One long hour later, after not a single Sybil sighting, a tan Chevy drove up from the south, turned west into the field then pulled around behind the beater. Seconds later, Zubinski emerged from the crop cover, looked briefly at Weber as he climbed out of his car, then got into her own vehicle, and drove away. Weber disappeared before my very eyes. I sent him a text telling him I was there. He sent me a thumbs’ up symbol in return.
Another two hours dragged by before I spotted Sybil and rose for a better view. I’d almost given up hope she’d ever emerge. She was holding a container in both hands and was splashing liquid from it onto the garage walls. A gasoline can.
Gasoline.
I tried to take off in a run, but the knee-high grassy weeds tangled around my feet making me stumble and fall. I got up, ripped the weeds from my shoes, and had to high step my way out of them until I reached the mowed right-of-way area. I tore across the road.
Sybil had disappeared behind the garage, scaring the bejeebers out of me.
Had Weber seen her? When he came sprinting across the hayfield, I was never more relieved to see anyone. He may have had further to run but he got to the garage first. I was there seconds later, in time to see Sybil crouched down by the side of the garage holding a fiery rag.
Weber and I both yelled at her to stop, but she was too wrapped up in her intent to hear us. Before we could reach her, Sybil set the rag at the base of the building. It ignited, sending flames in all directions. I screamed her name three more times before I got her attention. She turned to me and smiled, making my panic level soar.
As the flames spread and climbed to the top of the building, Sybil took off running with Weber and me in hot pursuit. She stopped at the service door on the other side of the garage, and was reaching for the knob when Weber rushed in and scooped her up, one arm around her waist, like she was a football. “Let me go, I want to be with Birdie!” she demanded.
Birdie? The dots started to connect.
“Other side of the house before she blows,” Weber hollered above the roar of the fire.
Sybil was fighting like gangbusters so Weber tried to wrap his other arm around her, but she wiggled free. I caught up to her, threw my body on top of hers, and heard the wind rush from her lungs. As Sybil struggled to catch her breath, I rolled away. Weber lifted her from the ground, and threw her over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. All three of us were coughing from the black smoke billowing around us.
We ran to the front of the house. Weber lowered Sybil to the ground, but held her body against his with her hands pulled behind her back. “Grab my cuffs,” he said. I plucked them out of his case and secured them on Sybil’s small wrists. Weber turned her around, pulled his cuff key from his pocket, and locked them in place. Sybil’s shoulders sank then she bent her head and closed her eyes.
Weber depressed the button on his radio. “Seven fourteen to Winnebago County responders. Use extreme caution. Garage is engaged, and there is a vehicle inside. Unknown if there are other accelerants.” Sirens blared in the distance, telling me Weber had alerted Communications earlier.
“We need to get down low and close to the house,” I said and guided Sybil into position. Weber dropped down too. Seconds later there was a loud whoooomp that sucked in the air around us, followed by a deafening explosion.
My body jerked involuntarily, and I’m sure my heart missed some beats. Objects slammed into the other side of the house, and splinters of burning wood blew past us on either side. Ashes rained down on us from above. It was like being in the middle of a searing hot tornado.
“Geez Louise!” Weber got on the radio. “Seven fourteen to Winnebago County.”
“Go ahead, Seven fourteen.”
“The garage exploded in the fire. Six oh eight and occupant of the home are with me, out of harm’s way.”
“Copy that. ETA on Fire is three minutes. Deputies sooner. Rescue also responding.”
“Ten-four.”
Sybil started trembling. “You shouldn’t have stopped me.” Her voice was small, weak.
I snaked my arm behind her shoulders. She didn’t shake it off. “Why’d you do it, Belle? Because of Birdie, what she did?”
She turned to me with a tortured expression. Her face was contorted into a grimace, and her eyes were shiny with unshed tears. “They killed her, and no one was there to stop it.”
Weber leaned in a little closer with a “Huh?” look on his face.
