Through the Fire

by Diane Noble

  She smiled at him. “Deputy, I just want to talk with Jed, see if he needs anything, let him know the people of Faith Briar are praying for him.”

  Two red eyebrows shot heavenward. “You’re from the church he burned down?”

  She nodded.

  He shook his head slowly, his expression full of admiration. “And you came here to talk with him?”

  “Yes.”

  “About praying for him?”

  “Well, partially, yes, that’s why.”

  The kid let out a slow whistle. “Well, now, I can’t find any fault with that. I don’t imagine the sheriff would either. My own grandma and grandpa are members there.” He gave her a closer look. “What did you say your name is?”

  “Kate Hanlon.”

  “You must be the new minister’s wife. I heard my folks talking about how strange it was that the church burned to the ground on the day the Hanlons arrived.” He picked up the phone on his desk, mumbled a few words, then tilted his head toward the double doors across the hall. “Wait there. Someone will be out shortly to take you to see Brawley.”

  JED BRAWLEY DIDN’T LOOK UP as she approached the second cell in the two-cell jail. He just sat as still as an iron-clad statue on the edge of a metal cot, his head in his hands.

  “What do you want?” he mumbled.

  “I just wanted to see if you’re all right.”

  With that, he lifted his head and gave her a short, bitter laugh. “All right?” He laughed again. It was a haunting sound.

  “Why did you do it?” She could have kicked herself for asking. It hadn’t been her intention. But now it was too late. And as Paul liked to say, you can’t un-ring a bell.

  Jed didn’t seem to mind the question. He shrugged and dropped his head again. “Sometimes fire attracts those who deserve God’s wrath. I am one of those.”

  “But why?” She stepped closer. “Why Faith Briar Church?”

  He looked up, frowning. “The flames, the heat, the rush of knowing that punishment follows for the wicked.”

  She took another step closer to the iron-barred barrier between them. “Did something happen at the church to make you so bitter? Is that why you felt you needed to punish...” She hesitated. She was treading on dangerous ground, entering the territory someone better trained in psychology should handle. But something drove her to complete the thought. “...to punish God?”

  He stared at her without blinking and then laughed. A soft, eerie laugh that rocked his shoulders. “Punish God? Oh no. It’s me who’s in need of punishment, don’t you see? The flames, the heat, the punishment of the wicked that follows—it all lands on my shoulders, for I am the wicked one.” His words were stilted, as if he had said them to himself so many times, they were memorized.

  She could ask again why he did it, but it seemed they were already playing round-robin. He had confessed to the crime, and that was that. She would leave the rest to the experts. She went back to the real reason for her visit.

  “I’m sorry I questioned you,” she said. “That really wasn’t my intent. I actually came to see if you need anything. Can I contact your relatives, friends, or anyone to let them know where you are?”

  The haunted look in his eyes returned. “There is no one,” he said. “No one at all.”

  “Has anyone spoken to you about legal counsel?”

  His mouth twisted into a sneer. “Haven’t you been listening? I felt the heat of the flames, and in them I saw the faces of death. I’ve confessed to the crime. I need no counsel. I’m guilty as charged.” He moved closer, his presence menacing. “You’re not needed or wanted. Now get out.”

  Kate blinked in surprise at the sudden aggression. “I’ll be back,” she said softly. “And I want you to know I’m praying for you.”

  He stared at her, his face ragged and weary. “Don’t,” he said, this time his voice was void of bitterness. “I’m not worth your time or effort.” He turned his back on her.

  She headed back to the door at the end of the corridor, already planning her next step: a visit to the site where the church once stood. Something about Jed’s confession bothered her, and she wanted to find out what it was. Taking a look at the evidence proving the fire was arson was a logical place to start.

  RENEE’S PINK VEHICLE was still parked in the lot beside the town hall, but she was a short distance away letting Kisses raise his leg on a patch of grass. “Ahh, there you are,” she said as Kate approached.

  “I don’t want to keep you any longer from whatever you have planned for the day,” she said to Renee. “I’ve got other errands to run, then I’ll catch Paul at the Country Diner. He can drive me home.”

