Rescue You

by Elysia Whisler

  Oh, boy.

  Sunny decided this day was done. She went to bed, but tossed and turned, her brain on overdrive. She was sure this was one of those nights she’d be awake until the wee hours. And maybe she was. At some point, though, she drifted.

  Until the smell of burning toast woke her. Toast? Or was that a fireplace?

  Fezzi was barking madly. Sunny sat up in bed and rubbed her head. Dawn was just breaking. Fezzi stared at her, his three feet dancing over the hardwood floor as he woofed and tossed his head.

  A rush of hot wind blew in from her open bedroom window, and she smelled it again.

  Smoke. Burning wood.

  The realization came slowly to her, like fog that thins over empty streets.

  “Oh, my God!” Sunny grabbed the closest garment, her silken robe. Just before she dashed toward the doorway, she snatched up her cell phone and texted Pete two words: Something’s wrong.

  She stumbled outside, Fezzi on her heels, barking and running beside her, keeping stride despite the fact he could’ve easily streaked ahead, even with one leg missing. Black smoke billowed in the air, orange flames licking against the outside of Roger’s quarters. “Roger!” Sunny shrieked.

  Her legs got going so fast she stumbled on some underbrush and nearly fell on her face. A strong arm hooked her waist, saving her. She looked up, into Roger’s frightened eyes.

  “I woke to Fezzi, barking at me. I guess he opened the door somehow, with his paw? He saved my life. I woke to smoke and fire. I called 911 and ran inside your house for this.” Roger had a fire extinguisher braced against his hip. “C’mon.”

  They took off after Fezzi, who hadn’t slowed his pace. A siren blared in the near distance. A few seconds later, emergency lights flashed near the end of the road. The firefighters were nearly there.

  Roger rushed in and aimed his extinguisher at the flames on the west side of the compound. Dogs swarmed around, leaving off barking in vicious howls at the fire so they could jump against Sunny’s legs and lick her hands and arms. “Did they all make it out?” she shouted, though she doubted Roger could hear her. “The dogs?”

  Chevy ran behind them, nipping at their heels and herding them away from the smoke. Sunny counted them, saying their names as she went, touching each one, her heart pounding in her chest as her gaze wove frantically among the pack.

  Smokey Bear. Sneakers. Butter Bits.

  Some of them barked excitedly at the firefighters, who were just now stretching a long hose through the yard and toward the blazing cabin, while others cowered in the bushes. Chevy relentlessly tried to collect them all, leaving Sunny to think she might have some sheepdog or heeler in her.

  Tubby. Ranger. Willy.

  Water shot out the hose, drenching the building as firefighters ordered Roger back, away from the fire.

  Sinbad and Calypso shot out of the bushes, where they’d obviously been hiding. Who was left? Was anyone left?

  “Humphrey,” Sunny said, her skin going cold. “Where’s Humphrey?” She turned to Roger, who was again by her side. He had a helpless expression, his face matching the faded blue hoodie he always wore. “He’s the only one who wouldn’t run,” Sunny whispered. “He hid inside that cage. Do you think...?” Sunny pictured the little beagle, huddled in the cage, rearing from everybody’s touch. Even loud noises didn’t send him running. He just balled up harder.

  Sunny bolted toward the enclosure. The flames were nearly doused, and about two-thirds of the structure was still intact, but the other third had been wrecked completely, the roof caved in, charred beams sticking up like giant burned matches.

  It smelled like wet ashes and singed wood. All the food bins were half-burned and soaking wet. Saint Francis was a giant lump of coal. Humphrey’s empty cage peeked out from the rubble, the metal blackened.

  Just then, a firefighter emerged from the building, holding a blanket that enveloped a small form. “No,” Sunny whispered. Her hand went to her mouth as her throat sealed up with smoke and grit.

  “Stay back, ma’am.” Another firefighter held his arm out and pushed against her chest, guiding her away from the compound. “Too much smoke.”

  Sunny ignored them, her gaze on the blanket. One corner slid away. Tufts of fur poked up from the mass, which was covered in soot. “Found a pet,” the firefighter said as he drew near. “I’m sorry, ma’am. This one didn’t make it. Probably died from smoke inhalation.”

