Seeing Red (26 page)

“I can go home,” he eventually said. “If that’s what you want.”

Her arms instinctively tightened on him. She wasn’t frightened. She wasn’t lonely either, or under the influence. She just wanted him to stay. An entirely new and not entirely unwelcome feeling. “I want you to stay,” she said, and pressed closer.

Joe woke up with the sun fully risen, the smell of smoke stinging his nostrils and burning his lungs. He sat straight up, the remnants of an old nightmare claiming his senses.

He was alone in Summer’s bed, surrounded by thick, clinging, choking smoke, so dark he couldn’t see past his own nose. “Summer!”

He heard nothing but the ominous sound of flames fueling themselves up, crackling, growing in strength.

Diving out of the bed, he hit the floor, sparing a moment to writhe in agony because he’d forgotten about his foot. As the pain sang up his leg, stabbing into his brain, he lay low trying to get air for his already taxed lungs. “Summer!” he yelled again.

Still nothing but the popping of the flames. He crawled around the foot of the bed and saw the fire had overtaken the hallway and was biting at the bedroom door. He whipped around, back toward the bed, crawling over a shoe, which jabbed into his knee, reminding him that he was naked. Grabbing his jeans from the floor, he wrestled them on and then headed for the window. Up on his knees, he tried to push open the glass but the heat had stressed the wood, and it wouldn’t budge. Whipping around he snatched the blanket off the bed, wrapped his arm in it and punched the window. The fire was so loud behind him as it ate its way into the bedroom, he couldn’t even hear the tinkle of the glass as it fell to the ground outside.

He climbed out of the window and stood barefoot in the planter, surrounded by jagged glass and a burning cottage. “Summer!”

In the early morning light, fire trucks came careening up the street, lights and sirens flashing. Fast as he could, heart in his throat, Joe limped around to the front door. It was engulfed in flames, so he kept going, hopping on his one good foot until he got to the back door. He had to find Summer, but just as he reached for the handle, the door blew out, and he flew backward, knocked flat on his ass by pieces of glass and wood.

Before he could get to his hands and knees, there were three firemen there, holding him back. “She’s still in there!” he yelled. His head was spinning, and something trickled down his temple. “I don’t think she got out!”

“Joe!”

He whipped around and nearly sank to his knees with relief. Summer was racing up the beach. She wore running shorts and a tank, and was breathing as if she’d run miles. She probably had. He tugged free of the hands trying to hold him back from the fire and staggered down the steps, meeting her halfway.

“What happened?” she gasped, staring up at the cottage going up in flames behind him.

“I woke up surrounded by smoke.” He hauled her into his arms and buried his face in her hair. She felt like warm, soft woman, and he didn’t think he could let her go. If he did, he was going to fall down. Way down.

She pulled back to see his face and touched his forehead. “You’re cut.”

Now he knew how disconcerting a panic attack could be. He couldn’t breath. “I thought you were—” He couldn’t even say it. Spots danced in his vision, and he had to squint to see through them. He was still shaking from just thinking about what could have happened to her. Or maybe that was from being hit by the exploding front door, but his world began to spin.
“Christ.”

“We’ve got to get you to the paramedics.”

He was a little surprised to still be upright because his vision had narrowed to a tunnel. “It’s nothing. Jesus, Red, I thought you were—”

With a soft sound, she wrapped her arms around his neck and burrowed close. “I couldn’t sleep. I didn’t want to wake you—I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” Again she pulled back and gently touched his face. “I think you singed off an eyebrow.”

He also had a few burns on his bare chest, which had begun to send waves of pain to his brain. Each knee was fairly screwed up as well, but it was his foot that was killing him.

And those damn spots. Ah, hell. They were mingling together, so now his entire view was blurry—

She backed him to the curb. “Sit.” She whipped around to get help.

He opened his mouth to reassure her, but she threw her arms around him and hugged him so tight he couldn’t breathe. Could hardly hear—

“I love you,” she whispered in his ear as his head began to buzz. “God, Joe, I love you so much.”

