Safe From the Fire (13 page)

“So,
you want to work construction?” he asked.

“Yes,
sir.”

Darryl
looked him up and down with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Great,
let’s get started.”

Ten
minutes later, Adam tried to keep his head up as he trudged back to the car.

So
much for getting started.

It
had been too much to hope that Russell’s begging would yield anything more than
this sham of an interview that had exposed not only Adam’s lack of experience,
but apparently his lack of potential for any future whatsoever.

“Damned
tarp.”

Adam
looked around and spotted Cal struggling to tie down a green tarp over the back
of his pickup.  The wind had picked up, causing the edges to flap mercilessly. 
He hurried over to lend a hand.

“Much
appreciated,” said Cal, and scanned his face with shrewd eyes, “No dice?”

“Guess
it’s going to take some time,” Adam shrugged.

“Don’t
take it too hard, kid.  I’m still waiting for Bright’s Ferry to open its arms
and I grew up just across the bay.”

“Did
you ever get branded as the local firebug?”

Cal
actually laughed.

“Can’t
say that I did.  But I did take a joyride in my neighbor’s car when I was
sixteen.  Wrapped it around a tree.”

He
put a hand on Adam’s shoulder.

“We
do stupid things, and not just when we’re young.  But we make amends and we
move forward.  That’s life.”

Adam
nodded, slightly comforted.  Cal considered him for a long moment.

“If
you don’t mind some heavy lifting and mindless restocking, I could use a hand
down at the hardware store.  Doesn’t pay much, but it’s steady.”

“Yes!”
Adam nearly shouted, and Cal grinned.

“All
right, then.  Why don’t you meet me down at the shop at Main and King and help
me unload this lot.  Bunch of two by fours and some planking.  Then you can get
to work helping me find a new lumber guy to do business with.  Preferably
someone who won’t welsh on an order two weeks in a row.”

As
they shook on it, Cal’s sleeve rode up and Adam was surprised by the red welts
and scabbing along one arm – he’d been badly burned, and recently.

“Something
wrong?” asked Cal.

“No,
nothing,” replied Adam thoughtfully.

HE
WATCHED ADAM MALLOW drive away and tried to contain his rage.  He didn’t worry
that anyone would noticed, but he wished he could find a way to express the
anger that was starting to boil over.

He
didn’t like setting fires.  He wasn’t that person.

But
–

He
had to admit that there was something so satisfying about seeing a building go
up in flames.  The Mallow boy felt remorse for his crimes, and that was
scarcely enough, but those were crime of stupidity.  Fires built for the sake
of rebellion.

He
only burned things that needed to be burned for his own very personal reasons,
and the goal wasn’t just the odd jolt of satisfaction and pleasure, but a
higher cause.  To reach that goal, he had to keep the cops off his scent, and
that wasn’t going to happen if Adam was making friends in the community,
marching into job interviews and getting settled as a newly upstanding citizen
of Bright’s Ferry.

The
Sheriff’s Department should have him at the top of their list, at least long
enough to allow him to complete his work.

This
won’t do at all
,
he thought,
I have to keep him close.

And
he hurried away.

“HOLY
FUCK, GRACE! YOU won’t believe this!” Fiona screeched loudly enough to have the
entire library looking up in disapproval.

“Shhh!”
Grace reprimanded, but came to look over her friend’s shoulder at the computer
screen, where a couple of newspaper articles had been loaded, side by side.

“Star
linebacker blows out knee…God, look at him.  He was even yummy in college.”

“What
is it with you and younger men?  Scoot over.”  Grace shoved Fiona a few inches
to the side to share her chair and kept reading.

“He
could have gone pro,” she murmured, “Poor Matt.”

“Take
a look at the other one.”

Grace
complied, grateful that she’d enlisted Fiona’s help.  She may be an
incorrigible flirt, but Fiona had a practical head on her shoulders.  When
Grace had confided her fears based on last night’s debacle, Fiona was
remarkably zen about the whole thing.  She’d pointed out that no one had ever
had a problem with Matt in all the years he’d lived in town, and that this was
precisely why God had invented the Internet, before diving into research on the
baffling puzzle that was Matt Harris.

The
second article broke her heart.

“Area
man suspected of attempted murder dies in car accident.  James Harris, forty-six,
was pronounced dead at the scene after a drunk driver plowed into his car at
Church and Fidelio in the early hours of Sunday night.  Mr. Harris leaves
behind a wife, May Harris, forty-three, and son Matthew…blah blah blah… Mr.
Harris was wanted for questioning by the police over outstanding warrants for
driving while intoxicated and an attack that left his wife Mrs. Harris in a
coma at St. Teresa’s Hospital.  Matthew, completing his senior year at Malvern
College, was unavailable for comment.”

Eyes
brimming with tears, Grace turned to Fiona.

“Oh,
Fi.  How awful.  I didn’t know.  I mean, I knew his mother was at Sunrise Glen,
but I just never asked…”

Fiona
clicked a few keys and pulled up a picture of James Harris – the resemblance to
Matt was uncanny.

“Well,
this explains a lot.  He’s terrified he’s going to turn into his father, a
raging alcoholic with a nasty streak.”

“Oh
my God, and I told him I wanted him to spank me!”

Grace
buried her face in her hands, belatedly hoping she hadn’t said that too loudly.

“That’s
not the same thing and you know it.”

“Even
so!”

“You’re
missing the important question here, your Graciousness,” insisted Fiona.

“Which
is?”

“I
did a little hacking – don’t look at me that way.  His record is clean as a
whistle as far as I can tell – no arrests.  Still, knowing what he came from, and
having seen him totally lose it last night, and taking into consideration
everything you know or have heard about him since the day you met – do you
trust him?”

That’s
the million dollar question,
thought Grace, but she already knew the
answer.