  “No,” Sunny repeated, her voice caught up in a choking sob. “Humphrey.”

  “Let me have him.” A voice boomed over Sunny’s shoulder. Pete shoved in front of Sunny and took the bundle from the firefighter. His ball cap was missing, his hair mussed from sleep. He wore a pair of long pajama pants covered in images of the starship Enterprise and a white T-shirt. “Text Dr. Winters. Now. And your sister.”

  “Cici’s out of town.”

  “Text Dr. Winters.”

  “I’m doing it.”

  Pete kneeled on the ground and opened the blanket, adjusting Humphrey so he was on his side. He laid a hand on Humphrey’s chest for about two seconds, then leaned his cheek in close to his muzzle. He took Humphrey’s leg and pressed his elbow back toward his chest, then pressed his fingers there, touching Humphrey’s wrist and finally the rear pad on Humphrey’s foot.

  “Does he have a pulse?” Sunny’s voice was barely audible, even to her own ears.

  Pete ignored her, opened Humphrey’s mouth and swiped out what looked like vomit. He pulled Humphrey’s tongue forward, then covered Humphrey’s mouth and nose with his own and blew gently. Sunny watched Humphrey’s chest rise. Pete drew back and let the air escape, then drew Humphrey’s elbow back again, positioned his hands and gave him chest compressions. Pete repeated the breath and chest compressions while Sunny stared in silence, her own breath held as Pete continued to share his with the little beagle.

  Sunny covered her face with her hands and tried to steady her feet. It wouldn’t work. It was too late. Humphrey, who had been abused his entire life, had died in a fire. A sweet little animal who wouldn’t hurt anyone had been rewarded by living a life of torture and suffocation. Sunny slid her hands into her hair and squeezed. The pain at her scalp kept her from sinking to her knees. Janice Matteri wasn’t all bark, after all. She’d sworn to get even, and she had. In the worst imaginable way.

  Sunny would’ve preferred a gun to her own head. Anything but this.

  Pete assessed Humphrey, then continued with his chest compressions and blows of air.

  Sunny couldn’t hide anywhere. She desperately wanted to hide, to escape the devastation she felt. She let the sobs come until something heavy went around her shoulders. One of the firefighters had draped her with a blanket. He didn’t look more than a teenager.

  Sunny swiped away her tears and looked around at the mess, the chaos of the dogs and the ruin of their home. Roger watched in silence with bloodshot eyes.

  “Ma’am.” The elder of the two firefighters turned to her. “You live here?”

  “Yes,” Sunny said. It felt like her body floated above the wreckage. Her ears buzzed. She leaned over and coughed a few times, to clear her lungs of the smoke and ash. “This is Roger,” she choked, between her tears. “We both live here.”

  “Anyone else? What about all these other buildings you have on the property?” The firefighter pointed out some of the cabins, farther off in the distance but still visible through the trees. Thankfully, the fire had not reached them.

  “I rent those out,” Sunny said. “But they’re empty right now.”

  “Any idea how this happened?” The firefighter had a gray mustache and closely cropped hair of the same color. His eyes were sympathetic, but cautious.

  “It was Janice Matteri,” Sunny said. “One of my neighbors. I shut down her puppy mill and she vowed to get even. She said she was going to hurt my dogs. And I think someone was
fiddling with my food bins some weeks back.” There were also those brothers today, Sunny remembered. The ones who wanted Sinbad and didn’t get to take him home. They hadn’t seemed angry when they left, but...

  “Good thing you reacted quickly,” the firefighter said, and glanced toward the mess. “Or this could have been much worse. When the police arrive I’m going to suggest an arson investigation. There’s a heavy smell of alcohol near the site. Especially around there—” he pointed “—where the burned and unburned sections meet. Do you store any kind of alcohol back here?”

  “No, sir,” Sunny said, shaking her head. “It’s where Roger lives. With many of the dogs. It...it was...” Sunny paused as her eyes welled with fresh tears. “It was a rescue. A place where those who don’t have anywhere can go. I had the dogs, along with their food, combs, toys, leashes, a few crates. A wooden table. That kind of stuff. No accelerants. I swear.”

