by Rachel Lee
So a combination of factors at the Buell house? A back draft situation in the walls that the arsonist didn’t fully understand, one that maybe hadn’t worked as planned? Then a flashover in the attic because a volatile mixture of accelerant and air were ignited? And anything could have ignited it, even the heat building in the walls with the back draft.
Crazy. Amazing. Shouldn’t even be possible. But clearly it had been. But the more she thought about it, the less likely she believed the outcome had been planned. It had been an accident of structure, chemicals and heat all coming together in an explosive instant.
Nobody could have planned it that way.
But somebody could have believed they knew more about fire than they did. Someone could have thought events would play out very differently. That the Buells would have had more time. Or maybe that the fire had failed completely.
She finished her writing, but wanted to wait a bit before sending her report, to read it over once more. Besides, since talking to Edna, she was wondering. Wondering if Edna’s complaints had driven her husband to try to torch the place, the only possible way out.
And Wayne was worrying about those open stall doors.
All of a sudden her perspective shifted, and she realized it was possible that Fred Buell had done the whole thing, not realizing how fast the house would burn, opening stall doors in the hopes animals would escape.
Her heart quickened. Talking with Edna had given her the first real intimation of a motive for Fred to do this. Inexperienced with fire, it all might have escaped him. He could have set the fires without guessing the attic would flash over. He could have opened the barn so the animals would escape, but maybe that had burned too fast as well, and cost him some livestock. Had anybody actually asked how many animals he had stabled versus how many had died?
Of course not. It was all so freaking clear that Fred wouldn’t do this to himself or his family.
Feeling sickened by the turn of her own thoughts, she tried to rein them in. Reminding herself that she wasn’t supposed to solve this, but merely to find evidence of fraud, and she had no evidence of fraud. None. Nothing but an ugly, niggling suspicion. God, she was going to have to run through this all again. And how did it tie to the attempts against her? Something wasn’t right.
She still had time to think; no decision had to be made today. Since it was Friday, it wouldn’t slow down the payment any. Just as she was closing her computer, one of the guys spoke.
“So are you coming to train with us on Monday?”
With a start she realized the movie had ended. “I think I will,” she said. “Not much, I don’t want to get in the way, but it’d be fun to suit up again.”
All the guys seemed to think that was great. Then one asked her, “You ever seen a real back draft?”
“Yeah, once.”
Of course they all wanted to hear about it, and about how it had been handled. “You need to go high,” she said. “As high as you can to let the heat and smoke escape upward. We took off the roof and worked our way down.”
“Wow,” said Jeff. “People forget that smoke burns.”
“Yeah, they do,” she agreed. “It’s funny in a way.”
“How so?”
“Well, I deal with arsonists. Most of them can’t make a big fire for anything. They don’t understand it. But then people forget what can really burn, including smoke, soot and carbon monoxide.”
As soon as she spoke the words, something inside her stilled. Carbon monoxide burned.
Just then Wayne appeared. “Charity? The sheriff wants to finish his report. Can you spare a few?”
“Sure.” She hopped up, grabbing her computer and her jacket. “See you guys,” she said.
“Like Monday?” Hal asked, and laughed.
“For sure Monday,” she agreed, laughing back.
She climbed into Wayne’s car once again even though the sheriff’s office wasn’t far away.
“You don’t look so good,” he remarked.
“Carbon monoxide burns.”
“Of course.” Then he hit the brake as they were backing out of the bay. He looked at her. “My God.”
“Exactly. Let’s go. I don’t want anyone wondering what’s going on out here.”
He finished backing out and headed toward the sheriff’s office at the center of the town. “Immediate explosion,” he muttered.
“If it got dense enough. Admittedly, the likelihood is probably slim, but there were ignition sources in that house. I just question whether it would have been enough.”
“Thank God we’ll never know. Still, any way you look at it, you were sitting there in an extremely volatile mixture.”
“Well, it just struck me, but it’s probably too far out there. Nobody would plan to start a fire that way. The likelihood of success is too slim.”
“But it fits with our semicapable arsonist.”
She almost snickered. “That’s a good description. I was thinking about what we know about the Buell fire again, and I can’t imagine that was planned to happen the way it played out.”
“I’m having trouble with that, too. But FYI, when you were in the back working, I managed to get hold of Fred Buell. The all-important question was answered. The walls were originally stuffed with newspaper, as far as he knows.”
“Which would have settled and become less flammable as a result.”
“Which would have created a smoldering burn in the presence of an accelerant.”
She sighed. “So we’ve got our method. Now we just need our man.” And Fred Buell was once again on her list.
* * *
The sheriff wanted to know if they’d learned anything else that might lead him to the arsonist. They huddled together in his office with the door closed, and at last Wayne explained about the open stalls and showed him the map.
Gage shook his head. “Doesn’t make sense.”
“Unless the arsonist was hoping the animals found a way out of the barn.”
