Memories of her mom’s apprehension rose to the surface of her enthusiasm. Would Marissa trip over the skirt? Would her heels catch in the hem? She certainly wasn’t going to wear those strappy gold sandals she’d tried out the other day.
Her gaze landed on the cowboy boots she’d used for her ride to town. They were simple and brown. She could always buy something more ornate later. White boots or boots with fancy white stitching or even those turquoise boots that said “I do” on the front. For now, she could put on the plain ones to see how the dress looked with boots.
She sat on the edge of the bed, reveling in how comfortable the dress was when sitting. Usually sitting in dresses made her feel she was wearing a girdle and about to pass out like Elizabeth Swan in Pirates of the Caribbean. Which might be partly to blame for Marissa’s dive off the stage at the Miss Ohio pageant, but with this ensemble, she would be perfectly safe.
She stood and looked down at her feet. Only the pointy toes peeked out. Not bad. She looked in the mirror and lifted her skirt a little to see what she would look like to others when she walked. When paired with the dress, the cowboy boots went from simple to simply elegant.
Now for the final test. She flicked on the old radio in the corner and turned the dial through static until classical music floated around her. This would have been the kind of music the original bride who wore this dress danced to. A string quartet perhaps.
Marissa curtsied like the ballerina she never was then lifted her hands up to pretend she was hanging onto Connor’s shoulders. He’d tried to teach her swing dancing a couple of times, but she’d always ended up flat on her back somehow, so they’d do a basic waltz for their wedding dance.
Step, side, close. Step, side, close.
She practiced around the bedroom, wishing Connor could practice with her. When he led, she didn’t have to think of the choreography so much.
Step, side, close. Step, side, close.
Her boots clacked with each move, rewinding her thoughts to her dance lessons at The Buffalo Club. She could almost smell the tobacco smoke from the honky-tonk environment.
While she’d stepped on Connor’s toes and whirled until she was dizzy during dance lessons, people around her had line danced to the music. It had looked so much less complicated. Maybe she could do that. It would be fun during a reception at the farm. Like a big ol’ barn dance.
She stomped back to the radio and twisted the dial again until banjos and harmonicas joined together with the twang of a western singer. Maybe she should get into country music. It certainly depicted the kind of luck she’d had in life.
If only she could remember the moves to the Electric Slide. Hadn’t it started with a grapevine?
She moved right then left. Now what?
Four steps backwards if she remembered correctly. She glanced over her shoulder to make sure she wasn’t going to bump into anything.
There was nothing on the floor in her way, but something out of place made her look again as she backed up.
Four, three, two…
Black smoke rose past the window.
She froze and sniffed. That wasn’t cigarette smoke she’d thought she smelled earlier. It was more like a campfire.
She rushed to the window and looked down into an orange glow. Flames used the long grass as kindling and licked the glass panels like roasted marshmallows. Her safehouse was not safe anymore. Had nobody inspected the fire alarms? Just because the sheriff didn’t get along well with the fire department, that was no excuse. Griffin didn’t get along well with many people. As for her, she had to get out.
Marissa hoisted her skirt and spun to race toward the door. More dark smoke slipped underneath the door jam. She watched the billows lift toward the exposed ceiling beams, creating a haze as if her contacts were dirty. The campfire smell threatened to choke her.
Panic curled around her heart like a fist, and she couldn’t tell if it wanted to hold her in place or was preparing to shoot her forward in a slingshot of adrenaline. Her brain scrambled from memories of dance lessons to fire safety day in elementary school.
Side, step, close became stop, drop, and roll. Except that was only if she was on fire, right?
She frantically looked down her body at the gorgeous dress still fully intact. Was silk flammable? Hopefully not. What else had she learned?
Get low and stay low. She dropped to her hands and knees.
Cover your nose. She grabbed the shirt she’d taken off to tie around her face like a mask. The mask made her suck harder at the air like she was suffocating, but at least she wasn’t breathing as many toxins. She coughed and wiped at the beads of sweat dripping along her temples.
