“One more thing. The shit bag who killed Preddy turned up in the same dumpster two weeks later. Someone beat him, threw him in there, poured gas on him, and lit it. Burned him alive.”
“Holy crap. Who did that?”
“Nobody knows.”
Captain Reemer relaxed back in his chair. “I’ll call police dispatch and get a squad over here. You can tell them what’s going on across the street.” The captain shrugged. “Maybe they’ll do something.”
* * *
“So the older girl, Jasmine, was sexually assaulted?” The burly officer with dark, sunken eyes asked Mitch.
“She didn’t say that exactly. She did say the man beats her and her mom.”
“See any marks or signs she’s being beaten?”
“Looked like a bruise on her neck, but she covered it before I could get a good look.”
The officer scowled. “That’s it? I got other calls waiting.”
“What happened to protect and serve? Or doesn’t that apply to black kids?”
The officer narrowed his eyes. “That’s a shitty thing to say.”
“No. What’s shitty is what’s happening to those kids.”
“All right, all right, all right. Take it easy.” The officer’s thick black eyebrows knit together. “So here’s what I’ll do. I’ll take a run at the asshole, pretend I know some things.”
Mitch stood by the window at the front of the firehouse and watched the officer march across the street. His thoughts drifted to the horrific story of Jasmine’s sister. He was still at the window when the officer ambled back across the street thirty minutes later.
The officer shrugged. “I tried.”
“So?”
“Asshole denied everything. And the mother of the year got pissed when I got her alone and asked if she knew her daughter was being sexually assaulted. Told me to get the fuck out of her house when I pressed.”
“So that’s it?”
“Get the girl to tell you what he did to her and I’ll run his ass in.”
After the officer left, Mitch remained by the front window. How would he get her to tell him about something that sick?
The screen door slammed. Maurice trotted down the steps, the steps Mitch had rebuilt and painted. Maurice strutted down the sidewalk waving his middle finger at the firehouse and mouthing the words that go with it. Mitch fought to control the overpowering urge to run him down and bash his face into the sidewalk.
Chapter 33
Mitch sat night-watch in the room adjacent to the front entrance, reeling from the miserable day and thinking about things Jasmine had told him over the last few months. She told him how her momma used to be happy. Now all she did was work, drink, and sleep. Jasmine took over the house, keeping it clean, cooking, and taking care of Alexus. She hadn’t seen her dad in years. When she was little, her dad called her his little princess and gave her a necklace to wear instead of a crown since she couldn’t wear a crown all the time. She never took the necklace off. She wished he’d come back and kick Maurice out. While sharing the heart-wrenching details, she never seemed emotional or sad.
Mitch’s imagination ran wild with sickening visions of Maurice on top of Jasmine. Somehow he’d get the son of a bitch away from her. Loud rattling startled him. He glanced at the round wall clock on the way to the door. It read 2:30 a.m.
Alexus’s tiny body was plastered to the glass door trying to push it open. She was in Barney pajamas, nothing on her feet, her gaping mouth and chestnut eyes wide. Mitch yanked the door open. A biting, acrid smell swept into the firehouse. Smoke blanketed the street.
“Our house,” Alexus struggled to say, “on fire.”
“Stay here!” Mitch rang the alarm and shouted over the PA system, “Working fire across the street.” In one motion he stepped into his boots, pulled up the bunker pants, and snapped the red suspenders over his shoulders. He slipped on his Kevlar coat while rushing across the street. He’d get his helmet and mask from the rig when Crusher drove it over.
Gray and black smoke gushed from every crack and crevice of the old house. Benita Richardson stood on the back porch howling like a wounded animal. Her only clothing was a white robe, blackened with soot, which barely covered her ample frame.
He vaulted up the porch steps and grasped her doughy arms. “Is Jasmine in there?”
“Oh, Lord, don’t take my babies. They all I have. Oh, Lord, please, please, please…”
He shook her. “Is Jasmine in there?”
She nodded, moaning hysterically.
