What Looks Like Crazy (22 page)

“I'm going to see if it can be postponed. Jay and I should probably have a long talk.” I watched a man lead a llama from a horse trailer. “Mona, why is there a llama in the parking lot?”

She joined me. “I had ordered a pony for the kids to ride, but his owner called a couple of days ago. The pony hurt one of his hooves and will be out of commission for a while.”

I looked at her. “You know, I would never have thought of a llama.”

She smiled brightly. “That's why I'm the publicist and you're not. Does Jay know you want to put the divorce on hold?”

“I haven't been able to reach him either.”

Mona just looked at me.

“What?” I asked.

“You heard that old abandoned mill in Cabbagetown went up in flames sometime around midnight, right?”

“No!”

“I think they called in every fire department within a fifty-mile radius. I'm not surprised. That mill takes up an entire city block.”

“Well, I'm not going to freak out over it,” I said. “That building is scheduled for demolition. There's a big
X
over the door, and it's boarded up big-time. Firefighters would not perform a search and rescue, and they'd fight it from the outside.”

“What if somebody had managed to get in?” Mona asked. “What if it was rumored to have a couple of homeless people sleeping there?”

I tensed. “That would change everything.”

“I'm just repeating what I heard on the news downstairs in the coffee shop,” she almost whispered.

Five minutes later Mona and I, along with several other customers, were glued to the TV set in Hot Spot coffee and pastry shop on the first floor.

The fire had been extinguished, but there were still a number of firefighters on the scene. The camera closed in on their faces, lines of exhaustion embedded with ash. In the background stood a charred brick building gutted by fire.

I knew Jay had been among the men who'd battled the blaze. I knew that Jay would not hesitate to go into a burning building if there was a chance someone was inside. He had the commendations to prove it. Jay was not a captain who sat behind a desk. He was hands-on. He gave the orders, and he went inside if he thought his men needed him.

I tried his cell once more. No answer.

I stared at the TV. The newsman was trying to find out the number of men injured or sent to the hospital with smoke inhalation. No deaths reported as yet. I closed my eyes. Multiplication tables fired through my brain, riding on waves of adrenaline. “I hate this,” I told Mona.

“Why don't you go back upstairs, and I'll let you know the second I hear anything.”

I started to argue.

“You can't do anything, Kate,” she said. “Besides, you're waiting to hear from your attorney.”

I'd forgotten. And Mona was right. There was nothing I could do except wait.

I left the coffee shop and caught the elevator to the fourth floor. I stepped inside my office and was startled to find George Moss pacing the reception room, holding his vial. And here I thought the day couldn't get worse.

“What are you doing here?” I demanded. “I told you I would not be treating you in the future.”

“You had no right to dismiss me. You and your receptionist probably find me laughable. A foolish old man,” he added. “Well, your first mistake was not taking me seriously.” He shoved the vial in my face.

My temper flared. Enough was enough, dammit! “You know what, George? I've had a crummy couple of days. You want to blow me up? Well, go right ahead. Make my day!”

He looked surprised, uncertain.

I snatched the vial from his hand.

George's eyes shot open wide. “Don't drop that!”

“Why not, George?” I ignored him and began to toss it in the air with my good hand. He ducked and put his hands over his head.

“You're crazy!” he yelled.

“People like you
make
me crazy! You want to blow up my office? Here, let me do it for you!”

George screamed as I threw the vial as hard as I could against the opposite wall. He pushed me to the floor a split second before the explosion that shattered the window and sent glass flying in all directions.

I screamed.

 

Four hours later,
dressed in jeans and a baggy T-shirt, I pulled my car beside a park and, snapping Mike's leash to her collar, helped her from the front seat. I'd been driving for an hour, just driving around in no particular direction, and now I figured Mike needed to find a bush.

I was still sore after being shoved to the floor by George. I was covered with cuts and scratches; Bobo the Knife had picked shards of glass from those body parts that had been exposed during the explosion. George Moss had been treated and taken away in handcuffs. It was hard to feel sympathy for the man. He had ruined my favorite outfit.

I was numb now, but it beat the hell out of stark terror, which is precisely what I'd felt upon hearing the explosion and watching my window be blown to smithereens. Even worse was having George heave himself on top of me, his bony, liver-spotted chest in my face. I thought of the nightmares that awaited me about that chest.

I'd refused to let Mona call anyone, and for once she had not argued with me. I think she knew I was one step away from going completely over the edge. I'd lain on the bed in the exam room until my knees had stopped trembling, and I'd watched the minutes tick by on the large wall clock. I had not bothered to call my attorney again. I'd watched eleven a.m. come and go, marking my divorce.

I found an empty park bench and sat down. As though she sensed that I needed comforting, Mike hopped on the bench beside me and snuggled close. She licked the scratches on my hand. And when she rose on her hind legs and licked the single tear on my cheek, I knew there was a reason we had found each other when we did. I had already decided to keep her, and I would see that her puppies were placed in good homes.

I stroked her gently, leaned my head back, and closed my eyes. The sun felt good on my face. I tried to imagine it seeping into my pores, healing me.

Jay and I had spent a lot of time at the park early in our marriage; it brought back bittersweet memories of picnics and the sound of children's laughter.

I dozed, only to jerk awake when I realized someone was standing before me. I opened my eyes and found Jay staring down at me, his face gray and lined with worry and exhaustion. He wore a business suit.

“Dammit, Kate!” he all but shouted. “I have been looking all over this town for you. I heard about the explosion after I got out of court.” He muttered a couple more four-letter words and sank onto the bench.

I wanted to reach out to him, but his anger was palpable. I waited.

“Just so you know, it scared the holy hell out of me,” he said.

“It scared the llama too.”

He gave me an odd look. “Are you okay, Katie? I mean, are you
really
okay?” His blue eyes scanned me from head to toe. I saw the pained look in his eyes as he took in the cuts and bruises. “Bobo assured me you'd be fine, but I had to see for myself. I waited on your front steps for close to an hour. I thought I'd go crazy.”

“I'm okay, Jay. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I'm good.”

He very gently enfolded me in his arms, and we sat quietly, holding on tight to each other. I inhaled his scent, felt him tremble. He pulled back slightly and looked at me.

“Katie, I would never try to tell you what to do, but your job is dangerous. There are some really sick people out there, and I think you're the one treating all of them.”

I chuckled. “Fortunately most of them are behind bars now.” He pulled me close once more, taking care with my injuries.

“How was our divorce?” I asked.

He sighed. “Quick. People shouldn't be able to get divorced so easily. They should have to try harder.
We
should have tried harder.”

I'd been trying to hold back my tears, but I could no longer contain them. They came hard and fast. They came from way down deep and spilled over. Mike climbed into my lap, and Jay continued to hold me.

“Go ahead and let it out, Katie,” he said gently. “You earned it.”

Finally the tears stopped. I was exhausted, but the hurt was not as raw.

“Listen to me, Katie,” Jay said in a voice so tender that it was hard to believe he was the same man who had fought a ravenous fire only hours before. “I'm not going to put any more pressure on you than you're already dealing with,” he said. “We don't have to make any important decisions about us right now. I just want you to be okay, and I want you to be happy. Whatever it takes,” he added.

“Waffles would be nice,” I said. “And then a nap.”

He chuckled and pressed his lips to my forehead. “You got it, babe. Your place or mine?”