But she and Burke couldn't avoid being seen together forever. Then the gossip would heat up. What would her father try? Grady popped into her mind. Where was he? He'd been here earlier. Had he left? And Nick, who'd sat on the team bench, had disappeared into the locker room area. Had the coach kicked him off the bench? Nothing more had happened in the weeks since the Family Closet burned to the ground. Had Nick's "firestorm" passed?
On the field, the last quarter of the game was going as disastrously as it could for the home team. Keely's sympathy went out to her players and coach. They'd done their best; yet it didn't look like it would be good enough.
Suddenly Nick, in full football gear, appeared in the huddle. Keely looked at Burke. In turn, he sat forward on the bleacher. The coach waved to them. Nick was being allowed to play. Keely felt a thrill. Burke reached for her hand.
The huddle broke up and play resumed. Nick caught a short pass and began running. The Minocqua team in hot pursuit. Keely squeezed Burke's hand, feeling her spirits climb.
Boom!
The explosion rocked the air, sending out shock waves. Flames up shot high beyond the athletic field in the direction of the parking lot.
The stands erupted. Everyone was screaming, shoving, shouting. Keely was jostled and bumped from behind in the stampede toward the parking lot.
"Hang on to me!" Burke shouted in her ear.
She clung to him like a mast in the storm. Moving against the tide, he dragged her along with him higher into the bleachers.
Curses. Screams. Yells. Angry shouts. Shrieks of fear and pain. Dear God, don't let anyone get hurt. Keely had no clear idea of what was happening—just crowding, pushing, screaming all around her.
"Freeze!" Burke's voice, magnified by his handheld bullhorn, roared over the frenzy below them. Keely huddled close beside him, grateful that he'd brought this device with him. "Halt!"
He raised his gun as though prepared to release a warning shot into the air. The crowd below lost its momentum. Bewildered faces—illumined by the field lights, looked up to them. "Everyone, stay calm! Return to your seats. Walk at a normal pace. No rushing. Now!"
The crowd began to obey him.
"I'll go out and assess the damage," Burke announced over the horn. "If there is a need, you will be instructed to leave by the rear exit. Until I give the word, remain seated and await instructions! Keep moving back—"
Boom! Another wrenching, ear-splitting explosion. Burke pulled Keely close to his side. Debris burst skyward along with bright flames.
Still screaming, the crowd ran back toward their seats, their arms over folded over their heads.
Burke managed to get his phone out of his belt. "Get Rodd out here!" he shouted into the phone. "I think someone's blowing up cars in the parking lot!"
Leaving the stands where the audience now huddled together, Burke ran toward the parking lot. Someone might be injured. And he had to put a stop to the explosions if he could.
A sheriff's siren whooped, and the other deputy swerved to a stop at the street side of the parking lot. Backup--great.
Keely was at Burke's heels. He turned to her. "Go back to the athletic field! Get both coaches to help you!" He handed her the bullhorn. "Keep order!"
She didn't argue but took the horn and swung back. "Don't worry. I can handle it!"
Hating to leave her, Burke ran on. Ahead, he saw the flames still shooting skyward. One car that had exploded was parked cockeyed in the middle of the street, not in the lot. How had it gotten there? Another car, parked nearest the first, also blazed, sending up billows of orange-gold flames. Burke felt the heat on his face.
An anguished scream echoed through the crisp night air. "Help! Help ...me!"
Burke recognized the voice and raced toward it. He spotted Grady lying on the parking lot asphalt. He ran to him and dropped to one knee. "I'm here."
He reached for Grady's wrist and stopped. The teen was burned on the arm and wrist he'd been intending to grip. The same side of Grady's blackened face was burned--red and blistered. Burke took the other wrist and felt the pulse. It was rapid. Burke scanned Grady and saw no other injuries. "Were you out here when the car exploded?"
"How do you think I got burned?" Grady shouted. "It hurts! Hurts!" The kid began swearing.
The other deputy appeared at Burke's side. "The ambulance is on its way—"
The sound of the fire engine cut him off. Blasting their air horn, the crew pulled up and began running the hose to the nearest hydrant.
