Burn Girl

by Mandy Mikulencak

  “When will you get it through your thick skull that people love you? You’re not alone anymore. Jesus, Arlie, I don’t know how to make it any plainer.”

  I nodded. I did believe him now. I believed all of them.

  “What I did was wrong. I’m sorry. For everything.”

  “We’ll get through this,” he said.

  “I don’t know. Mo … she’s so hurt. And the police … I’ll go to jail.” A hitch in my voice betrayed how frightened I really was.

  “No one will blame you for what you’ve done. He threatened you. He assaulted me. He’s responsible for three deaths.”

  Lloyd’s words came rushing back to me. Claiming self-defense didn’t seem like a viable option considering all I’d done to hurt him.

  Since Frank wouldn’t be released for a few days, the police agreed to interview me in his hospital room. After the questioning I’d be taken into custody. Juvenile detention, they’d said. I tried deep breathing, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that my life had veered so off course I’d never find my way back again.

  “Miss Betts, do you understand your rights as they were read to you?” The officer was young, maybe in his thirties. He had kind eyes, but that didn’t put me at ease.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And you are answering our questions today of your own volition?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And your guardian, Frank Betts, is here with you?”

  “That’s correct. He’s my uncle.”

  Frank rubbed my back, but I found it more irritating than comforting. I watched the other officer, a female, who worked the tape recorder. She was all business but smiled nonetheless.

  “Tell me about your relationship with Lloyd Hanson,” the male officer began.

  Relationship? I shuddered to think we were connected in any way. “He was my … He is my stepfather.”

  The investigating officer was thorough. He asked me about my childhood, how Lloyd treated Mom and me, what happened the day of the explosion. He listened as I described how terrified Mom was that he’d find us in Durango.

  “She considered him dangerous?”

  I nodded. Tears pricked at my eyes. The female officer handed me a tissue. “You’re doing great,” she said.

  “And he contacted you on the morning of April 26?” The male officer took notes even though the recorder was running.

  “No, sir. He had stolen my best friend’s phone. He texted late on April 25.I met him the next morning at Denny’s. He told me not to tell anyone.”

  “And did he threaten you?”

  He’d threatened me. He’d threatened to hurt Frank and Mo if I didn’t do as he said. And he followed through on his threats, almost killing Frank. I tried to explain why I thought I could handle Lloyd on my own and why I hadn’t called the police.

  “Why did you agree to meet him at your residence at two a.m. on April 27?”

  The way he phrased the question suggested that Lloyd asked to meet me, not the other way around. I should’ve admitted I orchestrated the confrontation. A voice inside said not to offer any more information than necessary.

  “I was going to ask him to leave me alone. To leave all of us alone.”

  “You thought he’d listen to you?”

  “I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking. I thought about calling the police to trap him there, but things got out of control fast.” My voice rose. Frank whispered for me to calm down. “Don’t tell me to calm down. I just felt I had no choice.”

  The officer asked if I wanted to take a break, but I said no. I wanted the interview to be over. He asked me to describe everything that happened once I arrived at the trailer. My body shook. I was afraid I’d say something wrong. Something that would convince them I’d planned to kill Lloyd all along. And a little part of me wondered if I had.

  “When I got to the trailer, he was already there. He had a gun. That’s why I grabbed the wheel chock. To protect myself.”

  “Once he broke into your trailer, why didn’t you just leave or call the police?”

  “I don’t know! I never had a home before. Never had a family. I couldn’t let him take that too. If I didn’t confront him then, I might not ever get the chance.” I got up and went to the window. I covered my mouth to stop the sobs.

  “Are you okay?” Frank stood behind me, his hands on my shoulders.

  “I’m trying. Really I am.”

  “Just answer as best you can,” he said.

  “But they’re going to put me away. I almost killed someone.” I buried my head in his chest.

  “Miss Betts, we’re not here to put you away.” The female officer turned off the recorder and stood. “You’ve been through a horrendous ordeal. We know this is difficult. We just want to get your side of the story.”