“Like people, animals don’t always think clearly when they’re terrified. From what you said that fire happened fast. So what the hell does it mean?”
“I wish I could read minds,” Wayne answered. “For a little while I feared it meant that Fred had left the barn open for the animals to escape, but after talking to his wife...no way. In the first place, he could have just taken the animals out of the barn for the night. In the second, he was in bed with his wife when the alarms went off, and I don’t think he’s the kind of man who would have risked his family that way, or burned his livestock alive.”
“I don’t, either,” Gage agreed. “Not unless his mind snapped more than I can believe possible. And if it had, I think we’d be seeing some signs of it even now.”
Charity remained silent, keeping her questions to herself. As quickly as Gage Dalton had come to Fred Buell’s defense, she figured that raising questions about him would get her exactly nowhere. It was the kind of thing a person in her position had to avoid: stepping on the toes of the officials involved.
Gage looked at her. “Are you about ready to close up shop?”
She shook her head. “I need a few more details and then I promised to drill with the crew on Monday.”
Gage half smiled. “Glutton for punishment?” he asked.
“Maybe just missing something I used to enjoy.”
He nodded understanding. “Oh, the state investigator ought to be out here on Tuesday. About time. Maybe we’ll get some answers for everyone.”
Charity doubted it. While she was sure the state investigator had a lot more experience than she did, she’d also seen the scene and knew how little was left.
Unless something turned up fast, she was going to be ordering the check for the Buells early next week.
Because there were alw
ays questions left, unless you caught the perp. And that was rare enough.
* * *
Wayne had the weekend off. He finished up at four in the afternoon, and he and Charity headed back to his house. He was trying to think of something fun the two of them could do that evening. Kind of a date, he supposed.
But in all honesty he wasn’t sure she was in the mood. She’d been looking troubled since before they went to see Gage, and he wondered what was bugging her. It wasn’t written all over her or anything. Little was. But she was quieter and graver than he was used to. As if she’d doubled down on her poker face.
Well, he was a little troubled himself. That map of the barn was burning a hole in his clipboard and the back of his brain.
Sighing silently, he pushed all thoughts of a fun evening away. He suspected the two of them were going to be working.
Even as he had the thought, however, it struck him that in all the years he’d been doing this job, he’d never been able to bring it home with him. Lisa hadn’t wanted to hear about it. Linda had to be protected from most of it. So he’d had no one to share his preoccupations with. It was different with Charity, and he kind of liked it. If something was bugging him, he didn’t have to leave it at the station.
On the other hand, tonight he would have liked nothing more than to light some candles, share an intimate light meal, then make love to the woman beside him until she was moaning helplessly with delight.
It was like being a teenager all over again, he thought with amusement at himself. All these years spent growing older and, he hoped, a little wiser, yet here he was feeling like a kid on a first date wondering if he could get to first base. And no cautions about how short a time they’d known each other were going to help. He’d known Lisa nearly the whole time they were growing up. There’d been almost nothing he didn’t know about her...until the day she’d dumped him.
So much for lengthy courtships. You could hardly do any worse by falling in love at first sight.
If Charity wasn’t right there, he might have laughed out loud. Love? Nowhere near, he assured himself. Desire... Oh, yeah. Plenty of that around.
Once they were inside, she wanted to go shower. He sent her on her way while considering the problem of dinner. He had to feed her something, and he wasn’t going to run the risk of taking her to Maude’s again, because she was right. Everybody was already probably talking. Bound to be. Something new and different in this town gained everyone’s attention.
A while later, while he was still pondering his own emotional state, he heard the familiar sound of his car engine pull up and soon Lindy bounded through the door, schoolbooks in one arm, backpack over her shoulder.
“Hey, Dad,” she said, and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Where’s Charity?”
“Taking a shower. We were out at the scene again today.”
“Filthy stuff, fire,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “I told you I’m going to Mo’s tonight, right?”
“Yeah, you did.”
“So I’ll just go pack.” Then she paused. “You guys can manage dinner?”
Wayne feigned offense. “Do I look helpless?”
She gave him a sidelong look. “Considering some of the meals I had to eat after Mom left...”
“You little...”
“You love me,” she interrupted brightly. “There’s one of those frozen Italian meals in the freezer for emergencies. And a loaf of frozen garlic bread. Add a little Parmesan and it’s a gourmet meal.”
He scowled.
She laughed again. “Okay, I’m outta here. Just gotta grab a change of clothes.”
Just then, Charity emerged from the hall bath with her head wrapped in a towel, and her body wrapped in a green terrycloth robe. She saw Linda and her face brightened immediately. “I thought I’d missed you!”
“No such luck,” Linda answered cheerfully. “I was just giving Dad dinner instructions.”
Wayne rolled his eyes. “You’d never guess I made it thirty-six years without much help.”
Linda retorted. “You’d never guess how much he learned the hard way after Mom left.”
He didn’t appreciate hearing Charity’s giggle.
