Death Night

by Ritter, Todd

  Holding her breath, she listened as the man took several more steps into the gym. He was close to the pool now. Heart-poundingly close. When she heard another step, she slipped beneath the pool’s surface. Henry did the same.

  They were barely under before a shadow fell over that end of the water. The figure was now poolside.

  Looking upward, straining to see through the swill floating all around them, Kat spotted the darkened figure kneel next to the pool. Panic filled her brain.

  He saw us, she thought. He knows we’re here.

  Yet the figure didn’t act like he had noticed them. Instead, he reached into his pocket, pulled something out and held it to the water.

  Kat simultaneously struggled to remain underwater while straining to identify the man and figure out what he was holding. The water was so cloudy—brown puffs everywhere, blobs of oil obscuring the surface—that it was almost impossible to see. It wasn’t until the man touched the object to the water’s surface that she realized what it was.

  A cigarette lighter.

  Henry saw it, too, and propelled himself to the surface. Kat followed suit, her head bursting out of the water.

  “Stop!” she yelled.

  She couldn’t see the figure. There was water in her eyes and oil on her face. All she could make out was his gloved hand, low to the water, thumb spinning off the lighter as a tiny flame sprung to life.

  The fire was instantaneous—a wall of flame leaping off the water’s surface and zipping toward them in a lightning-quick whoosh.

  Kat’s survival instincts immediately kicked in. Already lowering herself back down in the water, she took a frantic gulp of air. Then she was under, the flames rolling overhead, inches away from her face. The fire was white as it sizzled on the water’s surface, turning first light blue and then blazing orange. Even fully submerged, Kat felt its heat. The pool’s surface seemed to be boiling. The searing hot bubbles thrashed around her, threatening to pull her closer to the flames.

  A hand locked around her wrist. Henry again, yanking her deeper. Transfixed by the blaze overhead, Kat let herself be pulled. The water got slightly cooler the deeper they went. Darker, too, as the murky water clouded the color of the flames. Yet Kat could still see them—that blinding white changing to orange—even as she landed on the pool’s bottom.

  Henry had both arms around her waist, air bubbling from his nose and mouth as he tried to weigh them down. They were next to the pool ladder, and he latched on to the bottom rung, arm looped around it to keep them from floating upward.

  A thought occurred to Kat as they lay at the bottom of the pool. Now that they were submerged, there was no way to get out until the fire died away.

  The realization set off sirens of panic inside her brain. She wondered how long the fire would burn. It couldn’t be long. Despite the several dozen gallons of gas in the water and an unknown amount of oil on the surface, there was nothing for the flames to latch on to. It would go out within seconds. It had to.

  But then Kat thought of her gas stove at home. Fire didn’t need a solid surface to burn. All it needed was something to consume. With this in mind, she looked to the identical red containers in the pool’s center, each one spewing out more fuel for the fire. The blaze on the surface, she realized with mounting fear, could last a while.

  She tried to estimate how long they had been underwater. Five seconds? Ten? When she realized she didn’t know, she worried about how long she could hold her breath without passing out. She recalled reading somewhere that it was five minutes. Or maybe that was how long until you died. She couldn’t be sure.

  While she was thinking, a tightness had once again formed in her chest. This time it stayed, a pressure pushing against her rib cage, making it feel like her whole chest was going to explode.

  She wanted air.

  She needed it.

  One of Henry’s arms ratcheted tighter around her waist, making Kat realize she had been struggling in his grip. Her legs kicked. Her hands clawed at the water, trying to paddle desperately higher even though she knew that was the last thing she should be doing. Her thirst for oxygen was so great that she was risking death to get it.

  She tried to fight her way out of Henry’s grip, elbowing his chest and kicking backward. But he was stronger than she was, a fact made clear when he flipped her around to face him. Holding her gaze, he shook his head. He removed a hand from her writhing body and placed a finger to his lips.

  Kat got the message. She needed to relax. To not struggle. To save the oxygen she had left.