  I took a few deep breaths and sat down. After the female officer turned on the recorder again, she motioned for me to speak.

  “I suspected he killed my mom. I wanted him to admit it. I needed some closure.”

  I explained that I lured Lloyd out of the trailer and that I hit him with the wheel chock. I told them I tied him up with an extension cord so he couldn’t hurt me while we talked.

  “Tell me about the gun.”

  “It was his. He dropped it after I hit him. I was just trying to scare him. I wanted him to feel powerless. Like I felt after he’d hurt Frank.”

  “But you shot Mr. Hanson?”

  “He admitted he helped Mom overdose.” I bit my lip to keep from crying, but it did no good. “I swear I don’t remember pulling the trigger. I heard a loud pop, and he was screaming and screaming. He wouldn’t stop screaming.”

  “And you said Mr. Hanson brought the gasoline to the scene.”

  “Yes. He was going to burn down the house that Frank is building. He said he didn’t think I’d show up.”

  “And what about the fire?”

  “It was an accident. When he lunged at me, I knocked over the floodlight, but I don’t remember much else. Not until I was outside again.”

  My ribs ached from sobbing. Frank put his arm around me and I leaned against his shoulder.

  “And that’s when you went back in?”

  I nodded. “I couldn’t let him burn. I’m not that kind of person.”

  “You risked your own life for a man who almost killed your uncle and threatened to kill you,” the officer said.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “That took a lot of courage.”

  His words only made me cry harder. I hugged Frank. “Don’t let them take me.”

  Tears filled Frank’s eyes too. He tried so hard to remain calm, but his voice cracked. “It’s only for a while. Don’t be scared. We’ll both be home in no time.”

  The female police officer patted me on the shoulder. “We should go.”

  I nodded and followed her into the hall. Mo and Cody waited just outside the door. Their faces were splotchy and tear-stained. They folded me into their arms and I collapsed against them.

  CHAPTER 33

  I only stayed in juvenile detention for a couple of days before they released me back into Frank’s custody. I underwent two psych evaluations, but no one told me I’d been crazy to do the things I did at the trailer that night. The district attorney offered a plea agreement that included probation and counseling. I’d been lucky.

  Two weeks after my release, Frank and I sat at the picnic table outside the charred remains of the house, sipping coffee and eating doughnuts. Frank wasn’t strong enough to clean up the debris left from the fire. He needed at least a couple of guys to help. Last week, he’d placed an ad in the Herald for short-term construction help, but he hadn’t received a response yet.

  “At least the foundation didn’t burn,” I said.

  “What an optimist.”

  “I’d live in the trailer forever and be happy.”

  “It was too small all along,” he said. “I should’ve rented us a house. When I got the call about becoming your guardian, all I could think
about was how fast I could get here.”

  I rubbed Frank’s back. I hated seeing him so down. He wasn’t used to being sidelined, but he wasn’t one hundred percent yet. At least he had the good sense not to push it.

  “It still smells like a campfire,” he said. “But without the happy feelings.” The morning dew seemed to intensify the smell, which dissipated as the day heated up.

  In a way, I was glad the cleanup hadn’t progressed. The charred shell served as a reminder of just how close I’d come to dying. It reminded me how lucky I was not to be in jail. It reminded me that Lloyd was out of my life for good.

  I ran my hand through my short hair—another reminder of that night. The day I was released from the juvenile detention facility, Mo’s stylist had cut off all the singed parts of my hair. After that, it was already pretty short, so I asked her to keep going. She cut it into a pixie and used a razor to soften the edges. My scar showed more, but as the hair fell to the floor, it felt like pieces of my past had been cut away. I added a shock of bright blue dye to the front, something Cody’s friend Claire heartily approved of.

  Frank’s hair was just growing back. They’d shaved his head in the hospital to stitch up the four-inch gash from Lloyd’s assault. His beard, however, was as unruly as it’d always been.

  “So, everything’s on track for Mom’s memorial?” I asked.

