Crucible Crisis

by Amberley Faith

  "Oh, my sweet girl! It isn't wrong; it's normal. I feel mixed up inside, too. I'm sad about papa, but more than anything I am mainly happy that you and your sister are okay. I think papa would agree. You have done nothing wrong."

  They all cried a little longer as they hugged each other. Bibianne eventually climbed into bed with Ellie, and Méline sat on the edge with them. Ellie asked, "Tell me, what you have done with Aunt Zy? Tell me all that has happened to you while I've been here."

  The girls launched into tales of bedtime games and ice cream for breakfast and caring for Sadie. "Was she hurt in the accident?" Ellie asked.

  "Yes," Mel replied, "but Auntie Zy took her to the vet, and we learned how to care for her. She will be okay in a few weeks – just like you. I will take care of both of you, maman." She added, "I like being a nurse. It makes me feel good inside."

  Zyla piped up at this comment. "Mel is a good little nurse, Elles. She changes Sadie's bandages and everything. You'll be so proud of her when you see." Zyla smiled at the girls, and Mel blushed at the compliment.

  "But she is not Sadie's nurse.” Bibianne interrupted. “She is Sadie's doctor." At that, Mel and Ellie laughed.

  Zyla turned scarlet. "I didn't mean to… to…underestimate," she stuttered.

  "Out of the mouth of babes," Ellie said with a weak smile.

  After a few more minutes, the nurse came in and told them visiting hours were over and that Ellie needed her rest. She assured the girls they could see their mother the next day and that Ellie would be going home soon.

  At those words, Ellie's gut clenched. What home was there for her to go to? She made a mental note to ask the detective as soon as he returned. She had a feeling it wouldn't be too long before she saw him again.

  Ellie's intuition had been right. The next time she awoke, she found the detective at her side making notes. She opened one eye and looked over at him. "Ever heard of knocking first?"

  He didn't even have the decency to look embarrassed, Ellie noticed. "RayVynn, said it was okay. She is very protective of you, you know. You motioned me in but dozed off while I was talking, so I waited." He cocked his head to one side. "You don't remember?"

  Ellie opened the other eye and frowned, trying to remember if what he said was true. "I'm having trouble remembering things, actually." She gave a long sigh. "Maybe it's the medication, but I can't remember anything at all about the explosion, and I have lots of questions." She raised her bed to a seated position as she spoke.

  "Perhaps we can help each other then, Mrs. Pelletier. I have some questions for you, too, Let's start at the beginning."

  He waited for her assent. She nodded, so he started asking questions, typing into his iPad. "Were you aware of your husband's drug activity?" He asked.

  "No," Ellie sputtered, "and I he was not involved in something like that. What evidence did you find?" Ellie asked.

  The detective shifted in his chair. "Are you sure you're ready to hear this?" He asked.

  "No,” Ellie sighed. “But I need you to tell me anyway." She laid her head back against the pillow.

  Detective Stephens looked from one eye to the other. "The explosion decimated more than half of your home, Mrs. Pelletier. Although there wasn't anything salvageable, we did find you – wedged under an overturned sofa – and," he paused and set his iPad aside.

  "I need to warn you, Mrs. Pelletier, that this is rather gruesome. The fire burned at an exceedingly high temperature. The only discernible remains of your husband was," he winced, "his right hand." The detective looked at his hands.

  Alarm bells sounded in Ellie's mind, and the detective's words faded to the distance. His hand, his hand. Something about that seemed familiar -- like a piece of a dream remembered. God, was she losing her mind? The detective's words seemed far away.

  "-- pattern of the explosion is consistent with that of a meth lab, as well as the high burn temperature. We calculate that, to have been entirely consumed by the fire, your husband must have been at its epicenter. Somehow the blast pushed you out before the fire could consume you. Your friend wasn't exaggerating when she said it was a miracle you survived." He was looking at his iPad again.

  As the full impact of the detective's words hit her, Ellie's mind began to spin through a list of what she’d lost. Not only was Julien gone, her home had been destroyed. Family photos that had decorated the walls, her sunny kitchen with dried herbs hanging over the sink, her coveted front porch with its fans and swing -- too many images to process -- all rushed through her mind like snapshots in a scrapbook.