  “All right.” The firefighter watched the dogs mill around, many of whom were dirty and shaking. “I know you want to take care of your animals,” he said. “I’m going to talk to the police.” He pointed toward the main house, where a man in plain clothes was heading their way. “Stay close.”

  Sunny nodded, her feet suddenly freezing. She glanced down and saw that Roger was barefoot, too. Her dog enclosure was in ruins, her feed contaminated. She hoped Dr. Winters got here ASAP. As the last puffs of gray wisped into the sky above the compound, which sat in eerie silence, Sunny’s mind reeled, her body alternating between hot and cold, cold and hot.

  Pete once again assessed Humphrey.

  Sunny’s hand covered her mouth as fresh tears rose, hot and fast. She kept picturing the little beagle, gray and still, his life choked out of him because he was too scared to run. And when the firefighters arrived with their hoses, he’d have been even more terrified because that bitch Janice had abused her dogs by spraying them with water from a hose. He’d have cowered more from the water than the fire. Humphrey had never stood a chance.

  And it was all her fault. She could’ve apologized to Janice, or at least asked for a truce. Instead, Janice Matteri had driven right up to her driveway, threatened her and her dogs, and Sunny had done nothing. She hadn’t told Sean or Pete. She hadn’t told anyone but Cici, because Sunny had never really thought something this awful would happen to her. Even though she’d seen the extent of Janice’s cruelty firsthand, she’d had too much of an ego to think that woman would go this far.

  “Pete,” Sunny said, her voice raspy with smoke and tears.

  Pete glanced up from the little beagle.

  “Stop,” she said. “Just stop.” Then she collapsed into tears.

  thirty-two

  Rhett could see the yellow beacon from a distance, moving slowly in his direction. He assessed the height and size of the shadow, as well as the pace and gait of the person by the pattern of how the lantern’s light bounced.

  Stanzi.

  He clicked off the light on his watch and left the crabs in peace, then sank to the damp sand and waited for her to reach his side.

  He smelled her before he got a glimpse of her face. Her sweet scents made his heart thud and his loins tingle. She settled next to him and stared out at the ocean by what little light the lantern afforded. The moon helped; it hung in a bright, eggshell-colored orb in the dark sky.

  “What’re you doing out here, at this hour?”

  Rhett checked his watch: 4:00 a.m. “What’re you doing out here at this hour?”

  “Looking for you.”

  “Did I wake you?”

  “No. I got up for a drink of water and you were gone. I checked the back door and it was unlocked.” Stanzi dug her bare feet into the sand. “You’ve been doing this your whole life, haven’t you?”

  “Pretty much. The first time Mama caught me, I was ten years old. She freaked out when she saw I was gone, but Papa kept her calm. He told her he knew I was fine because the tactical flashlight I’d begged for at Christmas wasn’t on my dresser where I always kept it. They found me out here. Mama threatened to ground me for a week until Papa cussed her out in Spanish. They got in a huge fight and didn’t speak for days. I felt bad. Not for sneaking out, but for causing a fight.”

  “You should feel bad. Giving your mama a heart attack like that.”

  “The crabs,” Rhett said, pointing at one that scurried past the lantern. “They act different at night. You can’t get to know their secrets during the day.”

  Stanzi flicked sand at him. “That’s so you.”

  He laughed. “I was planning special ops and recon from my bedroom to the shoreline from about age seven,” Rhett mused. “I even got Mel to do it a couple times, but she wouldn’t go very far. She’d get freaked out, worried we’d get caught.” Rhett could still picture Mel, standing on the shoreline in the dark, clutching her My Pretty Pony doll with the chopped-up rainbow mane, her lips turned down and eyes wide in fear.

  “Smart girl.”

  “Pain in the ass, you mean.”

  “I bet she thinks the same about you.”

  Rhett wasn’t going to argue. He found Stanzi’s hand and clasped it. What he felt for her was a dangerous thing. Like liquid nitrogen living in his gut, he had to be careful how he stepped, or everything could explode. He watched a tiny crab skitter out of his hole and dart in front of the lantern light. “You like it here, then?”

  “It’s beautiful.”

