On Blue Falls Pond (30 page)

Scott was screaming. Pain or fear?

As soon as she could squeak, she rasped, “Scott? Scott?”

The deputy knelt beside her, Scott in his arms. “He’s fine, ma’am. I caught him. Don’t move. Where are you hurt?”

The sirens blared closer.

“Can’t tell yet,” she wheezed.

“Stay still,” he said, and put a hand on her shoulder to keep her down. “Help’s here.”

Revolving red lights reflected in the trees overhead. “Gran?”

“She’s a little woozy. I have her lying down in the back of my cruiser.”

“Lady? Is she out?”

“The dog? Haven’t seen her out here, but I’m sure she got out.”

The puppies!

There were shouts in front of the house. Booted feet pounded the ground and stopped behind the deputy, who immediately said, “Your son’s fine.”

Eric, thank God.
She wanted to shout to him, but all that came out was a raspy squeak.

She heard Eric say something soft and calming to Scott. Then he told the deputy, “Take him around for some oxygen.” Then he was by her side.

“Glory!” His hands were on the back of her neck, feeling the alignment of the bones.

The image of him hovering over her in his fire gear transported her, ever so briefly, back to the night on Laurel Creek Road.

But this time, she thought, almost giddy with relief, she had saved the child. God in Heaven, she hadn’t failed Scott. An incredible lightness bloomed in a place that had been dark and heavy for so long.

She wanted to grab onto Eric, tell him the answer to his question, the question that had threatened to keep them apart; Scott had found a place in her heart, a special place that only he could fill.

But now wasn’t the time.

“I think I’m okay,” she said. “Is someone taking care of Gran?”

“Paramedic.”

Eric continued to check Glory, before he put an arm around her shoulders and eased her to a sitting position. “Take it slow. Are you dizzy at all?”

“No.” She looked toward the house. “The puppies!” The back room appeared dark, no flames.

He spoke into his radio. “Bring a hose around back.” Then he stood. “I’ll get them.”

Glory forced herself to her feet. Her shoulder hurt like a son of a bitch, but she was whole. By the time she was upright, Eric was gone.

A few seconds later, the window opened in the back room. Glory hurried to the sill.

“It’s gonna suck the fire this way. We don’t have much time,” Eric said as he handed puppies out two at a time. Smoke was already drafting through the open window.

“Lady?” Glory asked when he reappeared with the last two.

“Right here biting my boot. Had to take the last pup out of her mouth. She’s next.” He disappeared momentarily, then lifted the dog through the window.

Glory wasn’t sure her shoulder could take Lady’s forty pounds, but she braced herself and lowered the dog to the ground.

“Now you!” Glory said.

“I’m going back the way I came. Brady’s bringing a hose through the back.”

“No!”

He paused for a split second. “I know what I’m doing. Take care of Scott.” He pulled on his mask and was gone.

Chapter Twenty-six

“E
RIC!”
G
LORY STARED
at the smoke that filled the window he had just left, wanting to crawl in after him. There was a cold knot of fear in her chest. She stared at the window as the black smoke boiled out into the night.

Men shouted over the macabre background music created by the rumble of the pumper truck and the roar of the fire. The steady drone was punctuated by the squawk and crackle of communication devices. She moved toward the kitchen door, where the fire hose snaked into the dark house.

A deep groan of timber preceded a crash. Orange embers rode the updraft into the dark sky.

Glory tried to go in the kitchen door, but the choking smoke held her back. “Eric!” She ran to the front of the house.

The porch roof had collapsed, along with the front wall of the house. The firemen in front battled the flames from the outside.

She ran up to one of them. “Eric’s still inside!”

The man put a hand on her shoulder and moved her out of the way as he shifted position with his hose.

There was no way Eric was coming out the front. She ran to the rear again. Just as she rounded the corner, she saw two men stumble out the kitchen door. A third firefighter stood just outside, pulling the hose out of the house.