  It would have to be a mental scrapbook; there was nothing left to put in a real one.

  "What about our other dog, Dedé?" She blurted suddenly, unable to remember if Zyla had mentioned them both.

  The detective took a breath. Ellie's eyes began to tear up. The detective replied, "The little, white one managed to escape somehow. We don't know if she was outside or inside when it happened. The fire department turned her over to Doctor Griffin to get her checked out. Zyla and the girls picked her up and have been caring for her at home. We haven't seen any other dogs. I'm sorry."

  Zyla and the girls had already told her that Sadie had managed to survive, but somehow the thought of losing Dedé, her first real pet, devastated Ellie. After losing her home and her husband, it was too much. She crumpled into herself, and the detective reached out awkwardly to touch her shoulder. "Ma'am? Why don't I give you a moment to process all of this? I'll get you something to drink." Her stepped out of the room.

  Ellie was too distraught to respond. She found herself crying over the dog instead of the home and husband she had loved so dearly. She knew it was irrational. Her thoughts were still so fuzzy; she had forgotten something important. She cried uncontrollably without registering what was wrong; she only knew that her world had come apart even though she couldn't feel it or remember how it had happened.

  The detective waited outside, and when her cries subsided, he had Ellie sipping cool water before she could begin to feel awkward. Some part of her knew she should be embarrassed, losing control like that in front of a stranger, but she couldn't summon the emotion. The only thing she felt was emptiness and loss.

  When she trusted herself to speak, she asked, "How long will it be before I can get out there? I want to see the house for myself."

  The detective turned to look at her. He gave her a once-over. Finally, he breathed in through his nose. "You can explore the yard and surrounding area when you’re released from the hospital, but the homestead has been cordoned off. Anytime there is an explosion like this, we have to investigate. I'm afraid you won't be able to go through the remains for a few days. The forensics team has to verify the cause was definitely a meth lab."

  She started struggling to untangle herself from the tubes and blankets keeping her in place in the hospital bed. "Let's go, then."

  The detective stuttered, "Now? The doctors haven't released you yet. You need to stay in bed, Mrs. Pelletier. Mrs. Pelletier -- stop!" He leaned in to the hallway and called for a nurse.

  RayVynn stepped in between Ellie and the detective. "Surely this can wait, Detective Stephens. Obviously, she is in shock. It's written all over her face." RayVynn smiled sadly and patted Ellie on the back.

  Detective Stephens regarded the nurse and replied, "You do your job, and I'll do mine. Stay in here, if you'd like, while I finish questioning the only remaining eyewitness."

  Ellie's bewilderment was slowly giving way. She stopped struggling to get out of bed and sat back with a heavy thunk. "You can't possibly think I had anything to do with this? My God, what would possess me to blow up my house – the very one that I just spent six months renovating? And I know what you’re going to ask, but no one has reason to sabotage me or my home. I mean, I don't think people here particularly like me, but no one wants to kill me."

  "Okay, people. Let's be clear. I'll be taking Mrs. Pelletier's official statement now. There will be no interruptions other than what is deemed medicall
y necessary." Detective Stephens glanced pointedly at RayVynn. Two orderlies who were cleaning promptly vacated the room.

  Detective Stephens took out the ever-ready iPad and pulled up a chair across from Ellie so that he was facing her. "I just have a few more questions for you, Mrs. Pelletier, and then we can leave you to finish recuperating."

  From somewhere, the detective managed to scrounge up a cup of strong, black coffee. He offered it to Ellie, "Here. Drink this. It will help clear your mind. I understand you're in a bit of shock," he glanced at RayVynn placatingly, "but I need you to focus."

  Ellie took a sip and spluttered, "Hot!" The steaming coffee had scalded her tongue, but it had also startled her into awareness. Was that what the detective had intended?

  He took the coffee from her. "I know how to cool it down." He took out a small flask out from an inner pocket of his jacket and poured a generous splash of something amber-colored into the cup. RayVynn tut-tutted but didn't interfere. "This should be cooler now" he said as he offered her the cup again.

