“Yeah, you’re right.” Ryan braced his hands on the windowsill,
staring out. A light rain had started, and the black tar roofs glistened with
moisture.
Brendan just waited.
Whatever he might say was safe with Brendan. Trouble was, he
really didn’t know what he was feeling right now, so how could he put it into
words?
“Look,” he said gruffly, “go in there and stay with Laura until
Mandy gets back from surgery, okay? She shouldn’t be alone right now.”
Brendan didn’t move. “Why don’t you stay?”
He rolled his shoulders against the tension. “Because she
doesn’t want me. She thinks I betrayed her confidence. Thinks I’m helping North
railroad her.”
“Is she right?”
“Not that anyone is railroading her. North’s an honest man.
But—”
“But North thinks Laura is guilty,” Brendan finished for him.
“Who knows what he thinks?” Irritation edged his voice. “The
man’s like a sphinx. But when I tried to defend Laura, he accused me of losing
my objectivity.”
“Are you?”
He glared at the rain-wet pane. “Maybe. I can’t think straight
where Laura’s concerned.”
“You don’t doubt her innocence, do you?”
“Of course not. Laura would never put that little girl in
danger. Ever.”
He could hear the certainty in his voice. He might not know a
lot of things about this case, but he knew that beyond question.
Brendan leaned against the concrete-block wall. “That’s my
feeling, too, but you know Laura a lot better than I do. Have you told North
that?”
“Several times.” His mouth twisted in a wry grin. “Several times
too many, probably. He’s ready to boot me from the squad if I can’t ‘forget my
feelings for the woman.’” He shot a defiant look at his cousin. “And don’t ask
me what those feelings are. I haven’t figured that out yet. I just know she
didn’t start that fire.”
“Then it looks like you have to prove that, whether North wants
you to or not.”
“Are you telling me to disobey a direct order? Isn’t the
fire-department chaplain supposed to keep us on the straight and narrow?”
“Sometimes you have to decide for yourself what’s right, no
matter what the regulations say.” Brendan’s mouth quirked in a half smile. “But
don’t you tell your dad I said that.”
Ryan almost felt the weight slipping off his shoulders. He had
to do what was right. That meant finding the proof that Laura hadn’t started
that fire.
And if it cost him his job—well, that would be worth it.
He slapped Brendan’s shoulder. “Thanks, Bren. I’ll be back. Take
care of them for me.”
He turned and strode down the hall, energy coursing through him.
He felt right about what he was doing for the first time in days.
The proof was out there somewhere. No matter what, he had to
find it.
A few hours later, Ryan had begun to doubt. Not Laura’s
innocence—that was never a question in his mind.
No, what he doubted was his own ability to find out the truth.
He slammed his hand down on the desk next to the computer keyboard. He’d been
through all the reports, all the forensic tests, a half dozen times. Still he
wasn’t seeing anything new.
Give him a burning building, he knew what to do. With this—
“Having problems?” North leaned over his chair, scanning the
report of the second fire that was displayed on the computer screen. “Why are
you going over this one again?”
An evasion leaped to his lips, and he forced it away. He
wouldn’t try to hide what he was doing from North. He owed the man honesty, at
least.
But maybe he didn’t have to start with his conviction that Laura
was innocent. That was emotion, not fact.
He pointed at the screen. “This doesn’t make sense. Not to me,
anyway. It almost looks as if the second fire was intended not to cause any
damage.”
The lines in North’s face deepened. “If Ms. McKay started it,
she did it to make us think we were chasing an arsonist. She might not have
wanted to cause damage.”
“If you’re trying to make me believe she left her sleeping
daughter alone in the house so she could creep through the streets with a gas
can and take a chance of being caught, you’re going to have to come up with a
better reason than that.” He let his skepticism show in his voice. “She’s not a
stupid woman. She’d know what the risks were.”
North didn’t give any indication that Ryan’s argument impressed
him, but at least he didn’t tell him to shut up. “What’s your theory then?”
