Threaded for Trouble Page 18

  We could still be in danger from collapsing roofs. I looked for Clay, wanting his help although knowing he would give me a much-deserved lecture about safety.

  My muscles hot enough to ignite a new fire, I stooped and reached for Felicity.

  She scrabbled away from me. “Help!” she screamed. “He’s trying to kill me!”

  She was conscious again, at least. What made her think I was trying to kill her? Was she remembering something that had happened before she conked out? Someone had tied her to that bed. Had that person been wearing a fireman’s uniform, and now she was mistaking me for him?

  Her shouts brought Plug running. He bellowed for help. Isaac dashed to the porch. Between the three of us, we carried Felicity farther from the house.

  Plug stared at my mask as if trying to see my face. Felicity had called me “he.” With any luck, Plug also thought I was a man. I didn’t know what he might do if he discovered I had invaded his house, and I didn’t want to find out. Plug had a temper, and for all I knew, he had murdered his wife. And it appeared that somebody had tried to murder Felicity by tying her to a bed in a burning house. If that person guessed I’d seen the fabric tethering Felicity to the bed, I was in danger. I hunched my shoulders to keep anyone from seeing my face.

  Plug dropped to his knees, removed his own mask and put it on Felicity’s face. She tried to squirm away. Isaac helped Plug hold her down. Plug and Isaac never seemed to get along well. Neither of them would dare harm Felicity, would they, with the other one present as a witness?

  I couldn’t stay there to protect Felicity, though. I would come back, but first I needed to make certain that Haylee was safe. I should have called her earlier, but as things had turned out, I was glad I’d rushed headlong into the house, instead.

  Russ and his brother had apparently filled the second tanker truck and brought it back. I ran to the other side of the nearest truck, checked to make certain no one was watching, then took off my mask, undid my jacket, reached into my pocket for my cell phone, and pressed the button for Haylee.

  I was about to put the mask on again and dash into the Coddlefield house when she answered.

  Relief reduced my bones to chiffon. “Where are you?” I blurted.

  “At home. I was asleep. Why are you calling at this hour?” She yawned.

  “I was afraid you had come to the fire. I couldn’t find you.” I didn’t tell her I’d linked her—possibly—to little Darla’s words, nasty lady.

  “Fire? What are you talking about? Where are you, Willow? And are you all right?”

  “I’m fine. There was a fire at the Coddlefields’ house, but it didn’t amount to much.” Except that someone may have tried to kill Felicity. “I’ll tell you about it in the morning.”

  “Want me to come?”

  “No. Everything’s fine.”

  I had to reassure her several times and tell her I was about to go home before she would break the connection.

  Next, I needed to tackle that little matter of what looked like attempted murder…

  I called 911. Hanging on to the phone, I clumsily shed the rest of the firefighting outfit and stowed it in the truck while telling the dispatcher that Felicity had apparently been overcome by smoke at the Coddlefield fire. I said that, last I knew, the fire chief was giving her oxygen, and she was apparently healthy enough to fight his ministrations.

  The dispatcher told me that the nearest ambulance wasn’t available, but should be free soon.

  Even though the whole idea seemed preposterous and unreal in the noisy, artificially lit night, I blurted my suspicion that Felicity had been deliberately harmed.

  The dispatcher agreed to send the police, and asked me to stay on the line.

  Holding the phone to my ear, I peeked around the fire truck. The children were still sitting on the ground beyond the driveway.

  I couldn’t pretend I had just arrived. The children knew I’d talked to them earlier. Plug and Isaac had seen me, too.

  Felicity’s attacker could be sneaking up on me, about to silence me. Having a 911 dispatcher on the line gave me courage. If anyone attacked me, the dispatcher would know. Besides, the police were on the way. Soon I, and everyone else near the Coddlefields’ house, would be safe.

  I crossed the driveway to the children and squatted to their level again. I asked the fifteen-year-old girl, “Would you like to bring the children to sit in my car?” I wished I could offer hot chocolate.

  “My father’s the fire chief,” the eight-year-old girl said.