  He sat back in his chair and resumed taking notes on the iPad. "I already know the answer, but I need to get an official statement from you. Where were you at 3:34 on Monday afternoon?"

  Ellie tested the coffee and then took a giant gulp. "I was at home. I remember being at home."

  "Okay," he muttered as he tapped on his tablet. "And do you know of any flammable substances that were in the home? Did you routinely store battery acid, drain cleaner, lantern fuel or antifreeze? Were you working with paint thinner or other chemicals?" He waited for her to answer.

  Ellie thought for a moment. "I'm sure we had drain cleaner and lantern fuel. I'm not sure about antifreeze…we did just refinish the house, so maybe there were leftover paint cans. Nothing I would consider dangerous or explosive. I cannot imagine what caused it. I mean, did it start as a fire that "blew up" or are you talking literally about an explosion like a bomb?"

  "We'll go over all that later. I just have a few more questions. Did anyone else have keys to your house besides you and your husband?"

  "No, why? Has someone else been in the house? That would explain it! My husband is not cooking up drugs." Ellie replied, wincing when she realized she spoke of him in the present tense.

  Instead of answering her, Detective Stephens asked another question, "When was the last time you remember communicating with your husband?"

  "Like I said before, I'm having trouble remembering anything specific. I remember mundane things like cleaning, cooking that afternoon. I was angry about something. Maybe Julien and I were arguing? I remember something about a cook book - but that's irrelevant."

  She didn't want to voice her doubts about Julien and Tai – especially now. Would she ever learn the truth? Had Julien betrayed their wedding vows? Was her ring missing because she'd taken it off in anger? Why couldn't she remember anything after being blamed for Tai's suicide attempt?

  The detective cleared his throat and said, "I have one last question, Mrs. Pelletier." He paused. "When was the last time you had contact with Taiteja Jenssen?"

  Ellie rolled her eyes before she could stop herself. That little witch! God, she was tired of thinking about her! If she had anything to do with the explosion…

  Ellie felt murderous. She tried to tame her emotions, but she was sure the detective had seen the anger that had crossed her face. She took another large gulp of the liquor-laced coffee to stall. As she set the cup down, her anger erupted.

  "Look, I know everyone in this hyper-critical town thinks she and my husband are having an affair, and I am SICK to death of having to defend them. There is NOTHING going on between Julien and Tai!"

  "Just answer the question, ma'am." The detective continued typing. "When was the last time you saw or spoke to Taiteja Jenssen?"

  Ellie groaned in frustration. "Well, at school, I guess." She thought for a moment. "No, it would have been before her suicide attempt. I guess it was when she was helping Julien with a photoshoot several weeks ago. The girls and I stopped by to watch them work for a few minutes."

  "You were keeping an eye on the two of them." It wasn't a question. He continued entering his notes.

  "Don't put words in my mouth!" Ellie snapped. Her animosity surprised herself.

  Suddenly, her anger evaporated and was replaced by utter weariness. She leaned back against the pillow and wondered if the detective was writing comments about her. Witness extremely defensive, hostile.

  "I'm sorry," she mumbled. "That came out wrong. I'm just…tired of my marriage being attacked, not that it matters now. I'll never know -" Her voice cracked, and she closed her eyes, pulling the blanket up as far as she could, defeated.

  The detective's tone remained neutral. "Well, that's it for now. If I have any further information, I'll stop by and let you know." He paused. "I'm very sorry for your loss, Mrs. Pelletier. You seem like a nice lady, and what you're experiencing is tough. You'll get through it. Chin up!"

  Ellie gave a joyless smile at his remark and let herself drift back into sleep.

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  FACING FEARS

  A day later, Detective Stephens had better news for Ellie. He brought the girls with him into her room. "Look who came with me to get you outta here!" He glanced at the curtains pulled tight, shutting out the sun. Her room was dark, and her mood was darker.

  "Oh, really? Just where will we go?" She asked, her voice flat, emotionless. Méline, always the hopeful, optimistic child replied.

  "We have a surprise for you…you'd better get ready!" Méline grinned at Bibianne.

  Bibianne giggled and looked at the detective. "It is true, maman. And we get to ride in a police car, too! Let's go!"

