The Sweethearts’ Knitting Club (25 page)

Doubt churned his head, so that he barely noticed when he caught a whiff of smoke. His nose twitched. Who was burning a fire in August? He followed his nose, swiveling his head around until he spied the plume rising in the sky. It was so close. Had to be a building on the town square.

The motorcycle shop! The Yarn Barn!

He took off at a dead sprint. Shit, shit, shit, why hadn’t he brought his cell phone?

A minute later, he rounded Ruby Street just in time to see Flynn springing out of her father’s sedan. What was she doing there?

They reached the front of the motorcycle shop
at exactly the same moment. Flynn had her cell phone to her ear. “Fire,” he heard her croak. “On the square.”

He could see the flames dancing in the window, leaping and jumping, spreading fast. Smoke wafted around them, billowing, building. Why was it spreading so fast? Was there an accelerant? Could this be arson?

“I caused it,” Flynn moaned as sirens wailed in the background. “It’s all my fault.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I left a candle burning in the Yarn Barn.” Her eyes rolled wildly, she wrung her hands. “It’s all my fault, it’s all my fault, I’ve ruined everything.”

Jesse took her by the shoulders, forced her to look at him. “That’s no candle. The fire started on the bottom floor. You didn’t leave a candle going. This is not your fault. This is arson.”

“Oh God,” she exclaimed, and plastered her palm over her mouth.

“What is it?”

“Miss Tabitha is in there!”

Flynn stood watching in horror as the building she and Jesse had lovingly poured their hearts and souls into was chewed up by flames. Already the fire was so blistering hot, she had to raise her arms to shield her face from the heat.

Tabitha. The gray tabby was in there. Poor little cat.

“She’s dead,” Flynn whispered. “She’s dying.”

“No she’s not.” Jesse pointed.

She raised her head, saw Miss Tabitha’s little face pressed against the upstairs window, her
mouth opened in a yowl. Flynn let out a yowl of her own.

The next thing she knew, Jesse was kicking down the door.

She grabbed the sleeve of his shirt. “What are you doing? You can’t go in there. Wait for the firemen. They’re here.” She waved at the fire truck careening around the corner of Ruby Street.

“It’ll take too long. I can’t watch that cat die,” he said. “I’ve lost too many things in my life.” Then he pulled loose from her grasp and plunged into the burning building.

“No! Jesse!” she screamed, but he was already gone.

Jesse didn’t think. Just as he hadn’t stopped to think when he’d rushed in to save Josh Green. He simply reacted, plunging ahead even as every sensible bone in his body urged him to flee.

Smoke filled his lungs. But he just kept going, driven by a personal need more intense than the primal urge of self-preservation. He was a good guy and he was desperate to prove it. To the town, to Flynn, to himself.

And besides, he sort of loved that damn little cat.

Blindly he charged up the staircase, heard the old timbers pop and hiss, felt the heat on his skin.

Get out, get out
, his body urged.

He thought of Flynn on the sidewalk.

How stupid would it be if you died over a cat just when you and Flynn are finally getting together? Turn back, turn back now.

But he was already at the head of the stairs.
The floor trembled beneath his feet. Yarn was falling, bouncing from the shelves. He heard the cat mewling above the ominous crackling noises. He coughed against the choking smoke, pulled up the neckline of his T-shirt to cover his nose and mouth.

Smoke thickened, swirled. His lungs ached. His eyes burned. His blood pumped sluggishly. Jesse dropped to his knees, crawling as quickly as he could toward the window.

The terrified tabby hissed at him. But he understood. Fear could make you do strange and stupid things. He grabbed her up, ignoring the bite of sharp claws she sank into his skin. Clutching the wriggling cat to his chest, he staggered to his feet, but stayed bent over, keeping his head down, and rushed for the stairs.

And Jesse reached the landing just as the center support beam collapsed.

The firemen buzzed around Flynn, dragging hoses, spraying water, trying desperately to douse the flames.