“I don’t have one.” He glared at the screen. “If she did it, why
was there a second fire? If there really is an arsonist, why hasn’t he struck
again? And who’s making the anonymous calls?”
North’s face tightened. “I don’t like anonymous calls. Never
have. This caller—it’s like he’s trying to lead us along a path, dropping bread
crumbs leading to Ms. McKay.”
“That’s how I feel about it.” Ryan tried not to sound too eager.
For the first time, North was actually listening to him. “If there
was
someone in the alley where she says
she found that paint-thinner can, then it looks like someone wants to torch
that particular building. Maybe it doesn’t have anything to do with a pyro.”
North raised his eyebrows. “That theory leads us right back to
Ms. McKay. Who else has reason to want that building down? She’s the one with
insurance on it. Who else would benefit?”
“I don’t know.” He shoved his chair back. “But I’m not going to
find out staring at reports I’ve already read a dozen times.”
“Where are you going?”
“To talk to everyone in the surrounding buildings again. Maybe
someone saw something they haven’t mentioned. Or maybe we didn’t ask the right
questions.”
North looked at him for a moment, as if weighing him in his
mind. Then he nodded.
“All right. We’ll open it up again.” He put up a hand to
forestall any thanks. “But understand this, Flanagan. No matter what either of
us feels, if we don’t find anything new, the case against Ms. McKay is going to
the district attorney’s office on Monday.”
“We will.” Ryan headed for the door.
We have to. Father, are You listening? We have to.
T
he waiting
was endless. With Mandy no longer in the hospital room, Laura gave in to the
impulse to pace.
“It’s hard, I know.” Brendan’s gaze held sympathy. “Waiting for
word on your child has to be the most difficult thing in the world.”
She nodded, realized her hands were twisting together, and let
them drop. “Really, Brendan, you don’t need to wait with me. I appreciate it,
but I’m sure you have other people who need you.”
“There’s no place I’d rather be than here right now.” He leaned
forward, elbows on his knees, hands lightly linked. “Besides, I promised Ryan.”
She shot a startled glance at him. “You promised him what?”
“That I’d stay.” He said it as comfortably as if the polite
barriers between people didn’t exist between them. As if they were family. “He
felt you didn’t want him here, so he asked me to stay. Not that he needed to. I
would have, in any event.”
“I see.” But she didn’t see, not really. Was he saying that
Ryan, despite what happened, still felt responsible for her?
She was still struggling with that when the door began to swing
open. Her heart seemed to catch in her throat. The doctor—
But it was Siobhan, not Dr. Phillips.
Siobhan glanced at Brendan, a question in her eyes. “Still
waiting?”
He nodded, glancing at his watch. “From what Laura told me about
the procedure, I’d say they’ll bring Mandy down from surgery soon.”
“It seems like forever, doesn’t it?” Siobhan crossed the room
and hugged her. “I know. My kids put me through the waiting more than a few
times. Especially Ryan. For awhile he had a broken bone every year, it seemed.”
Tears spilled over at the warmth of Siobhan’s hug, and Laura
dashed them away. Silly. She didn’t long for her own mother’s presence, but
somehow Siobhan made her feel like a child being comforted.
“Thank you for coming.” She ought to say again that they needn’t
stay, but she didn’t want to. She wanted them here, despite everything that had
happened with Ryan.
Siobhan set the oversized purse she carried on the bed and
pulled out a thermos. “I brought coffee from home. Nobody should have to drink
hospital coffee, especially at a stressful time like this.”
She produced mugs and poured, then handed a thick white mug to
Laura.
Laura wrapped her fingers around it, feeling the warmth. Feeling
comforted. Amazing, how Siobhan created a sense of home wherever she went.
The door swung open again, and Dr. Phillips strode into the
room. Her throat choked, and her heart seemed to stop beating.
His eyes lit at the sight of the coffee. “If that’s real coffee,
Siobhan, I’ll have some.”
“First things first,” Siobhan said quickly.
