BURNING INTUITION (Intuition Series Book 2)

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BURNING INTUITION (Intuition Series Book 2) Page 18

by Makenzi Fisk


  Allie swatted her shoulder before she exited.

  Ciara’s bicycle was gone by the time they returned with two extra large coffees and a brand new coffee maker. This machine was many steps up from the one Allie had thrown out. Easy to clean, it had no tedious filters to dispose of. It wouldn’t electrocute anyone or drip half its contents on the counter. Ciara should be pleased.

  Erin sent the dog to explore the yard and went to shower.

  Allie kept a strict eye on him out the window. He circled the yard and sniffed at the spot where he’d hidden behind the bicycle. Then he lifted his hind leg and marked it. A smile spread across her lips and she let him in. He looked up at her, wagged his tail expectantly. She didn’t dare touch him again but the little guy was growing on her. He was not bad for a chihuahua. He wagged his tail once more and headed off in search of the cat. She had to admire his resilience. And he was entertaining.

  “Have you seen the critters?” Dripping water, Erin shook her head until it stood up in uniform spikes. “Come see.”

  Allie followed her to the living room where the cat was asleep on the largest sofa cushion. Snuggled into her fluffy underbelly, the pup rested his head on her single front paw. She curled her tail around him. Allie’s eyes widened. “Rachel has a maternal side?” Not once had the cat deigned to cuddle with her golden retriever.

  Erin laid a hand on her arm. “He’s part of the family now.”

  Allie opened her mouth but her voice stuck in her throat. She turned away. Once vivid, her image of Fiona was fading. She was not ready to replace her.

  “I know, Baby. You need time.”

  Allie gulped back a tear.

  Erin stroked her shoulder. “I need to get out of your hair today. I’ll see if I can figure out what Lily’s up to. You’ll have the whole afternoon to yourself.”

  Allie remembered the dream she’d had about Erin walking the river trail at night with the dog peeping from her backpack. “Did you really stuff the dog in your bag last night?”

  Erin’s blue eyes twinkled. “Yeah, that’s me, a spoiled rich girl with a chihuahua in my purse. I’d never stoop to that, would I?” She raised an eyebrow, tempting Allie to taunt her.

  Allie smiled. She didn’t need to shatter Erin’s tough facade. She was strong, and she was adorable.

  “Oh yeah, I fixed the darn back door so it locks now. You just got your office set up and we can’t have someone walking off with all those tantalizing electronics.”

  Allie’s eyebrows shot up. Last night she’d struggled to get the door to close but this morning she’d been so wrapped up in herself that she hadn’t noticed how smoothly it opened and closed - until now. Erin must have worked on it after she’d come home late. That was the beginning of her apology.

  Erin gave her a wink and Allie’s chest warmed.

  CHAPTER 20

  After I drop off Nina, I sleep on the bench in the park until it’s time. With one last glance down the road, I stretch my legs and walk to the truck. No one has paid it any attention since I parked it there. It’s invisible, like me.

  I hop in and turn the key. I know exactly where I’m going and what time to be there because it pays to listen in on other people’s conversations. Other people like Albert, on the phone with Barb. You never know when the stuff you hear might come in handy. Like now.

  In fifteen minutes, Barb will be finished her burn treatment at the university hospital. She will drive straight to her secret home and I’ll be right behind her. How could she think she’d be able to hide from me?

  Yup, there’s her car. I’m a genius.

  I park and wait, engine running. There is a dirty blue and gold ball cap with a big W on it wedged in the seat. I put it on. It’s friggin’ huge. There isn’t an adjustment small enough but I do my best to stop it from sliding over my eyes. That loser at the truck stop sure had a big noggin.

  I hunch behind the wheel and a few minutes later I’m rewarded. A lady with a scarf scurries out the main door and heads straight for Barb’s green car. It’s her. She gets in and drives like an old grandma, honking her horn before backing out of her parking spot. It’s not hard to follow her but I keep a car between us so she doesn’t recognize me.

  In front of a two-story house, she parks and gets out. I’m smart enough to stay back and she doesn’t even know I’m here. When she’s inside, I drive by slow so I can remember this place. I reach the end of the block and hit the gas.