"Check the athletic field," Burke instructed the other deputy. "Ms. Turner may need help to keep everyone inside the stadium and out of the firefighters' way. If not, come right back."
With a nod, the deputy jogged away, talking into his cell phone.
Grady moaned loudly.
"Don't worry. Help is coming," Burke assured him. "Did you see who did this?"
"I did this," Grady snapped. "I pushed the old bag's car out in the street and set it on fire—"
"Hold it," Burke stopped him. "I'm a police officer. Everything you say can and will be used against you in court. Don't tell me anything you don't want me to know."
"I did it, you dumb jerk!" Grady yelled at him. "I wouldn't have had to do so many tricks if you'd been smart enough to catch me!"
"You wanted to be caught?" Burke stared at Grady. The kid reeked of gasoline and was clearly in intense pain and maybe shock. Where was the ambulance?
"I wanted to get out of this hick town! I thought my dad would have to send me away if I got in enough trouble! What's wrong with you? I dug holes, shot out windows, set the bleachers on fire ..." The kid moaned again.
The teen's ready admission shocked Burke. Hearing this would kill Keely. Could he believe her brother, or was he just talking crazy? "Grady! You're confessing a whole string of crimes to me. Are you sure you're in shape to be talking like this?"
"Don't you get it?" Grady bawled. "I want out! I want out and I don't care how I do it!"
As the man who loved Grady's sister, Burke wanted to stop her brother from saying another word. As a police officer, he had to keep this kid talking. Taking a deep breath, Burke did his job. "Why did you dig the holes?"
Grady spat out the name of a girl, followed by several derogatory terms. "She wouldn't go out with me. I wanted her to take the fall, but that other girl hit the holes first." Grady swore loud and long, groaning and twisting on the asphalt.
"You say you set the bleachers on fire," Burke said. "Did you also set the fires in the waste bins?"
The other deputy returned but hung back, listening. He'd be Burke's corroboration.
"Yeah, I found out I kinda like setting fires." A ghost of a smile lifted Grady's pained expression. "It was fun watching them. And then all the excitement. I liked watching, hearing about the fire." Grady screamed suddenly, "Help me!"
"Why did you set the Family Closet on fire?" Burke continued the questioning. The truth had to come out. It would hurt Keely, but this would be over—finally. "Everything else was done on school property."
"I was just going to pay back my sister for making me work there. It was like having to work at the Salvation Army!" Grady cursed again and called his sister a name.
"Don't say another word against your sister!" Then Burke slammed a lid on his anger.
"I didn't mean for the whole place to burn down," the kid whined. "I just wanted to burn the back porch." Grady writhed with the pain, moaning. "So I started the fire and then tried to call the fire department to report it. But my cell phone's battery was dead. I just had to make a run for it!" He screamed again, rocking with pain, "Help me!"
The ambulance roared into the parking lot. Burke stood up and waved his hands. "Over here! Man down! Burns!"
Pulling up, the EMTs jumped out of the ambulance. Burke stepped back beside the other deputy to let them surround Grady.
As he watched them work on the teen, he thought about Keely. The mystery was solved. Nick was only guilty of letting air out of tires, setting off firecrackers, and fighting with Grady. Everything else Grady had admitted to. Burke took off his hat and raked his hair with his fingers.
Keely stood in the brightly lit room at the clinic. Fear rampaged inside her. Her baby brother lay limply on the gurney, with reddened and blistered skin and blackened, shredded clothing from the blast. He'd been in the parking lot when the car exploded.
This fact loomed inside Keely, making it hard for her to breathe. Grady, does that mean you set the explosion? I've dreaded this and now it may be true. What more could I have done?
Burke had his arm snugly around her. "Hang in there," he whispered in her ear. "It's not as bad as it looks."
"He's right," Dr. Doug spoke up. "Your brother's only got first and second degree burns. And I don't see any problem with his lungs."
Grady lay on his back staring up at the lights overhead without expression. That wasn't like her brother. He didn't take pain well. Even though the EMTs had given him medication immediately, she'd expected him to still be complaining. But he just lay there, silent and immobile.
"He's in shock," Dr. Doug said as though reading her mind. "And the morphine is taking the edge off all his reactions, not just the pain."