  Rhett watched the moonlight ripple in a wavy line over the water, which sucked in and out in a soothing roll. It was hard not to think about the morning he’d spent with her. He’d been thinking about her, anyway, all day long, whether she was in his presence or wasn’t. Neither one of them had wanted to stick to their plan to drive home, so they’d spent the rest of the day hanging out with his parents, cooking dinner, having some wine, laughing, walking to the shops across the street for ice cream. All day Rhett could smell her on his skin and taste her on his lips. He could feel her body, all around him, holding him close and tight. Heat would rise over his skin at random moments, like in the middle of dinner, and he’d look up and find his mother regarding him with an odd expression.

  Rhett leaned back on his elbows, in the sand. “Should I apologize for...anything?”

  Her soft laugh rippled over the sounds of the water. “You know the only thing I regret?”

  “What?”

  “Not getting a snap of your face when I dropped the towel.”

  He pictured what he might’ve looked like, based on how he’d felt in that moment, and he laughed, loud and open. “My chin was on the floor.”

  “A little bit.”

  Rhett knew, in that moment, that she’d come into his gym to find him. Even if she hadn’t known it. Conceited as it might be, she was his for a reason. There were plenty of girls out there, like Katrina, who would stay fit and strong and help keep him in tip-top shape. Plenty of girls who would keep him on his toes. But Stanzi was different. She wasn’t a unicorn. She wasn’t perfect. She wasn’t pretending to be, or even trying to be, perfect. She was a dorky My Pretty Pony who wore cat barrettes. She massaged dogs, for Christ’s fucking sake. She was a mess. A good mess. His mess.

  Rhett clicked his watch and the light popped over the sand, casting its green glow. The little creatures froze, some with claws in midair. Stanzi giggled, because she wasn’t just the kind of girl who would indulge his need to drive himself to the edge, or bring him back from the brink with her magical hands.

  Stanzi was the kind of girl who would sneak out of the house and watch the crabs with him.

  Rhett slipped his arm around her waist and drew her in, against him. One thing led to another, their shared urgency a need Rhett had never experienced. Their lovemaking was like a storm that came on sudden—thick, intense, with bright flashes of light that left them spent and happily confused. They lay back in the sand and she snuggled into the crook
of his arm. There was nothing but the sound of the ocean, lapping the shore and crashing in on itself.

  The next thing Rhett heard was the sound of a classic telephone ring. For a moment, he was a kid again, inside his house while the rotary on the wall pealed out.

  He blinked his eyes open to the sunshine. It looked about 7:00 a.m. Stanzi was just sitting up, her cell phone in her hand, which was the source of the ringing. “H’lo?” she said, her voice sleepy. A long silence followed. Moments later, she turned to Rhett with an ashen face. “Rhett,” she said. “Something terrible happened to Sunny.”

  thirty-three

  Sunny jolted awake, certain that she smelled smoke in the air. She blinked in the darkness, her heart pounding in her chest.

  The room was dark. The clock read 2:15 a.m. Chevy was at the foot of the bed, fast asleep. Sunny drew air into her lungs and smelled only the ghost of tonight’s roast chicken and potatoes, which she’d barely picked at.

  She slipped out of bed and peeked out the window. No fire. She couldn’t see the blackened remnants of the dogs’ house and Roger’s rooms, but she knew it was there, in the darkness, smelling of ash and cinders. She’d moved all her dogs into the smaller cabins, along with Roger, until the structure was no longer a potential crime scene and she could rebuild. When Sean had heard what happened, he’d sent a car to patrol at random times throughout the night, along with a promise to look into the investigation.

  Sunny padded over to the guest room, Constance’s room, and stood outside the closed door. Pete had stayed with her all day, then offered to sleep here until Constance made it out of North Carolina. Sunny had insisted Constance not rush home—the damage was done. Cici had promised to be back by the following morning.

  She knocked softly. So softly, she wasn’t even sure Pete would hear it.

  Pete opened the door within seconds, his hair ruffled, chest bare and eyes squinting with sleep. He wore only a pair of boxer briefs. Sunny wasn’t sure she’d ever seen Pete in anything that bared his legs, at least not since they were kids. They were more muscular than she’d expected.