Dr. Phillips’s lined face relaxed in a smile as he looked at
Laura. “There’s nothing to worry about—the procedure went perfectly. I’ve just
checked on her again. Mandy’s on her way down now, and everything should be
fine.”
Her legs didn’t want to support her, and the coffee sloshed
dangerously in the mug. She felt Brendan’s arm supporting her as he led her to
a chair.
“It’s okay, Laura. She’s going to be fine. Just take it easy.”
By the time the room stopped spinning around, she realized that
Siobhan was scolding the doctor as if he were a ten-year-old in her
church-school class. He looked rather sheepish as he came to squat next to
Laura’s chair.
“I’m sorry. I guess Siobhan’s right—my bedside manner leaves a
little to be desired. Just because the procedure is routine to me doesn’t mean
it is for you. But I promise, your little girl is perfectly all right.”
She grabbed his hand, wanting to believe his words but not quite
daring to. “Will it work? Will her hearing be improved?”
“We won’t know for sure until we activate the device in a month,
of course. But from everything I can see so far, I think the results will be
good.” He patted her hand. “That’s all we can hope for. You know that.”
“I know.” She started to say that she didn’t expect a miracle,
but then she realized that wasn’t true. It would be a miracle if Mandy were
released from her silent world. “Thank God.”
“Yes.” Brendan patted her shoulder. “Thank God.”
She ought to tell him how much she appreciated his prayers and
his presence, but just then the gurney rolled through the doorway, and
everything else left her mind in her need to reach her daughter.
“Mandy.”
She stopped, longing to touch her but not sure where to touch. The
side of Mandy’s head was bandaged, and tubes extended from her arms.
The doctor had shown her pictures before the surgery. She’d
known to expect bruises and swelling. She just hadn’t known how she’d feel when
it was Mandy.
“She looks so—” Her voice choked.
Siobhan’s arm went around her, holding her as they transferred
Mandy smoothly to the bed. “I know.” Siob-han’s voice was soft. “It’s so hard
to see your child looking like that. To know you made the decision that led to
it.”
She nodded, unable to speak. How did Siobhan know exactly what
she was thinking?
“You did the right thing,” Siobhan said firmly. “This was a hard
decision, but you did the right thing. The bruises will be quickly forgotten,
but the good results will be permanent.”
Her mind cleared, the whirl of guilt and fear dissipating. “Yes.
You’re right.” She went to the bed, her hand closing over Mandy’s fingers.
“She’s going to be fine.”
Thank you, God.
Siobhan patted her back gently. “I know Ryan wanted to be here.”
She shook her head. “Don’t. I’m sorry, but please, don’t.” She
couldn’t think about Ryan, not now.
Siobhan nodded. “All right. I understand.”
If she really understood, it was more than Laura did. She just
knew that at this moment, all she could concentrate on was her daughter.
Dealing with her feelings for Ryan would have to wait.
It was dark when she pulled up at the townhouse. She parked and
then sat, too emotionally exhausted to get out of the car.
Mandy was all right—that was the important thing. She’d wakened,
smiled at the sight of her mother, and gone back to sleep. Laura had sat in the
chair next to the bed, holding her hand, unwilling to let go.
Dr. Phillips had finally come back into the room to check on
Mandy. He’d been kindness itself when he detached her hand from her daughter’s.
Laura was exhausted, he’d said firmly, and Mandy would undoubtedly sleep
through the rest of the night. It was time for her to go home and get some
rest.
So she’d come home, but not to rest. How could she, when her
mind kept going around and around like a hamster on a wheel? She couldn’t turn
off the busy thoughts.
She forced herself out of the car. Unlock the door. Too tired to
search for the light switch—just climb the stairs. Her feet took them
automatically, knowing the way even in the dark.
She glanced at her watch when she reached the living room. She
kept a table lamp burning all the time since the fire, and its yellow glow
welcomed her. In a few short hours, she’d have to present herself at the fire
department headquarters building, where the arson squad was located.
Lieutenant North, with his inimical gaze, would be waiting for
her to make a formal statement. Would Ryan be there, too? Her mind winced away
from that thought.