  Closing her eyes, she settled against Henry’s chest. As he hugged her tight, she went limp and tried to ignore the pressure expanding in her chest, to forget that she had been underwater for at least two minutes. Probably more.

  She thought of James, waiting for them alone in the car. She hoped the figure, who surely had fled after starting the fire, didn’t spot him outside. She hoped that James kept the doors locked, just as she had instructed. Above all, she hoped, with the desperate love that only a mother could have, that if she died in that pool, James wouldn’t be the one to find her.

  Those grim thoughts quickly faded, replaced by a deep nothingness. She was on the verge of passing out. The lightness in her brain was a sure sign of it. So was the floating sensation she suddenly felt.

  Opening her eyes one last time, she saw that she really was drifting higher, no longer bound by Henry’s arms.

  He had let her go.

  She grabbed the ladder, halting her ascent. She forced her body down one rung, then another, trying to ignore the panicked voice in her head screaming that she should be climbing up, not down. But Kat pressed onward, grabbing another rung and lowering herself until she was close to Henry’s face.

  His eyes were closed and his head was tilted limply to the side. He was on the verge of losing consciousness.

  Kat flicked her gaze upward, where the fire was still raging, still as white hot as it had ever been. Turning back to Henry, she smacked his cheeks, trying to rouse him. He didn’t respond. Not knowing what else to do, she put her mouth over his, trying to push what little air she had left from her lungs into his.

  Henry’s eyes snapped open. They danced with surprise when he realized that he had almost passed out. He seemed even more shocked that Kat’s lips were pressed against his own. Yet he didn’t back away from her. Instead, he pushed forward in what could only be interpreted as a kiss.

  Kat kissed him back, not fully understanding what was happening or why. But deep down, she knew. They were going to die in the cloudy depths of that pool, ironically drowning in a fire. With less than a minute to live, they didn’t want to die alone.

  So they clutched each other, bodies pressed together as they traded empty-breathed kisses. The pressure that had once been in Kat’s chest was now spread throughout her entire body. All thoughts melted from her brain. Now she was thriving only on feelings. Terror. Desire. Despair. They all merged together in a roiling ball of emotion as she closed her eyes and prepared to let consciousness slip away.

  Above them, the muffled roar of the fire seemed to mutate into a loud hum. Kat became vaguely aware of a large shadow sliding over them. Death, she thought, descending upon her like a massive black hand.

  But Henry noticed it, too. Breaking off their kiss, he looked up, watching the shadow continue its journey overhead. On the other side of the pool, Kat spotted a second shadow, hovering toward the first.

  It was the gym floor, sliding back into place. The steady movement of both ends cut off the flames. Kat could see the fire getting smaller, weaker. Then the two sides of the gym floor met, slamming together with a resounding thud that snuffed out the blaze.

  Although plunged into darkness, Kat and Henry swam as fast as their exhausted bodies would allow. They broke through the surface, discovering about six inches of air between the water and the underside of the gym floor. They breathed it in, swallowing it down in deep, happy gulps. Then they pounded on the barrier overhead, si
gnaling it was safe to open up again.

  Within seconds, the gym floor cracked open, shining a sliver of light across the slime-slicked water. As the light expanded, Kat and Henry dog-paddled toward it, the brightness illuminating their faces. Henry’s face had turned crimson from lack of oxygen and was slick with the black ooze of the pool. Kat imagined she looked the same way—as gasping and red-faced as a baby emerging from the womb.

  When the hole above them got large enough, Henry reached up and grabbed an edge. He hoisted himself onto the still-retracting floor before turning to pull Kat up, as well. Too spent to walk, they slid across the floor, moving to a part of the gymnasium that was solid and immovable.

  The gym itself was choked with thick, black smoke that was slow to dissipate. It hung in the stagnant air, swirling lazily like stubborn storm clouds. But through the haze, Kat could see a rectangle of late-day sunlight from the door that led outside. Standing next to it, hand resting on the red button that controlled the gym floor, was James.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t stay in the car,” he said.