“Anyway,” Linda continued breezily, “I just need to grab some clothes and I’ll be out of your hair.”
“Great,” he said, sounding to his own ears like a sullen teenager.
Linda glanced at him. “Sorry, did I embarrass you?” Then she rushed on before he could answer, “I won’t be back in the morning because tomorrow is senior picnic, so a bunch of us are going to be making potato salad to take, and maybe some rolls, and...” She hesitated. “Dad?”
He softened. “What?”
“The girls were thinking about staying at Dineen’s house after the picnic tomorrow. Will that upset you?”
“You mean I won’t see you again until Sunday?”
Linda nodded.
He sighed. “I’m getting used to it. Go. Have fun. Stay out of trouble.”
“Jeremy makes sure of that,” she answered, wrinkling her nose. “That’s the problem with having a dad who’s the sheriff.”
“Or a dad who’s a fire chief,” Wayne replied, unable to keep a tremor of amusement from his voice.
“Like living under a microscope,” Linda said, then darted toward her bedroom.
He saw Charity look after her before coming farther into the living room. “Handful,” she said.
“Slightly.” He smiled. “Well, that leaves the two of us. I thought I’d make dinner, with or without Lindy’s instructions, unless you want to go to the diner.”
She gave a slight shake of her head. “I’ll help make dinner here, if that’s okay. But first I need to dress.”
The words were out almost before he knew it, quiet and a bit husky. “No. You don’t.”
He watched with pleasure as her cheeks flamed. She looked down then met his gaze again, and he saw a smile fluttering around the edges of her mouth. “I guess I don’t.”
Passion slammed him like a freight train with the worst possible timing, since Lindy came down the hall again, carrying a tote and a backpack. “Behave, you two,” she said as she reached the front door. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” Her laughter trailed her out the door.
Wayne stared at the closed door. “Should I worry about that?”
Charity giggled again. “I don’t know. No experience here.”
“There are quite a few things a father would rather not know.” He returned his attention to her.
Her smile remained. “I’m sure. Don’t worry, she’ll tell you all about it when she’s thirty.”
“I can hardly wait. Are you hungry?”
“Starved.”
He held out his hand. “Then, let’s go rustle up something.”
The feeling of her delicate hand resting within his much bigger one tugged at him. He hadn’t held hands with anyone since his wife, and come to think of it, they’d stopped holding hands years before she left.
Only now did he realize how much he missed that friendly, caring contact. Maybe Lindy was right to warn him. Charity would leave. The question was what she would leave behind.
Then he decided he damned well didn’t care. Whatever life might be gifting him with this weekend, he needed it. He wanted it. To hell with the aftermath.
He could have just taken Lindy’s advice, but he didn’t want to unless he couldn’t figure out something else. Seemed kind of cheesy to pull a frozen dinner, even a good one, out of the freezer. He was being a bit silly and knew it. This wasn’t a date or anything, so why try to impress her? But for some reason he wanted to prove he was good for something besides his job.
Together he and Charity scoured the cupboards and the fridge. Sometimes when she moved he caught a glimpse of the
curve of her breast when her robe gaped a little, but she seemed either not to mind or to be oblivious to it. He enjoyed the view either way.
“I think I need to go grocery shopping tomorrow,” he remarked when they’d taken inventory. “The larder’s looking bare.”
“You should see mine. Cans of soup, a few things in the freezer and if I buy any fruit or veggies they’d better get eaten immediately.”
“You really are home that rarely?”
“Yeah. And I never know how long I’ll be there when I am.”
He leaned back against the counter, looking at her. “I’m asking seriously here. Are you happy with that?”
She hesitated, and for the first time he saw her bite her lip. Unidentifiable feelings danced across her face only to vanish before he could read them. “I don’t know anymore,” she admitted at last. “I just accepted it. Now... It sounds awful, doesn’t it?”
“Not if it makes you happy.” Hard to say, but true.
She looked down. “I don’t think it does anymore. I’ve been blaming the boyfriends, but now...I blame me.”
“I don’t think there’s any blame,” he said quietly. “You are who you are.”
“But is it really me?” Her tone conveyed a surprising anguish, and he came closer. She sat at the small kitchen table and folded her arms in front of her.
“Are you okay?”
“No,” she admitted.
He squeezed her shoulder, deciding the safest thing was to sit across from her. She needed some space to talk right now, and he didn’t want to do anything that might silence her. But all this time he’d been looking at her as a bright butterfly who was flitting through his life, he’d never really considered that she might not be a butterfly at all. Not even after what she had told him last night. He figured she’d take that new understanding home with her, but he had no way of knowing what she might do with it. Would she change? Would she be able to? He didn’t figure he’d ever know.
“Since coming here,” she said quietly, “I’ve been facing a lot of things I’ve been missing. Like hanging out at the firehouse with good people. Then I see you and Linda and I know what else I’m missing. I’m so busy running I never stop long enough to build anything. Maybe I can’t put down roots. But now I know what I’m missing.”