“I
have to go,” she murmured, abandoning the chair to pull her purse from a desk
drawer.

“Yeah,
that’s what I think, too,” said Fiona.

TIRED
BUT CONTENT FOR the first time in months, Adam felt his eyes pulling closed as
he tried to focus on the action flick on the TV in front of him.  He’d never
worked that hard in his life, even with long hours at the soup kitchen.  The
manual labor involved in life at the little hardware store was going to take
some getting used to, but Cal seemed like a good guy, and his store manager,
Silas Jankowsky, was a stand-up guy, if a little long-winded.

Adam
had returned home after hours of unloading and getting the lay of the land, and,
feeling inspired, proceeded to examine the house in meticulous detail, noting
repairs to make, big and small, in every room.  At the end of the day, he had a
long list and some newfound insight into his sister – some of which made him
extremely
uncomfortable.  For example, she’d kept all of his high school things.  He
found a box of papers, yearbooks, and even the Second Place science fair medal
he’d gotten his freshman year before things had started going downhill.  He
felt a pang as he went through the box, musing on the years he wasted, and
everything he’d put his sister through.

That
was almost as bad as the trunk of sex toys he’d found under Grace’s bed while
he was checking a loose board – not just a little box, but an actual flat
trunk
. 
Okay, so there were no spikes or whips in there, but there was quite enough for
Adam to realize that his sister was into some pretty kinky shit.  He didn’t
dare look in her night stand.

Fuck,
a guy can’t un-see that kind of stuff,
he’d thought, irritated, and wondered
if Matt Harris knew what Grace was into.  Of course, he wanted Grace to be
happy, but
wow.

As
Adam dozed on the couch, he noted absently that the sun had gone down, and
Grace wasn’t home yet, which was odd – she usually at least stopped by the
house to change out of her “librarian” clothes before going out again.  She
probably decided to grab dinner with Fiona.  He’d just nap a little while
longer and then make some mac and cheese or something.

Scratch,
scratch, SNICK.

The
noise was strange – soft and barely noticeable, brushing at the edges of Adam’s
consciousness like a mosquito.  He was vaguely aware of a waft of cold air, but
just snuggled more deeply under the throw blanket on the couch and dismissed
it.  A moment later, the unmistakable sound of footsteps on the squeaky floor
pulled Adam from sleep – heavy, a firm tread.

That’s
not Grace. 
There
was someone in the house.

Adam
struggled awake just in time to see a hooded figure overhead, a raised arm, and
then –

Darkness.

GRACE
DIDN’T INDULGE IN shopping therapy unless she was seriously stressed out.  She
made a decent salary and tried to be good about money, but she had a weakness
for clothes, and there was nothing more soothing than finding a new pair of
boots or a dress that actually gave her some cleavage.  Knowing her willpower
was low when it came to pretty, edgy things, she tried to stick to thrift shops
and vintage second-hand stores to get her fix.  However, as she drove around
town, trying to work up the courage to head over to Matt’s place, she spotted
the new display in the window of the little shop on Main Street that belonged
to Jenny Bright and Susan Gunterson, a longtime middle-aged couple who had
lived together in the community for decades.  Jenny was descended from the
town’s founding father, and the two of them were sweet as pie.

Usually,
the pretty, feminine things they displayed were a little too tame for Grace,
but –

I
want that.

Jenny
smiled as Grace pushed the door open.

“Grace
Mallow, what a nice surprise.  What can I do for you?”

“I
saw your display in the window.  I didn’t think you sold that kind of
lingerie.”

Susan
rolled her eyes.

“It
wasn’t my idea.  But Deirdre, God rest her soul, ordered a pile from some
lingerie designer she found online, and they finally arrived last week.  We
thought the least we could do was trust her instincts and honor her memory.”

Deirdre
had been killed a few months back, the victim of the same crazed stalker who
terrorized Colin Daniels and the entire town.  She’d been Susan and Jenny’s
business partner, not to mention a little promiscuous and self-centered, and
though she and Grace had never gotten along, Grace knew that Susan and Jenny
had thought of her like a daughter.

“It’s
all beautiful,” she breathed, pulling a purple lace bustier off a hanger.

“Want
to try a few things on?”

Jenny’s
eyes twinkled as Grace nodded eagerly.

MATT’S
MUSCLES TINGLED PLEASANTLY as he stepped out of the shower, toweled off, and
pulled on a pair of jeans, not bothering with a shirt.  He knew the Chief
wanted to give him time off to rest up – who knew when the next fire would hit
– but the enforced time to himself to think about Grace was going to drive him
batty. 

Yes,
I’m hiding from her.  There’s nothing wrong with that.
 

Except
that he was a fucking chicken, but so what?

He’d
worked on the house, run a few errands, and finally pushed himself through an
intense two-hour workout in the makeshift gym in the basement.  The physical
activity helped him turn his brain off for a few hours.

Downstairs,
he sat on the couch and stared at the corkboard he’d set up with a map and red
push pins to mark the burned buildings from the rash of fires – a haphazard scattering
of dots that didn’t form a shape or a pattern or anything that Matt could see
connecting them.

Blowing
out a frustrated breath, he started toward the kitchen to make a sandwich, but
a tentative knock on the door had him turning.  When he opened the door, Grace
stepped inside without asking and closed the door behind her. 

“Grace.
What are you doing here?”

Wary,
he stepped back, but couldn’t help eating her up with his eyes.  She was
wearing “work” clothes, but it could have been a burlap sack and Matt would
have thought she looked incredible.  Under her jacket, the soft gray sweater
dress clung in all the right places, and the pinstriped tights had him
wondering about garters and what else she might be wearing.  Ordering his
libido to cool it, he noted that she still hadn’t said a word, though her eyes
were roving over him, filled with heat and hunger.