He opened his mouth but everything was spinning wildly. His vision faded. Oh, no. Hell, no. Not now. He wasn’t going to pass out
now.

She was still talking to him. He knew this because her lips were moving, her eyes lined with concern and fear, but he couldn’t hear.

And then everything went black.

“Scared the hell out of me,” Kenny said, and sat on Joe’s hospital bed. “Don’t do that again.” He pushed up his glasses. “Not ever again.”

Joe blew out a breath and slowly, carefully sat up. “How long have I been here?”

“You don’t remember?”

The last thing he remembered was passing out in Summer’s arms. Had she really said she loved him? Or had that been just another fantasy? “Fill me in.”

“The cottage is gone. A complete loss.”

“Damn.” Joe shook his head, then groaned and held it on his shoulders. “Note to self, don’t move.”

“Not with your concussion, I wouldn’t.”

“We’ve got our work cut out for us.”

“We? I’ve already started, on the way over here. Did you know the cottage was Tina’s? Not a business property either, but personal.”

Joe went very still, mostly out of necessity, but some out of shock. “Summer told me the place was Chloe’s roommate’s. I assumed it was owned by the roommate’s family.”

“Nope.”

“Shit.” It all clicked into place with a ferocity that made his head spin. His heart began to pound. “Where’s Summer?”

“Camille and Tina showed up just as you were being forced into the ambulance kicking and screaming.”

“Very funny.”

“Well you didn’t exactly go graciously. They were going to bring her here. They haven’t shown up yet.”

“How long ago?”

“Twenty minutes.”

Joe shoved his sheet aside.

Kenny leaned forward and put a hand on him, holding him down. “What are you doing?”

“Gotta go.”

“Whoa. The doctor said—”

“I’ve figured this thing out.” Joe put his good foot to the floor. “Crutches.”

“Your ass is hanging out—”

“Jesus! Get me some clothes then. Just hurry.”

To Kenny’s credit he did just that. “We’re going to have to break you out of here, you know that, right?”

“Did you hear me say I figured this thing out?”

Kenny handed him his crutches, his face impassive. “Yes.”

“It’s not Camille.”

Kenny stared at him, then let out a slow breath. “I knew that.”

“Get me out of here and I’ll tell you on the way.”

“On the way where?”

“To save Red’s life.”

H
ow ironic was it that she’d finally told Joe she loved him and he’d passed out before he could hear it? Summer couldn’t believe it. She had to see him, but she looked out the window of her aunt’s car and frowned. They were pulling into the burned-out warehouse instead of heading toward the hospital. “Where are we going?”

Tina got off her cell phone with Bill, turned off the engine, looked somberly at her sister riding shotgun, and then at her niece in the backseat. “I want to finish this first.”

“Finish what?”

“Bill suggested I do it here, and I think he’s right. Everyone out.” Tina shut the door and walked toward the burned warehouse. As they hadn’t yet decided whether to rebuild or lease something else, no work had been done yet.

Camille looked at Summer as she got out of the car. She shrugged and followed Tina.

“Damn it,” Summer said to no one, and got out, too, just as her cell phone rang. It was Joe. “God, Joe, are you okay?”

“Yes. Red, listen to me.” He sounded so urgent. “Tell me exactly where you are.”

“At the warehouse, if you can believe it. We were coming to see you when Tina decided to stop and have a fight with my mom.”

“I’m on my way,” came his terse reply. His fire marshal voice.

“But I thought—”

“Where are Tina and your mom?”

“Inside, I think. Mom?” she called out as she entered the damaged open hull where the front door had once been. Everything was blackened and grimy, and she forgot about the earlier fire, forgot about Joe as she was hit with a terrible sense of déjà vu.

That long ago day she’d been choking on smoke as she’d run through, desperate to get to her father. She’d made it to the very spot where she stood, and now her feet felt rooted as her breathing quickened. Oh, God, not now. “M-mom?”

“Up here.”

Tipping her head up she looked at the loft. All around her were burned-out walls and soot. The railing on the stairs was gone completely, though the stairs seemed intact.

