Carol Clark - He Sees You When You're Sleeping

And not just because I want to go to heaven. I truly want to help her. She looks so small and vulnerable. Hard to believe she’s the same kid who was trying to call the shots at the restaurant today, and who didn’t waste any time phoning her father to get the lowdown on the party.

With a smile that ended in a sigh, Sterling got up and left the room. As he went down the hallway he heard one of the munchkins start to cry. Then the other one joined in.

Luckily, they don’t need me, Sterling thought. An instant later Roy staggered out of the bedroom and into the nursery. “Daddy’s here,” he crooned. “Roy Junior, Robert, Daddy’s here.”

Denise has him well trained, Sterling thought. My friends used to turn a deaf ear when their kids started howling in the middle of the night. But times have changed.

I was an only child, he thought as he descended the stairs. My parents were in their forties when I was born. I became the center of their universe. They were in heaven long before I arrived in the celestial waiting room.

It will be so good to see Mother and Dad again, he thought, once more glancing skyward.

Sterling consulted the map before he left the house, then made his way to Nor’s restaurant. As he walked through the quiet streets, he suddenly felt an acute sense of urgency. Even though it absolutely was not coming from anyplace nearby, he was beginning to smell smoke.

They did it! he thought. The warehouse fire has just been set.

Sean O’Brien had put in twenty years with the Nassau County Police Department. During that time he had learned to expect predawn phone calls if there was an important development in a case he was working on.

When his phone rang at 3:40, Sean woke up immediately and grabbed it. As he hoped, it was Nor.

“Sean, I just heard from Dennis. He came up with the name of the guy on the answering machine, and he’s right. I’m absolutely positive that he’s right.”

“Who is it?”

“His name is Hans Kramer. He lives in Syosset and has some kind of computer software company. He comes into the restaurant occasionally.”

“Okay, Nor. I’ll get right on it.”

Thoroughly awake now, Sean sat on the side of the bed. He was alone in the room. His wife, Kate, a nurse, was working the night shift on the pediatrics floor of North Shore hospital.

His first call was to police headquarters in Syosset. There was a chance Kramer was known to them.

It proved to be a good bet. Nick Amaretto, the lieutenant in charge, knew exactly who Kramer was. “Nice guy. He’s lived in town twenty years. Was on the zoning board for a while. Ran the Red Cross drive a couple of years ago. Has his own software company.”

“Does he have a warehouse?”

“Yeah. He bought property in the area off the expressway that had that string of crummy motels. He built a nice little complex with an office and warehouse.”

“I have a tip that it may be torched. A matter of an over-due loan from the Badgett brothers.”

“Oh, boy. We’ll get over there right away. I’ll contact the bomb squad and the fire department.”

“I’m calling the feds. Talk to you later.”

“Wait a minute, Sean,” the lieutenant snapped. “Something big is coming in on the radio.”

Sean O’Brien knew even before Amaretto got back on the phone that he was too late. The Kramer complex was already in flames.

Hans Kramer received the call from his security service at 3:43 A.M. The smoke detectors in the warehouse had been activated. The fire department was on the way.

In silent desperation, Hans and his wife, Lee, threw on clothes, stuffed their bare feet into sneakers, grabbed jackets, and ran to the car.

I dropped a lot of the insurance coverage, Hans thought desperately. I couldn’t afford the premiums. If the fire department can’t save the warehouse, what will I do?

He felt a tightening in his chest. Even though the car had not yet warmed up, he was dripping perspiration.

“Hans, you’re trembling,” Lee said, her voice sick with worry. “No matter how bad it is, we can handle it. I promise, we can handle it.”

“Lee, you don’t understand. I borrowed money, a lot of money. I thought I could pay it back. I was sure business would pick up.” The road was almost empty. He pressed the accelerator and the car raced ahead.

“Hans, the doctor has been warning you. That last stress test you took wasn’t good. Please calm down.”

I owe them three hundred thousand dollars, Hans thought. The warehouse is worth three million, but I’m only insured enough to cover the mortgage. I won’t have enough to pay off the loan.

As they turned onto the street that led to the complex, both Hans and Lee gasped. In the distance they could see flames shooting through the darkness, fierce angry flames surrounded by thick billowing smoke.

“Oh, dear God,” Lee breathed.

Hans, in shock, said nothing. They did this, Hans thought. The Badgetts. This is their answer to my request for an extension on the loan.

When Hans and Lee reached the warehouse, it was surrounded by fire trucks. Gallons of water from high-powered hoses were pouring into the inferno, but it was obvious the blaze could not be contained.

As Hans pushed open the door of the car, a gigantic wave of pain washed over him, and he toppled onto the driveway.

Moments later he could feel something being clamped over his nostrils, a jolting in his chest, and strong hands lifting him. In a crazy way he felt relieved.

It was all beyond his control.

Sterling arrived back at the restaurant and was not surprised to see Nor getting out of her car in the parking lot. They must know about the fire already, he thought as he broke into a trot.

He followed Nor inside and up to Billy’s apartment, which encompassed the entire second floor of the building. Dennis was already there, and Billy had made coffee.

“Sean is on his way over,” Nor told Billy. She had no make-up on. Her hair was loosely caught up in a comb, but long tendrils were slipping around her neck and face. She was wearing a light blue sweat suit and a pair of sneakers.

Billy had on rumpled blue jeans, a wrinkled denim shirt, and old moccasins. His eyes looked tired, and he needed a shave.

Dennis was wearing a gray Madison Village sweatshirt over well-worn corduroy pants.

“Sean said it’s important that he talk to us right away,” Nor said as Billy poured coffee into mugs, and the three of them went to the table in the dining room.

From the chair he selected, Sterling could see into the living room. Billy’s place was a comfortable bachelor pad, slightly untidy, with sneakers under the coffee table and a pile of newspapers on top of it. The couch and chairs were basically nondescript but looked inviting.

It was clear that Billy worked on his music in the living room. There were a couple of guitars propped up against the piano, and sheet music was scattered on the couch.

As at Nor’s home, many of the homemade ornaments on the Christmas tree looked as though they had Marissa’s touch.

The ringing of the doorbell indicated that Sean O’Brien had arrived. Billy buzzed him in and waited as he climbed the stairs.

O’Brien’s expression was grave. He nodded when Billy offered coffee, joined them at the table, and told them about the fire.

“How bad is it?” Nor asked.

“About as bad as it gets,” O’Brien said. “Hans Kramer is in the hospital. He’s had a pretty severe heart attack, but he should make it.”

Nor inhaled sharply. “Oh, no.”

“His place burned to the ground,” O’Brien continued. “There’s absolutely nothing left. It was one expert job.”

“It was definitely set?” Nor asked flatly, already knowing the answer.