“Your uncle, your parents, who?” I said.
She nodded and looked down at her hands. Then her body got rigid as she lifted her head and turned to me. “And you.”
Then she focused on Weber. “And you, and the other deputies, the police, doctors, our grandparents, but mostly Uncle Buzz, the evil one who started it. He even poisoned my cousin, Ross.” Poisoned? “I wanted you to investigate, to find out what happened. Instead, you made fun of me, called me a scared little rabbit.”
“I did? When was that?” Weber frowned and shook his head slightly like he was trying to remember.
“I called you for help because nobody else would do anything. You deputies were here, talking in the yard. I wanted to tell you everything, but after you said that, I didn’t think you’d believe me.” The 911 call. Sybil had been at her grandparents’ farm that day.
“Ah, sorry. Where were you when you heard me say that?” Weber said
“In the house. I went up to the attic before you came in,” she said.
The conversation ended when Detective Smoke Dawes drove up and screeched to a stop on Collins, thirty or so feet south of the house. As he came running full speed toward us, a fire truck pulled into the driveway. I’d seen that look on Smoke’s face before. His mouth was set, his skin was pulled tight and had colored to a deep red tone. He was frightened to the max.
Weber and I stood, and I helped Sybil get to her feet. By the time Smoke reached us, he had a smattering of ashes and particles clinging to his clothes. We all did. He looked us over, noting Sybil’s hands were cuffed. “Any injuries?” he said, keeping his head low.
I shook my head. “Sybil’s going to need to get checked out at the hospital.”
He studied her face a second. “Yes.”
Chief Corey Evans and another firefighter were already out of their rig a safe distance from the garage, pulling the hose into position. In seconds, water was blasting at the ruins of the garage and the west side of the house. A rig from Emerald Lake arrived and assisted, further ensuring no flames penetrated the house or spread to the surrounding area. By the time the second Oak Lea rig got there most of the fire had been doused.
When it was safe, Smoke walked a few feet away from the house and pulled the sheriff’s radio from his belt. “Three forty, Winnebago County.”
“Go ahead.” It was Robin’s voice.
“I’m at the fire scene on Collins Avenue, and we need to set up barricades on the north side at County Thirty-five, and the south side at the crossroad, Twentieth Street. Only emergency responders get through.”
“Ten-four. Seven eighteen and Seven twenty-three, do you copy?” Robin asked of Deputies Levasseur and Carlson.
“Seven eighteen copies,” Levasseur said. “I’ll take north. ETA less than a minute.”
“Seven twenty-three’s got the south. On my way.”
The Hardings’ yard had again become an active scene with swarms of emergency responders. Smoke told the ambulance folks there was no need to transport anyone. We’d be taking the arrestee to the hospital in a squad car.
Weber found a lawn chair for Sybil to sit on and the two of us stood nearby on the north side of the house. I watched as Smoke checked in with the fire crews and other deputies at the scene. When he started toward us, I met him halfway, and relayed what Sybil had said about us responding to her grandparents’ house and hearing Weber call her a “scared little rabbit.”
“You think that would have triggered her to sacrifice rabbits to prove a point?” he said.
“It’s some
thing to ask her about,” I said.
He nodded. “That we will.” Smoke led the way back to Sybil and Weber. “Sybil, I’m going to need to talk to your grandparents, and I can’t locate your uncle in Canada under the name of Melvin Harding. Did he change his name?” Smoke said.
She shook her head. “He’s not there.”
“Then where are your grandparents?”
“They’re with my uncle. Buried in the cellar,” she said.
You could have pushed me over with a feather. Weber drew in an audible breath, and Smoke swayed slightly. It was a “when you think you’ve heard it all” moment—information that sent shockwaves to your very core.
Smoke cleared his throat and pointed at the house. “Your grandparents’ cellar?”
“Uh huh.” Sybil looked down at her hands.
