Bell wouldn’t be the first firefighter to start a blaze. And a volunteer who never got called?
The other man looked down, his gaze on the lighter on the ground. “Are we done?”
“No. Not even close.” Declan backed him up against his car. “Were you here for another reason that night? Because what better way for you to get called in for work than to start a fire at the town’s favorite landmark?”
At Declan’s question, whatever blood was left in the guy’s face drained. Declan grabbed his chin and forced him to face forward.
“Were you at this house that night?” he demanded.
Bell stared at him. “I just told you. I wasn’t called to that fire.”
“But you wanted to be,” he ground out.
Terrified eyes narrowed behind his glasses. “I see where you’re going, but the fire started because chemical-soaked rags left behind by the lady of the house exploded. No arson, big shot.”
“Is that how it started? Or did it start because someone squirted lighter fluid in the sunroom?” He pushed him harder against the car, adding a hand to his throat for emphasis. “Were you in the house that night?”
He could feel Bell’s Adam’s apple rise and fall with…guilt.
“Tell me what happened, or I will squeeze it out of you.” He added enough pressure to his throat to make good on the threat.
“He saw me.” The words came out in a rough whisper as Bell’s voice cracked.
“What?”
“He saw me trapped in the sunroom and…” Tears pooled behind his wire frames, askew on his face. “I wanted to buy the house and raze it to wipe away the memory.”
“Are you talking about my father? That’s why he…”
Bell dropped his head on a sob. “Yes, I wanted to be called in. I went in to start the fire. Not a big one and not where people were. The door to that garden room wasn’t even locked.”
“What happened, Bell? Start from the beginning.” It took everything Declan had not to shake the guy until his bones rattled.
He shuddered. “I squirted the lighter fluid, and before I could even get the fire started…wham. The damn rags blew up, and I was stuck inside. If I left through the house, I’d be caught. The engines came and got people out, and they didn’t know I was back there. Until…he saw me.”
“Dad saved you.”
“Yes.” He sobbed the word. “His partner moved away for some reason, and he saw me and…walked through the fire to get to the door. I ran out. Got away. Dropped the lighter. And the balcony collapsed on him.”
Declan barely understood the garbled words, but he got enough. He was standing here with his hand on the throat of the man who walked this earth because his father died saving his life. Yes, Dad had broken protocol by leaving his partner. But to save someone’s life?
Joe Mahoney would do that.
“It wasn’t on purpose,” Bell cried out. “I got in over my head, and it really was an accident, but I can’t forget. I can’t…forget…”
Declan loosened his grip as an unexpected bout of sympathy hit him. “Hardly an accident.”
“It was!” he insisted, finally lifting his pathetic head to look at Declan. Past Declan. “And so was that. I swear to God. I accidentally broke the oil lamp and—”
Declan whipped around and looked at the house just as a smoke alarm started to shriek loud enough to be heard through the windows. At the back of the house, the first billow of smoke rose.
Swearing, he let go of Bell, and the guy used the moment to try to get in his car, but Declan grabbed him and threw him to the ground, slamming a knee on his chest to pin him. “Give me your phone,” he demanded. “Now. Or I will kill you. Joyfully.”
“Pocket.” He fumbled reaching for it. Declan ripped it from his hands.
“What’s the passcode?” He spat the demand.
“3336.”
As Declan took off for the house, he scooped Bell’s car keys and lighter off the ground. This asswipe could run, but he wouldn’t get far. Declan had to get Judah out of the house.
As he shot toward the back, he called 911 as he ran, cursing the fact that he didn’t have a radio to call dispatch directly.
“911, what is your emergency?”
“It’s Captain Mahoney. There’s a fire at 32 Ambrose Court. Gloriana House. Need a full crew.”
“Dispatching now, Captain. ETA under five minutes.”
They could make it in three…except for the parade. Shit!
“Send the sheriff. An arsonist is on the street, probably running. Male. Fortysomething. Leather jacket. Red hair and glasses.”