  6 P.M.

  The ambulance, brought to the scene as a precaution, remained parked outside the rec center. Kat sat on a stretcher in the back, wrapped in a wool blanket and tightly hugging her son. Although her uniform was back on, high and dry but reeking of smoke, she kept the blanket, if only to shield James from the oil that had dried onto her hair and skin.

  Sitting with them was Larry Sheldon, who detailed what had been found inside the rec center gym. The gasoline containers, which could be purchased at practically every hardware store in the state, had been wiped free of fingerprints. The water from the pool erased any trace evidence they might have contained. About a dozen two-quart bottles of motor oil were found in the rec center’s Dumpster, also minus any fingerprints. The brand of oil was Champion Agriline, intended for tractors and, once again, easily available at hardware stores.

  In short, they had nothing.

  Larry knelt in front of James, taking the boy’s hands in his. “The man you saw running out of the rec center—”

  “The bad man,” James said.

  Larry smiled. “Yes, the bad man. Are you sure you didn’t see his face? Not even a tiny bit?”

  They had been through this once before. While waiting in the Crown Vic, James had spotted a figure fleeing the scene of the fire, but it was only for a second. The man had been running along the side of the building, and by the time James noticed him, he was already disappearing around the corner. Once James saw smoke pouring out of the door, he realized something was wrong and left the car against Kat’s orders.

  For that, Kat couldn’t have been more proud. She gave James a squeeze, making him wriggle in her grip. She could tell he didn’t like being coddled this way, especially in front of a stranger, but she refused to let him go.

  “I didn’t see anything,” James answered. “Just his clothes.”

  Larry looked to Kat hopefully. “And you?”

  “Same thing,” she said. “All I caught was a hand, which doesn’t matter because he was wearing gloves. I’m assuming Henry told you the same thing.”

  “He did,” Larry replied. “Unfortunately.”

  “So we still have nothing.”

  “That’s about right. I don’t understand this guy. I mean, why set fire to a swimming pool, of all things? Why not the building itself? It makes no sense.”

  It did to Kat. She understood the arsonist’s intentions perfectly.

  “Because the building is worthless,” she said. “That pool, however, is historic. Not to mention irreplaceable. He’s trying to do the most damage.”

  Outside, a crowd had gathered. They streamed past the open door of the ambulance on their way to the arsonist’s latest target. This time, at least, the town had been lucky. Other than smoke damage and a very messy swimming pool, Perry Hollow’s rec center remained mostly unscathed.

  One of the people arriving at the scene was Lou van Sickle, who climbed into the ambulance. She carried a plastic bag that bulged at the sides. Clean clothes for Kat.

  “Here you go,” she said. “By the way, word on the street is that you and Henry Goll decided to go skinny-dipping. Got so hot it set the pool on fire.”

  Kat laughed in spite of herself. “That’s not quite how it went.”

  But it was close enough. Kat’s face reddened as she thought about what she and Henry had done in the pool before James saved them. It meant nothing, of course. They had both been terrified and desperate, unable to express their emotions in words. Now that they had survived, she didn’t want to talk about it. Not with Lou and certainly not with Henry. Kat was grateful that he had been ushered to his own ambulance, where he was no doubt being examined by paramedics just as she had been. It spared them from having to see each other, if only for a little bit.

  When Lou handed her the bag of clothes, Kat opened it and sniffed. They smelled gloriously free of smoke. She couldn’t wait to put them on.

  “Now I think it’s time to take our hero out to dinner,” Lou said, taking James’s hand. “How does the Perry Hollow Diner sound? You deserve a milk shake for your good deed.”

  Kat, keeping hold of her son, whispered in his ear, “I’m so proud of you, Little Bear. Go and have fun with Lou.”

  “You’re not coming with us?”

  The look James gave her—apprehensive and disappointed—split her heart in two. He knew he had come close to losing her that afternoon. Now he didn’t want to let her out of his sight.

  “I still have work to do,” Kat told him. “The bad man is still out there and I need to find him.”