“He’s in there!” Flynn shouted above the noise of sirens and radios and burning wood. “Jesse’s inside the building!”

“Jesse’s inside?” It was Hondo, and the flash of fear on his face rattled her deeply.

“He went in after the cat. I tried to stop him—”

Hondo didn’t wait for her to finish speaking. He grabbed a fireman, motioned toward the building, and they headed through the doorway.

The flame gave a low hiss and then something exploded, blowing Hondo and the fireman back
ward onto the sidewalk. They fell on their butts, dazedly shaking their heads.

“No!” Flynn screamed as terror struck her heart. She couldn’t lose Jesse. Not now, not after all this time, not when she’d finally found the love she’d tried too long to deny. She rushed for the door herself, but Hondo struggled to his feet and managed to grab her before she could get there.

“It’s too late,” he said, his voice like a rasp. He held her tight, held her close. “We can’t save Jesse.”

“No!” She thrashed in his arms. “No, no!”

Inside the building a timber fell, shot sparks out into the streets. Flynn dropped to her knees. Around them, onlookers had gathered, and the EMTs were herding them back behind sawhorse barricades.

Hondo held her tightly around the waist. Flynn sobbed, a deep, heart-wrenching sound that she couldn’t recognize as her own voice. “No, no, no.”

The firemen raced about, while Hondo slowly helped her stand, drew her away from the fire. “No,” she whimpered, and clutched Hondo’s collar. “He can’t be dead. I love him, Hondo. I love him so much and I never told him.”

“I know,” Hondo said, wet tears sliding down the big man’s face. “I know.”

He cradled her to him, holding her tight as her heart split into a million little pieces and her mind spun numbly in disbelief and denial.

“He knew you loved him,” Hondo whispered. “He knew, he knew.”

“Oh God,” she groaned, the emotional pain hitting her right between the eyes. It hurt as badly as
when her mother had died. Worse in some ways, because part of her had been relieved to know her mother’s suffering was at an end. This was utter tragedy through and through.

“Hey!” a fireman shouted.

Simultaneously, Flynn and Hondo turned their heads. Suddenly there was movement from out of the shadows on the side of the old theater.

Magic. A miracle. It was Jesse lurching forward with something clutched against his chest.

Jesse looked straight at her, stared into her, and she stared into him, peered into his soul.
He was alive!

And so was Miss Tabitha. The little cat peeked fearfully from the shelter of Jesse’s arms.

Flynn ran to him, slipped her hand around his waist.

The firemen surrounded them, guiding them over to the ambulance. The paramedics took over. A firefighter pried Miss Tabitha from his hands. “We’ll take good care of her. We’ll get Steady Sam to check her out.”

A soot-stained Jesse clasped Flynn to him. She squeezed, hugging him so tightly they both had a hard time breathing. Seconds before, sorrow and grief had held her in an iron fist, now the delicate wings of joy fluttered through her heart.

Alive. Jesse was alive.

She covered his face in kisses, not caring in the least that he tasted of soot and stank of smoke. He was there. He was alive.

“I love you,” she murmured urgently. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

“I love you too, Dimples.”

Hondo laid a hand on Flynn’s shoulder. “I hate to interrupt, but we need to check Jesse out.”

“Yes, okay, right,” she said, stepping away, swiping at the tears of happiness sliding headlong down her cheeks.

“You stay right here,” Jesse said, reaching out his hand to take hers while Hondo wrapped a blood pressure cuff around his other arm.

Jesse perched on the edge of the gurney, Flynn seated herself on the floor of the ambulance beside him, their fingers locked together. And that’s how they sat, hearts and hands entwined, as they watched their dreams burn to the ground.

Hondo wheeled Jesse into the emergency room on the lightweight metal gurney. He knew Flynn was right behind him and he wouldn’t have much time to tell the boy what he had to say. But after tonight, after watching him almost die, Hondo had to say it.

“You doin’ okay?” Hondo asked, his voice coming out all rough.

