Smoke.
Big puffs of black smoke billowed out of Peggy Olson’s house into the night sky.
The house was on fire.
Chapter Four
Instinct kicked in, and Hope bolted toward the Victorian house. She sprinted across the street on the diagonal, her sneakers slapping the pavement hard. She unzipped her waist pack and pulled out her cell phone. Clumsily, she punched in 9-1-1 as she closed in on Peggy’s beloved home. The neighboring houses were a blur as she passed. Her gaze was fixed on the flames shooting out of the dwelling.
The closer she got, the more real the nightmare was becoming.
Peggy’s house was burning.
She prayed to God Peggy made it outside safely.
“Nine-one-one. Where is your emergency?” the dispatcher asked.
“Thirty-three Fieldstone Road. The house is on fire!” Her heart pounded against her chest. The unimaginable flashed through her mind.
Please, God, let Peggy be okay.
Hope reached the curb. Why hadn’t she called Meg earlier? Why did she make that stupid promise to Peggy? She jumped on the grass just as a police car sped down the road, sirens blaring and lights flashing, and came to a quick stop. She disconnected the call and shoved the phone back into her waist pack.
She waved to the officer. “Hurry! We have to find Peggy!”
Flames burst out the first-floor windows. Wild and angry, they lit up the night. The smell of smoke choked Hope’s lungs. Poor Peggy. She couldn’t handle that much smoke, and her frail body didn’t have the strength to escape through fire. Hope coughed, but she wouldn’t be deterred. She wasn’t frail. She’d find her friend. Just as she reached the brick path leading to the front porch, she was grabbed around the waist and yanked back.
“No!” The police officer’s hold got tighter as Hope struggled to break free.
“Peggy! We have to find her!” Hope’s arms flailed. Her feet kicked feverishly.
“Ma’am, it’s not safe. The fire department is on its way,” a calm male voice said as she was pulled back to the curb.
“It’ll be too late!”
“It’s too dangerous.”
“It’s too late.” Hope stopped struggling as the hold on her eased. The adrenaline rush that had propelled her toward the burning house was dissipating as reality sank in.
The whole first floor of the house was consumed with flames. Tears stung her eyes, and she tried to wipe them away with the back of her hand. She turned to the officer. He looked familiar. It only took a moment to place him. He was one of the officers who responded to a break-in at her house a couple of months ago.
“Maybe she got out.” She clung to any sliver of hope she could find. She craned her neck and looked back at the house. There was a chance Peggy escaped. It was possible. If she’d managed to get out of the house, she needed help. “We have to look for her. She could be hurt.”
“We will, Miss Early.” The police officer rested his hands firmly on her shoulders, establishing eye contact. “You need to stay over there.” He pointed across the street, where her neighbors had gathered. “We need this whole area cleared so we can do our jobs.”
“But . . .”
“No buts.” The officer guided Hope off the curb and sent her in the direction of her neighbors. They were huddled together and looked on in horror as their voices were muted to Hope as she joined them.
The officer jogged toward the speeding fire truck coming down the road. The truck came to a hard stop just as someone wrapped an arm around Hope’s shoulders and squeezed tightly. Another neighbor patted her arm and there were murmurs, probably reassuring thoughts, but Hope couldn’t hear what was being said. She wanted to embrace the comfort of her neighbors, but all she could think about was Peggy. Tears streamed down her face as the flames became more intense and dark smoke puffed out of the house. Her lips quivered and her jaw quaked.
What had she let happen?
The firefighters jumped off their truck and accessed their apparatus before running to the house. The Jefferson Volunteer Fire Department comprised town residents who gave selflessly to help their neighbors. They ran into burning buildings while people like Hope stood on the sidelines and watched.
Frozen in place, she scanned the scene unfolding in front of her. Chaotic but controlled. More police arrived, followed by an ambulance. Loud voices shouted instructions while more neighbors streamed out of their homes to look on in horror. Helplessness washed over Hope. She pulled away from her neighbors.
