Games of Fire (25 page)

“Back to my house!” he said, grabbing her, pulling her away from where she needed to be. But she couldn’t move. She couldn’t leave. The barrier to her home, the thing keeping the world
outside out, was broken. It was open. A threat had entered her home, her place of security. Someone had broken in and there was blood.

“No!” she gasped, as the sick realization struck her with the force of a four ton truck. “Mom! Dad!”

“Sophie!” He lunged at her before she could bolt for the house. His arms banded around her, his free hand pressing down on her mouth, cutting off her unstable screams as she fought to reach her parents.

She didn’t know how it happened. One minute she was thrashing and screaming to be released, the next, she was tossed over his shoulder and carted back to his house at a run. He kicked the door closed with the heel of his boot and twisted the
lock into place with his free hand, ignoring her thrashing as though she were nothing more than a bothersome kitten. He stalked agilely down the hall and gently dumped her onto the sofa at his mother’s feet.

The movement jostled Jackie. She blinked her big blue eyes like a baby owl coming awake and sat up.

“Spencer? What—”

“Call the police!” Spencer told her, turning back to Sophie without waiting to see if she would do it. He knelt at Sophie’s feet. “Sophie? Look at me!”

“Get away from me!” she screamed at him, trying to wedge herself back into the smooth leather. “You had no right to do that! My parents were inside! I have to help them!”

His hands found her face despite her snarl. “Sophie, stop for a second and listen to me! Your parents weren’t home. They weren’t there!”

His calm words stilled her, froze her as her mind tripped over itself in a desperate attempt to make sense of what he was saying. An unstable pot of emotions writhed inside her, boiling and frothing over the rim until she was sure she would just explode with them.

“What?” she finally choked out.

“Their car wasn’t in the driveway. They weren’t there, but whoever did that could have been. I’m sorry! I had to get us out of there.”

It was almost too much to hope, but she asked, “They
… they weren’t there? You’re sure?” Her fingers clawed into his upper arms, anchoring her to him as though he was a lifeline and she needed him to keep from drowning. “Spencer, are you—”

He unhooked her nails from his jacket sleeves and held them tight between his warm fingers. “I noticed
your dad’s SUV missing when we were walking up to the house. At the time, I was thinking maybe I’d convince you to let me stay a little while since they weren’t there, but then … ” He really didn’t need to finish that sentence. She knew exactly what happened next.

She sank into the sofa, covering her mouth with her hands as relief suffocated her. Her shoulders shook as she wept. Spencer pulled her into his arms, cradling her close and pressing her face into his shoulder. He
draped the afghan his mother had been sleeping under around Sophie, swaddling her in the residual warmth.

“It’s going to be all right,” he murmured into the top of her head. “I won’t let anything happen to you.” He drew back to wipe the tears off her cheeks. “The police will sort things out,” he said.

She peered into his eyes. “Who would do something like that? Why?”

He shook his head, opening his mouth to speak, but Jackie ran up to them then, phone cradled to her ear. “Spencer, I don’t know what—”

With a gentle squeeze of her cold fingers, he released Sophie and rose to his feet, taking the phone from his mother. He didn’t stray far as he spoke quickly and calmly into the receiver, giving the operator exact details of what they’d seen. When he hung up, his mother looked on the verge of either fainting or crying.

“Are you sure?” she squeaked, clutching her throat. “Are you sure Mary and Ben weren’t there, Spencer?”

Spencer flicked a glance in Sophie’s direction before facing his mother. “Why don’t you sit with Sophie while I make tea?” Without waiting, Spencer left them, disappearing into the kitchen. A moment later, they heard the rush of water filling a container.

Jackie lowered herself down next to Sophie. “Everything will be all right!” she said, sounding like she almost believed it. “The police will find the person responsible.”

It was hard to believe that when Sophie knew the taint of having someone break into her home, touch her things, would never go away, even if the person was caught. Their essence would forever haunt what was once her sanctuary. Part of her wondered if it was just a robbery, if the people involved had simply gotten what they wanted and left. That didn’t explain the bag, but what else could it be? Why else would anyone break into her home? None of it made any sense.

Jackie reached over and gently placed a hand on Sophie’s arm. She didn’t say anything and Sophie had never been so thankful.

Spencer returned nearly ten minutes later, a tray of steaming tea in hand. He set the lot down on the coffee table and straightened. No one made any move towards it though, not even Spencer, who tucked his hands into his pocket and looked down at her.

“Have you tried to call your parents?”

Sophie blinked up at him, torn between the obviousness of his words and her lack of thinking of it sooner. Her fingers shook as she dug into the pocket of her jacket. The phone there felt alien and bulky and her fingers felt stiff and useless. She dropped it several times. The third time, it slipped right off her lap and under the coffee table.

Spencer retrieved it. “May I?” he asked.

Sophie nodded, stuffing her trembling hands under the folds of the blanket.

His fingers moved seamlessly over the keys. He found her parent’s cell phone number after only a few seconds and pushed talk. Sophie took it when he passed it back to her. She held her breath while it rang and rang and rang. Her insides convulsed as though currents of electricity were flowing through her. Tears burned behind her eyes and she tore into her lip to redirect the pain.

“Sophia?”

Her mother’s voice had never sounded so beautiful. It had never filled her with such blazing relief and joy.

“Mom … ” Her voice broke, shattering into a thousand pieces of unfinished words that splintered and tore through her.

“Sophia? What—?”

“I’m okay!” she said, pulling herself together. “There was an accident at home.” Was it an accident when someone deliberately breaks into your house and leaves bloody presents on your doorstep?

She didn’t focus on that though. She told her mother what happened. She told her that she was at Jackie’s house and the police had been called. Her mother, after several seconds of yelling at her father to hurry up and grab his things, told her to stay put and that they were on their way.

