On Blue Falls Pond (27 page)
G
LORY TRIED TO
snatch the shirt from his hand. “I told you, I’m not your responsibility. You don’t need to protect me. These are just pranks to upset me and don’t concern you.”
He didn’t release the shirt but used Glory’s grip on it to pull her closer. “You said you wanted honesty. Is this how you begin?”
When she just stared at him, he added, “And what do you mean, it doesn’t concern me? It’s my face that’s been burned out of this photo. I’d say that’s personal. And what is being insinuated here definitely concerns me professionally.” He drew her a little closer and looked down at her. “Have there been others?”
Glory ignored his question and wrenched the shirt from him. “Go inside. I’ll change my own damn tire.”
“Have there been others?” He grabbed her arm when she tried to walk away.
His intensity drew an automatic response from her. “Just the two you’ve already seen.”
“I don’t think you understand how dangerous this could be.”
“I doubt she’d go as far as actually hurting me.”
“You know who’s doing this?” He sounded stunned.
“I think you do, too.” The instant she said it, she wished she could take it back. She had no proof that Jill was behind all this. There just wasn’t anyone else who made any sense.
“How would I know?” he asked, the tension in his voice ratcheting up another notch. “You think I know and am keeping it a secret so you’ll be more frightened?”
“No,” she said. “I think you’re keeping it a secret because it’ll open up a whole can of worms you’d rather not touch.”
“Jill? You think it’s Jill?” he asked, sounding surprised.
She just stared at him, her arms crossed over her chest. Was he playing her, or had it really not crossed his mind?
“Jill wouldn’t do this,” he said with certainty.
Glory bristled. It seemed all but written in the sky to her; how could he not see? “How can you be so blind? She wants you back . . .”
“I told you, that’s not happening. Jill’s not perfect. And I admit her comments to you were misguided, but this . . .” He shook his head. “No way.”
“Jealousy makes people do things you never thought they would.”
“I guess you’d know that firsthand.” There was a heavy innuendo in his voice.
“What are you getting at?” She felt the tide of this conversation turning on her. And she didn’t like it.
“Jealousy changes people—and not just the one who’s jealous.”
She shook her head and threw a hand in the air. “You’ve completely lost me.”
He looked straight in her eyes and asked, “Was there some reason for Andrew to think the baby wasn’t his?”
She felt as if he’d clubbed her in the head. Her ears even rang for a moment. “I knew there was something about the fire that you’ve kept bottled up. If you suspect I set that fire to get rid of Andrew, then just say it!”
A porch light came on at the neighbor’s house.
Eric slammed the trunk closed and said, “Let’s go back inside. This is going to be complicated.”
There were other issues that needed to be put on the table, and Glory had a feeling he was about to lay one of them down. She tried to calm her temper and walked ahead of him up the steps.
The few seconds it took to walk back into the house had given her time to absorb the illogicality of his question. What would make him ask about the paternity of her child?
Since the couch was the only place to sit in his living room, Glory pressed herself deep into one corner in order to sit as far away from him as possible. Eric foiled her attempt to increase the physical distance between them by sitting on the coffee table directly in front of her. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his thighs, lacing his fingers between his knees.
His presumption that she wanted to be close to him after he’d asked such a hurtful question made her even angrier.
“First off,” she said coldly, “I don’t know where you got the idea that someone other than my husband fathered my baby. But just for the
honesty record
; yes, Andrew was Clarice’s father. I’ve never been with anyone else—
ever
. Until last Thursday night, that is.”
Eric recoiled slightly as if stung, his relaxed posture stiffening. Then he sat stock-still for a long moment, staring just beyond her. His jaw worked as if he was clenching and unclenching teeth. His breathing became noticeably louder.
The truth dawned as bright as the morning sun in Glory’s mind. “
Jill
gave you that idea.”
He ignored her assumption and said, “No matter what happened between you and Andrew, I don’t think you started the fire.” The tone of his voice said this was the beginning of a much longer declaration.