Call 9-1-1. If only Griffin hadn’t taken her phone away. She could contact them through her computer though. If she could get to it.
Test doorknobs before opening. She tapped the brass knob. The tip of her finger lit up with pain.
She was trapped. Her only choices were to rush through a burning house or open the window and jumping directly into the flames. Only this morning she’d thought her worst option was joining the witness protection program. Now she’d be happy to live that long.
She crawled back and forth between her two options, her reality ready to snuff her life out like a candle. She lifted her head to peek out the window in hopelessness. There was no possible way to survive this. She was about to meet her maker.
How ironic that those same fields that now raged with fire were the exact spot where she’d worshipped God’s glory the night before. Where he reminded her of how He’d dressed her like He dressed the wildflowers. She’d felt so loved at the time…
Her heartbeat tripped. Her eyes widened. Watered. And she wasn’t sure if the tears were from the thick air that burned like a summer sidewalk or if she was overcome with gratefulness for God’s love.
Because not only did He dress her like a flower last night, He’d shown her a secret passage that could help her escape.
Tandy pulled to the curb in front of the hospital. Griffin protested for the whole ride and even now insisted that she take him home. But he’d also rolled down the window and was hanging out of it like Cocoa wished she would let him do. That was after he’d turned her air conditioning up to full blast then turned it off because he got cold.
“I’m going to get you a wheelchair.” She turned off the ignition, hopped out, and raced around the car to grab one of the wheelchairs inside the entryway doors.
“No,” he said when she opened his car door, but not with either his usual authority or stubbornness. A two-year-old would put up more of a fight. The only problem was that two-year-olds didn’t weigh this much.
She swung his feet out the door, looped his arm around her neck, and rocked him forward in hopes that his legs would support his weight. Instead he slid sideways, but at least he landed halfway in the chair.
“Tandy, I’m the sheriff, and I told you no…” he drawled like a Texas Ranger.
Tandy stood. “I’ll let you get up and walk home if you want.”
“No.” He curled forward clutching his belly. “I told you…take me home.”
The hospital doors slid open. A nurse in American flag scrubs strolled out. Probably the same one who’d once saved Tandy’s life, though with the shock her body had been in at the time, Tandy couldn’t tell for sure.
“Hello, Sheriff,” greeted the nurse. “Did you eat barbecue in the park this afternoon?”
Tandy arched an eyebrow. First of all, this lady seemed pretty casual about the town sheriff being so sick he couldn’t even sit upright in a wheelchair. Secondly, she’d known exactly why he was in such a condition.
“Yes,” Tandy answered for him. “How’d you know?”
The nurse stepped behind Griffin, hooked his armpits to hoist him deeper into the seat, then unlocked the wheels to roll him inside the ER. “We’ve had a few patients with salmonella. None this bad though. How much potato salad did he have?”
Tandy grimaced. “I’m not sur
e, but he said it was his fave.”
Griffin grunted. “I’m never eating potato salad again.”
“Well, Sheriff, I’m thinking we better get you to a bathroom. Then we’ll give you an IV to replenish your fluids.” She turned the wheelchair and looked over her shoulder at Tandy. “If you want to park, he’ll be free for you to take him home in a couple of hours.”
A couple of hours? Tandy had enough to do without adding babysitting the sheriff to her list. She rubbed her face. “Okay.” Might as well check on Randon while she was here. See how Susan was doing.
She parked and filled out admission paperwork for Griffin. She hated paperwork. Griffin would owe her for this. All she’d ask for was that he’d question Moria a second time. Because what other female had any motive to threaten Marissa’s life?
Tandy stared at the insurance section of Griffin’s paperwork. Should she see if the nurses wanted her to dig through Griffin’s wallet for an insurance card? She wasn’t family or anything. She hadn’t even been his babysitter growing up the way Marissa had.
She stood and carried the clipboard to the receptionist. The oversized white man reached for the paperwork without looking up from his baseball game playing silently on a tablet.