  It’s only a few minutes to Nina’s. She promised to come to the movie marathon at the Cineplex. We’re gonna movie hop all day.

  My head pounds and my back is stiff. Nina and I watched five hours of monster movies today. I’m sure she hated every single one but she didn’t dare complain. Not when I got her in for free. I even smuggled in the snacks and hid a dozen beers in the washroom. Nina ate so many Twizzlers that I thought she was gonna puke, but she still had room for Milk Duds. She went back and forth to the washroom to sneak the beers in and even drank two herself. She did me proud.

  Nina’s mom was busy making up with her stupid dad so nobody noticed when she went out with me. As long as she was home by nine to babysit. I left her brat sister a bag of candy and Nina gave her strict instructions to hide if daddy came looking for her.

  I manage to drop Nina off at home afterward without her getting weird on me. She’s good at following instructions but I can’t really trust her with the important stuff. Not yet. She’s too straight arrow and she’s not ready. She’d spoil the whole damn thing.

  I watch movies and drink Albert’s beer at the motel until I’m ready. It’s the perfect time. Everyone’s tucked in their beds and it’s still too early for the working people to be awake. I feel good and I’ve got a buzz on from the Coors. First things first. I need to find something to start a fire. A nice can of gas, or a box of dynamite. Yeah, dynamite would be perfect. I’ve never tried that. Someday I hope I will.

  I stash the noisy red truck on a side street and sneak through the neighborhood on foot, trying each place as I go. Something’s off. Maybe between the movies and the motel, I drank too much. Maybe it’s the excitement. My hands are shaking. I can usually jimmy the latch with my knife but right now I just can’t get my shit together. I boot the second door in and my foot hurts like a son of a bitch. It’s not as easy in real life as in the movies.

  Finally, in an unlocked garden shed, there’s a red jerry can and a quart of oil beside a lawnmower. I was starting to think my plan would fail but now I’m back on track. Between these two, I can destroy anything.

  Oh, look. There’s a bonus. A half bottle of whiskey winks at me from the top shelf. I twist off the cap and park my butt on the engine of the lawnmower. Rest is all I need. The whiskey goes down easy and a few swallows calm my trembling fingers. My foot feels better. My headache eases. I lean back with the whiskey bottle. There’s no hurry. I can savor this moment. The moment before the kill.

  My lips feel numb and my vision blurs. The bottle is empty. When did that happen? I don’t remember drinking it all. I drop it to the ground and look at the plastic container in my other hand. One litre of oil. The letters swim in front of me. It says litre instead of quart. Why the hell can’t Canadians just say quart when they mean quart? I grab the jerry can and stumble out of the shed. There’s a light glow on the horizon. It’s almost dawn! Did I park this way, or that?

  Finally, I find the truck and toss the containers in the back. I’m still pissy about the way this country makes math so hard. Don’t even get me started on why only half the signs around here are in American. The rest are in a friggin’ foreign language.

  I jump into the driver’s seat and start the truck. The streets are still empty and it doesn’t take long to get to the two-story house by the Esplanade Bridge. Barb’s stupid green car is parked right out front like a sign. She deserves what she gets.

  I park across the street after I circle the block three times. The house is dark and all the blinds are closed. Barb is sleeping like a baby. S
he doesn’t know I’m coming. I turn the headlights off but keep the engine running. With the gas can in one hand and the friggin’ quart of oil in the other, I sneak into the back yard. There are no dog toys or water dishes. That’s a good sign.

  I try the doorknob. It’s locked so I force the tip of my knife between the door and jam. With pressure in the right direction, I ease the latch until it pops open. I’m that good.

  The house smells weird. With my feet on the entry mat, I try to figure out what that stink is. Boiled cabbage. Barb must have cooked dinner last night. I always hated when she cooked that. She is definitely in here. My heart speeds up and there’s a growl in my throat that I’m not sure I’m making on purpose. It sounds like a panther. If I was crazy, I might think I really was a panther. But I’m not crazy.