Jesse gave him a wry grin. “I’ll live.”

“Listen,” he said. “There’s something I gotta tell. It’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you for a long time.”

“What’s wrong, Hondo? You look like someone died.”

“You may want to kill me when you find out.”

Jesse frowned, winced. His face was covered in soot, and the parts that weren’t were blistered red with first-degree burns. The kid needed pain medication, not to hear his confession.

“Never mind, I’ll tell you later.”

“It’s okay, go ahead. Get it off your chest.”

Hondo blew out his breath, plowed his fingers through his hair. “You want to know why I visited you in prison? Why I loaned you the money for the motorcycle shop?”

“Yeah.”

Hondo splayed a palm to the back of his neck. He was having a hard time looking Jesse in the eye. “There’s a good chance that I’m your father.”

“Huh?” Jesse blinked, looked dazed, and then laughed. “For a minute there I thought you said you might be my father.”

Hondo nodded miserably. “That watch you’re wearing? It used to be mine.”

“But…how?”

“You know your Aunt Patsy and I have a lot of old history.”

“She’s never talked about it to me, but yeah, I got that vibe.”

“Well, it’s a long story and we don’t have time to get into it now, we’ll talk when you’re better, but the
Reader’s Digest
version is that I ended up in Phoenix twenty-nine years ago. I was still doing drugs then, trying to stop, but not having much luck. I met your mother at a Narcotics Anonymous meeting and she looked so much like your Aunt Patsy that I…” He swallowed. “We’ll talk later. Just know that I never knew about you until Patsy brought you to Twilight and I started doing the math and…” Shit. He couldn’t do this. “I gotta go.” He pointed at the door.

Jesse nodded. The kid looked overwhelmed and exhausted, but he didn’t seem filled with hatred. That gave Hondo some encouragement. “Later.”

Hondo pivoted, practically sprinted for the door, only to find Patsy and Flynn standing in the hallway.

Patsy stood staring at Hondo, her worst fears confirmed. Hondo
was
Jesse’s father. She’d suspected. Had read Phoebe’s diary where she wrote about having sex with Hondo. But in that same time period her sister had sex with several other men, and Phoebe wasn’t above lying. Not even in a diary entry.

The news shouldn’t have hurt as badly as it did. Twenty-nine years had passed. She’d been married to Jimmy all this time. Hondo had a right to sleep with anyone he wanted to sleep with, and yet she couldn’t help feeling betrayed. He’d screwed her sister, made a baby with her.

“Patsy,” Hondo said, and reached out to her.

She refused to look at him. Refused to acknowledge he even existed. The pain in her heart was almost as great as it had been when she thought he’d been killed in battle. Patsy simply linked her arm through Flynn’s and said, “Let’s go see my nephew.”

Jesse couldn’t wrap his head around this newfound knowledge that Hondo Crouch could very well be his long-lost father. It startled him, but in all honesty, he found the idea appealing. Hondo was a good guy, even if he was flawed. But Jesse didn’t have a lot of time to think about it, not with Flynn rushing to his side along with his Aunt Patsy.

“Hey,” Flynn whispered, and gently kissed his forehead.

“Hey,” he croaked, smiling at her. The motorcycle shop might have burned down but it was shaping up to be a pretty good day. Flynn had told him she loved him and Hondo had confessed that he might be his father.

“How are you feeling?” She perched on the edge of the bed beside him. It felt good having her there.

“I’ve had worse days. The doctor says I’ll be fine. Some minor burns, smoke inhalation. They might let me go home later today.”

“That’s wonderful.” Flynn patted his arm.

“Jesse Calloway.”

At the sound of the masculine voice, Jesse, Flynn, and Patsy swung their eyes to the doorway.

Sheriff Trainer and Fire Chief Rutledge trod toward Jesse’s bed. The gloating expression in Trainer’s eyes told him this wasn’t a social call.

“Jesse Calloway,” Trainer said. “You’re under arrest.”

