Too ashamed to throw her food away in front of the kids, Emily wrapped up her sandwich and fries and then went to the counter for a sack. After she bagged her lunch, she slipped a couple of twenties from her purse. With the bag in one hand and the soda in the other and her purse strapped over her shoulder, she fumbled her way to the entrance, dropping the money near the small family’s table.
“Hey, lady!” The oldest boy called to her.
Emily quickened her steps.
“Hey! You dropped your money!” He picked up the twenties and headed toward her.
She rushed to her car and locked herself in. As she drove away, she saw him standing at the door waving her money at her.
Forty bucks wasn’t much. If Millie had been there, she could’ve arranged for a lot more. Emily could’ve done the same, but somehow, being dressed as Millie—a harmless eccentric—gave her an inroad that Emily couldn’t achieve as herself. Millie could say and do anything; Emily couldn’t. She missed Millie.
She rounded the corner toward home. A violent roil of smoke billowed over the historical district, and Emily’s heart cramped.
Not again. She couldn’t let this go on. She pulled into her parking place behind The Litter Box, and called 9-1-1 on her cell. With her phone to her ear, she climbed from the car and strode around to the front of the building.
There, not fifty feet from her, was the same young man in a gray hoodie she’d seen leaving other fires. Leaving her own house. He casually strode opposite her direction, but she recognized his walk, the way he kept his hands in the pockets and his head down.
She had no choice but to turn him in.
Once she made her report, she watched the smoke from the fire, which was about three blocks away.
Behind her, tires squealed to a stop, and she glanced over her shoulder.
Scott emerged from his truck, making her heart leap to her throat. But it soon plummeted when she saw the look on his face. Whatever emotion was reflected there seemed stronger than she felt ready to face. She wrapped her arms around her midsection, a protective shield from whatever darts he planned to shoot.
As he closed the distance between them, she realized the emotion radiating from him was worry. For a moment, she held a glimmer of hope he’d been worried about her. She turned to fully face him. “Hello, Scott.”
He stopped a few feet away, nodded at her, and rocked on his heels.
He seemed so distraught, her arms ached to enfold him. But he’d yet to look her in the eye, and his distance kept her anchored where she stood. She switched to business mode—cool, aloof, professional. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“I need to know...” He cleared his throat and tried again, this time looking at her. “Roger said you know who's been setting all these fires. Can you tell me who it is?”
She studied him for a moment. Why did he want to know? If she was wrong, she’d be smearing a young man’s reputation. But she’d kept so much from Scott, and because she had, they now stood opposite each other like total strangers. She bit back a sigh. Whatever his reason, he seemed to need her answer. “I think it’s a kid named Spencer. Spencer Milligan.”
He grimaced. “Are you sure it’s him?”
“Reasonably sure. I thought I recognized him at my house the other night, but I wasn’t certain.” She rubbed her hands up and down her arms and stared at a crack in the sidewalk. “I wanted to be positive, so I dressed as Millie—that day you found me in costume—and walked to Chapman’s where I’d seen him before. He was there. It was him.”
“But Roger said you weren’t sure.”
“I was sure he was the guy I’d seen at my house, but not that he was the one I’d seen walking away from the fires. Now I am. I just saw him again.”
“You did?” He looked up and down the street, but Spencer had already turned a corner. Scott shot out a breath from between his cheeks. “Did you do anything about it? Have you told the authorities?”
“Yes, just a few moments ago.”
He strode back to the truck without a backward glance. His pained look before he’d turned tore at her, and a cloud of guilt engulfed her. Though she didn’t know how, she’d hurt him. Again.
****
“Scott and Parker are friends, and he feels close to Spencer,” Lauren explained. “He coached him all the way through Little League and kept up with his junior varsity baseball.”
Poor Lauren. Every time Emily called, she had to listen to a new tale of woe. But Emily didn’t know where else to turn. “Maybe I shouldn’t have turned Spencer in.”
“No. You had to do what was right. And if you’re sure—”
“I am sure. I hate it, but I’m positive the boy I’ve been seeing at all these fires is Spencer.”
“Then you have nothing to worry about. Scott will come around.”
Emily sighed. “I know you’re busy. I’d better let you go tend to your sister. Thanks for being a sounding board.”
“Not a sounding board,” she said. “A friend.”
“The best.” Emily disconnected and rested her phone against her chin.
So far, Scott hadn’t shown any sign of “coming around,” and after shoving his friend’s son into the hands of the authorities, she didn’t expect things to get better.
Being the one to turn Spencer in twisted her stomach. He’d seemed like a good kid when she’d met him at the store, and she certainly liked his father. Parker had been quick to settle her claim about the windows.
The ones his son broke.
Seeing Parker in the future would give “awkward” a new meaning, especially if she was called to court as an eyewitness against his son. She clenched her lips. Once again, she’d managed to get herself into a mess. She’d hurt both Scott and Parker. She couldn’t apologize to Scott because he wasn’t speaking to her, and she couldn’t apologize to Parker, because no apology could cover the pain he must be feeling.