Tandy didn’t release it when he tugged. “It’s not complete yet. Should I see if I can get the sheriff’s insurance info from him?”
“Yeah-yeah.” He pushed a button and metal double doors swung inward. “Room two.”
Tandy looked at the open doors. With a receptionist like this, anybody could get in to try to kill Randon without being recognized.
“Uh…” She didn’t move. “Do you still have Randon Evans in ICU?”
He looked up then, wide blue eyes that made him more mischievous than mean-spirited. “We do. Why? Do you know him?”
How much should she say? If she wanted a chance to see him and talk to Susan, might as well tell all. “My best friend witnessed his attack and is currently in a safehouse because someone doesn’t want her to testify against his attacker. If Randon came out of a coma, he could also be a witness, and then some of the pressure would be off her.”
“Seriously?” The receptionist leaned forward on his elbows, and Tandy couldn’t help wondering if maybe this guy was the reason their town had such a bad gossip problem. Chad Chadwick, according to his name badge. Probably not the best person to have working in a hospital with the healthcare privacy act, not to mention a patient in a coma who someone wanted dead.
“Seriously.” Tandy tilted her head, hoping Chad Chadwick’s loose lips would benefit her. “I’m wondering how he’s doing. Any better?”
Chad looked around as if making sure nobody else was listening.
Tandy turned her ear toward him and held her breath, so she wouldn’t miss a word. He apparently knew something. Too bad the sheriff was currently incapable of making an arrest.
“I heard…” he whispered.
Goosebumps popped up on Tandy’s skin.
“There’s a private investigator who thinks Randon’s responsible for the ransomware virus going around.”
Tandy dropped back onto her heels, the tingle at the base of her neck dissipating. “Ya don’t say?”
“Seriously.” The man sipped his soda through a straw until gurgling sounded at the bottom.
Tandy motioned to the wide doorway, still open and waiting for her to enter. “So you’re keeping him extra safe by not letting in any suspicious characters who are only here for revenge.”
Chad Chadwick nodded again solemnly before his gaze caught on the open doorway and he jabbed a button to close it. “Exactly,” he said, resuming his somber expression as if he hadn’t been caught leaving the entrance unattended. “There’s already been one attempt on his life here, and the hospital board approved paying to post our own security guard at his door. You know, to make up for the previous security breach.”
“Hmm.” Chad Chadwick wasn’t a suspect, but he was dangerous. “How is Susan doing?”
“Oh, that poor girl. She eats day and night to cope with the stress. Pizza. Chinese. Vending machine. But she doesn’t leave his side.” He cupped a hand around his mouth. “She should at least do some jumping jacks or squats, if you ask me.”
Tandy refrained from letting her eyes rove over his size with that statement. “Has Pastor Dave been in to offer his support?”
“Oh, yes. There’s been a few prayer vigils out here in the lobby too.”
Guilt pricked Tandy’s conscience. Guilt that she was surprised enough people cared about Randon to pray over him and guilt that she hadn’t been one of them. She’d make up for that now.
“Though if you ask me,” Chad Chadwick continued like someone had actually asked him a question, “Randon kind of had it coming, and Susan could do much better. She’s already been through enough with her uncle being murdered earlier this year. Did you know about that?”
“Yes.” Tandy knew way too much about that. “Thank you for sharing. I’ll let you get back to your baseball game now. Is it okay if I visit with Susan after I get the sheriff’s insurance info?”
“Sure. No prob. Room five.” He smacked the button and turned back to his game.
Wow. Tandy would have to mention him to the sheriff. Honestly, Randon wasn’t much of a threat while in a coma, but if he started to come to, Cash’s partner-in-crime might try to take him out again.
Tandy didn’t have to go far to get to room two. It was the second door on the left, but the bed was empty. Had Chad Chadwick messed up, or had the sheriff taken off? He couldn’t have gotten far.
Violent retching made Tandy jump. She glanced at a door to a small closet looking space. If Griffin was throwing up inside, she hoped that door led to a bathroom.