“Contacting sheriff’s office immediately, Captain. Same ETA.”
“There’s a dog inside the house. I’m going in.” If he wasn’t visible when the trucks arrived, he wanted them to know he was in there.
“They’ll be there shortly, Captain. I advise you not to go in without gear.”
He snorted into the phone and hung up, already hearing Judah howling as he got to the back door.
“I’m coming, boy!” He ran into the kitchen, the smoke smacking him in the face, then he saw the flames on the drapes next to the broken oil lamp. He knew those freaking things were a hazard.
Flames licked up the wall, already burning one bank of cabinets. He hoped to hell his guys were here in three minutes.
“Judah!” He turned left, following the howl, finding the dog on the flat landing of the back stairs, no doubt trying to get away from the smoke and unable to get any higher with his not-yet-healed spine.
“Come on, come on.” Declan got to the landing and wrapped his arms around Judah, the smoke alarm overhead screaming only a little bit louder than Judah was howling in his ear. “Let’s go.”
But the dog seemed to make himself heavier, pressing down so Declan had to work to get him up. His constant barks, mixed with the shrieking alarm, deafened Declan.
“Come on.” Using all his strength, Declan hoisted him up, and immediately Judah turned and snapped at him, no doubt in fear. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” he shouted, sure that the dog couldn’t hear him, either.
He got him down the steps and rushed to the open door to put him outside. But the minute he set him down, Judah bolted right back in, so fast Declan couldn’t snag him. With a stream of freaked-out barking, he tore right back to the stairs.
“What the hell?” Frustration and anger and all the agony of what he’d just learned outside battled with years of training. He knew how to stay cool with flames licking behind him, and he knew how to do the only thing that mattered, which was protect this dog.
But he wanted to howl, too.
Judah flattened himself on the landing, lifting his head to howl and bark, pounding his big paw in fear. Of course, he smelled the smoke, he sensed the danger, and he could be in excruciating pain.
Once more, Declan reached down to get him, and as he lifted the dog, he thought he heard the first siren over the smoke alarm and howling.
“Here they come.” He grunted as he picked up Judah and marched him downstairs. But the pounding he’d thought had come from Judah’s paw continued.
What the hell?
He spun around and stared at the steps, trying to block out all the other sounds to concentrate on one that was coming from…inside the stairs? The hidey-hole? Where Ella had gotten trapped that time?
Judah howled one more time, this time right in Declan’s ear.
Was someone down there?
“That’s what you’re trying to tell me.” He put the dog down and dropped to the ground, smoke already burning his throat and eyes as he flattened his head to the wood to try to hear.
“Help me! Please!”
Holy crap. Evie.
He fumbled around, looking for a handle or a lock or something, just as he heard glass explode in the kitchen.
“Hang on, E! Hang on!” Sliding his hand around the wood, he felt every inch. Where did those damn Victorians hide their secret latches? And what the hell was
she doing down there?
Hiding from Bell, no doubt. Had the son of a bitch locked her in there?
Fury and smoke nearly blinded him, but he finally found the metal latch, popped it sideways, and the door flew up, practically hitting him in the face. He reached down and scooped her into his arms, pulling her out of the opening.
“Is Judah okay?” she asked before she took her next breath.
“He is now.”
The dog instantly stopped howling, staring at them both with his tongue out, panting in relief.
Then she gasped as she realized the kitchen was burning.
“No panicking.” He hoisted her into his arms and over his shoulder, grabbing Judah’s fur. “Out! Now!”
“It’s him,” she cried. “It’s Bell. He did this.”
“I know, I know.” He hauled her out of the house through the back door, reaching the driveway just as Chief’s Suburban came screaming up the street. He parked at the bottom of the drive to leave room for the engine and pumper that were scant seconds behind.
As he put her down, Evie clung to him, crying silently as he ushered her out of the way of the action and onto the grass with Judah, getting a satisfying jolt when he saw the Vestal Valley sheriff’s deputies surrounding James Bell, already in handcuffs.