  Twenty minutes later, Detective Stephens rolled Ellie out of the hospital in her mandatory wheelchair. Bibianne sat in her lap and kept yelling, "faster, faster," while Méline walked beside them and shushed Bibianne.

  Both girls, however, squealed as they caught sight of the patrol car. When Detective Stephens opened the door for them, they began pestering him in unison. "Can we use the sirens? And the lights? Please? Please?" The girls begged shamelessly.

  Detective Stephens gave a half grin. "Well, I don't see why not. Especially since you asked so nicely." He looked at Ellie and winked. True to his word, he blared the sirens and flashed his lights, and the girls giggled and pretended to be in pursuit of criminals. Fortunately for Ellie, the piercing sounds and lights only lasted a few minutes before they'd had enough.

  Ellie was surprised at her normally shy Méline who peppered the detective with questions. Had he ever arrested anyone? Had he ever been shot? Had he ever had a high-speed car chase? Had he ever stopped a robbery? Where did she even hear of these things? Ellie wondered.

  Detective Stephens indulged the girls and kept them entertained with tales of police bravery. Before Ellie knew it, they were driving up the gravel driveway to their home. Méline looked at her with big eyes and said, "This is not the surprise, maman. This is the hard part."

  From a distance, Ellie couldn't tell anything was wrong. The house wasn't levelled, as she’d imagined, but as they drove closer, she could see the scorch marks on the porch. The front door was crooked and dangling from one hinge half open.

  As they rounded the bend, she could see that the entire right exterior wall was missing. Burned debris was hanging out of the end of the house like stuffing on an old couch. There was, in fact, a green loveseat now resting in her side yard that was half blackened with its innards protruding. It looked like the garage had vomited the home's contents into the yard. A doll was lying face down in the burned grass along with several pairs of the girls' shoes.

  Realizing the explosion had originated in the garage, directly below the girls' bedroom, Ellie gagged. The entire area was scorched. Shelves were lying scattered all over the yard with their contents -- papers, bottles, Christmas decorations, tools -- blown around the entrance extending into the side yard.

  As the detective parked the car, he
explained, "You can look around outside, but you are not allowed inside any part of the home. We haven't determined if it is structurally sound, and the chemical residue from a fire can be toxic, so you're only allowed ten minutes to see what you can." He paused and gave Ellie's arm a light squeeze. "I know this is tough, but you may be right to look at it. It might provide closure. And it might jog your memories. Good luck."

  She looked at him and mumbled a thank you as she and the girls stumbled out of the car. The girls ran straight to their toys that were scattered about while Ellie circled the house trying to figure out if any rooms were undamaged. Looking in through the garage, she could see straight to the kitchen. The walls that had been there now had huge, gaping holes.

  No wonder the detective had said it could be structurally unsound. She shivered, imagining herself or the girls going inside and being crushed by the upper floor crashing down on them. She turned around quickly to find them. "Méline, Bibianne!"

  Suddenly, it didn't matter what remained of their home. Any thoughts of retrieving toys or personal items vanished. She and the girls were safe; she didn't need to see anymore.

  Just then, the girls came running to her side. "Maman, look who we found!" Méline was struggling to carry Dedé who was quivering with her ears laid back but her tail thumping against Méline's side.

  "Oh, Dedé!" Ellie gently took the dog from Méline and set her on the ground. "Are you hurt?" She and the girls examined the dog but found no visible injuries. "Girls," Ellie started, "I think our ten minutes are up. Let's get Dedé to the car, and we'll ask the detective to take her to the vet for us."

  In the joy of finding the missing dog and in the resiliency of childhood, the girls seemed unfazed by the destruction that surrounded them. Ellie decided to be brave and follow their example; they seemed to have their priorities in perfect order.

  On the way to the vet, Ellie voiced her concerns again about not having anywhere to spend the night. "Detective, we can't all crowd in with Zyla. Her one-bedroom cottage would never survive us and Dedé. Do you think the local motel would allow Dedé to stay overnight with us? We have nowhere else to go, and I hate to leave her with the vet. She's too scared. Plus, I think it would help comfort us to be together tonight. Do you think you could pull any strings?