Jesse stomach flipped. Not again.

“What’s this?” Flynn exclaimed, jumping to her feet.

“We found evidence of arson inside the motorcycle shop,” Fire Chief Rutledge explained. “Jesse’s fingerprints were all over a gas can we found in a Dumpster behind the property.”

“What? No!” Flynn balled her hands into fists.

“Couple that with the fact that your boyfriend took out a three-quarter-of-a-million-dollar insurance policy, and you’ve got means, motive, and opportunity,” Trainer said.

“This is bogus and you know it. Jesse did not start that fire,” Flynn ranted.

“It was arson,” Fire Chief Rutledge said. “There’s no doubt about it.”

Trainer’s eyes locked with Jesse’s.

Jesse knew what this was all about. Flynn. “You set me up again, Trainer. Bad habits die hard. You’re trying to hold on to Flynn the only way you know how.”

Trainer didn’t answer him. He just clamped one end of the handcuff around Jesse’s wrist, the other side to the bed rail. “You have the right to remain silent…”

“There’s no way Jesse started that fire.” Patsy paced the length of her living room floor. “I’ve hired the best lawyer I can afford, but that insurance policy makes him look guilty.”

“Why did he take out such a big insurance policy?”

“Because he borrowed the money from Hondo, and if anything happened to the shop he wanted to make sure Hondo was paid back with interest.”

It made sense. She believed it. She should have believed Jesse the first time.

“Clearly Beau isn’t going to investigate any further. He’s convinced Jesse burned down the shop to claim the insurance money,” Patsy said. “I can’t let Jesse go to prison a second time for a crime he didn’t commit.”

“Me either. We’ve got to take stronger measures,” Flynn said. “We’re going to have to conduct our own investigation. Somebody had to have seen something. This is Twilight, after all. Everybody knows what everyone else is up to.”

“What do we do first?”

“Go door to door, asking lots of questions.”

Patsy picked up her purse. “Let’s hit it.”

By the end of the afternoon Flynn and Patsy were completely discouraged. They’d canvassed an entire three-block radius around the motorcycle shop. While Twilight was a friendly town that took an interest in the business of its friends and neigh
bors, it was also a town that rolled up the carpet early. Few people had been out and about in the wee hours of Monday morning, and it seemed no one had seen a thing.

The last house on the block was a small frame bungalow that put Flynn in mind of a quaint English cottage. Rosebushes lined the walkway, and red geraniums peeked at them from white wooden window boxes.

“This is an exercise in futility.” Patsy sighed. “Eloise Baron is deaf as a post. I’m sure she didn’t hear a thing.”

“Still,” Flynn said resolutely, “we have to try. For Jesse’s sake.”

That pulled Patsy’s shoulders upward. “You’re right. We can’t let Beau win.”

Flynn knocked on the door. She had to pound on it several times before it swung inward, and a wizened little gray-haired lady peeked out.

“I’m sorry,” Eloise Baron said, “I don’t have any money to buy anything. I’m on a fixed income and—”

“We’re not here to sell you anything, Mrs. Baron. I’m Flynn MacGregor and this is Councilwoman Patsy Cross. We’d like to ask you some questions about the fire on the square last night.”

“Well, why didn’t you say so? That was quite scary. Come right in.” The woman swung open the door. “Would you like a cup of tea?”

“No thank you,” Patsy said. “We don’t want to trouble you.”

“No trouble at all.” Mrs. Baron toddled to the kitchen. They followed her. “Will Earl Grey do?”

“That would be fine,” Flynn said.

Fifteen minutes later after much tea sipping and pleasantries exchanged with the elderly woman, they discovered what they’d gone there hoping to find. Around three
A.M
. Mrs. Baron had been awakened by the call of nature, and on her way to the restroom, she’d glanced out her bedroom window and saw a man running away from the motorcycle shop.

“Were you frightened?” Patsy asked.

“Oh no.” Mrs. Baron shook her head. “Not at all.”