  “No reason I can’t go with you,” Renee said, heading to the car. “The only appointments I have today are a manicure and pedicure at noon and a facial at three.”

  Kate gave her a tight smile. “No, really, I’m fine. Honestly, I don’t want to take up any more of your time.”

  Renee’s eyes looked made of steel, and there was a determined set to her jaw. She brushed an errant bleached-blond strand of hair away from her face. “Then at least let me take you by the diner to make sure the pastor is there. I would feel terrible to know you didn’t have a way home.”

  The woman was tenacious. And caring, Kate had to admit.

  She sighed. “All right, then. The diner it is.” She would wait until she had the car to visit the site of the burned church. Kate settled into the backseat of the Oldsmobile and fastened her seat belt.

  Renee looked at her through the rearview mirror. “I bet the sheriff is nosing around the church. If he’s up to snuff, he oughtta be. How about if we take a little detour on our way to the diner and have a look-see?”

  Kate stifled a groan. “Hmm. That would be interesting,” she said.

  “You bet,” Renee said happily as she backed the Sub-Zero out of the parking slot. “It’ll be the first step in my personal investigation.”

  THE SITE MOVED KATE to tears. Even Renee seemed speechless. There, spread out before them, lay a heap of ashes. The stench of wet debris filled their nostrils. Renee let go of the steering wheel with one hand, waved her fingers in front of her nose, then dove into her designer pocketbook for a handkerchief.

  Off to one side, the sheriff was stooped over, fingering through what looked like a handful of ashes. He stood in what might have been part of the sanctuary, with a partially crumbling brick wall on one side, the blackened hull of the church bell on the other, and the soggy, charred remnants of the once-proud steeple lying in repose behind him.

  Kate sniffed, her heart aching for the people of Faith Briar. Renee aimed the big car to the side of the road, slowed, and set the emergency brake. Before Kate could unlatch her seat belt, the older woman had gathered Kisses in her arms and leaped from the car.

  By the time Kate exited, Renee was marching, chin jutting, toward the sheriff. When he looked up, his expression was glum, and Kate guessed it wasn’t just because of the task he was performing. His icy stare and clenched jaw said Renee Lambert was the last person in the world he wanted to see.

  “Sheriff Roberts! What luck that you’re here!”

  Kate could almost hear him groan. She knew the feeling.

  “Renee,” he said with a nod, his voice businesslike.

  “What have you found? Anything to link the perp to the crime? Keep him in the slammer?”

  “Perp?”

  She nodded. “That’s what I said, the perp.”

  He glanced at Kate as Renee approached. For a split second, it seemed his quick cough covered a laugh. “Perp,” he finally said. “Hunh.” Then he turned back to the sample of soil and soot he was sifting.

  “Well?” Renee said.

  Sheriff Roberts didn’t answer.

  “We should be going,” Kate said to Renee. “Let’s leave the sheriff to his work.”

  Renee ignored her. “I leave you with one word,” she said, stepping closer to the sheriff, “and it’s one I expect you not to forget
.”

  He looked up with a sigh. “What’s that, Renee?”

  “Justice.”

  He stood, brushing off his hands and frowning. “What?”

  “You heard me. Justice! We can’t let this perp beat this rap.” With that pronouncement, she spun and, chin once again jutting, marched back to the car.

  Sheriff Roberts caught Kate’s eye and, shoulders shaking with silent laughter, reached for his handkerchief and blew his nose with gusto. “You ever hear about the time my deputy arrested Renee Lambert for petty theft?”

  Kate shook her head.

  “It seems she was adjusting Joe Tucker’s handkerchief, and Skip thought she was trying to pick the old man’s pocket. Happened last summer at the Fourth of July parade. I’d told him to be on the lookout for pickpockets, and he got a tad overzealous.” This time the sheriff chuckled out loud. “The kid has the right intentions, but he’s a thorn in my side at times. I keep having to bump him back to a desk job. Then there’s poor Renee. She never got over it.”