Glory ran faster.

The two men staggered a few feet away from the house, sat hard on the ground and pulled off their masks. The back of the coat nearest her said
Wilson
.

She came to a sliding stop on her knees beside Eric, her hands immediately going to his sooty, sweat-soaked face.

He coughed and put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m okay.” He started to get up, motioning to the man with the hose toward the front of the house.

“Where are you going?” Panic rose in her voice.

“Back to work.” Eric got up and followed the firefighter with the hose around the house.

The other man got to his unsteady feet and was right behind Eric.

Glory’s legs were shaking too much to move.

The sun was coming up by the time the flames were out. Nothing remained of Granny’s house except the chimneys and the shell of the kitchen. The rest had collapsed into the basement. Charred black timbers jutted at odd angles out of the smoking rubble.

Scott had finally fallen into an exhausted sleep in the backseat of the police cruiser. Glory sat next to her grandmother on the ground, arm wrapped tightly around Granny’s shoulders, watching the sooty smoke curl lazily into the awakening sky. It almost seemed peaceful after the power of the raging blaze.

“Oh, Gran. I’m so sorry.” She squeezed tighter. “I know you and Pap lived here your entire marriage.”

Granny patted a bony hand on Glory’s knee. “I still got what’s important. House ain’t nothin’ without family. House can be rebuilt.”

“But your photos . . .”

“Got ’em all in here.” Granny touched her chest. And although the words were strong, Glory saw the tears glistening in Granny’s eyes.

As the rest of the firefighters reeled in the hoses and stowed equipment, Eric came and stood before them. He was filthy and sweaty and was the most beautiful sight Glory had ever laid eyes on.

Then Glory saw the five-gallon gas can he held in his hand.

“I don’t think it’s going to be difficult to determine the cause of this fire,” he said grimly.

Glory’s stomach rolled, and she closed her eyes for a second. “Oh, my God . . .” She shuddered; Gran and Scott could have died. And it was all because of her.

Eric said, “Whoever it was didn’t know a thing about disguising arson. This was sloppy beyond belief.”

Glory looked directly at him. “Did Jill know Scott was out here?”

Anger shadowed his tired features. “She
could not
have done this.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

She saw his jaw flex as he gritted his teeth. “No. She didn’t know.” He drew a deep breath. “It wasn’t her. First of all, she’s not capable of such a sociopathic act. Second, she was sick as a dog. And third, she lived with a firefighter long enough to learn a few things. She’s much too smart to have left such a careless trail of evidence.”

When Glory didn’t respond, he said, “There’s plenty here to point the finger at who did this. It’s just going to take a few days.” He gave Glory a pointed look. “And it won’t be Jill.”

“I hope you’re right, Eric,” Glory said. “I hope you’re right.”

Without a word, Eric left them and returned to his crew.

“He’s right, you know,” Granny said. “Ain’t Jill behind this.”

Glory looked at her. “How can you be sure?”

“It ain’t in her. I can tell ’bout what’s inside people once I’m with ’em for a spell.”

“Like you saw inside Andrew?”

“Like that.” Granny nodded.

“You weren’t so sure it wasn’t her when we were talking about the notes,” Glory said.

“Notes is differ’nt. Even a good woman jealous enough might send notes. But this is differ’nt.”

“Let’s hope so, Gran.”

Eric didn’t have to wait for lab results to point the finger at the arsonist. Later that day he was alone at the scene, as he liked to be when conducting his investigation (Deputy Hawkins had taken Glory and Tula to Eric’s duplex and Scott to Jill’s). One of the day-shift firefighters had delivered Eric’s Explorer, so he had everything he needed to collect evidence.

As he walked in a slowly increasing spiral around the house, he saw a small shiny disk at the edge of the gravel lane.

He knelt to check it out.

Leaning close, he couldn’t believe what was staring him in the face. Dear God, Glory was going to be shattered. He was glad she wasn’t here. How would he soften the blow of this betrayal?