  I drop the gas can on the carpet and twist the cap off the oil. Then it hits me. I didn’t get the lighter. I check my pockets to make sure. How could I have forgotten something so goddamn essential? I want to kick the can clear across the room but that might wake her. My fingernails dig into my palms. There has got to be a box of matches in the kitchen.

  I try not to sound like a raccoon on steroids when I root through the drawers. Nothing. I check by the fireplace. It’s one of those new gas ones you flick on with a switch.

  Fuck. What am I gonna do?

  I’m frozen. Like a pussy.

  Make a decision. Don’t be a pussy.

  I leave the gas right where I dropped it and sprint out the door. I’ll be back in two minutes.

  At the truck, I fumble with the door handle. My hands slip and I try again, yanking it open wide. I jump in and almost pull my seatbelt across. Damn Nina and her bad habits. I let it snick back into its sheath and slam my foot down on the gas pedal. There was a store nearby.

  Anger burns my throat like battery acid. My hands shake like Doctor Jekyll’s. I wish I could put them around Barb’s throat and squeeze until I feel better. I think about my skin touching her skin and the battery acid turns to molten lava. My head swims. I need to kill her with fire. Fire is my friend.

  I don’t bother to hide the truck this time. I skid to a stop in front of the store and leave the door wide open when I run inside. I grab the closest lighter from a counter display and bail out.

  “Hey!” is all the night cashier has time to say before I’m out the door and back in the truck. I jam it into reverse.

  For the six blocks return trip, I push the truck as fast as I can. One hand in my pocket, I trace the shape of my knife. This time, I’ll make sure. Barb’s gonna die.

  CHAPTER 21

  Allie drained the rest of the latte in her coffee mug. Erin had been sweet enough to make it for her this morning before she went fishing. She’d been determined to arrive at the Lockport Dam before the first hint of dawn and had taken the excited dog with her. He probably spent more time in Erin’s backpack than on his own two feet, but he loved the adventure.

  It wasn’t yet five in the morning, and still dark, when she’d waved goodbye and headed for her office. Nightmares had plagued her all night and she couldn’t sleep anyway. If she was up early, she might as well make good use of her time. Mornings were her favorite. There was a period of stillness between the time the late people went to bed and the morning people arose. Less energy circulated in the atmosphere or something. Her mind was calm and she could focus without interruption.

  This morning was unusual. Instead of the calm, she was agitated. The pain in her head spiked when Erin’s phone rang for the third time in a row. She must have forgotten it. With her foot, Allie pushed the office door shut but the shrill tones pierced the wall. It irritated Allie like nails on a chalkboard. At the edge of the desk, even the cat grumbled and swished her tail.

  Some night owl, like Erin’s buddy Chris Zimmerman, was persistent. Sure, he was excited about getting married, but really, he should wait until it was a decent hour. Not everyone worked night shift.

  Each time the phone rang, her headache ratcheted up a notch. She couldn’t concentrate. This was useless. She pushed the keyboard away. She would have to find that darn phone and shut off the ringer. Her bare feet thumped on the floor as she stalked down the hall. Where in the world was it?

  It rang again and she stared at the sofa. Rachel. How had the cat carried the cell phone? That cat was turning into a real kleptomaniac with Erin as her primary target. If Allie’s head didn’t hurt so much, this might be funny. She slid her arm underneath and located the phone, along with Erin’s missing sock, in the back corner.

  Caller ID displayed a blocked number and she tapped the icon on the screen. “Chris, really—”

  “Officer Ericsson! Help me! She’s found me!”

  Not Chris.

  Breathless, the woman’s voice bordered on hysteria.

  Allie sat and pressed the phone to her ear. Black clouds rolled from the back of her brain and thundered behind her eyes. She tasted gasoline. Smoke gagged her throat. She squeezed her eyes shut. “Is this Mrs. Schmidt?”

  “I called 9-1-1 but they won’t listen. Lily’s outside in a red truck. As soon as I told them my name, they gave me the number for the mental health department. They told me to call them first thing in the morning!” Barbara Schmidt’s voice squealed from the phone’s tinny speaker.