Smoke blinked a few times. “Tell me how that came to be.”
“My dad killed my uncle, before I was born. He punched him, and Buzz hit his head and died.”
“Who told you that?” Smoke said.
“Birdie, my sister. She was there.”
“Is that Roberta?”
“Yes,” she said.
“Why didn’t they call the police, tell them what happened?”
“My grandma didn’t want my dad to go to prison over an accident. She didn’t trust the police. She made the decision, and everyone went along with it. Birdie hated being in the same house as Buzz. When we were there, she’d go to the attic, as far away from him as she could get. So did I.” It had been Sybil in the attic those times, after all.
“What about your grandparents, why are they there? In the cellar?” Smoke said.
“My grandma wanted to be buried by Buzz. I thought it was disgusting because he was a bad, bad man.”
“I don’t blame you. Go on.”
“My grandpa died first, last summer. Grandma made me help her bury him,” she said.
“Do you remember the date?” Smoke said.
“June eleventh.”
“Thanks. Go on.”
“Then when she died this spring, I buried her there too,” Sybil said.
“When was that, what date?”
“April sixth. Birdie was here, and her spirit guided me.”
“How so?” Smoke said.
“She’s always with me. We’re twin souls.” Twin souls?
Smoke left it at that. The legal implications of what Sybil had cited and the formal interview questions would be put on hold until she was officially arrested, and charged.
Chief Deputy Kenner came walking toward us, his normal upbeat demeanor on the downbeat side as he zeroed in on Sybil. “You’re Sybil Harding?” he said.
“Yes,” she said then looked slightly up and to the left. At her twin soul?
“Mike?” Smoke started walking and signaled at Kenner to join him. They walked out of our earshot and conversed for a while. I noticed Kenner shaking his head, then nodding, then shaking his head some more. He pulled out his phone and made some calls. Smoke did the same before they returned to us.
“Sybil, we’re going to do what we can to help you through all this, starting with taking you to see a doctor at the hospital,” Kenner said.
She shrugged.
“I have a deputy and her partner on the way to take you there,” he said.
Deputies Holman and Zubinski arrived a short time later. Amanda had been called back on duty and was in street clothes. Holman was her backup. Sybil didn’t protest or put up a fight as they led her to the waiting squad car. I followed and helped tuck her into the back seat.
“We’ll touch base later, Sybil. And Chief Deputy Kenner is right. We’ll do what we can to help you,” I said. She was staring straight ahead as I shut the door.
Kenner, Weber, and Smoke were in a huddle and Smoke stepped back to give me a place in their circle. “I had a lengthy phone conversation with Dr. Marcella Fischer today,” Smoke said. “I filled her in on the tragedies in the Harding family, and our suspicions about Sybil’s involvement in setting the fires. I wanted to get her take.
“Marcella warned me if Sybil was the firesetter, she was in a downward spiral and the sooner we intervened, the better. Marcella feared she would take her life like her sister had. I’d barely gotten off the phone when Weber’s call came in. All this happened before I had a chance do anything with the info.” He waved his arm in the direction of the garage.
“Dawes, you did good asking that we keep eyes on the place. It saved that girl’s life, and she otherwise would have taken all those secrets to the grave with her.” Kenner gave Smoke a slap on the back then turned to Weber and me, and shook our hands. “You’re both getting a commendation for saving the day.”
“Thank you, sir,” I said.
“Yeah, thank you,” Weber said.
“I got Captain Randolph writing a search warrant, and it shouldn’t take long to get a judge to sign it this time of day. I also called the Bureau of Criminal Apprehension and requested help processing the scene. We’ve never had to recover bodies from someone’s cellar before. What a deal,” Kenner said.
I cringed thinking that four of us had been down in the cellar walking on Melvin’s grave all those years ago.