  “And he told us to stay right here,” snapped her twelve-year-old sister.

  The two little boys regarded me with tearstained eyes. Darla popped a thumb into her mouth. At least they’d stopped screaming.

  “Where’s Tiffany?” I asked.

  Darla started bawling again.

  The fifteen-year-old girl growled at me, “Now look what you’ve done!”

  Phone still to my ear, I closed my eyes and rocked back on my heels. What had I done?

  I remembered hearing a siren while I was on my way here. Its sound had diminished, as if it had been speeding somewhere else. The dispatcher had told me that an ambulance should be available soon. Had the area’s only ambulance taken someone away before I arrived? I opened my eyes. “I’m sorry. I should have asked sooner. Was anyone hurt?”

  The oldest girl handed Darla and the smaller boy to her twelve-year-old sister, then strode across the driveway. I caught up with her.

  She spat, “It’s none of your business, but, yes, my dad went back into the house and carried Tiffany out, and she wasn’t moving and he tried artificial respiration and CPR and everything and an ambulance came and got her, and one of the firemen went with her, and I have to look after the little ones. Got it?”

  I nodded, though I was reeling, trying to make sense of it all. “Will Tiffany be all right?”

  “I don’t know, and personally, I don’t like her and don’t care, but my mother was always too busy with her stupid sewing and charities to look after the little ones, and now she’s gone, and they depend on Tiffany, so you just shut up about her around them.”

  “Do you know where they were taking her?”

  “The hospital. In Erie, I guess.”

  “Who went with her? Clay Fraser?”

  “How would I know? Some man.”

  “Was he tall?”

  “What is this, twenty questions?”

  She was right. I was being overly nosy. “Sorry, I’m just learning to be a volunteer firefighter and am trying to ask the things a seasoned firefighter might.”

  If Clay hadn’t gone with Tiffany, where was he?

  Fear clawed at the back of my neck.

  No, I told myself, Clay couldn’t be lying injured inside the house. I asked the girl, “Did you see anyone else go back into the house?”

  “What do you care?”

  “Your dad’s working on someone who was stuck inside, and I’m just checking to make sure that everyone else is out safely.”

  “That’s my dad’s job, not yours.” She stalked away, jerking like a puppet on a string, her knees and elbows jutting out.

  32

  THE 911 DISPATCHER ASKED IF I WAS ALL right and how the victim was.

  “I’m fine,” I answered, though judging by my shaky knees, I wasn’t telling the truth. “And the victim—”

  Uh-oh. A tall firefighter was helping roll up the fire hoses. Isaac had left Felicity alone with Plug. Phone clasped to my ear, I stumbled to Felicity. She was scratching at the mask Plug held over her face as if trying to remove it, and although he was pinning her down, he did seem to be trying to help, not harm her.

  Where were the police? They had to arrive soon so I could show them the strip of fabric tied to Felicity’s wrist. The police could take over keeping Felicity safe. And keeping me safe, too.

  I asked Plug, “Where’s Clay?”

  Plug stood. His eyes were like wild things in his soot-blackened face. “What do you think y
ou’re doing here?”

  I staggered back, away from his anger. “I thought I was supposed to respond to fire alarms so I could learn…”

  “Why this fire? At my house?”

  “I didn’t know where this fire was until I got to the fire station.”

  “Sure you didn’t.” He stomped away, then turned and shouted, “Get off my property. And stay away from my children.”

  I yelled, “Where’s Clay?”

  Plug waved a dismissive hand and collared a burly fireman, who rushed to Felicity and thrust an oxygen mask toward her face.

  She pointed at the phone I held to my ear. “Hey, you”—she never remembered my name—“you have a phone. Call the police! Everyone here is trying to kill me.”

  Looking pained, the burly fireman held the mask inches from her face as if ready to clamp it over her mouth and nose.

  “The police are on their way,” I said as soothingly as I could. “The rest of us are trying to help you. You must have inhaled too much smoke.”

  Felicity was not the most soothable person on the planet. She glared at me. “And don’t you come near me, either. I know what you did. And I’m trained in self-defense.”