  “I believe you.” A shadow detached itself from the corner of Allie’s mind and surged forward. Its oily black trail filled her head with noxious fog. Claws pierced her chest. She gasped.

  “I hear her downstairs right now.” Barb whispered. “I’m in my closet.”

  “I don’t know what to—”

  “She’s going to kill me. I’m going to die!”

  “Erin’s not home—”

  “Please help me!”

  One hand to her temple, Allie fought for focus. Blood roared in her ears. The fog enveloped and threatened to suffocate her. The cat’s whiskers tickled her cheek and she grabbed her like a life preserver until warm energy trickled between them. Rachel purred and her body relaxed, limp as a dishtowel. Allie breathed in, breathed out, and the clouds parted. She knew what to do.

  “Mrs. Schmidt,” she said calmly. “Listen carefully.”

  Barb’s breathing was ragged but she waited for instructions.

  “When I tell you, I want you to get your keys and run as fast as you can to your car.”

  There was a frantic scrabbling noise.

  “Wait,” Allie urged. “Stay perfectly still and don’t move until I tell you.”

  The phone went silent, save for Barb’s terrified breathing.

  “You need to drive out of town before you call your husband.”

  Minutes ticked by.

  “Wait,” Allie whispered again. Soon.

  Lily’s sharp-edged anger split her thoughts and her stomach nearly emptied its contents.

  “Go now!” Allie ordered. There was a loud crack as the phone hit the floor and then the sound of running feet. The pain receded as if it had never been. Slumped against the cushion, she exhaled and released her hold on the cat. Her eyes closed. Barb would be safe.

  When she opened her eyes, it seemed lighter in the room. Fur rumpled, Rachel hopped off the couch. She climbed onto the windowsill and pushed her wet nose against the glass.

  “Yeah, I feel the same way.”

  The cat looked at her, as if listening, and turned her face back to the window. The morning sun had broken free of the horizon and it promised to be a lovely day. Already two crows perched on the roof of the shed. Their beady eyes trained on the trashcan, they wouldn’t miss an opportunity today. The cat’s spine arched when she chattered at them.

  Allie turned away. “You’re right. I need coffee.” She sniffed the air. It smelled like coffee. Was Erin home? She rushed to the kitchen where Ciara leaned against the counter.

  “You’re back.” Ciara raised her coffee mug in salute.

  “Back?” How long had she been sitting on the sofa with Erin’s silent phone? Had she zoned out? She pursed her lip
s at Ciara’s Bat Girl pajamas. She looked like a teenager in the black top and shorts. “You’d get along well with our friend Chris.”

  “It’s hard to find a man with good taste. And you’re changing the subject, as usual.”

  Allie didn’t respond.

  Ciara took the hint. “Well, then. Is Chris available?”

  “Sorry, he’s getting married.”

  “Lucky wench.” Ciara held out a clean mug. “Have some. It’s good.” She winked. “The coffee fairies brought me a present while I was away.”

  Allie poured herself a cup and added milk and sugar.

  “Are you sure you’re okay? You didn’t even notice when I got up. I thought caffeine might help.” She indicated the machine with a flourish. “Thank you. This is absolutely smashing!”

  “How long was I out?”

  “Not that long.” Ciara concentrated on the bottom of her mug. That could mean anything from a few minutes to an hour.

  Allie checked her watch. It hadn’t been as long as she feared. “I answered a phone call for Erin and helped out her friend. No big deal,” she fibbed.

  “It sounded, um, intense.” Ciara tilted her head.

  So, she had overheard at least part of the call. “Everything is fine now.” Allie couldn’t quite meet her eye. Rachel landed on delicate feet beside her and rubbed her cheek against the warm coffee machine.

  “Is the resident superhero sleeping in?”

  “Fishing with the dog.”

  Ciara nodded. “That explains why the little rascal is not following you around with his puppy dog eyes. He has a serious crush on you. Does he have a name yet, or will you insist on calling him the dog for the rest of his life?”

  Allie shrugged, more from guilt than indecision.

  “Well then.” Ciara picked up the cat and stroked her ears. “What have you planned for today?”

 

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