He used his pocket knife to slide the small BMW key fob emblem into an evidence baggie. It was clean and shiny; it hadn’t been lying there long.

Then he went by his duplex. He had only one question for Glory. When he asked it, she was angrier than he’d ever seen her.

“Come on!” she shouted. “Are you so desperate to protect Jill that you’d jump to such an illogical conclusion?”

“All I asked was if Walt Harrison had any opportunity to put that T-shirt in your car.”

“Yes, I suppose he did. But so did the rest of the population of Dawson. That key fob could have been dropped by one of the kids at the reunion. They’ve all got stuff like that.”

“Seriously, BMW?”

“He
could not
have done this.”

“When I said that about Jill, you didn’t believe me.”

“And you don’t believe me.”

“I believe you want to believe it.” He turned around and walked out, angry with himself for even coming here first. It had been the wrong thing to do.

When he got in his Explorer, he radioed the sheriff to meet him at Walt Harrison’s house.

“Are you sure?” Sheriff Cooper asked as they got out of their cars in the Harrisons’ drive.

“As sure as I can be without questioning him. You know as well as I do there’s only one BMW in Dawson.” Eric’s blood simmered; he could have lost both Glory and his son. He had to get ahold of himself before he met the man face-to-face, or who knew what he’d do.

“All right, then,” Cooper said. “Let’s get this over with.”

Eric nodded.

They waited for several minutes after ringing the bell. Then they rang again.

Finally, the door opened. Walt Harrison didn’t appear surprised to see them on his doorstep. He did look like a man on the brink of collapse, however. With a look of resignation, he stepped back and motioned them inside. “Is everyone all right?” he asked in a tortured voice.

“You know why we’re here, then?” Sheriff Cooper asked.

Walt’s nod was almost imperceptible. “Glory? Tula? Are they all right?”

Eric wanted to grab Harrison by the shirtfront and slam him against the wall. This man nearly killed the people Eric loved most in this world.

Cooper said, “Everyone made it out.”

Walt’s entire body slumped as if the tension that had been holding him together had been released. “I was going to come in. I just needed a little time. How did you know?”

Eric snapped. He advanced on Harrison, his hands fisted, stopping just short of touching him. “You bastard! My son was in that house! I thought you loved Glory!”

Harrison looked him right in the eye. “I love Glory like she’s my own daughter.”

Eric spun away and paced around the foyer. Then he pulled out the baggie with the BMW emblem in it and waved it in front of Harrison’s face. “Stop playing these games!” He shook the baggie.

Sheriff Cooper put a hand on Eric’s shoulder. “Maybe you’d like to tell us what happened, Mr. Harrison.”

“Please understand—”

A car door slammed outside, then the front door burst open. Glory rushed in out of breath.

“The flowers!” she said. “There were no flowers!”

Walt grasped her by the shoulders and hugged her close. “I’m so sorry—”

She glanced wild-eyed around the foyer. “Where’s Ovella?”

The deputy who drove Glory there hung back in the doorway. “Sheriff, she said it was an emergency that she get here.”

Cooper nodded to his deputy. “It’s fine. Wait outside.”

Eric stepped closer to Glory and asked, “What about flowers?”

“Clarice’s grave. There were no flowers.” She turned to Harrison. “You said she took flowers every other day. But there weren’t any on the baby’s grave.” She looked back at Eric. “It wasn’t Walt. It was Ovella.”

Harrison shook his head and said again, “I’m so sorry.” Then he looked at the sheriff. “My wife isn’t well.”

Eric asked, “Where is Ovella?”

“In a stress center, where she belongs. I just got back from taking her there. She’s getting the help she needs.”

Eric said, “You’re telling me your wife set that fire?”

Walt Harrison’s chin quivered momentarily before he regained his composure. “Yes, she told me she did.”