  What I did? Maybe I was a little rough, dragging her to safety, but I didn’t have the energy to argue with her about it. “Try to rest,” I said. I wasn’t leaving her. I didn’t want her or anyone else removing that strip of fabric from her wrist until a police officer saw it. I should have brought a camera.

  Hugging myself, I sank down near Felicity, not close enough for her to wield her alleged self-defense on me. If I’d known it would be this chilly at three A.M. in August, I’d have worn a sweater. I asked the burly fireman, “Do you know where Clay is?”

  He shook his head. “Haven’t seen him all night.”

  A far-off siren became louder. I hoped it was Chief Smallwood or a state trooper. I would show them the fabric on Felicity’s wrist and tell them she’d been fastened to a bed in a smoke-filled house. Sharing the dangerous information should make me safer. My shoulders slumped in relief.

  My relief didn’t last long. Plug came back. “I told you to go away.”

  The burly fireman made a startled reply, got up, and headed toward the fire truck.

  Plug shouted after him, “Not you, you idiot, her.” He turned to me. “Get off my property.”

  “I can’t.” I pointed to the phone still clamped to my ear. “I called the police about Felicity, and they told me to stay with her until they get here.”

  He must have heard the siren, too. Obviously steaming, he strode to the firemen rolling up hoses and shouted instructions. Rude ones.

  The dispatcher asked me again if I was all right. I told her very nicely that I was. I hoped their recording equipment was good enough to capture everything people were saying to me. Some of it might come up in court one day.

  “What were you doing here tonight?” I asked Felicity.

  “None of your business,” she snapped.

  She was about as much fun as Plug.

  “Who attacked you?” I asked.

  She shot me a look filled with suspicion. “I’ll tell the police when they get here.”

  I heard firemen’s boots behind me. “Willow!” Coat flapping, Isaac ran to join me. “What did you do to make Plug so angry?”

  Great. Now Isaac was about to lecture me. “He ordered me off his property, but I’m staying here with Felicity until the police arrive.”

  “I’ve got a thing or two to tell them,” Felicity said.

  Yes, probably all the wrong things, like how someone tried to kill her by dragging her out of a smoke-filled house, then how other men tried to kill her by forcing some much-needed oxygen into her.

  Isaac snapped his suspenders. “Plug has no business sending volunteer firefighters away.”

  Maybe in daylight, things would start making sense again. I massaged my neck with the fingers of my right hand, but they were clumsy and useless. I managed a grim smile. “He’s fire chief, and this is his house. I guess he can send me away. I’d just as soon go, but…” I pointed at my phone again. “The 911 dispatcher is staying on the line with me.”

  “I sure am, honey,” the calm voice in my ear said. “I can tell you’re having a tough time of it. You just hang in there and keep on doing what you’re doing. An officer is almost there.”

  I nodded as if she could see me, then asked Isaac, “Are you sure everyone is out of that house?”

  “According to Plug, everyone is accounted for. His boys did a pretty good job tonight. This morning. Whatever. I guess we’ll have to let the younger one join the department, too.”

  “I saw Clay’s truck, but he’s not here. Where is he?”

  Isaac sat on the ground beside me. “He went to the hospital with Plug’s girl. His what-d’ya-call-it.”

  “Nanny?”

  “Some French word.”

  “Au pair?”

  “Oh pare. Right, that’s it. But if you ask me…” He didn’t go on.

  “What? I’m asking you.”

  The burly fireman looked distinctly uncomfortable, like he’d just as soon not know about romances between fire chiefs and their younger au pairs.

  Isaac thinned his lips. “Nothing.”

  “You almost said girlfriend, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah, well, I’m not sure, but, well, you know, sometimes it’s hard to tell.”

  And sometimes it wasn’t. I had nothing against Tiffany, or Plug, either, unless they’d been causing and almost causing deaths. I asked in gentler tones, “Is Tiffany going to be all right?”

  Isaac glanced at the children. They were too far away to hear us, but his caution sped my pulse. “Don’t say anything,” he murmured. “When they left here, they were trying to get her to start breathing again.”