Glory wanted to make him admit Jill’s scheming, but the look on his face had been confirmation enough. There was a deeper question that needed to be answered. “Do you think it was intentionally set? You’ve told me again and again that it was the furnace—an accident.”
Eric moved slightly closer to her. “All of the evidence at the scene tells me that the fire was a faulty furnace. The fact that you and Andrew suffered carbon monoxide poisoning backs up that theory. After a thorough investigation, accidental fire was the right ruling.”
“But?” she said, fearing his speculation, yet needing to hear it.
“There are a few things that raised questions in my mind—not enough to change the ruling.” After a pause, he said, “You said you’d told Andrew you wanted a separation that day. Can you remember anything else that happened that evening?”
Glory explained how Andrew had come home in a mood, accusing her of sneaking around with Cam Wilkes and that was what pushed her into a decision she’d been inching toward for months. She told Eric that Andrew had convinced her to sleep on it and that he’d moved his things into the spare bedroom. The last thing she could recall was going to bed alone.
“He reacted with hostility at first?” Eric asked. “Then calmed?”
“Yes. At first I thought he was finally going to explode into real violence. But when I didn’t back down, he left the room and seemed to regroup. He was really making an effort to convince me we could work things out. That’s why I felt I owed it to him at least to sleep on it, as he asked.”
“And he moved into the spare room. You went to bed in the master.”
“Yes.”
“And you said Andrew was a fanatic about the smoke and CO detectors. Testing, replacing batteries.”
“Yes. He replaced them four times a year, the same day he sent in our quarterly income-tax payments.”
There was something in Eric’s eyes that said something had clicked into place for him.
“Glory, what I’m about to tell you—it’s not going to change anything. And I have nothing to back it up but my own intuition and what I personally know—or suspect, is more accurate—about Andrew.”
In spite of the warm night, Glory was chilled to the marrow of her bones. “You think Andrew started the fire?”
“If all I had was the evidence that presented itself, I’d say no. But knowing what I know . . . I just can’t convince myself 100 percent that he didn’t.”
With a tilt of her head, Glory prompted him to elaborate.
He went on, “When Andrew and I were seniors in high school, he dated Emily MacRady almost the entire school year.”
Glory remembered the prom photo on Ovella’s piano. Emily had been Andrew’s date.
Eric said, “Just after prom, Emily broke up with Andrew and started dating someone else. Within a week, MacRady’s barn burned to the ground.”
“What would make you think Andrew did it? Was it ruled arson?”
“No. Accidental fire. It was Andrew’s attitude afterward that made me wonder. He seemed so . . . satisfied. I even asked him outright if he’d had anything to do with it.”
“And?”
“He gave a smug shrug and walked away. It was creepy really. I’d never been afraid of Andrew’s occasional eruptions of temper. That emotion was out there where you could deal with it. But this subdued reaction, the veiled treachery in his eye, was very disturbing.” Eric swallowed drily. “The worst part of it was, I gave him the tools to do it.”
“What do you mean? How could you have—?”
“Not purposefully. And I don’t know if I was milked for information and our conversation was the beginning of his plan, or if it was just a case of unfortunate timing.”
Eric rubbed his eyes with the forefinger and thumb of one hand. Then he went on, “I’d been interested in firefighting since eighth grade. I read anything I could get my hands on about it—it was the investigation that really intrigued me. We’d talk about it sometimes, Andrew and me. Just a few days before the MacRadys’ barn burned, we’d had one of those conversations. I can’t remember which one of us started it. But it was basically about how a person could set a fire and not have it detected as arson.”
“That doesn’t mean Andrew burned that barn. It was probably coincidence.”
“I know that’s what everyone would believe. That’s why I never said anything. It wouldn’t have done any good. Maybe if I had . . .” His gaze slid to the floor, and he rubbed the back of his neck.
“Oh, come on! Even if something like that did happen way back then, it doesn’t have any bearing on what happened on Laurel Creek Road. Andrew had no reason to set our house on fire. And he
died
in it, for Christ’s sake! It doesn’t even begin to make sense.”