  He gave Kate a closer look. “You’re the new pastor’s wife, aren’t you?”

  She stuck out her hand. “I’m afraid we haven’t been introduced properly, but yes, I am. My name’s Kate Hanlon.”

  “Nice to meet you, Miz Hanlon. I’m sorry for what happened to your church. But I think we got our perp, as Renee calls him. He confessed to the crime, and all the evidence points that direction.”

  “It looks like you’re still investigating.”

  “Most of the evidence adds up, but some doesn’t. Skip said he spotted evidence of arson the day of the fire, but I’m not finding it.”

  Kate knelt to pick up a handful of muddy ashes. She carefully rubbed the clump between her thumb and fingers. On closer examination, she could see tiny shards of red glass mixed with the gray black mud. “This must have been near the altar.”

  Sheriff Roberts knelt beside her. “What did you find?”

  “Remnants of candles. The holders, not the candles, obviously.”

  “Near as I can tell, the fire seemed to have started here—at least it was the early source of the flames.”

  “What doesn’t add up?”

  He gave her a sharp look, and she knew she’d asked a question he wouldn’t—or couldn’t—answer. “We’re still investigating,” he said.

  “You said the source of the fire was here by the altar.”

  He nodded.

  “Interesting,” she said, narrowing her eyes in thought. “If someone were trying to set a church on fire, wouldn’t there be more than one source? I would think it would be easier to get away if the fire was set on the outside.”

  He studied her for a moment. “Not necessarily. Too easily spotted. If it’s a raging fire you want, you set it inside, then run. Then nobody knows until it’s too late.” The sheriff turned back to sifting ashes. “Whatever Skip said he found is now covered by a ton of mud,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I told him to take a photograph, but did he listen? Nosiree. Now I’ve gotta just keep digging.”

  Behind them Renee tooted the horn in the pink Oldsmobile. Kate thanked the sheriff for his time and hurried toward the vehicle.

  A few minutes later, Renee aimed the car into a U-turn and stopped in front of the library, another two-story brick building, though it was somewhat smaller than the town hall. They looked to have been built around the same time, and possibly designed by the same architect. The only difference was dark green trim instead of ivory.

  “I’ll wait in case you need a ride,” she said with a look on her face that said there would be no arguing.

  LIVVY JENNER WAS STANDING behind a large horseshoe-shaped counter at the library entrance. She looked up with a smile as Kate approached. Behind the counter was a door with Livvy’s name on it and the title “Head Librarian” underneath her name.

  A few people were reading at nearby tables, and Kate could see a teenager replacing books in the stacks to the right of the counter.

  They exchanged greetings, then Kate asked if Livvy had found out anything about the arsonist.

  Livvy nodded. “I think I’ve got a lead, some puzzling stuff.” She glanced at the clock behind the desk. “I can’t get away today, but how about if we meet for lunch at the diner tomorrow? I should know more by then and can tell you what I’ve found out.”

  Outside, Renee honked the car horn, and inside, Kate sighed. Livvy gave her an understanding smile. “Tomorrow, then,” Kate said with a wave and a chuckle as she headed to the door.

  “I’VE DECIDED WHERE THE BELL needs to go,” Renee said once Kate had fastened her seat belt.

  “Where?”

  “It just came to me. It needs to be where everyone can see it on a regular basis. It will keep our hopes up through this crisis.”

  “That’s a good idea.” Kate considered places in town that could house a bell that big. Nothing came to her. “Where?” she asked again.

  Renee aimed the vehicle onto the road and, still moving forward, looked over her shoulder at Kate. “Your backyard.”

  “My backyard?”

  “Where else?”

  “I don’t know how something that big and heav—”

  Renee swerved to miss an oncoming car. “That’s the easy part. But we’ll need to find a crane.”

  “Our house?” Kate said again. “You’re sure?”

  But Renee had turned back around and was happily humming a Christmas song about bells.

