroma of cooking meat and the packed parking lot indicated the place might have some merit. The front door flew open and a mountain of a man dragged another out by the scruff of his neck and threw him into the dust. “Git outta here, you sorry ass drunk!”

  Or maybe not.

  At least, there seemed to be security of sorts. And while she could take care of herself, no sense in pulling a horror-flick move and walking into trouble. Something told her a single female would invite too much attention, unwanted attention. She glanced at her watch. Six forty-five. Arriving early had seemed like a good idea: she could grab a table and work on the questions she wanted to ask about the development. Probably not such a good move. She sighed, fingering the grooves on the steering wheel. Best to wait for her seven o’ clock appointment and watch for Henry from the safety of her car.

  A gleaming black and chrome pickup squealed into the parking lot. She watched the gravel fly as it pulled into a spot closer to her than the other vehicles. Apparently, the driver didn’t want his vehicle dinged or scratched either. Henry hopped out and slammed the door. Dressed in faded jeans and a black button-down shirt, he peered into the side mirror and fixed his hair.

  Lynn grinned and exited the car. Gripping her backpack under one arm, she hurried toward him. “Hi Mr. Chase!”

  He whipped around. After a few seconds, a Colgate white smile appeared. “Did we backslide or something? I thought we were on a first name basis.”

  “Right, Henry.” She giggled because that’s what he seemed to be expecting. “I wasn’t sure if I was at the right place, but this is the address you gave me.”

  Henry laughed. “Yeah, it doesn’t look like much, but it’s the best kept secret in the West.”

  His hand rested at the small of her back as they entered the dimly lit interior. Lynn considered putting a bit of space between them, but given the environment, maybe Henry was just being careful and a gentleman. He nodded to the man behind the makeshift counter/display case featuring all kinds of fishing lures. Recognizing his scowling face from the parking lot, she sidled past, allowing Henry to steer her toward the back, past couples dancing to juke box tunes, to the tables.

  On the way, they stopped by a kitchen window and placed their orders. They stood a few minutes reading the menu tacked to the wall. A pink-faced woman, wearing a sauce-splattered apron, appeared at the window with a pad and pen. “What’ll it be hon?”

  “I’ll have a brisket sandwich, fries, and a cold Shiner Bock, and just a glass of San Angelo tap water for the lady,” Henry said.

  “Hey!” Lynn glared at him, a smile twitching her lips. Part of her was relieved to find that the mischievous Henry had returned.

  He grinned. “Decided to mix some pleasure with business after all?”

  She narrowed her eyes at him, then turned to the waitress. “An order of barbecued chicken and coleslaw with a Diet Coke, please.” Lynn turned back to Henry. “I’m so looking forward to grilling you.” The server handed Henry their drinks and a wood chip with a number.

  They settled on a table in the less crowded part of the room. She tore some paper towel from the roll on the table and dusted off crumbs and peanuts shells from her chair before sitting.

  Henry rested his elbows on the table and leaned forward. “So, what’s a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this?”

  A part of her enjoyed his easy flirting, but she had more important concerns. Lynn pulled out her note pad and pen. “Getting some answers from you about Hope development.”

  He laughed. “I meant, what brought you to West Texas?”

  She arched an eyebrow. “And I meant, let’s get down to business.”

  He smirked as he eyed her. “Yes ma’am.” He sipped his beer.

  She flipped her notepad open to a fresh page. “So who’ll be able to afford all the $400,000 houses that your company is planning on building?”

  “This is what we call a high-end development.” Henry sat straighter. “We’re marketing them as ranchettes to people in big cities like Houston, Dallas, Los Angeles and New York.”

  “Why would people leave such exciting cit
ies to come to the middle of nowhere?”

  “Lower taxes.” Henry took a swallow of beer. “Actually, a lot of people are getting tired of fast-paced cities and searching for a simpler life. Paradise Valley, with the Concho River running through it, the old trees and the mesas in the background, can be an ideal setting for the right development.”

  Lynn bent her head and wrote his answer. “Number 52!” rang out into the room. Henry scraped back his chair, grabbed her half-empty glass and headed for the kitchen window. She watched couples whirl by— some had the bright flush of new romance, others the practiced grace of years of dancing together. Her heart ached. Would she ever find a man to grow old with, to dance the years away with until the two moved as one? The smell of smoky Mesquite overwhelmed her senses and memory of dancing with Jack followed in its wake. Impossible. Stop yearning for the impossible. She blew out a breath. Her hormones had clearly gone haywire.

  “Trouble in Paradise?” Henry’s voice made her jump and straighten. He slid her plate in front of her. She’d been so busy feeling maudlin, she’d completely missed his return. Lynn smiled her thanks and scribbled “Tavistock” in her notebook. Underlined the name a few times.

  Henry arched an eyebrow at her as he set her Diet Coke down.

  She gulped down some soda, glanced at her notebook and back at him. Time to dig deeper. “What? Do you know him?”

  He placed the tray on an empty chair at the table and sat. “Made him an offer soon after I got here. Maybe I’ll visit him again.” He bit into his sandwich.

  She tapped her pen against her chin. “I heard you visited him the day his home burned down.”

  He chewed and swallowed. “Where’d you hear that?”

  “Tavistock told me when I interviewed him after the fire,” she said, taking another fortifying drink. “So what were you doing there?”

  Henry washed his food down with some beer. “Trying to do my job,” he said. “I upped the offer, but he still turned me down.”