  Ignoring the angry glare that Felicity focused on me, I asked Isaac, “Why did Clay go with her?”

  He took off his gloves. “Clay asked if Plug was going with her, and Plug said he was fire chief and couldn’t go, and the ambulance people could look after her. I said I could manage the fire. I’m deputy chief. Plug’s stubborn. It was his house, and he was going to fight the fire. The oh pare must have been trapped and gotten overcome by smoke. But Clay said that he wasn’t letting her go to the hospital without someone along who cared, and he hopped into the back of the ambulance.”

  Clay…cared for Tiffany? Or he was merely being a caring person?

  Merely?

  I pictured Clay’s face, and the concern in his dark eyes whenever he thought that someone—frequently me—required rescuing, and the way he always pitched in and followed up. His dragging me up the riverbank suddenly began to seem romantic, more romantic than not being near him. If only I could see him and know for sure that he was all right…

  To distract myself, I asked Isaac, “Do you have any idea how the fire started?” What would the 911 dispatcher think of my trembling voice?

  “Honey? You okay?” she asked.

  “Yes,” I mumbled into the phone.

  “What?” Isaac asked.

  “Just talking to the dispatcher. Do you have any idea what caused the fire tonight?”

  Isaac flapped his hands. “Nope. We’ll wait until daylight, and make certain the structure is secure enough to enter it, and then we’ll do our investigation.”

  “Think you might get outside help?”

  Isaac scowled with one corner of his mouth, then the other. “If I have my way, we will, but Plug’s the chief.” The frustration behind his eyes silently added, if Plug started that fire, he won’t want anyone else investigating it.

  The siren was close now. Lights bounced off trees near the road.

  Elderberry Bay’s police cruiser pulled into the end of the driveway. I told the dispatcher that the police chief had arrived. Putting my phone back into my pocket, I asked Isaac, “How come Chief Smallwood wasn’t here all along?”

  Isaac probed at the extra-deep wrinkle that his helmet had
engraved on his forehead. “She doesn’t come to fires unless she’s on active duty. She must have only been on call tonight, and no one requested her services.”

  Until I did.

  Plug marched toward the cruiser. Was he planning to send Chief Smallwood away?

  33

  I JUMPED UP. “STAY WITH FELICITY,” I COMMANDED as if I were Isaac’s and the burly fireman’s boss. “Make certain that no one hurts her.” I ran toward the cruiser.

  Chief Smallwood stepped out of it and gazed at the scene in one of her calm assessments.

  Plug’s fireman outfit hampered his progress, so it was easy for me to dodge around him. Panting, I told Chief Smallwood, “Come see something before anyone removes it.”

  Her mouth dropped open. She was used to giving orders, not taking them. I didn’t particularly like my newly aggressive personality, either. She tilted her head in question.

  “Evidence,” I blurted, “of attempted murder.”

  Expecting her to follow me, I turned around.

  Hands on hips, Plug blocked our way. “What’re you doing here?” he asked Chief Smallwood.

  She got into his face and raised her chin. “Why didn’t you call me sooner?”

  Instead of answering her, he growled at me, “I told you to leave.”

  “I don’t want anyone leaving,” Smallwood said directly to Plug.

  Cursing, he shambled away. His boots were too big.

  Smallwood spoke into the radio in a pocket on her shoulder. “Where are you? There’s too much going on here for one person.”

  Backup from the Pennsylvania State Police? I hoped so.

  She turned to me. “Okay, show me your evidence.”

  I murmured, “See that woman sitting on the ground, there, with Isaac? When we get closer, have a good look at her left wrist.”

  We trotted to Felicity.

  “Ma’am,” Smallwood said to Felicity, “show me your wrists.”

  Felicity held her wrists out, gaped at her left one, and yelped at me, “Why did you put that thing on my wrist?”

  Why was she blaming me? “I didn’t.”

  Her legs still straight out in front of her, she shot up to a sitting position and tore at the pink and lavender calico tied tightly around her wrist. The loop attached to it flopped around. “Ouch,” she shrieked. “Cut it off.”