  Chapter Six

  Kate met Livvy outside the diner the next day at noon. As soon as they stepped inside, they were greeted by the scent of apple pies baking, coffee brewing, and hamburgers sizzling. Nearly all the tables and booths were filled, but Kate followed Livvy to an empty spot in the corner by a blue-gingham-curtained window.

  People called out greetings, and Livvy took Kate by a few tables to make introductions. Then she stopped at the booth next to where they were about to be seated.

  Three men looked up and smiled. One wore a clerical collar.

  “Let me introduce Pete MacKenzie, pastor of Copper Mill Presbyterian; Bobby Evans, pastor of the First Baptist, and Lucas Gregory, rector at St.Lucy’s Episcopal.” The latter was the one with the collar.

  “Some refer to this table as the holy of holies,” Bobby laughed. “Tell your husband he’s got an open invitation to join us. We try to meet weekly but can’t always get away from our flocks. We can promise him, though, that when we do meet, we have some pretty lively discussions.”

  “But all in brotherly love,” Father Lucas said.

  Pastor Pete grinned. “Maybe your husband can straighten out these two on their stubborn theological views.”

  The others laughed. “You wish.”

  As soon as Kate and Livvy were seated, LuAnne Matthews bustled over with two empty mugs and a pot of coffee. “Leaded or unleaded?” She was dressed in a polyester dress with a no-nonsense white apron. She looked like she’d stepped right out of the 1950s, even down to the jeweled-eyeglass chain that draped around her neck. She had a ready laugh, short red hair that looked like it came out of a bottle, and a round face with a smattering of freckles.

  Kate laughed. “Looks like you brought the right pot. Leaded, please.”

  “How you holdin’ up, darlin’?” she asked as she poured coffee in both cups.

  “We’ve barely begun unpacking, if that’s what you mean.”

  LuAnne smiled. “No, actually I meant about landin’ here in the middle of nowhere with the church you came to serve burned to the ground.” She glanced heavenward and sighed. “This town needs all the heavenly help it can get. And the two of you do too,” she said. “And I’m not just talkin’ about taking your dishes outta boxes and lining your shelves with contact paper. It can’t be easy pullin’ up roots and starting over...then to have something like this happen...” She tsk-tsked as she headed to the cash register, where two customers were waiting to pay their bill.

  “Now,” Livvy said, leaning closer. “About the arsonist.
..I’ve been wracking my brain, trying to make a connection, but it’s eluding me. I may be putting two and two together and coming up with three...”

  “What do you have?”

  “As I said, there may not be any connection, but I found two photos of a man named J.B. Packer who was a star athlete and valedictorian of his senior class at Copper Mill High. The guy was good looking and popular, featured in the local paper during the three years he played varsity football, then again when he was elected student body president his senior year. He was also crowned homecoming king that same fall.”

  “And you think he’s connected to Jed Brawley?”

  “I admit it’s a stretch. But so many people thought they’d seen Brawley before, I tried the Chronicle archives. It didn’t go anywhere, so I went to the school newspaper archives. They don’t have many back issues converted to electronic files yet, so again, I ended up with nothing.”

  She leaned across the table. “Then I remembered my kids talking about the popularity of Web sites like schoolmates.com where former classmates find one another and announce homecomings, reunions, that sort of thing. This particular site posts photographs from yearbooks going back to the dark ages. I thought I just might recognize him.” She shrugged. “Again, nothing turned up.”

  She paused for a sip of coffee. “Next I scanned the messages posted from former students through the years. Because it’s a small school, there weren’t too many. The heading, ‘Where are they now?’ caught my attention. Some girl who had a crush on J.B. in high school was trying to find him. She went on and on about this good-looking kid, his accomplishments, also about the fact that he married his high-school sweetheart and left town the summer after graduation and was never heard from again.

  “I then did a search for the initials, J.B., and that’s when the Chronicle archives pulled up the information. The kid looks pretty ragged and worn in those game shots. And I still don’t know if he could be Jed Brawley. It’s a shot in the dark.”

  She reached into her handbag and pulled out two pieces of paper. She unfolded each and laid them side by side on the table between them. “See what you think.”