If she closed her eyes she could hear the flames. Could feel the heat searing her. Could taste the smoke. Her chest tightened. “I don’t like this,” she said to herself, and phone still in her hand at her side, trailed after her mom and aunt.

The north and east walls of the loft were scorched. The south and west walls were down to the wood studs, allowing a view below to the main floor. In some places, where parts of the floor had collapsed, they could see all the way through to the basement.

Camille and Tina stood in the middle of the room, right where Tim’s desk used to stand. Uneasy with the height, Summer didn’t look down. “What’s going on?”

Camille looked at Tina.

Tina reached for her sister’s hand. “It’s time to find out.”

Camille looked worried. “Tina—”

“I love you, Camille.”

Camille’s eyes filled. “I love you too. I figured you had a good reason for taking the cash. And if you needed it, I wanted you to have it.”

Tina’s eyes widened. “What?”

“But now I’m afraid that you taking the money is somehow related to these fires, and that’s killing me.”

Tina shook her head. “No, I—”

“I never believed you started any of the fires,” Camille told her. “It never even occurred to me. But then Summer came back and began digging around—”

“Hey,” Summer said. “I wasn’t digging—”

“And you changed,” Camille told Tina in a shaky voice. “You got scared, and so did I. If you had anything to do with this fire, Tina…my God. I don’t know how to deal with that.”

“Camille—”

“You didn’t want to rebuild, you wanted the cash from the insurance. I never understood that back then. But then we eventually rebuilt anyway and life went on. Then it burned again, and then the store, where Summer nearly died—” Camille put her fingers to her mouth. “And then she started getting those text messages. You were trying to scare her away. I was so terrified for the both of you, I didn’t know what to do. I tried to talk her into going, but she wouldn’t. I just wanted her safe.”

“I thought you didn’t want me here at all,” Summer said softly.

“Oh honey, no,” Camille whispered. “I was just scared.”

Tina looked sick. “You think I’d hurt Summer?”

“I think you’re in trouble with money somehow, and not thinking clearly.”

“Camille, I thought
you
were taking the money!
I
was covering for
you
! That’s why I brought you here. Bill said I should just get it all out with you.”

The sisters blinked at each other.

Summer divided a gaze between them. “Are you telling me neither of you took the money? Or had anything to do with the fires?”

Camille shook her head.

So did Tina.

“But if it wasn’t either of you,” Summer said slowly. “Then…who?”

Tina and Camille stared at each other for a long beat. “No,” Tina whispered, then staggered back a few steps to sit on a box.

Camille just gaped at her. “You really think—”

“Who else? Oh my God, who else?”

“But you said he was with you during the fires. You said you were both sleeping.”

“I know, but I sleep like the dead. He could have…”

“And you didn’t know,” Camille breathed softly. “You really didn’t know.”

Tina put her hands over her mouth and shook her head.

Camille dropped to her knees in front of Tina. “Oh, sweetie. Oh, God. I’m so sorry.”

There was a creak on the stairs behind them, and the scent of a lit cigarette. Summer whipped around and saw black boots. Painter’s pants. An old T-shirt with ceramic stains across the chest. An apron over hips carrying an assortment of tools for working with clay that clinked when he walked.

Bill.

She closed her eyes, and lost the twelve years in a flash. That day, when she’d run up the basement stairs and into the fire, crying for her father, she’d seen black boots and painter’s pants, just before her world had gone black. “You,” she whispered, her grip tightening on the cell phone at her side.
Joe.
She hoped he was still there, listening. “It was you.” Fear took a backseat to rage. Pure, unadulterated rage. “You killed my dad—”

“No,” he said, with real regret in his eyes. “I didn’t kill him.”

“You did.”

“No, damn it. He was supposed to get out of here. I called him to make sure of it. He was supposed to meet me for a drink, but he didn’t listen, he never fucking listened, that’s all.”

“That’s all?” Tina yelled. “
That’s all?
What about what you nearly did to Summer?”