Sophie hung up, dropping her phone into her lap and slumping back against the sofa. She closed her eyes, murmuring a prayer of thanks that her parents were all right. Jackie was patting her knee when she opened her eyes again. Spencer was sitting on the floor on the other side of the coffee table, twirling a spoon between his long fingers.

“It’ll be all right.” No sooner had Jackie said the words when a soft knock filled the house. “That must be the police.”

“I’ll get it!” Spencer lunged to his feet before his mother could even finish her thought. “Wait here.”

Sophie didn’t wait. She was on her feet and following him before he was even in the hallway. He glanced back, seemingly surprised by her presence, but one glower from her warned him not to protest. He turned to the door
and peeked through the peephole.

“The police,” he confirmed, unlatching the locks and pulling open the door.

The night was a buzz of commotion after that. Sophie lost track of the number of police officers she had to speak with, how many times she had to recount her story. Then her parents arrived and she had to do it all over again. But it wasn’t nearly half as bad when she was enfolded in her mother’s arms with her father stroking her hair while she did it.

“They think it was a home invasion,” her mother said after the police had gone, their home cleared for re-inhabitation. They sat around the oak table in Jackie’s kitchen, cradling cups of lukewarm tea. “Some sicko.”

“What was in the bag?” Sophie asked, wanting and not wanting to know.

Her mother twisted the wedding band on her finger, flicking an anxious glance towards her husband. The two exchanged silent words before she turned to the cup in front of her. She wrapped long fingers around the delicate cup.

“That’s not important. What’s important is that no one was home. The police said there was no telling what … what … he would have done if … ” Her father took her mother’s hand when she faltered. She sucked in a deep breath. “We went for dinner and a late show,” she said as if she needed to explain. “We thought since Sophie was here, we could have a night out.” She rubbed a shaky hand over her mouth. “To think if you’d returned sooner … ”

Sophie’s own stomach roiled at the thought. She shuddered. Spencer reached for her hand under the table and squeezed.

“I would have stayed with her,” Spencer said quietly, which was probably meant to be reassuring, but both her parents suddenly looked wary.

Her father, eyeing Spencer now with a new sort of suspicion, spoke first. “That’s thoughtful of you, Spencer. But I’m going to be looking into getting an alarm system in the morning.”

“Which is heartbreaking,” her mother chimed, momentarily forgetting Spencer. “This neighborhood has always been so safe.”

Jackie slowly shook her head. “It’s tragic is what it is. First the incident yesterday, now this
… ” She rubbed her arms as though willing down goose bumps. “I hope that’s the last of our unlucky streak.”

Sophie couldn’t agree more, but something in the air, a chill, coiled around her, sinking razor sharp talons into her flesh. It trickled venom through her veins, paralyzing all hopes that tomorrow would be better. Truthfully, how could it be when the person responsible was still out there? What if they came back? What if they tried again? What if they did it to someone else?

No. Sophie had no delusions that it would be better tomorrow. She wasn’t fooled by the temporary calm. Two incidents simultaneously? Maybe the police didn’t spot the link, but she wasn’t so lucky nor could she rule out that possibility that Spencer was the center of it all.

It was nearly three in the morning when they finally said goodnight to Jackie and Spencer. Her mom and dad walked out, murmuring quietly to each other. Jackie patted Spencer’s shoulder and shuffled up the stairs to bed.

Sophie turned to Spencer. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said quietly, too exhausted to even formulate words.

He nodded, looking as tired as she felt. “Yeah.” He rubbed a hand over his face, grinding the grit from his eyes with his knuckles.

“I’m sorry about everything that happened,” she said, feeling partially responsible for the circles beneath his eyes.

He blinked at her. “I don’t see why. This wasn’t your fault.”

Sophie sighed, shoulders sagging. “I know. I just … ” She shrugged. “I don’t know. Goodnight.”

“Night.”

With a wave, she shuffled towards the house next door, her stomach coiling like angry snakes with every step. On her driveway, she glanced back, surprised, yet not surprised  to find Spencer standing on his porch, watching her, waiting for her to make it all the way inside. She raised a hand and waved. He waved back and she, without looking at the dark stain on her porch, ducked through the door.

Her mother was nowhere in sight, but Sophie could hear the clutter of dishes in the kitchen.

“Get to bed,” her father said, kneeling behind the door with his toolkit as he tried to temporarily patch the broken window.

Sophie didn’t argue. She was ready to fall asleep standing up. With a wave to her parents, she ambled up the stairs to her room. She closed the door behind her and sagged against it, closing her eyes. She drew in a deep breath, counted to ten before releasing it and opening her eyes. She pushed away from the door and hurriedly showered and changed for bed. She crawled into bed and was awake for the rest of the night.

The next morning proved she wasn’t the only one who hadn’t slept. She stumbled downstairs to find her father crawling out from beneath a pile of blankets on the sofa. Her mother was in a grumpier mood than normal and it wasn’t even seven o’clock.

“You slept down here?” she asked her father.

He groaned, leaning his elbows on his knees and rubbing his face. At his head, propped against the sofa, Sophie’s old softball bat glinted in the early morning light.

“Slept? No. I’m not going to sleep a wink until that door is fixed and the alarms are installed,” he grumbled. He stood up, groaning as he tried to work the kinks in his back. “I’m also going to see about a new sofa.”

Sophie wanted to laugh, but she wasn’t sure if he was joking so she patted his shoulder on her way into the kitchen.

“Eat your breakfast!” her mother barked without looking up from the stove where she was scrubbing as if her life depended on it. “Hurry up! We’re going to be late!”

“Late for what?”

Her mother ceased the violent war she seemed to be having with the stove and looked up, eyes wide as if Sophie had just cursed. “For church! Today is Sunday
or have you forgotten?”