Hmm. Should she wait for him to finish or go visit Susan first?
Griffin’s pants and shirt rested over the back of a chair. The nurse must have made him change into one of those embarrassing flappy gowns. If Tandy was to see him dressed that way, she wasn’t sure which of them would be more embarrassed. He might appreciate it if she retrieved his wallet from his pants and found his insurance card herself.
She leaned toward the bathroom door and raised her voice. “Griffin, I’m going to look in your pants for your wallet so I can fill out the insurance paperwork for your admission.”
He heaved in response.
Okay then.
She slid her hand into his pocket and pulled out a thin, smooth, rectangle. His phone.
She set it down on the chair to check his other pocket when a picture of Marissa filled the screen. Tandy did a double take. It was a video chat. She wouldn’t have thought that was allowed from Marissa’s safehouse.
She yelled toward the door, “Marissa is calling you. Can I answer?”
More gagging sounds. Followed by splashing. Eww.
Tandy frowned at the phone. Surely, she wouldn’t be endangering Marissa’s life by answering. Griffin probably had this phone app set up in case of emergency. In which case, Tandy better answer.
She tapped the button. It took a moment for Marissa’s picture to appear. And when it did, it was kind of blurry. But it was the way Marissa was panting that got Tandy’s attention. Was she running?
“Marissa?”
The blonde’s eyes turned toward the screen and widened. “Tandy! Where’s Griffin?”
“He’s puking his guts out. Are you okay?”
“No.”
Marissa’s image disappeared. A thud followed. Then nothing.
Tandy gripped the phone tighter and stared at the screen for signs of life. Marissa had been running, and now she wasn’t responding. “Marissa?”
All Tandy could make out was long thin strands of something light green. Like Marissa’s phone screen had landed in a wheat field, although something flickered in the background. Something orange. Accompanied by a popping and crackling sound.
Her heart plummeted. Because she had a recent experience with the only flickering orange thing that would
smoke, crackle, and send Marissa running. “Marissa?”
Please respond. Please.
Tandy juggled Griffin’s phone to pull her own out and call the fire department. Though would they know where to go if only Griffin knew how to get to the safehouse?
“Marissa, are you there?” Prayers jumbled through Tandy’s mind. “Marissa?”
“Oof.” Marissa’s long blonde hair swung in front of the screen. Half her face followed. “Sorry, I tripped.”
She tripped? Tandy would strangle her later for causing such a scare. “Where are you? Is that a fire I see?”
“Yes.” The image on screen jostled. Marissa’s breathing rasped. “The safehouse is burning down. I’m running across a field with my laptop. Thankfully I have a hotspot for it, but the field is catching on fire too, and I need Griffin to send the firemen. I don’t know how to tell them to get here.”
Tandy looked toward the bathroom. “I’ll find out and call Troy. Then I’ll come get you because it sounds like someone is actually trying to kill you this time.”
Chapter Seventeen
Marissa ran through the field, calves aching, heart pounding, throat scratching with every gulp of char-broiled air. Sparks of fire whirled around like fireflies. The fire hadn’t caught up with her yet, but any one of these sparks could light up the dress she wore or the grass in front of her. That was how fires jumped roads.
She clutched her laptop under her arm, half tempted to drop it so she could escape faster. Even if she didn’t mean to drop it, sweat on her skin made the device hard to hang on to. But video chat was her only means of communication. She’d need it if Tandy couldn’t find her.
They’d agreed Tandy would pick her up on a familiar road at the river bend, but if the fire wasn’t under control at that point, Marissa would have to travel farther while waiting for her friend.
Sirens wailed in the distance.
Relief flooded through her. Even if the emergency workers weren’t aware she was here, it was good to know she wasn’t alone.
Marissa continued her sprint toward the river, looking back to see the big red trucks roll up to the house. It wasn’t likely anything she’d brought with her would survive the flames. Hopefully the fire marshal would figure out what had started the fire. She didn’t want to think someone had deliberately tried to kill her the way Tandy suggested.
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