Mitch looked into her bulging eyes. “Get over to the firehouse. Alexus is there, she’s safe.”
Benita moaned louder. She didn’t move.
“Go! And close your robe.” He shoved her down the steps. She staggered toward the firehouse.
Captain Scar’s incessant command during the academy blared in Mitch’s head, “Never enter a burning building alone.” Screw that. The others would be coming. Mitch flung the door open. Smoke billowed out, stinging his eyes. He crawled into the caustic blackness, keeping his face close to the floor, below the scorching heat.
“Jasmine,” he called into the darkness. “Where are you?” The eerie crackle of hidden fire answered. He crawled deeper into the burning home, sweeping the floor with his arms and legs, desperate to get to the child before it was too late. Nothing. The cool linoleum of the kitchen floor changed to the coarse carpeting of the hallway. He called her name again. Nothing.
Mitch backed into the stairwell. The smoke thickened as he scaled the stairs. The first bedroom off the stairwell was Jasmine’s. He searched frantically under and around the bed and inside the closet. Nothing. Where was she?
Back into the hallway to Alexus’s room. He fought to control his breathing. Every breath of the foul soup was torture. His lungs screamed for oxygen as he choked and gagged. His arms and legs grew heavy. Needles of light flickered behind his eyes. Paralyzing fear gripped him.
I gotta get out. No.—Not this time.
He pushed through the panic, crawling deeper into the guts of the house.
Heroes save lives or die trying.
The house groaned from the ravenous beast feeding on it.
Mitch’s hand brushed a small bare foot.
* * *
Mitch woke to a piercing headache, squinting against bright lights. Someone behind him said, “Pulse-ox is low.” Cold, dry oxygen hissed through the facepiece covering his nose and mouth.
The back doors of the paramedic unit flew open, and Kenny jumped in. “What the hell were you thinking, going in without a mask?”
Mitch pushed the facepiece away. The fog cleared, but the excruciating pounding in his head intensified. His body smelled like smoldering charcoal, every pore oozing smoky venom. He could taste it. The back of his neck was on fire. “Is Jasmine okay?” he croaked, startled by the biting pain in his throat.
“According to the mom, they thought the little one was in there. The older girl went back in for her. Fucking amazing.”
“Jasmine,” Mitch said.
Kenny nodded. “You were only five feet from the back door when Ralph got to you.”
“Where is she?”
“Ralph said you were draped over the girl.”
“Where is she?” Mitch hollered, ignoring his raw throat.
“She was barely alive. Meds had to intubate. And she’s got some serious burns. The place was rolling. If you hadn’t covered her…”
His carbon monoxide-saturated brain struggled to understand. He barely remembered finding her on the second floor; nothing after that. Random images of Jasmine overwhelmed him: her gap-toothed smile, dancing in the firehouse, her excitement over school, and how she liked to mess with him and call him Mr. Teacher.
He struggled to sit, collapsing back onto the cot, his insides churning.
“I know, kid. Hurts like hell.”
He reached for Kenny. “That scum Maurice get out?”
“The mom said he never came home last
night.”
“That bastard should be the one burned.”
The paramedic slid the oxygen mask back over Mitch’s mouth and nose. “We gotta go. Now.”
Kenny leaned into Mitch and whispered, “You got balls, kid.” Kenny jumped off the rig and slammed the door shut.
The paramedic unit pulled away from the still-smoldering house. Through the back window, Mitch caught a glimpse of a solitary figure standing under a street lamp, wearing a long trench coat, flicking a lighter in front of his smirking face.
Chapter 34
Mitch was floating on the farm pond with the worst sunburn ever on his neck. Someone called his name from far away. Leave me alone. Someone grabbed his hand and pulled. Leave me alone.
“Mitch, it’s me.”
His vision cleared. Nic had his hand in both of hers.
“What the hell?” he asked, the words stinging his raw throat.
“You’re at Saint Mary’s. They brought you in last night.”
“I’m—numb.”
“Morphine. They hit you with a pretty good dose. You’ve been out all morning. Here, drink some water. You sound terrible.”