  A while back, Frank asked what kind of headstone I wanted for Mom’s grave. I said I’d rather do something more positive, that I wouldn’t be visiting a cemetery to remember her. That’s when he suggested something huge. Something that still made me cry when I thought about it.

  Frank had approached the board of directors of the women’s shelter in town. He explained that we wanted to donate money for a special wing just for women who were recovering addicts and who needed a fresh start. We’d call it the Angel Wing.

  The shelter agreed and was already using the money to renovate several previously unused rooms. There’d be a dedication ceremony at the end of the summer. Even though it was money from Frank’s inheritance, he gave me free rein with the details. I said I wanted the plaque to read In Memory of Sarah and with Love for Mo.

  “Why haven’t you told Mo yet?” he asked.

  “I want it to be a surprise,” I said. “I’ll tell her soon though.” In truth, Mo and I were still working through the damage I’d done to our friendship. I wanted to wait until we were on firmer footing before sharing something so huge with her.

  “Speaking of Mo …”

  He saw the Toyota pickup pull into the yard before I did and nudged me to look. It was James. Mo’s dad was also in the front seat. Mo and Cody crouched in the jumper seats.

  “What’s this about?” Frank walked toward the truck and I followed, wondering the same thing. I stayed behind him as if he were a protective shield.

  Mr. Mooney reached out and shook Frank’s hand. “Glad to see you’re doing well.”

  “Finally on the mend,” Frank said. “If I’d known we were expecting company, I’d have bought more doughnuts.”

  “No worries. James and I thought we’d give you a hand with the cleanup. Looks like a lot of wood and ash to clear before you can start building again.”

  I looked at Mo for some explanation of her dad’s change in attitude, but she just shrugged as she helped Cody from the truck.

  “Great timing. The dumpster arrived yesterday,” Frank said. “I can use the muscle.”

  “Those I have,” Mr. Mooney said. “And I’m happy for the chance to get to know you better … since our girls are best friends.”

  “I’d like that,” Frank said. “Let’s get started.”

  Our girls. He saw Frank as my dad. I guess I’d started to view him that way too.

  James followed Frank, but Mr. Mooney stayed behind. I tensed from my neck to my toes. Without realizing it, I took a defensive step backward.

  “My wife said you like Mexican pastry,” he said. “They’re a favorite of mine too. We stopped by the bakery this morning. They’re fresh.” He took a deep breath and held out a white paper sack. He clearly felt as uncomfortable as I did.

  The gift and his kind words caught me off guard. I accepted the bag but couldn’t think of a thing to say.

  “I’m sorry for how I’ve treated you,” he continued. “You mean a lot to Mo, and I’ve hurt you both by not taking the time to get to know you. I hope you can accept my apology.”

  Mo sidled up beside her father and hugged him around the waist. “You’re embarrassing Arlie. Go help her uncle. That’s why you’re here.”

  He kissed the top of Mo’s head and jogged over to where Frank was already showing James something on the foundation.

  I felt choked up and confused. “I might just faint.”

  “Not before you try these conchas,” Mo said. “I ate one on the drive over. Amazing.”

  I grasped Cody’s hand and we walked over to the picnic table. We sat on one bench seat while Mo sat cross-legged on the tabletop.

  “Good thing Frank’s picnic table didn’t catch fire,” she said. “He treats it like some family heirloom.”

  “He made it himself,” I said. “And it suits us more than a formal dining room.”

  I watched James and Mr. Mooney scoop shovelful after shovelful of ash into the dumpster. Frank moved slowly, being careful with each movement.

  “I can’t believe all his hard work is gone,” I said.

  Cody squeezed my hand. “You didn’t start the fire. I seem to remember it was Lloyd who brought the gas can.”

  He was so good at knowing what was going through my head. His freakishly acute senses never missed a thing. He and Mo were alike in that respect.

  “You’d grown attached to the idea of having a house,” Mo said. “Admit it.”

  “I had. I just didn’t realize how much until it was taken from me,” I said.