"What ..." she faltered, "what ...treatment will he have to have?" The unreality of everything since the explosion seemed to be slowing her own ability to think.
Burke tightened his hold on her.
She wanted to say something to him, but the words couldn't get past her lips. She felt disconnected, cut off, abandoned.
A powerful voice boomed through the quiet clinic."Where's my son?"
Keely stiffened. Her father had arrived. She pressed closer to Burke.
Her parents hurried into the examining area. "What happened?" her father thundered.
Wendy Durand, the sheriff's wife on duty at the clinic tonight, hovered near him. "Mr. Turner, please quiet your voice. We have patients—"
He pushed past her and went to the doctor. "Tell me."
Dr. Doug turned away from the chest X ray he'd been examining. "Your son was burned in a fire at the high school."
"Fire? Another fire?" Her father sent Keely and Burke a scathing look. It shouted, This is all your fault!
Burke shook his head at the man. How could he expect me to stop Grady?
Dr. Doug began, "Grady was in the parking lot when a car exploded—" Suddenly, Dr. Doug called out, "Catch her!"
Wendy caught Keely's mother as she fainted. Burke left Keely's side and helped Wendy get the woman safely into a bedside chair.
"You!" Turner launched the word at Burke. "Where were you when this was happening to my son? If the sheriff doesn't get rid of you—"
"Mr. Turner," Burke replied, "I was at the game when it happened. I had just patrolled the parking lot not ten minutes before the explosion. We had no way of knowing that someone was going to blow up a car."
"That nephew of yours has gone too far this time!" her father continued. "This isn't just a misdemeanor—"
"Father, when the explosion happened, Nick was on the field playing football." Keely refused to let her father get away with false accusations. "He couldn't have done it."
"A timer!" Turner snapped. "He must have set a timer!"
Burke shook his head. "The sheriff is examining the crime scene himself right now. But I don't think we'll find anything that elaborate."
Missing Burke's warmth, Keely folded her arms around herself. More bad news was coming. How would her father take it?
Burke picked up Grady's unburned hand. "I can smell the gasoline on his skin, can't you?"
"You can't put this off on my son." Her father's face was deep red now. "You better watch yourself."
Keely felt tears coursing down her face. "Burke told me he's admitted it, Father."
"The initial car blown up was Veda McCracken's," Burke continued, not letting her father break in. "She informed against your son for the Family Closet fire. That gives him an excellent motive."
"Everyone hates that old biddy," Turner replied.
"I don't hate her," Grady mumbled. "I hate you."
The words stilled everyone. They all turned to stare at Grady.
"Why did the other car blow up?" the teen asked. "I only fixed it so the old lady's car would blow—"
"Grady, you don't know what you're saying," his father interrupted.
"Yes, I do. I hate you and I blew up McCracken's car."
"Grady," Burke said, "I've cautioned you repeatedly and I've read you your rights. Remember, anything you say can and will be used against you—"
"My son is no criminal!" Turner roared.
"Mr. Turner," Burke said in a patient but implacable tone, "your son obviously wanted to be caught. Doesn't that tell you something? He needs help and he's trying desperately to get it."
"When I set the other fires, you never found any evidence ,did you?" Grady asked, his voice weak and devoid of emotion. "My old man thinks I can't do anything right, but—"
"Grady," Turner ordered, "shut your mouth!"
"Will he be scarred?" Keely's mother, revived, asked in a plaintive tone.
"Only my soul, Mother," Grady said with a sarcastic twist. "Give me some more drugs. I'm floating."
Mrs. Turner began weeping.
Keely felt like she were floating, too, in a nightmare. She wished she could wake up and all this would disappear.
"Grady may have to have some slight plastic surgery," Dr. Doug answered as though unaware of the potent currents swirling in the room, "but he should heal fine. He needs to stay here until he's well enough to go home in a few days. He was lucky he was far enough from the blast that he only got a lick of the flames. At least, that's my guess. If he'd been closer, it would—"
"I ran as fast as I could," Grady went on in that odd voice, still staring at the ceiling. "But the flames just went so fast on the gasoline trail I made to her car."
"Shut up, Grady!" his father ordered. "Don't say another word."