He pushed the plastic cup aside. “Jasmine.”
“She’s detoxifying in the hyperbaric. You kept hollering her name until they put you under.”
“She okay?”
“They won’t know for a while. She had some burns on the side of her face and down her back. They’re not all that bad thanks to you. But they’re worried about brain damage from the smoke inhalation.”
Brain damage. Kyle. Now Jasmine. Mitch collapsed back onto the bed.
“If it wasn’t for you, she wouldn’t have a chance,” Nic said. “The story’s all over the news. You’re a hero, Garner.”
“Jasmine’s the hero.”
Nic kissed him gently, then rested her head on his chest.
Mitch’s brother Chris, Jennie, and his old friend Danny appeared in the doorway. The sight of Jennie sucked the wind out of Mitch. She gave him a weak wave, then studied Nic. Her eyes watered.
Chris shuffled to his bed. He smelled like the farm; like home. “You made the news in Milroy. Whole town’s talking. You okay?”
“Got a neck redder than old Danny there, but yeah I’m okay,” he said while watching Jennie. She scanned the room, avoiding eye contact.
Nic rose. “I’ll let you guys visit. The crew’s down in the cafeteria. I’ll tell them you’re awake.” She eyed Jennie as she left.
Danny moved alongside Chris. “Hey, little buddy, you sound like Yoda.”
Mitch reached for Jennie. She went to the bed and took his hand. A familiar glow spread through him. So many things he wanted to tell her. All he could think to say was, “Jen, you look great.”
She pulled her hand away and nodded toward the hallway. “Nothing like her, though.”
“Jen, she’s just…”
“Don’t. I only came to make sure you were okay. I’m sure you’ll make real pretty babies together.” She turned to Chris. “I can’t do this. I’ll be in the truck when you’re done.” She left, sobbing.
“She couldn’t wait to see you,” Chris said.
Mitch exhaled loudly. “Crap. I keep screwing things up with her.”
They all stared at the blank TV screen.
Mitch waited for one of them to say something. He finally cleared the phlegm from his raw throat and said, “So, how’s Dad doing?”
“Sure you want to know?”
“How could things get any worse?” As soon as the words crossed his lips, he regretted saying them.
“It’s bad. Got no money for feed. Dad’s turned over all the finances to me and doesn’t want to hear we’re broke. When I try to tell him we need to sell off some of the herd, he goes ballistic. I don’t know what to do.” Chris bit his lower lip.
“How much you need?”
“Figure around twenty grand will get us by for a while, but the bank won’t give us any more credit.”
Mitch pointed to a small closet. “My pants should be in there. Get the keys. Take my truck. Ray Bunzell’s been horny for it; said he’d give me twenty-five grand for it last year.”
“Can’t sell your truck.”
“It’s my fault the farm is going under.” He forced the words past the stinging in his throat. “Dad’s got a right to hate my guts. Take the truck. And don’t tell him where the money came from.”
“Dad doesn’t hate you.”
“Sure.”
Before leaving, Chris and Danny filled him in on the gossip around Milroy: who was dating, who was cheating, and who got drunk and raised hell at the Rock River Hideaway. He wasn’t listening. He kept watching the hallway.
Shortly after they left, his crew filed into the room.
“See the Red Devil gave you a peck on the neck,” Kenny said.
Ralph made his way to the foot of the bed. “Next time wear a mask.”
Kenny stepped alongside Ralph at the foot of the bed. “You missed all the excitement. We were picking up after the fire. The mom and kid were in the firehouse. All of a sudden the crazy bitch comes flying out the door screaming like a wild banshee about how that motherfucker would never lay another hand on her babies. She laid the boyfriend open with my dick.”
Mitch’s jaw dropped.
Kenny pointed to the scar on his hand. “You know? My knife? Spilled the bastard’s guts all over the sidewalk. He’s staring at his insides with those crazy eyes, and she’s standing over him screaming. Everyone froze, then all hell broke loose. Think the cops would have shot her if she hadn’t dropped my dick.”