She thought for a moment, then went on. “Besides, I was the one by the door. If anyone set it, maybe it was me. Everything you’ve said about Andrew’s paranoia and possessiveness was true. Maybe I was so afraid I’d never be able to get away from him—afraid he’d hurt the baby if I didn’t . . .”
Eric slid off the table onto his knees before her and took her hands in his. “Look at me.”
Slowly, she did. She could hardly believe she’d said the words that she’d been terrified of for days.
Maybe it was me
.
“No matter what he made you think of yourself, there is absolutely no way that you could have committed such a horrible act. No way in hell!”
“Then why was I by the door and not in bed—the last place I can remember being?” Now that it was out, her need to know what she’d done was greater than all else.
“Pregnancy can reduce the effect of carbon monoxide poisoning.” He squeezed her hands. “Maybe you woke and tried to find your way out after he fell unconscious.”
“I don’t remember waking.”
“And you won’t. You probably wouldn’t remember that even if you hadn’t experienced all of the other memory blocks. You were confused, near losing consciousness yourself.”
“But if Andrew set it, why wouldn’t he just leave? Get out right away?” she asked.
“Glory, do you know where we found him?”
“In bed. No one would set a fire, then go get in bed!”
“He was in the
master
bedroom, not the guest room where you said he was going to sleep. He’d been lying beside you.”
It seemed too bizarre a concept to grasp. Andrew had been controlling, jealous, and even paranoid—but what Eric was implying was plain crazy.
As she thought over the facts of what she did know for certain, several things took on clearer meaning: his uncharacteristic calm after his initial anger. His insistence that she sleep on her decision before she packed up and left. His words:
I know what I want. You and I are meant to be together forever.
Forever.
He had lain down in bed next to her and waited for them both to die, together. Forever.
Could it have been like that?
Glory closed her eyes and fought nausea. Had she been living with a man so totally on the edge?
Eric said the words that she was thinking, “Andrew didn’t plan on getting out of that fire. He probably blocked the flue from the furnace to increase the CO level so you were both unconscious before the fire actually started.”
She made herself ask, “Why fire? If he planned on dying too, why go to the trouble of making it look like an accident?”
Eric gave a half shake of his head. “Could be a couple of reasons. He obviously wasn’t thinking rationally. But he was a businessman—a shrewd businessman; Andrew always wanted to make sure he got his due. Accidental fire; insurance pays. Even so, my guess is the stronger reason would be that he wanted to protect his parents from scandal.”
“This is all just speculation.”
Speculation that rang disturbingly true
.
“Yes,” he said. “No way to prove any of it.”
“Could Andrew have been that . . . crazy?” She’d become increasingly frightened of him, but even in her most far-fetched fears she’d never come up with such a strange and tragic scenario.
“I don’t know. He was paranoid and possessive. But who can tell what really goes on in a mind like that?”
Glory started to tremble. “He wanted me dead . . . wanted our baby dead.”
Eric moved onto the couch beside her and pulled her into his arms. He felt warm and solid next to her frigid, shaking body.
He said, “I don’t want you to think about that anymore.” He kissed the top of her head. “That’s one of the reasons I didn’t want this conversation ever to have to take place. But I couldn’t allow you to think that you’d had anything to do with that fire.” He rubbed her back. “And we can’t
know
that’s what truly happened. It was an accident. A horrible, tragic accident.”
“What did I do to make him hate me so?” Her voice was muffled against his shirt.
“He didn’t hate you, Glory. He loved you. Andrew loved you in his own tormented, confused way.”
Eric returned to the living room with a steaming mug with a tea-bag tag dangling over the rim. He pressed it into Glory’s hands and sat down beside her.
“I called Tula and told her you were staying here tonight.”
Glory’s startled gaze snapped from her tea to his face. “You what?”
“There’s no way you’re driving back out to the hollow in this condition—even if there wasn’t someone circling you like a vulture leaving threatening notes.”
“What did you tell Gran?”
“The truth.”
“Now she’ll be worried.”
He grinned. “Maybe, but she won’t be lecturing you for spending the night with me.”