“Why not?” Flynn asked.

“Because it was that nice Sheriff Trainer. I figured he was in pursuit of a bad guy. Funny thing though. I couldn’t figure out why he was wearing gloves in this August heat.”

“You go get Fire Chief Rutledge,” Flynn said once they were back outside on Eloise Baron’s front porch. “And bring him back here to hear what she has to say.”

“Where are you going?” Patsy asked.

“It’s time Beau and I had a long talk.”

“Okay.” Patsy nodded. “Good luck.”

Rage fueled Flynn’s every step as she marched across the street to the sheriff’s office. “Buzz me in, Madge,” she said to the dispatcher through gritted teeth.

Madge looked startled, but obeyed.

Flynn found Beau at his desk. She slammed the door behind her. “You rotten, low-down, lying, cheating son of a bitch.”

“Whoa, whoa,” Beau said. His face was scratched from his altercation with Jesse in her flower bed. “What’s going on here?”

“Drop the act, Beau. I know what you’ve been up to. I’ve got to say I’m completely shocked. I would never have believed you were capable of such dirty dealings.”

“What are you talking about?” Beau got to his feet.

“Mrs. Baron saw you running out of the motorcycle shop just seconds before the fire ignited,” she accused.

Beau narrowed his eyes, planted his palms on his desk. “What are you saying, Flynn?”

“Did you start that fire?” She didn’t expect the anguished expression on his face. He looked truly, deeply contrite.

“I didn’t, I didn’t…mean…it…” he stammered.

“It’s a simple question. Did you start the fire or not?”

“I got drunk.”

His admission took her by surprise. She’d never seen Beau drunk. “You got drunk?” she echoed.

“It killed me,” he went on. “Seeing you with Jesse. Knowing he was touching you, kissing you.” The face of the man she thought she knew contorted in a vicious expression that made him unrecognizable. “Doing
other
things to you.”

She took a step backward, felt the first tickle of real fear at her throat. “I’m sorry if you got hurt, that was never my intention.”

“So you didn’t think it would hurt me to learn you were fucking him?” Beau broke off. She’d rarely heard him use language that strong, and it chilled her to the bone.

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well, I’m sorry too,” he spat out.

“I’m not going to allow you to make me feel guilty for following my heart.”

“You don’t even know what that means. You’ve been sheltered by Twilight. You’ve never seen the world. You’re so gullible. You have no idea what people are capable of doing to each other.” He touched his shoulder where he’d been wounded in Iraq.

Clearly his scar went much deeper than the surface wound. Beau trod toward her, his boot heels smacking on the cement. His hands knotted into fists. Really big fists. Beau wouldn’t hurt her. Would he? Flynn took a step backward, raised her palms. “Just settle down.”

“I can’t settle down. Too much is at stake.”

“You were the one who blew up the Twilight Bridge.”

Beau nodded, an expression of remorse on his face.

“You spiked the lemonade at the knit-a-thon.”

Again, he nodded. “I’m sorry about your father. I had no idea he’d drink the lemonade.”

Who was this man she once thought she knew so well? “But why?”

“I had to get rid of him.”

Her blood ran cold. If he would blow up a bridge and spike lemonade, did that mean he’d done this before?

“Beau,” she whispered. “Did you plant cocaine on Jesse? Were you the reason he went to prison?” It was all she could do not to fly at him in a rage and
pound him with her fists. “Did you steal ten years of a man’s life just because you were jealous?”

“No, no,” he rasped. “He had a rap sheet, prior crimes. He was no angel. I had to save you. I didn’t save Jodi and she’s dead because I didn’t step in. I couldn’t let the same thing happen to you.”

“You did it?” She dropped her head in her hands, overcome by the magnitude of what he’d done.

“Calloway is no good for you, Flynn, and you just can’t see that. I had to save you from yourself. I had to show you what kind of man he was.”

