William Bernhardt - Perfect Justice

Christina’s coughing had subsided, but in its place was a deep, rasping noise. Her breathing was heavy and labored. Ben knew she was hurting.

“You did all you could,” she managed to say. “Don’t blame yourself.”

“Why would I?”

Christina tried to smile. “You always blame yourself. For everything.”

Ben turned away. He couldn’t stand to see her like this. Despite what she said, it was his fault she was here, and he damn well knew it.

He glanced down through the trapdoor. The room below was ablaze; there was nothing left but the yellow flames that destroyed everything in their path. The fire was barely inches away from the roof.

“Christina,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”

She coughed again, a harsh hacking cough. “Told you not to blame yourself,” she whispered.

“It’s not that. I’m so screwed up. I should’ve—”

“You did what you could.” Another deep, rasping breath. “You always do.”

“But it isn’t enough. You deserve better. I—” He clasped her hand. “I want you to know before it’s too late that I—”

He was interrupted by a strange sound, a noise in the background he hadn’t heard before. What was it? Some bizarre Ouachita wildlife? It seemed to be coming from the sky. A bird? No, that wasn’t it. It was more like—

Like a chopping noise.

Ben pointed toward the clouds. “It’s Portia!”

Christina strained to see. “Who?”

A bright headlight shimmered through the smoke clouds. “I mean, it’s Mike, in Portia. He got the damn thing fixed!”

The chopping and whirring noises grew louder as the helicopter came almost directly overhead.

“That’s great,” Christina said, watching the flames catch the roof. “But how do we get from here to there?”

As if in answer, the passenger-side door opened and a red rope ladder fell out the side.

“That looks pretty dodgy to me,” Christina said.

“Consider the options.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Christina, I never cared much for heights, but I’m still going up that ladder. And if I can do it, I know you can!”

“Well, maybe, but—”

“You first.”

He walked her to the ladder and placed it in her hands. She slowly stepped up the ladder, one rung at a time. When she was halfway up, Ben stepped onto the ladder. The rungs were soft and they gave much more than he would have liked. But it held him. He was off the roof.

“Get us out of here!”

The helicopter eased away from the blazing church. Ben saw two heads poking out the side of the copter. It was Sheriff Collier—and Loving. The ladder was on a winch and they were reeling it in.

When he was about halfway up, Ben heard a tremendous crash below him.

He knew he shouldn’t look down, but he couldn’t stop himself. The roof of the church had crashed down into the flames. The entire building was consumed; there was nothing left but a gigantic glowing fireball.

Just in time, Mike. Just in time.

The conflagration had taken more than just the church. As Ben could see from his aerial perch, it had spread in all directions. The familiar loblolly pines were ablaze, as well as the kennel, and the garage that once held all that incriminating evidence.

But most importantly Ben saw that the fire had spread a hundred yards to the south.

To Coi Than Tien.

66.

THE FENCE SURROUNDING COI Than Tien, the barn, and most of the shacks, were all in flames. Ben saw people fleeing their homes, their dearest possessions on their backs, their children clutched to their chests. Others scrambled around trying to fight the blaze, to little effect.

Someone on the ground was organizing a bucket-brigade line from the well to the nearest point of fire. He couldn’t make out the face on the slender body, but he had a strong hunch who it was.

Sheriff Collier and Loving hauled Ben into the helicopter. It was crowded—five people in a small helicopter—but he wasn’t about to complain.

Before Ben could get his bearings, he was astonished to feel Loving wrap his arms around him—and hug him.

“Are you all right, Skipper?” An expression of profound worry crossed his macho brow.

“Yeah, I’m all right,” Ben said awkwardly. “But Christina isn’t. She needs medical attention.”

“No,” Christina said. She was staring out the window, watching Coi Than Tien fight the flames. “We have to go down there and help.”

“I can’t land too close,” Mike said. “Portia’s blades could fan the flames and make the blaze worse than it already is. But there’s a clearing on the other side of the settlement.”

Ben protested. “But I still think—”

Christina shook her head. “Take us down.”

As Ben suspected, Belinda had organized another brigade to fight the rampaging fire. This fire was several times as great as the one they had fought before, but this time Belinda had many more hands. She had three different lines aimed at different parts of the fire, radiating from the well like spokes from the hub of a wheel.

Most of the residents of Coi Than Tien had returned to fight the blaze, and many citizens of Silver Springs were there as well. Mike explained to Ben that the fire had broken out while he and Sheriff Collier were at Coi Than Tien investigating the latest death. Collier radioed for help. Every officer, off duty or on, turned out, and on their way out of town they raised the alarm at the Bluebell, Hatewatch, and just about every other place they could find people this time of night.

To Ben’s amazement, he saw Grand Dragon Dunagan standing on the sidelines with two of his ASP followers. He wasn’t helping, and for a reason: he was wearing handcuffs on both wrists.

Ben took a place beside Mike in one of the brigade lines. “How did you find us?” he shouted over the noise and the smoke.

“I got Portia fixed this afternoon,” Mike explained, “so I flew her to Coi Than Tien. When the fire broke out, we ran toward the church and saw all these ASP creeps in costume bolting out the back door. Collier and I arrested Dunagan and a couple of the others on suspicion of arson.”

“I don’t know about that,” Ben said, passing another bucket into Mike’s hands, “but I can give you some even juicier charges to work with.”

“Great. They wouldn’t tell me where you were at first, but after I leaned on one of the sidekicks, he told me you and Christina were still inside the church. I knew I couldn’t get through that wall of fire on foot, so I decided to try an aerial rescue.”

“How did you get him to talk?”

“Oh, you know. Held his head close to the fire. Threatened to handcuff him to the front door. That’s all.”

“Oh, well,” Ben said. “Nothing the Supreme Court would disapprove of, I’m sure.”

The buckets of water continued to fly down the human spokes of Coi Than Tien. The fire had spread to almost all the buildings, but it didn’t seem to be getting any worse. At least they were containing it before it devastated the entire countryside.

Ben had been on the line a full fifteen minutes before he noticed that the man passing buckets to him was none other than Sheriff Gustafson. Ben hadn’t even noticed. Their eyes met, but neither said a word.

Ben scanned some of the other lines. The other deputies were there, and he saw District Attorney Swain, too. Mac was there along with several of the Bluebell regulars. John Pfeiffer and Frank Carroll were there with Belinda. Pham and his contingent formed an almost continuous line. Colonel Nguyen was helping them, with a boy Mike identified as Nhung Vu. He had a patch over his right eye, but he seemed strong and able.

And then a miracle occurred. Ben heard the wailing of the siren first. The sound grew in pitch and intensity as it Doppler-shifted closer to them.