“I haven’t been able to reach Sybil’s parents. Assuming that game-changing info we got from Sybil is correct, I asked Edberg to write an arrest warrant for Perry Harding. We’ll get it to the sheriff in New Mexico so they can bring him in for the disappearance of Melvin Harding. If we recover his body, we’ll add the manslaughter charges,” Smoke said.
“Look at the domino effect—all the criminal and tragic things—caused because of one man’s sickness, and the repulsive things he did to a little girl,” I said.
“He’s gotta be rotting in hell,” Weber said.
We were silent for a time then Kenner said, “It’s not the best time to tell you, but I guess it’s as good a time as any. The sheriff dropped a bomb on me this morning. He handed me a letter to give to the county board announcing his retirement—effective immediately—and asking that they appoint me as interim sheriff until the next election.”
Expected, but still a surprise. We offered Kenner our congratulations.
“Before I forget, Corky, I got a box in my office that Denny left for your mother,” Kenner said.
Was he too embarrassed to drop it off at her shop? I nodded. “I’ll pick it up later.”
The crime scene team arrived shortly before the fire departments took off. They were ready to photograph the scene and look for evidence. Then they’d process the garage. I’d seen Sybil drop a lighter and showed them where it was. It was the first piece of evidence collected. Everyone was solemn, no doubt thinking of the daunting task the investigators had before them in the cellar.
Weber and I hung around, and Smoke managed to not remind me I wasn’t supposed to be working. Technically, I was just observing. Randolph drove out with the search warrant, and Kenner made the call to wait for the BCA agents before entering the house.
Smoke sidled over to me. “It’s going to be a while, so you and Weber should go write your reports. I called Marcella back and told her she was right about Sybil. She’s going to meet with Sybil at the hospital before they take her to jail.”
“Sybil is the most complicated person I ever remember dealing with. Do you think she knew her cousin was in Woody Nevins’ barn when she lit it on fire?” I said.
“You think we can get her to confess to the fires and the rabbits?” Smoke said.
“You can draw confessions out of the best of us.” I winked then told him about the lookout spot I’d found in the tree across the street and the tin plaque nailed to it. “Discovering Sybil’s nickname helped me get her to admit to some things as well.”
“Some people call it luck when they stumble over clues like that. Others call it a gift from above,” he said.
40
After I retrieved my backpack from my hideout by the massive oak, I rode with Weber to the sheriff’s office. A
manda Zubinski called him as we were wrapping up our reports, asking if we’d like to meet her for a beer.
I hesitated with, “I don’t know.”
“Hey, Mandy heard that and says we need to unwind a while. Debrief,” Weber said.
I lifted my eyebrows. “All right, you talked me into it, grimy though I be.” I called John Carl and asked if he’d pick up Queenie and watch her until I got home.
When we’d filed the reports, Weber phoned Zubinski and we decided to meet at the Mill Stream Inn west of town, a couple of miles from my house. “If you don’t mind giving me a ride,” I said.
“Ah sure, no problem,” he said.
Weber deposited the keys to the borrowed Chevy in the drop box then we hopped into his truck and headed to the restaurant. We stuck our badges and side arms in his glove box, and he laid his radio on the seat. As we got out we spotted Mandy, who was standing outside on the patio waving us over.
Then three things happened at once. I sensed something behind us, I heard the roar of an engine, and I saw Mandy throw her arms out to the sides, pointing her fingers in opposite directions shouting, “Out of the way!”
Weber leapt to the right, and I jumped to the left. Thanks partly to our training, and partly to our instincts. A silver blur rushed between the cars we stood in front of and crashed into the brick wall of the building. Fortunately, none of the patrons on the patio were hit. Mandy raced down and was at the driver’s side door before either Weber or I moved. I sat down on the bumper of the car behind me, dazed. I looked over at Weber. He was frozen in place.
Zubinski looked in the driver’s window then opened the door. “Call nine-one-one. We need an ambulance,” she yelled.
Firesetter in Blackwood Township, a Winnebago County Mystery Page 26