  “I already have an idea of how you should decorate your room,” she said. “We totally need a road trip to Albuquerque to shop.”

  It’d been Thanksgiving when I’d last thought about returning to the city of my childhood, the day Mom had found me at the bus station. Mo was the perfect person to help me make new memories and chase away any lingering ghosts.

  “I’m up for a road trip,” I said. “But only if Cody drives. You’re a mess behind the wheel.”

  We laughed and dug into the conchas. They weren’t as good as the pastries Rosa used to bake, but they signaled a new start for me and Mo’s dad—and possibly for me and Mo. Nothing could taste better.

  After everyone had left for the day, Frank ordered pizza. We’d eaten takeout almost exclusively since he was released from the hospital because he didn’t feel up to cooking and was tired of my scrambled eggs.

  “Don’t you get sick of this?” he asked.

  “You’ve got to be kidding. I’m making up for seven years without taste buds. I could eat pizza every day for a year and not be tired of it.”

  We finished a large pepperoni and then divided the cinnamon breadsticks evenly. My appetite hadn’t waned since I’d regained my sense of taste. Cinnamon was my second favorite scent next to coffee.

  “We’ll be in the house by late July,” Frank said, stealing an extra breadstick for himself. “But we have a lot to do before then. I’m counting on you to help with the painting and trim work. We can do some of that after we move in.”

  “No problem,” I said. “I’m thinking purple walls and yellow trim.”

  “I’m thinking I trust Mo more than you when it comes to decorating.”

  Since he was in such a good mood, I decided to broach a sticky subject again. “Any chance you’ve changed your mind about a television and cable?”

  “Funny, you should mention that. I have a TV as well as a bunch of furniture in storage in Corpus Christi.”

  “Road trip?” I’d never been anywhere but Colorado and New Mexico, so the thought of going to Texas with Frank was appealing. We could even go to Padre Island and the beach.


  “Yeah, about that. I’ve been meaning to tell you something,” he said.

  My gut clenched. “I thought we said no more secrets.”

  “I wasn’t keeping a secret. I was just waiting for the right time to tell you.”

  I raised my eyebrows, indicating he’d better fess up. I couldn’t take the suspense.

  “Lily found me on Facebook,” he said. “We’ve been texting and emailing for about three weeks. We’ve spoken a few times on the phone as well.”

  Lily? His old girlfriend? And Frank on Facebook?

  “Okay. Mind completely blown,” I said. “Start from the beginning.”

  Frank explained that his stay in the hospital—and my almost fatal confrontation with Lloyd—had made him see how tenuous life was and that we needed to do everything in our power to be happy, to live each day to the fullest. When Lily contacted him on Facebook, he took it as a sign that they might have a second chance.

  “But you were together twenty years ago. Didn’t she ever get married?” Lots of people reconnected with old sweethearts through Facebook, but my Frank? It was surreal.

  “She’s divorced now,” he said with a slight smile. “Isn’t that just the saddest thing you ever heard?”

  I was having a hard time synthesizing the news and Frank’s playful mood. “What does any of this have to do with your television?”

  “Well … I asked her to get some stuff from my storage unit … and, uh, bring it when she visits next month.”

  “Holy cow.”

  I don’t know what my face looked like, but worry clouded Frank’s in response.

  “I’m sorry, Arlie. I should’ve said something sooner. Don’t be angry with me.”

  “No … no, it’s okay. I’m just stunned. This is good news. I mean, it’s great news.” No longer hungry, I put down the half-eaten breadstick I’d been holding.

  “Really? Because I’m pretty psyched and I’d hoped you’d be too.” The furrow eased from his brow. He was now animated, explaining all the things I’d love about her and all the things we could do when she visited.

  Jealousy pricked at my heart, but I hoped his happiness would help dispel it. After all, I had Cody. Why shouldn’t Frank have someone special? I just needed to take it one step at a time instead of reacting to all the what-ifs—especially the “what if Frank and Lily marry and then I’ll have a pseudo mom” scenario.