“She just came in here and told you she set fire to Tula’s house?” Eric said with disbelief.

“Not quite like that. I found her at the cemetery.

“I awakened around four and found her gone. She sometimes goes to the cemetery early in the morning, but never that early. I got worried. My car was gone—it had been parked behind hers.” He swallowed drily. “When I got in hers, I found these.” He went to the desk in the corner of the room and picked up several sheets of copy paper and handed them to Eric.

“Copies of the newspaper articles about the fire.” He handed them to the sheriff. Then he said to Glory, “Like the one you found in your newspaper.”

Glory dipped her chin in understanding. Was it any easier for her to think that her mother-in-law tried to kill her instead of her father-in-law?

Harrison continued. “Those were my first hint that something was really wrong.”

“Why? Why did she attack Glory like that?” Eric asked, unable to keep the anger out of his voice.

Harrison’s shoulders slumped even more with his sigh. The man looked as if he’d aged overnight. “Ovella never fully recovered from our son’s death.” Harrison hesitated, rubbed his hand across his mouth, then said, “My wife had some health problems—psychological problems—early in our marriage. She received treatment in Knoxville, and we managed to keep it to ourselves. For years she’d been fine. But after Andrew died . . . she started making some startling accusations about Glory. That’s why when Glory decided to leave town, I didn’t try to stop her. Ovella improved—I thought it was just grief—she was getting past it. I had no idea . . .”

“What kind of accusations?” Eric asked.

“She told me that Andrew told her the baby wasn’t his.” He shook his head. “I know that’s ridiculous.”

“Do you think Andrew really told her that?” Eric wondered if Harrison had any suspicions that his son had inherited his mother’s disorders.

Harrison rolled his lips inward and drew a deep breath. “I really don’t know. Sometimes I worried that Andrew had the tendency toward paranoia . . . but there wasn’t ever anything concrete . . .”

“So she thought the baby wasn’t Andrew’s. Hardly reason to set fire to Tula’s house nearly two years later,” Eric said, moving closer to Glory and putting a supportive hand on her arm.

“Don’t you see, logic had no part in this. My wife is
ill
. She was convinced Glory had set the fire that killed our son. When I found her this morning, she was crying over Andrew’s grave, saying justice had been done.”

“If she thought Glory had done it, why didn’t she go to the authorities and report it?” Eric asked.

Harrison shook his head slowly. “Mother would never let Andrew’s name be sullied by such scandal. She never even said it to me before today.”

“Did you know she had been threatening Glory before she set the fire?” the sheriff asked.

“If I had suspected at all, you can believe I would have taken her to get treatment immediately, and this never would have happened.” He paused. “The awful thing is, I don’t think she
wanted
to do it. She kept asking why Glory didn’t just leave.”

“My presence drove her to avenge Andrew?” Glory said softly.

“Oh, Glory, who knows what went on in her mind. She was a proud woman . . . ,” Harrison said.

Eric tried not to feel sympathy for the man who could have prevented all this. If there had been any hint of Mrs. Harrison’s problem around town before this, Eric would have known where to start looking the minute that first note showed up. As it was, one tragedy just heaped on top of another.

Sheriff Cooper said to Eric, “If you want to go check on your boy, I’ll finish up here.” He turned to Harrison. “We’ll need to know where Mrs. Harrison is receiving treatment and such.”

Eric took Glory by the arm and started to lead her out. At the door to the foyer, she pulled away and ran into Walt’s arms.

Eric watched them cry together. Tragedy heaped on tragedy, pain upon pain. At least this would be the end of the cycle.

Outside the Harrison house, Glory turned to Eric and said, “I’ll have the deputy take me back to your place. You’ll want to check on Scott, and I need to get back to Gran.”

“I don’t want to leave you. Not now.” Eric pulled her against his chest. After a few seconds, he said, “I guess I owe you an apology about not trusting your judgment about Walt.”