  She gave him one final squeeze, as tight as her tired arms could muster, and watched him be reluctantly led away by Lou. Larry Sheldon also departed, saying he’d be inside the rec center if she needed him.

  Alone in the back of the ambulance, Kat collapsed backward onto the stretcher. Exhaustion numbed every part of her body. She needed sleep. She craved it so badly it hurt. But she couldn’t sleep. Not yet. A fact that made her want to cry.

  And that’s exactly what she did. Lying on her back, she let the tears flow. The warm drops slipped over her temples and into her already damp hair as sobs racked her body. In that moment, she didn’t care about the fires or Constance Bishop or those poor women murdered long ago. She only cared about what they were doing to her body, her brain, her sanity. She was on the cusp of giving up. Of just curling into a ball and sleeping until Gloria Ambrose swooped in and took over. It would be so easy to just shut her tear-reddened eyes and let sleep overwhelm her.

  But then she thought of James and how close he had been to becoming motherless. She thought of Constance, slumped over that trunk, head bashed in. And she thought of Rebecca Bradford and her cluster of sisters—innocent women who died, horribly, for no reason.

  She had to keep going, no matter how exhausted she was. For their sake.

  So Kat forced herself to sit up. She smacked her face twice, once on each cheek. When that didn’t work, she reached under her arm, pinching a bit of skin just below her armpit. It hurt. A lot. But the pain jolted her awake. She did it again, this time with the other arm. It did the trick. She was ready to get going again.

  Quickly, she changed into her uniform before stepping out of the ambulance. The crowd, she saw, was still milling about the rec center. A large group stood near the door, talking among themselves and trying to peer into the smoky building.

  Standing away from them was Mayor Burt Hammond. He stared at the building in disbelief, his hands on his head. The town had been dealt another blow, and the mayor looked to be physically feeling its effects. If a light breeze had knocked him over, Kat wouldn’t have been surprised.

  She approached him slowly. “I’m sorry about the Halloween Festival. I know you worked really hard.”

  “Forget the festival,” Burt said. “I’m worried about the town. Three fires in one day. All of them vital pieces of Perry Hollow’s history. What the hell is going on?�
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  “We have a motive. We have a suspect. Everyone is looking for him. If he’s still around, we’ll find him.”

  “Of course he’s still around.” Burt jerked his head in the direction of the rec center. “Otherwise, that wouldn’t have happened.”

  Kat couldn’t believe the change in the mayor’s voice. It was tinged with accusation, like he was blaming her for what was happening.

  “We’re doing everything we can,” she said.

  “Well, you need to do more,” Burt snapped. “People are scared, Kat. I hear them talking. Everyone’s worried their house might be the next thing to go up in flames. There’s even talk of forming a militia.”

  “Wait—forming a what?”

  “You heard me,” Burt said. “Mob rule. People on the streets with guns.”

  Kat wanted to cover her ears. She knew the town was scared. She just didn’t know it was this bad. She pictured crowds of people marching down Main Street, hunting rifles at the ready. It’s probably how the men of the village had approached Rebecca Bradford’s homestead.

  “That’s a bad idea,” she said. “Really bad.”

  “That’s what it’ll come to, unless you stop it.”

  Beyond Burt, a patrol car just like her own pulled up to the curb, Deputy Carl Bauersox behind the wheel. He spotted her as soon as he got out of the car and beckoned with a wave of his hand. Finally, a reason to escape the mayor’s wrath.

  “I understand, Burt,” Kat said as calmly as she could. “And I promise you that I’ll catch this guy. I just need a little more time.”

  The mayor couldn’t resist one parting shot. “We’re all out of time, Chief.”

  He turned and started to trudge toward the rec center. Kat went in the opposite direction, heading to Carl’s patrol car.

  “Is it true you were skinny-dipping with Henry Goll?” the deputy asked once she reached him.

  “If I say yes, will you tell me there’s a break in the case?”

  “Potentially,” Carl said. “I finished looking into the backgrounds of all the volunteer firefighters. It was hard because some of them didn’t grow up here and I had to call other departments to look through their records, too.”