She placed the phone on the coffee table, rose from the sofa, then wandered to the kitchen window where she could see billowing smoke tinted with the gold and red of the fire beneath. What would cause a boy to start fires? What sickness devoured him? Did Parker know, or would this take him by surprise?
Anguish smothered her. So much pain all around her—not the least of which was scorched into the hearts of the homeowners whose house this latest fire consumed. She’d have to add them to the list of fund recipients from the charity auction. A fundraiser might help them, but who would help Parker? Spencer? She had to do something.
She twisted away from the window, picked up the cordless, and placed another call to Connor at home.
He listened to her plan. “You’re going to get penalized for early withdrawal, you know.”
“I know.”
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Absolutely.”
34
The vending machine at the Dogwood Police Station spit out a second soda. Scott handed it to Parker and then lowered himself to a cushioned vinyl bench next to his friend and popped the top of his own can.
The grueling afternoon had ended with Spencer being arrested on several counts of arson. Even now, he was being detained in the juvenile center.
The boy’s mother had left earlier, weeping against her live-in’s shoulder whenever she wasn’t shooting daggers at Parker. It was obvious whom she blamed for Spencer’s situation.
Parker hunched forward, forearms on thighs, and rolled the soda can between his hands. “I don’t know what happened to the boy I raised. He was a good kid.”
“He still is. Somewhere beneath that tough-guy façade, he’s still a good kid. He’s just got a lot of anger.”
“That he does. It’s been building for six years—ever since the divorce.” Parker blew out a breath. “Parents splitting up is hard on a kid, I know, but they adjust. Don’t they? Don’t they usually adjust? I mean, think about it. All those kids from broken homes—they don’t start fires and get into trouble. Spencer’s had six
years to get used to this. What happened?”
“Maybe there’s more to it. Have you talked him?”
He snorted. “I quit trying. All we do when we’re together now is fight. And if he’s not fighting, he’s moping. I figured it was typical teenage rebellion, figured he’d grow out of it.” He twisted his head and met Scott’s eyes. “Did he ever tell you anything? Do you have any clue why—when all this started?”
Scott raked a hand through his hair. “No, man. I’m as lost as you are.”
“Well, it’s apparent who his anger is directed at. He thought all those houses he burned were insured by my company. Thought he was getting back at me.”
An image of Emily’s house flashed through Scott’s mind, and he shook his head. “What happens now?”
“He’ll be arraigned, I guess. Tried. I hope they try him as a juvenile, but he’s old enough to be tried as an adult. They said—” Parker’s voice cracked. He paused, took a couple of deep breaths that wavered on the exhale, then tried again. “They said he could be charged with first-degree felony arson because so many houses were destroyed. Ninety-nine years max. Ninety-nine years!” Parker broke down and sobbed.
Scott could do nothing but awkwardly pat the man’s back.
After a bit, Parker scrubbed his face. “I guess I’d better be heading home. Nothing more I can do here.”
He rose, and Scott rose with him. “Anything I can do for you?”
“You’ve done it,” Parker said. “Just being here helped.”
As they walked toward the parking lot, Scott said, “Look, I’m crazy about Spencer. He’s a good kid. I don’t know what happened, but the good in him is still there, somewhere inside.”
“Thanks.” Parker’s smile was limp.
“Let me know what’s going on.”
“Yeah. I’ll make sure you’re in the loop.”
Scott whispered as he drove home, “Lord, everything’s so messed up, and I don’t know what to do.” He just wanted to wind time back to where he and Emily were happy. He wanted to discover in his memory some hint to Spencer’s behavior. He wanted all the burned homes to rise from the ashes. But nothing he wanted was likely to happen, and he felt helpless. Prayer was his only recourse, so he prayed. For Parker and Spencer. For all the people who’d lost their homes. For Emily. He prayed for wisdom and direction.
He prayed until he pulled into his drive and shut off the engine.
****
A charred-wood smell curdled the humid morning air and irritated Emily’s nose as she stepped out of the cat refuge. The scent soured her stomach, and she hurried to her car to get away. The sun shone dully behind a film of last night’s smoke, and the overall effect dampened her mood—not that she’d been walking-on-clouds giddy. Today was Monday, though, and she couldn’t give in to the temptation to curl up and hide as she had last week.
That the auction was only a few days away kicked her into panic mode. Last night, she’d made a list of everything she needed to do and had contacted Lauren about the coupons to designate the services donated for the auction.
First on her list was the Down Home Diner; then she needed to track down everyone else who’d offered a service for the auction. Lauren had e-mailed her coupon designs, and Emily had printed samples to show to each of the donors for their approval. Of all who’d offered services, Clara was the only one Emily didn’t dread seeing. Micah was next on the list, then Scott’s mom, then Scott himself.
“Dread” didn’t begin to cover the way she felt about seeing him. Maybe she could get Rita to show his coupons to him and get back in touch with her later. Yes. That would work.
Before she dared to pull into a slot at the diner, she drove past and studied all the cars. At the top of the list of people she didn’t want to see—right next to Scott—was Paul Goodrich. But not finding his car among those parked near the diner unnerved her just as much. Had he already been there and she’d missed him? Or was he on his way to see Wade?
Nothing she could do about it if he was.