She’d caused this and she didn’t deserve their compassion. After a few short steps, the weight of the situation collapsed on her. Her body folded over, caving to the grief and worry that consumed her. Her palms pressed against her thighs and she sobbed. A touch on her back startled her. Her body tensed until she heard his voice.
“Hope, are you okay?” Ethan asked.
Hope shook her head. She wasn’t okay. She should have done something earlier. Checked on Peggy, instead of going for a run. Tell Meg about the burnt pot the day before. If only she could turn back time.
Ethan guided her upright and turned her around to face him. He pushed back a lock of her dark hair off her face and his fingers gently caressed her cheek as his hand fell away. “What were you thinking? Running to the house? You could have been hurt, or worse.”
“I don’t know. I had to find Peggy. Ethan, if she’s . . .” Her voice cracked. “It’s all my fault.” Hope fell onto Ethan’s chest and he caught her, wrapping his arms around her trembling body.
“This isn’t your fault.” His voice was low and his embrace gentle.
“Chief, this is awful. Just awful.”
Hope lifted her head and glanced over her shoulder. A neighbor, Everett Cranston, stood there with his hands tucked into his pants pockets, shock etched on his face.
“Yes, it is, Everett.” Ethan loosened his hold on Hope and she pulled herself away. “Hope, I have to work, so why don’t you let Everett walk you home?”
She wiped her face with the sleeve of her hoodie. She shook her head in protest. “I’m not leaving until I know Peggy is okay.”
“There’s nothing you can do out here. And it’s easier for us to do our jobs without civilians in the way.”
She hated when he used logic. Of course the jobs of the firefighters and police officers would be easier without a crowd to control and keep safe. Too emotionally exhausted to argue, she nodded. She’d go home and wait.
“What about Meg? Somebody has to tell her.” Hope couldn’t imagine that conversation. A knock on the door late at night followed by the devastating news of the fire.
“We’ll take care of the notification. Everett, do you mind walking Hope back to her house?”
“Of course not, Chief.” Everett extended a guiding hand to Hope and led her away from Peggy’s house. “I can’t believe this is actually happening. It’s such a beautiful house. Peggy took such good care of it.”
Hope kept glancing backward as she followed Everett along the road. Less than an hour before the road was dark, quiet, and tucked in for the night. Flashing emergency lights and the sounds of rescuers and squawking radios filled the night air and heavy hearts beat with sadness.
“Peggy loved her home.” Hope’s throat felt raw, probably from the smoke she inhaled as she got closer to the burning house. “She and Ricky purchased it just after they were married.” Everett guided Hope around a pothole.
Everett was one of the last neighbors she met after she moved onto the street. And it was by accident. She had been out running one Sunday afternoon. He was moving a dresser into his house. The ornate piece of furniture caught her eye and she stopped to inspect it and introduce herself. He was oblivious to her brief stardom on reality television, and he didn’t know what a blog was. His world revolved around antiques. He owned the Red House Antique Shop on Main Street. The next morning she made a point to visit his shop and, ever since, there’d always been something she coveted there.
“She
’s lived here for so long. I remember coming here to trick-or-treat as a kid. She always had the best candy,” Hope said.
“Last Christmas she delivered a tin of cookies to me. No one had ever done that before. Definitely not the neighbors where I lived in Fairfield. She told me she loved to bake,” Everett said.
“She baked for everyone. She’s a kind person.” Reminiscing eased the heavy weight of guilt and sadness that overwhelmed Hope.
“It’s good she shared what she loved.” Everett paused and looked over his shoulder and tsk-tsked. “She must’ve fallen asleep while cooking again.”
Hope followed Everett’s gaze and her heart seized. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. She should have done something more than promise to check on Peggy.
“I couldn’t believe what I was seeing when I looked out my living room window. The smoke coming from Peggy’s house. I practically hung up on Milo.”
“Milo?”