“Declan, that Bell guy—”
“Is being arrested. Did he hurt you?”
“I hid. He didn’t know I was there.” A sob escaped. “I was so scared. He started this fire.”
“Shhh.” He pulled her close, watching the crew move into action under the chief’s direction from the incident command system he and his driver had set up from the back of the SUV. “I know. I know.”
As much as he wanted to scare up some gear and get into this fight or at least back up the chief at command, he couldn’t leave her.
She inched back and finally looked at the house, horror registering again.
“It’s not bad, E,” he assured her. “Kitchen fire. They’ll have it out in a few minutes. Minor damage, I promise.”
She held on to him, both of them watching the crews in action. “Declan, I need to tell you something,” she said, reaching up to put her palms on his face to make him look at her. “It’s important.”
“What is it?”
“I was so wrong last night. I love you. I trust you. I’ll be with you through good times and bad.” She squeezed him tighter. “I cannot and will not live another moment without you in my life.”
He held her tighter, his eyes stinging from tears and smoke, the words like a balm that made them disappear. “That’s…everything, Evie.”
She pushed back, insistent. “No, no, you have to hear me, Declan. I want forever. Together. I don’t care about a job. I don’t even want to be a dean. I want to be a neurologist. And I want to be with you…and whatever family we have. Whether or not there’s a baby, I don’t care. We can adopt. We can foster kids. We can have a dozen dogs, I don’t care. I just want…my best friend.”
He squeezed her against him. “Then we want the same thing.”
“Except this house?”
“If you want to live here, we will,” he said without a second’s hesitation. “I love the place, Evie. I see everything it is and was. And I want you to be happy and where you belong.”
“No, no, no.” She shook her head, vehement. “While I was in that cellar? I had a better idea.”
“You were down there, only minutes from death, having better ideas?”
She managed a smile. “Sometimes when you’re in the worst moments of your life, you get clarity.”
He closed his eyes and dropped his forehead to hers. “And sometimes it takes twenty years and a few grandparents to give it to you.”
“Declan!” Chief Winkler called from the command post. “I need you over here!”
“Go.” Evie pushed him. “I have Judah. I’m fine. You go do what you do best, future Chief. Save this house. I have big plans for it.”
“Evie, I love you.”
She closed her eyes and whispered, “I love you, too.”
With one kiss on her forehead, he took off toward the command post.
Chapter Twenty-eight
Declan climbed out of his truck so he could go around to the passenger’s side to help Max out, scanning the many vehicles in the drive and on the street in front of his mother’s home. A full house for the major family meeting today.
As Evie got out of the back seat with Judah, she did the same. “Déjà vu all over again?” she asked with a sad smile.
“It does feel like that morning,” he said, reaching for her hand. “We just spent the night together, and the future looks bright.”
“So bright.” She squeezed his fingers. “And tonight…”
“A standing ovulation?”
She laughed. “Egg-zactly.”
He cracked up. “All right.” He tipped his head as he got to Max’s door. “Hang on to that mood, E, because this could be tough.”
Once he helped Max out, they all walked up to the two-story brick house where he grew up, not surprised when the door opened and Colleen stood there, waiting.
“Welcome, everyone.” Declan’s mother reached for him, and instantly he could tell something was different with her. For the first time in decades, Colleen Mahoney looked…relieved. Like the weight of the world was off her shoulders. He knew exactly what that felt like. He’d been feeling it for two weeks now.
“Sorry we’re a little late,” Declan said. “We all met with the construction crew.”
“Everything on schedule?” she asked.
“They said the new kitchen and downstairs bedroom will be done by Christmas,” Evie said.
“Which I have a hard time believing,” Max said, adjusting his Navy ball cap. “But I don’t care since Judah and I are comfortable at Declan’s house and happy to stay there.”