She shook the journalist from her mind and pulled into a parking spot directly in front of the diner. Inside, a quiet buzz emanated from the few tables where moms shared social brunches and retirees swapped tales. Midmorning appeared the perfect time to come.
Annie mopped around the tables in the back, and Clara checked receipts at the register. She glanced up, and a broad grin crinkled her cheeks as she scooted from around the counter.
“Well, look here. Give an old lady a hug.” She opened her arms wide, and Emily stepped into them. “Let’s find you a good table. What’ll you have this morning?”
“Nothing, thanks.” She fumbled through her purse for the diner’s coupon. “Lauren and I just wanted to see if this works for you.”
On the coupon, Lauren had drawn the diner’s blue-canopied façade with the name displayed across the large storefront window and “six dinner specials” printed along the bottom of the pane.
“Oh, these look fine. Just fine.”
“I want to see.” Annie had apparently put her mop away and stood by them now, wiping her hands on her apron.
Emily warmed at the sight of her. The little bump under her apron promised a new Crawley this winter. She rubbed the younger woman’s shoulder in greeting. “How’s A&K’s Barbecue coming along? Will you be able to open soon?”
“By the end of next month,” she said with obvious pride. “We’re so excited about it. Our first ad runs tonight during the six o’clock news—wait, how did you know about it?”
Emily bit her tongue and scrambled for a good answer, but Clara glanced up from the coupon and winked. “She’s a friend of Millie’s, remember? Took the net to her that time she’d left it here.”
“Oh, yeah.” Annie drew out the words as if something had dawned on her, and she returned Clara’s wink. Before Emily could ask to be let in on the joke, Annie’s expression changed. “I miss Millie. We never see her anymore. Where has she been? Is she ill?”
“No, she’s fine. She’s...away.” Emily eased the coupon from Clara’s grasp. “Since this has your seal of approval, I need to make it larger and have it laminated.” She stuck it back in her purse, and gave a little wave as she reached for the door. “Lauren will be so happy she pleased you. Thanks again for contributing!”
Outside, Emily turned to look in the window. What had those winks been all about? She had the acute feeling they knew who Millie was—not the first time she’d wondered that about those two. But she couldn’t be sure, and as long as Goodrich hadn’t announced Millie’s identity, Emily needed to be far more careful not to do it herself.
Micah was next on her list of people she least dreaded seeing, but she couldn’t make her rounds according to that list, not as high as gas prices were. Between the diner and Micah were Scott’s mother’s home, his animal practice, and his house. By the time she got to Micah, she’d be a wreck. Actually, she might never even get there. Judging by the way her stomach churned at the thought of seeing Scott, she might turn tail and run long before she reached the parsonage in the country.
But the morning was still early. Scott would be working, so a quick visit to Rita’s should be safe. She turned left at the drive-in restaurant and drove to the familiar red-brick house. She sniffed the air the moment she stepped out of the car and knew Rita had been baking. Perhaps she’d score a position as guinea pig.
Rita greeted her at the door with flour on her cheek and a dishrag in her hand. “Emily! It’s so good to see you. Come in. Come in.”
Emily did and received her second fortifying hug of the day.
“Come on back to the kitchen. That timer’s about to go off.” Rita led the way to her cluttered kitchen, where Emily saw the first layer of what looked to be a wedding cake, covered in a soft ivory fondant, and a series of pale pink camellias, beautifully formed out of pastillage and set carefully off to the side to dry. “What can I get for you? You hungry?”
“No, thank you. I’m good—”
; “Oh, posh! You look like you haven’t eaten all year. Let me make you a sandwich.”
“That’s way too much trouble, Rita. I just came by to show you the coupon Lauren designed for your cake giveaway for the auction.”
That stopped the older woman’s fussing for a minute, and she came to rest by Emily’s side as she dug the coupon out of her purse.
Rita wiped her hands again before taking the coupon from Emily. For this one, Lauren had drawn a traditional three-tiered cake, with white lilies, beading, and swag accents. “Looks like the one I did for her and Roger back when they got married.”
“Actually, I think it is.”
“Well, you tell her I’m honored she remembered.” Rita handed the coupon back. “How long they been married now? Ten years? Longer?”
“At least sixteen. Trey’s expecting to get his driver’s license next spring.”
“My goodness, they do grow up fast, don’t they?” She fluttered around the kitchen again, pulling a cake from the oven and resting it on a metal rack. “Are you sure you don’t want something to eat? I’m starved for something that doesn’t have sugar in it. Won’t you have lunch with me?”
Emily glanced at the wall clock. Eleven. Scott didn’t usually take his lunch breaks until twelve, not that he would come here to eat. Or maybe he would. She didn’t know what he did with his time anymore.
Rita pulled a bowl from the fridge. “Chicken salad sandwich? Or would you rather have roast beef?”
Her expectant look denied Emily the ability to say no. “Chicken salad is fine.”
They worked together to prepare lunch and then sat at the table. Rita offered thanks to the Lord, and with “amen” barely out of her mouth, said, “Now, what’s all this about you being married?”
Emily sputtered. “I’m not married. Who told you I was?”
“Scott. Well, he didn’t say you were still married, just that you had been once.”
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