Everett nodded. “We were well into an hour-long conversation about town business. To be honest, it’s getting a bit tiresome. The mayor may work twenty-four/seven, but just because I’m on the P&Z Commission doesn’t mean I do. Listen to me, complaining. I should be grateful, right?”
“Oh. My. Goodness.” Leila Manchester rushed Hope and Everett. “I looked out my window and saw smoke and the fire trucks. Is Peggy okay?”
“We don’t know yet,” Everett answered.
Hope appreciated that Everett took the lead with the question because she couldn’t engage in conversation with Leila or anyone at that moment. She continued walking. Her thoughts were too dark.
“Terrible. Just terrible.” Leila fell into step with Hope and Everett. “I can’t believe I was just sitting at my table talking to my sister on my webcam. I smelled something and then I looked out the window. Terrible. Just terrible.”
They finally reached Hope’s house.
“Thank you for seeing me home,” she said to Everett.
“Excuse me!” a young woman called out as she approached Hope and her neighbors. “I’m Norrie Jennings from the Gazette, and I’d like to ask you some questions.” She held a notepad in one hand and a pen in another. “You’re Hope Early, right?”
Hope nodded. “I have no comment.” She climbed the steps to her front porch. “Thanks for walking me home, Everett.” She opened the door and stepped inside her house.
Bigelow, hyped up and barking, greeted her. The noise and excitement outside must have woken him. She squatted down and wrapped her arms around his neck and held on to him tightly and sobbed. He steadied himself and rested his head on her shoulder and let her cry.
* * *
Hope plunged her spoon into a container of chocolate chip ice cream she made a few days earlier and scooped out a generous portion of comfort. There were four containers stashed in the freezer for a blog series on what she considered the perfect summer food—ice cream. At the moment, the ice cream was perfect for swallowing her feelings. Eating ice cream out of its container alone after a traumatic event was a bad idea, and yet, she plunged the spoon back into the container for another serving.
“Whoa. How much have you eaten?” Drew eyed the quart of ice cream with concern.
Hope glanced up before sinking her spoon back into the ice cream. “Don’t even think about it.” Her voice left no doubt of her seriousness.
Drew looked shocked. “You’ll thank me tomorrow.” He grabbed the container and scooted over to the freezer drawer. With the lid back on, he set the ice cream into the freezer and closed the drawer.
“Hey! I wasn’t done.”
“Yes, you are.” Drew walked over to the stove, lifted the whistling kettle off the burner, and filled two cups, then dropped a chamomile tea bag into each cup. “This is better for you than a quart of ice cream.” He carried the cups over to the table and set one in front of Hope and then the other in front of him as he sat on a chair. “Bad night?”
Hope gave him an “are you serious?” look.
“I know you’re a little cranky because I took your ice cream away.”
“I’m cranky because Peggy died in that fire, and I’m responsible.” Hope slumped.
Just before Drew showed up, Ethan came over to confirm Hope’s fear—Peggy’s body was found in her bedroom. He didn’t provide any further details.
“What are you talking about?”
“The fire. Peggy shouldn’t have been home alone. She was probably cooking something and fell asleep like she did the other day.” Hope leaned forward and took a sip of her tea. She needed something stronger than tea with fewer calories than ice cream.
“You think something she left on the stove caused the fire?” Drew reached for his phone and tapped on the screen. “Exactly what happened and when?”
Hope’s eyes narrowed and her lips pursed. He wanted to quote her for the story on the fire. “I’m devastated and you’re looking for a quote?”
“No, no, no, it’s not like that at all.”
“Yes, it is.” She gestured to the phone. “You can’t use anything I’ve just said in your article. Do you understand?”
“Do you know Norrie’s here on scene, too?” Drew pointed toward the front of the house. “She’s talking to all the neighbors.”
“Then why don’t you talk to the neighbors she’s not talking to?”
“Because I’m here with my friend who is upset about losing a friend.” Drew tapped on his phone’s screen again and set it facedown on the table.
“Oh.” Hope cast her eyes downward for a moment. Drew was being sweet and she didn’t deserve it. “You should go back to work. Get your story.” She took another drink of her tea.