His eyes were tortured. “She got out. She wasn’t killed.”

Tina let out a growl. Eyes wet and wild, she lunged at him.

Bill whipped out one of his tools, a nasty-looking sculpting tool with a jagged edge, and wielded it like a knife. “God, Tina, don’t. Please don’t make me use this, not on you.”

Camille caught Tina around her middle and held fast.

Tina was staring at her husband as if he’d grown a second head.
“Who are you?”

Bill’s eyes were damp. “I’m so sorry. I just wanted the money, I swear. None of this other stuff was supposed to happen.”

“You wanted the money for the racetrack.”

“Yes.”

Tina looked sucker punched. “You should have told me, why didn’t you tell me?”

“You said you’d leave me if I got into trouble gambling again.” He shifted on his feet, looked down at the weapon in his fingers as if surprised to find it there.

“Again?”
Camille asked, confused.

“He was an addict,” Tina admitted, struggling against her sister’s hold. “But I thought he’d recovered years ago, and had it under control. My God, Bill—” She let out an anguished moan and covered her face.

“I’m not a bad guy,” he whispered. “I’m not. I just kept having this unlucky streak, see.” He was blocking their exit, breathing erratically as he looked at Tina with tears in his eyes. “All I wanted was for you to come into the insurance money. I just needed the extra cash, that’s all. The warehouse paid off nicely, remember? You lent me money for my old debts.”

“Oh, Bill.”

“I had some nice winning streaks after that. Lasted a good long time. I didn’t think it’d be necessary to do it again, but then I ran into another bad row.” He looked so baffled at that, that Summer couldn’t reconcile the two different Bills—the sweet artist…and the murderer.

“You killed Tim.” Tina shook her head and clung to her sister. “And you nearly killed Summer and Joe!”

Bill was shaking. “No. It was never about Tim.” His gaze landed on Summer. “Or you. I thought you couldn’t remember the fire, but that changed. I’m so sorry. And it certainly wasn’t about Joe. I didn’t even know he was there that night, I didn’t see his car.” He shook his head, looking more than a little crazy with his wild shock of gray hair waving around his face. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. But I just kept thinking that insurance is just one big huge scam anyway. No one was supposed to get hurt.”

“It’s too late for that.” Tina turned in Camille’s arms to bury her face and burst into tears.

“So what now, Bill?” Camille asked, holding her sobbing sister. “What are you going to do?”

Bill’s eyes shone with a tortured regret. “I don’t have a choice. There’s going to be one more fire.” He backed down a step. “One more terribly tragic fire.” He looked at the burning tip of his cigarette. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out some sort of remote. “I’ve learned a few things along the way. This time no one’s going to find any accelerant, or Tim’s old size eleven-and-a-half boot print.” He lifted his foot. “I’ve had these since the day he lent them to me fourteen years ago.” He let out a low grief-stricken sigh. “Don’t worry, this’ll be quick.” He held up the remote.

“Bill,” Tina choked out. “Don’t.”

“I have to,” he whispered.

“You won’t get away with this,” Summer said, and took a step toward him.

He lifted his lethal looking gouging tool. “I don’t want to use this, damn it. Just stay right there, and it will all be over soon, I promise.” He began to back down the stairs.

Go after him,
a voice screamed inside Summer’s head.
Don’t let him do this.
She took a furtive step, and saw a long, lean shadow flattened on the lower stairs.
Joe.
Seeing him gave her courage, and she took another step.

“Summer, no,” her mother breathed.

Bill began to turn away, toward the shadow, and afraid for Joe, Summer made a split second decision. She leapt at Bill—and landed on the top few steps, arms empty, air flattened right out of her lungs. Joe had surged up, wrapped his arms around Bill’s lower legs, and pulled.

Bill went down hard, but so did Joe, the two of them entangled on the narrow, steep stairs. Wrestling, they grappled for space at the very edge, dangerously close to where the railing had collapsed.

Summer shoved upright to her knees. “Joe! Careful—”

But they rolled right off.

And fell into the dark, open chasm.