Colleen beamed at him. “Max Hewitt, your spirit is an inspiration to everyone in this town. You know people are still talking about how brave you were during the parade, riding alone like the hero you are, when the fire trucks were flying up to your house.”
“Ah, I loved the attention.” Then he leaned in to ask, “Are my girls here?”
Laughing, Colleen led them toward the back. “Yes, Max, Yiayia and Gramma Finnie are waiting for you.”
They headed into the large addition that Declan’s dad had built with his own hands, including a bar, a wall of bookshelves, and a stone fireplace where a portrait of Captain Joe Mahoney sat on the mantel.
The entire family was here to greet them, including his brothers, sister, uncle, cousins, and, of course, the grannies, who lit up at the sight of their new best friend and, if family rumors were true, drinking and card-playing buddy.
Declan greeted Deputy Jerry Hanson from the sheriff’s department, along with Chief Winkler, a woman who wore an NCSBI polo shirt and carried a clipboard, and an older man who’d taken off his ball cap and settled on a barstool who Declan immediately recognized as the arson investigator who’d helped him.
“Kirby Lewis,” Declan said, greeting him with a handshake, then introduced Evie and Max.
After a moment, everyone settled to let Sharon Baker, who represented the North Carolina State Bureau of Investigation, walk them through the new report, which confirmed that the first fire at Gloriana House had indeed started because linseed oil-soaked rags combusted in the heat.
In addition, she confirmed that the second fire, two weeks ago, had started because an oil lamp in the kitchen had been tampered with by James Bell, who had taken them apart looking for his lighter.
After answering their fire-related questions, Deputy Hanson took over to fill them in on the suspect, a former volunteer firefighter who’d confessed to attempting to start a fire at Gloriana House twenty years earlier on August 28. He’d failed in that effort, but only because the rags combusted on the other side of the wall that he’d squirted with lighter fluid, starting a fire that trapped him in the sunroom. He also ad
mitted he’d taken the lid off the container of paint rags because he’d planned to use it to fan the flames, so Evie’s mother hadn’t done anything wrong. However, the chemical’s exposure to the heat had started the fire.
From the best they could tell by Bell’s memory, Joe Mahoney and his partner had been momentarily separated as they’d begun to enter the sunroom. Joe had spotted Bell inside and had to make a split-second decision to try to save him. He did, getting Bell out just before the porch collapsed and the flames made their way to the second floor, even touching the attic.
“How did Bell get away that night?” Evie asked.
“He knew enough about the controlled chaos of firefighting,” the deputy said. “He blended in and disappeared, but lost his lighter in the process.”
“And lived for twenty years with no price to pay,” Declan murmured, holding Evie’s hand, but turning to Max. “Until this man provided us with the missing piece of evidence. Without that, we could never have proved his role in the fire.”
“You were the one that made me think of it, son,” Max replied with a denture-filled smile.
“Bell didn’t escape unscathed in those twenty years, though,” Deputy Hanson said as he glanced at his notes. “He’s been treated multiple times for depression and has attempted suicide on more than one occasion. His lawyer will no doubt plead insanity for this last fire, especially if the DA levels homicide charges for the first fire, which is possible, but don’t worry, he won’t walk.”
“He better not,” Kirby Lewis said, crossing his arms and leaning back on the barstool, his gaze on Declan. “Because I wouldn’t be surprised if he started a few other fires in the ensuing years.”
“He doesn’t seem to have the profile of an arsonist,” the sheriff said. “But he was on the scene for two fires at the same place, claiming both were accidents. He did spray the lighter fluid in an attempt at arson, we know that. And the rags combusted outside, and he got stuck.”
Kirby nodded. “That finally makes sense of everything I saw.”
“We also know he managed to gain entry to Gloriana House on two different occasions, one during a historical event, but he couldn’t get to the lighters. Also, he tried again by convincing Penelope Hewitt that he was an electrician. Mr. Hewitt confirmed the incident,” Deputy Hanson added. “His goal was always to find the lighter that could pin the fire on him.”
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