“I’m not leaving you. When I arrived and spoke with Everett Cranston, he said you were upset. He said a police officer stopped you from running into Peggy’s house. Did you do that?”
Hope nodded. “I wasn’t thinking. I just wanted to find Peggy.”
“Admirable. But stupid. You could’ve been killed.”
“I know.”
“Look, I don’t think the fire was a result of Peggy falling asleep while cooking.”
“Why not?” Hope took another drink of her tea.
“The police found an empty gasoline container tossed by the garage. The fire is now labeled as suspicious.”
Hope’s head swung up. “Suspicious as in arson?”
“Possibly. So, if you know of any reason why someone would set fire to Peggy’s house, I beg of you to tell me so I can have an exclusive that will finally blow Miss Ace Reporter, Norrie, out of the water.”
Hope lifted her cup and leaned back. As she finished her tea, she racked her brain, thinking of who on earth would intentionally set fire to Peggy’s house. She didn’t have an enemy in town. Everyone loved her. Arson didn’t make sense. There had to be another reason for the gas container being by the garage. But if someone did set Peggy’s home on fire, Hope was going to make certain the person was found and arrested and that justice was served.
Chapter Five
Hope’s breath caught at the devastation in front of her. Peggy’s once-beautiful house was charred and damaged in so many areas. Upstairs, downstairs, even the porch wasn’t spared. The delicate gingerbread trim was now scattered on the front lawn, along with shards of glass from the blown-out windows and jagged strips of wood siding. If Peggy had survived the fire, the sight of her beloved home would have killed her.
Yellow caution tape was strung around the front of the property. With all the debris, the lawn wasn’t safe to walk on, and if Drew was right about the fire being suspicious, then the police would be conducting a full investigation.
Hope looked to her right and then to her left. She didn’t see anybody. She lifted the yellow tape. Surely a quick look around wouldn’t do any harm. She had on her barn boots and she’d be careful where she stepped. She had no idea what she was looking for. If there was any evidence of arson, the police would have removed it from the scene by now. All that was left was destruction.
&nb
sp; Just as she was about to duck under the yellow tape, she heard, “Good morning, Miss Early.”
She cringed. She knew that voice all too well. Where did he come from?
“For most people the yellow tape is a deterrent from trespassing.”
Hope let go of the tape and turned around to face Detective Sam Reid. “I’m not most people.”
“No, you’re not. I was on my way to your house. Looks like you’ll save me the trip.”
She forced a smile. “Anything to help you.”
He eyed her suspiciously. “Somehow I doubt that. What are you doing here?” He propped a hand on his hip, brushing his blazer back and revealing his holstered weapon.
“To be honest, I have no idea.”
“Are you sure you’re not playing amateur detective like you did a couple of months ago?” The detective was never going to drop that she’d taken an active interest in his last murder investigation. But her interest had helped clear Claire, so Hope had no regrets.
“I’m just trying to make sense of this tragedy. I can’t believe Peggy died in the fire.”
“I’ve heard Mrs. Olson was a nice lady. For what it’s worth, she died from smoke inhalation. The firefighters recovered her before the fire had spread to her bedroom.”
The news Peggy wasn’t consumed by the fire overwhelmed Hope, and she crumpled a little, which propelled Reid toward her. He grabbed hold of her.
“Thank goodness . . . I’d been imagining . . . Never mind.” She straightened herself and found solid footing. “I’m okay.”
“You’re sure?” Was that a hint of concern Hope heard in his voice?
She nodded and pulled away from the detective. She regained her composure. “What did you want to see me about? I gave a statement last night.”
“I have a few follow-up questions. How well did you know Mrs. Olson?” He pulled a notepad and pen from his blazer’s breast pocket.
“I’ve known her all my life but not well. Not until I bought my house and we became neighbors.” Hope looked at the charred house and regret hit her like the first blast of heat she felt from the fire the night before. “But we weren’t close.”
The Hidden Corpse Page 5