She raised her head, defiantly met his eyes. “That’s what went wrong with this relationship, Beau. You, trying to save me. You’re not my protector. You’re not my savior. I’m responsible for my own actions and I have live with the consequences. Just like you’re responsible for your own actions. You sent Jesse to prison, and when he came back to town, you went on a personal vendetta against him. Now you’ve got to live with what you’ve done.”

“You’re not listening to me,” Beau said. “I tried my best to protect you from him, but like a moth to the flame you flew straight into the arms of danger. You were just like Jodi. What’s wrong with women? They have a good man yet they gotta have the bad ones.”

“You’re mixing your metaphors,” Flynn said, her snarky mouth trying to hop in to save the day, create some levity, snap him out of this weird trance he seemed to have fallen under.

“I did it all for you,” Beau said, completely ignoring her attempt to shift the tone. “Everything was for you.”

Flynn could hardly breathe, she was so shocked at how far Beau had deteriorated. How had he gotten so lost? “You found out about the big insurance policy Jesse took out on the shop. That gave you a motive to pin on him.”

“People in this town do talk. Mostly all you have to do is buy them a meal and it’s blab, blab, blab.” He brought his thumb up in a repeated motion, using his two middle fingers to mimic chatter. His eyes were unnaturally bright. “I’ve always tried to do the right thing. You know that.”

“You have,” she said, ready to agree to anything if she could just see the old Beau again. This new guy was scaring the hell out of her.

“Then why am I losing you to a scumbag convict?”

“So you got drunk and you started the fire and tried to make it look like Jesse torched the place for the insurance money.”

Her words seem to take the fight out of him. His shoulders slumped, his face went slack. “It wasn’t like that.”

“What was it like then?”

“I got drunk. I went to the motorcycle shop to see Calloway. He wasn’t there and I just knew he was with you.”

“Of course he wasn’t there. It was three o’clock in the morning, but he wasn’t with me.”

“I was drunk. I hadn’t thought it through, I just kept picturing him on top of you, inside of you.” A startled sound ripped from Beau’s throat and threw chills up her spine. “I got enraged.”

“And then you burned the motorcycle shop down.”

“No,” he said hoarsely. “I admit it, I saw the gasoline can in the back room and a box of latex gloves on the shelf. It wasn’t premeditated. It just happened.”

Flynn nodded. Jesse had fueled up a motorcycle on Saturday so that a potential customer could take one of the Harleys out for a spin, and he kept latex gloves on hand for when he worked on greasy engines.

“I grabbed the can, spread gasoline all over the place, and then…”

“You lit a match and ran,” she said flatly.

“No.” He shook his head, ran a heavy palm down his face. “No. I…the smell of gasoline snapped me out of my drunken rage. I realized I was making a big mistake and I threw the gas can in the Dumpster and staggered out of there. That must have been when Mrs. Baron saw me.”

“Are you saying the place just caught itself on fire?”

He shook his head, looked woeful. “There must have been a spark from the hot water heater pilot light that set off the blaze. I swear to you, Flynn. I did not light a match. I’m sorry I caused you to lose the shop. I know how hard you worked. I just want you back.”

“It’s too late for that.”

Anguish pulled at his mouth. “I love you so much, Flynnie.”

“It’s the wrong kind of love. You’re trying to use me to fill up an empty space in your life, in your heart. I can’t do that. No one can fill it up except you, Beau. You have to look deep inside yourself and find what’s missing. Only you can fix you.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m not going to do anything. You’re going to come clean to Fire Chief Rutledge and then you’re going to contact the proper authorities and make sure Jesse is pardoned for the crimes he did not commit. Because if you don’t, I will do it for you.”

Flynn left the sheriff’s office and raced back to the hospital, anxious to be with Jesse again and tell him how sorry she was for doubting him. She hurried down the corridor and burst into his room, only to find the bed empty and the deputy who’d been guarding Jesse standing in the hall chatting up one of the nurses.

“Where is Jesse?” she demanded of the deputy.

“Doctor just released him.”