Лори Касс - Wrong Side Of The Paw

Gathering everything I had, all my strength, all my weight, all my energy, and what was left of my courage, I flung myself to the side, leaning and straining with every muscle in my body, and tipped my chair, crashing to the floor hard, using my body to block the rushing run of fire.

Heat seared the small of my back and I knew the flames were eating away at my clothes. I rolled toward the fire, trying to squash it out, afraid that my efforts weren’t enough, afraid that Leese was going to die, afraid that Eddie was going to die, afraid that—

A heavy weight was thrown over me and I suddenly couldn’t see anything. “Mff mfff!” Leese shouted. “Mfff mfff!!”

I had no idea what she’d said, but I couldn’t respond anyway since tape still covered my mouth and something was pinning me to the floor.

There was another ripping tape noise. “Hold still!”

Oh. Well, that I could do.

“The fire’s almost out,” she panted. “Hang on.”

A few seconds later, the weight was gone and I could see again. Leese, still with her ankles taped to the chair, was on her hands and knees next to me, the quilt that had formerly hung on the office wall piled in a heap.

“He only got gas on the corner,” she said, nodding at her grandmother’s handiwork.

The quilt was a mess of scorch marks and blackened holes. “I’m so sorry,” I said. “It’s ruined.”

Leese, who was untaping her ankles, snorted. “You should see your coat.”

“It’s just a coat,” I said. “No sentimental value attached.”

“Bottom line, that quilt saved our lives. Grandma would be pleased.”

She kicked free of the tape and the chair and went to work on me. In short order, my hands were their own again, and so were my feet. Together, we scrambled to stand. “We have to get out of here,” I said, grabbing her hand and pulling her toward the door. “It’s too dangerous.” Both from the danger of fire and the danger of Faber returning.

After one glance around her office, Leese came along with me.

“Eddie?” I called. “Here, kitty kitty kitty.”

My cat, for once, actually came when I called, trotting into the formal dining room. I stooped to snatch him up, carried him into the kitchen, and pushed him into his carrier. “Let’s take my car,” I called to Leese over my shoulder. “I’m in front of your garage door.”

“Be right out.”

I picked up the carrier and started down the steps. “Leese Lacombe, get out of the house this minute.”

“Behind you, I promise.”

“If she’s not,” I said to Eddie, “as soon as I get you in the car, I’m coming back inside to drag her out.”

“Mrr!”

We charged outside, where it was now full dark, and for the first time ever, I put Eddie into the backseat. “Hope you understand,” I said, pulling the seatbelt around the carrier. “Because though you’re on the biggish side for a cat, you’re not anywhere near the size of a normal human, let alone Leese. She wouldn’t fit back here for beans.”

As I shut the back door, the dark shape of my friend came pounding down the stairs. She ran the few steps to my car and we got in, slamming our respective doors simultaneously.

I started the engine and pressed the gas pedal down hard. The tires spun in the slick snow. Muttering a curse, I let off the gas, used the transmission to rock the car back and forth, and slowly pulled forward through Leese’s turnaround.

“Do you have your phone?” I asked. “Call nine-one-one.”

“Can I use yours? Mine’s in my purse.”

She’d brought something with her from the house; I’d assumed it was her purse, but maybe she’d grabbed whatever she valued most, just in case the gas did ignite and her house burned to the ground. “Sure,” I said, and directed her to my backpack, down by her feet.

“Mrr.”

“Sorry about the smell, Eddie,” I said. The car had almost reached the road and I was starting to turn right, heading for the safety of Chilson. “I know we reek of gasoline, but we didn’t have much choice, and—”

“Mrr!”

“Will you quit?” I asked. “We have a guest in the car, you know. She’s not used to your whining.”

“MRR!!”

This time he was so loud my entire body cringed. My foot came off the gas and the car slowed. “Eddie, will you—” Then I noticed something. “Leese, there aren’t any tire tracks on the road. Not any other than mine.”

Her quick mind caught up to me in half a heartbeat. “Faber didn’t come this way.”

Our heads turned to the left. “What’s down there?” I asked.

“Nothing,” Leese said slowly. “Not a single thing. This isn’t technically a dead end road, though. It turns into a seasonal road a quarter mile down, but it connects to another road on the other side of the ridge.”

I’d lived in Tonedagana County long enough to know what that meant. “What kind of shape is it in?” Seasonal roads could be well-maintained gravel versions, or they could be little more than two tracks made by the occasional passing car.

“Horrible,” she said. “I walked it last week and called the road commission because there was a fallen tree across it. They said they might get to it before spring, but wouldn’t make any promises.”

My foot hovered over the gas pedal. “He’s probably still down there,” I said.

“Yes.” Leese stared at the snow.

“I mean, where else could he be?”

“Yes,” she said.

“He could be hurt.” I waited, but she didn’t say anything more. “Call nine-one-one,” I said. “Tell them about the gas in your house.” I stared straight ahead. “Tell them we’re on our way to check on the guy who did it, because he might be having a medical emergency.”

“Yes,” Leese said.

For a long moment, neither one of us moved. Simon Faber had killed my friend’s father. He had tried to ruin her sister’s, her brother’s, and her own reputation. He’d done his best to kill her and had almost burned down her house. Now it was likely that he had either fallen in the snow or crashed his car or . . . or something else that wasn’t good. No matter which way you looked at it, Simon Faber had intended to come out of the woods, and hadn’t.

Then, at the same time I put my foot on the gas and turned left, Leese picked up my phone and pushed the three numbers.

Chapter 19

Sunday I spent doing four things: sleeping in, having long discussions with a variety of different law enforcement personnel, having dinner and dessert with Kristen, and looking online for a new coat to replace the one that I’d ruined the day before by having the foresight to use it to stop the fire instead of my face or my hair.

That had been sheer luck, actually, because I certainly hadn’t planned my trajectory to the floor, but a white-faced Ash had said in a shaky voice that I’d probably done some fast calculations in my head without realizing it. I’d smiled, patted my former boyfriend on the arm, and let him keep his illusions.

Detective Inwood didn’t say much the entire time I was in the sheriff’s office, but when he was done taking notes, he stood and gave me a long look, which bore a strong resemblance to the way my dad used to look at me when I’d stayed up too late reading Dickens.

I braced myself, but all he did was sigh. Which was what my dad had usually ended up doing, too. “Did you notice?” I asked.

His eyebrows went up as he slid his notebook into his jacket pocket. “A little more specific, please.”

Pointing at the table, I said, “I sat on this side.” All the times I’d sat in the interview room I’d sat in the same spot. And since I’d spent a lot of time waiting for the detective to show up on previous occasions, I’d also spent a fair amount of time being bored, and had stared at the water stain in the ceiling tiles, eventually turning it into a dragon shape. I’d once mentioned this to Inwood and he’d commented that I should sit on the other side of the table and take another look.