And what would come next? Once they had her version of events
signed, then what?
Ryan had urged that she get an attorney, but she’d been too
preoccupied with Mandy’s surgery even to think about that. She should have
found the time. Instinct told her it would be unwise to go into that meeting
without some professional counsel.
She flipped open the phone book, but the long list of attorneys
blurred before her eyes. She rubbed the back of her neck. She’d take care of
that tomorrow morning. Brendan would probably be willing to recommend someone.
The red light on her answering machine was blinking. She pressed
the button warily, half afraid of what fresh trouble might be waiting for her.
It was the prospective buyer for the building, reminding her
that she’d arrive in Suffolk in the morning. Unless she heard otherwise from
Laura, she’d come to the townhouse at one in the afternoon. She couldn’t wait
to see what Laura had accomplished with the place.
Laura looked at her watch again, but it hadn’t miraculously
decided to give her any more time. Less than fourteen hours, and she’d be
showing the house.
If she went to bed, she’d never sleep. Maybe some hard physical
labor would ease the stress. She grabbed her bag. She’d given the hospital her
cell phone number in case of any emergency. They’d call if Mandy woke and
needed her.
She started up the flight of stairs to the third floor,
determination driving her, and came out into the open area that was the last
thing yet to be finished.
The contractor had let her down, of course. All of his promises
had come to nothing, and the partition still stood. She rapped on it, eyeing
the sledgehammer that leaned against the wall.
This wasn’t a bearing wall—just a flimsy partition. She’d do
what she should have done before this and knock it out herself. She wouldn’t
have time to frame in the opening, but at least Ms. Jamison could visualize the
workroom she could put in here.
The woman would love it. She wouldn’t have taken an option on
the place if she hadn’t been able to picture how perfect it would be for her
business. One of the last remaining available buildings in the historic
district—she’d jump at the chance to close the deal.
Laura grabbed the sledgehammer. It was heavier than she’d
thought, or maybe she was just more tired.
She had to
drag it across the floor to the offending partition.
Would she be able to close the deal if she were arrested for
arson? What would happen to Mandy if something like that happened to her?
Her stomach churned. She’d begun to believe she could count on
Ryan. She’d actually thought—
Well, that didn’t matter any longer. Loving him had been a
mistake, but at least it had shown her that she was capable of loving someone
again.
Maybe, someday, her heart would no longer splinter at the
thought of him. She’d be able to move on.
Tears blurred her vision as she hefted the sledgehammer and
swung it at the wall. It connected with a satisfying thud, penetrating the
plaster and shattering the lath beneath.
Something rumbled and cracked. She looked up, startled, but it
was too late. Before she could move, the whole wall came down on her in a flood
of plaster and bricks, knocking her to the floor, burying her.
She struggled, choking on thick dust, trying to see, to
understand what happened. Dazed, she put her hand to her head, feeling a lump.
Had she been knocked out?
If so, it hadn’t been long. Plaster dust still swirled in the
air. She was flat on her back, debris on top of her, staring up at the ceiling.
Slowly her brain began to made sense of what she was seeing. The
flimsy partition had filled in an archway, masking the old wall of brick and
mortar that went the rest of the way to the ceiling.
She must have hit the supporting pillar of the arch with that
careless blow. It had collapsed, bringing down the heavier structure above the
partition, far more than she expected.
Stupid. Her father would never have made a mistake like that.
She’d overestimated her own abilities, and now she was paying the price.
She raised her head, letting out an involuntary groan. She had a
splitting headache, but her exploring fingers didn’t find any blood. All right.
She wasn’t hurt, and everything could be fixed, cleaned up, made like new. All
she had to do was get up and do it.
She couldn’t. She tried to get up, and she couldn’t move. Panic
ripped through her, and she struggled against the debris, arms flailing wildly
as she tried to shove it away.
All she succeeded in doing was stirring up the dust. It lifted
into the air, wrapping around her, filling her eyes and ears and mouth.
Coughing and choking, she fell back.