“Gutted him like a dead carp,” Crusher said.
Kenny pointed at Mitch. “And the goddamn cops won’t give my dick back. Evidence.”
Captain Reemer patted Mitch’s knee. “Nice job, son.” To the others, he said, “All right, let the man get some rest.”
Ralph lingered at the foot of the bed, squinting at Mitch. “Maybe I got you wrong.”
* * *
Nic came back after supper with cinnamon rolls from Sciortino’s Bakery. They watched television together without talking. He kept thinking how excited he felt when he saw Jennie and how shitty he felt when she left.
Nic rubbed his chest, then turned his face to hers. “I should go. It’s blue shift tomorrow.”
“Thanks, Nic. You’re a great…”
“What, Mitch? A great friend? A great fuck? Sorry I didn’t mean that.”
He clenched his jaw.
“That was Jen today wasn’t it? Wish I could make you smile like that.”
“Sorry.”
“Me too.”
Chapter 35
Jasmine’s neck and left ear were dressed in gauze, her face swollen and eyes shut. Mitch gently straightened the girl’s tangled hair to frame her soft brown face. Jasmine’s chest rose and fell as the ventilator hissed oxygen through the clear plastic tube. The nurses encouraged him to talk to her, explaining how coma patients can sometimes hear and understand what’s being said.
Mitch spent the morning telling Jasmine how excited he was over the progress they were making with the kids. And telling her what a great teacher she had become. He struggled through waves of grief but refused to let it stop him from comforting this young girl who just taught him how the power of love overcomes fear.
It was almost noon when a young nurse rolled a cart into the room. “I have to change her dressings. You’ll have to leave. Sorry.”
“Jasmine, I need you to get better.” He rubbed her smooth forehead. “You know I can’t handle all those kids myself. Who’s going to teach me to dance? You know us white dudes got no rhythm. Get better. Please.”
* * *
Mitch shuffled to his room.
“Miss Bernie, how’d you get here?”
Her full body hug was soothing. “Mitch, honey. I worried myself sick over you.” She stepped back, examining his neck. “How bad you burned?”
“Just my neck. How’d you get here?”
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She guided him to the bed. “When I cut the TV on this morning and saw the news, I nearly fell out.” She smoothed the white bed sheet.
Mitch reclined onto the bed.
“How’s Jasmine?” Miss Bernie asked.
Mitch took her through the tragic events. “She wouldn’t be here if I kept my mouth shut.”
Miss Bernie scowled. “From what I see, you the only one tried to help that poor girl. You weren’t the one abusing that girl. You weren’t the one lit their house on fire. That one in hell alongside the devil.” She wagged her finger. “You sure got a notion to blame yourself for anything bad happens.”
Mitch turned the television on and tuned it to Days of Our Lives, Miss Bernie’s favorite.
“Okay, I’ll let you be,” she said.
The Price is Right came on after Days of Our Lives. For Mitch, it was all background noise. When The Price is Right was over, Miss Bernie heaved herself from the chair. “I best go. Take me three buses to get home. They might be running late with the snow.”
“I’ll pay for a cab.”
“I been riding those buses all my life. You spend that money on those children you teaching. And make sure that little one, Alexus, is looked after. She must be in a state.”
Where was Alexus? If she knew what happened, she had to be terrified.
* * *
After Miss Bernie left, Mitch went to Jasmine’s bedside. The thought that she might end up like Kyle with her body curled into a fetal position, mouth gaping open, and head endlessly swiveling, sickened him.
Is this what God does? Takes away the people you love? Miss Bernie worships this God and what does He do? Takes away her son and daughter. Well, fuck you, God.
Jasmine was going to wake up and he’d be there when she did. He told her stories of the farm and his pony, Bert, and dog, Billy. He promised if she woke up he’d take her there. He stayed by her bed through the night.
* * *
Mitch’s throbbing neck woke him. He stretched and glanced at Jasmine, jerking when he saw her green eyes.
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