“Then this is our only way,” Bob said, moaning as he pushed up against the doors again.
In the far corner of the basement, near where the furnace stood, part of the floor gave way in a burst of sparks, and fire began crawling along the ceiling beams. Smoke poured in through the opening, surging and churning as if it were stirred by a deep ocean current.
Clare screamed and pulled Louisa close.
Again Bob pushed upward, straining with all his effort until the veins bulged in his forehead and neck and his muscles became as taut cords.
Fire continued to eat up the ceiling, moving to the electric circuit breaker box on the wall. When it reached it, the box exploded in a burst of sparks and the lights along the ceiling blinked out. Flickering firelight filled the basement now, reflecting off the smoke and casting the basement in an angry Halloween hue.
Bob, seeing the fire clawing closer, choking on the smoke that now lingered around the doors, gave another effort, groaned, pushed, and almost fell down the steps. He stumbled forward, clutching his chest, went to his knees. An orange tint colored his twisted face. His hands trembled, teeth gnashed. He tried to draw in a breath but only coughed and hacked. Teetering on his knees, he groped at his chest and fell to his side, eyes rolled back in his head, only the whites showing, like two golf balls in a jack-o’-lantern head.
Chapter 56
FIRE SPEWED FROM the home’s windows as if from the mouth of a dragon, seeking oxygen, craving it, devouring it in huge gulps. When the cruiser skidded to a stop in front of the house, Jim threw the door open, but before he could leap out, Miller grabbed his arm.
“Wait, Spencer.”
“For what? My wife may be in there. And Louisa.”
“He’s here.”
Jim hadn’t missed the SUV parked in front of the home. He knew Peevey was there and didn’t care. If Amy and Louisa were inside that house, he had to get to them; there still might be time.
He pulled away from Miller’s grip. “I don’t care. I have to find them.”
Outside the car the heat from the fire was almost unbearable. The front door had already been consumed and the windows blown out. The fire rumbled and snarled like a ravenous beast. There was no chance for entrance. Jake Tucker arrived at Jim’s side and put his hand on Jim’s shoulder. Miller rounded the front of the car, using his arm to shield his face from the heat.
Inside, wood cracked, popped, splintered, and a burst of flames shot into the night sky. Rain continued to fall in a light mist, but it did nothing to extinguish the fire. They’d have a better chance of putting it out if they stood in a circle and spit on it, Jim thought.
“It’s no use,” Miller shouted over the hiss of the fire.
As the last word passed over his lips, a crack sounded, loud and close, almost like the popping of a giant balloon. For an instant Jim thought it had come from inside the house, maybe one of the second-story support beams split or the gas stove had ignited and exploded. But when Miller went down, first to his knees, then flat on his face, he knew where the sound had come from and dove behind the cruiser.
Jake hollered, “You go find Amy and the girl. I’ll take care of Peevey.”
Jim peered out from around the car but didn’t see anyone by the light of the fire. But beyond the light was thick darkness, and Peevey could be standing in the wide open and never be seen. He’d have to make a run for it. Dashing from the car to the corner of the house, he ducked around the far wall. The fire had only just reached this portion of the house but was overtaking it quickly. Jim ran around the side, looking for cover, and that’s when he saw it.
Clare knelt next to Bob as Amy rushed for the doors leading to the outside. Louisa crouched and touched Bob’s head, his chest, his neck.
Amy banged her fists against the doors, screamed for help. She tried pushing them, but they wouldn’t budge. The smoke loomed close; like a living thing it writhed and coiled. Her lungs constricted, nerves itched. She felt as though her heart would burst from her chest. The claustrophobia was acting up. She pounded again. She’d rather take her chances with Peevey than suffocate to death by smoke inhalation, or worse, be burned to death by the encroaching fire.
All-out panic driving her, Amy shoved her body upward at the door several consecutive times until she finally collapsed on the steps, winded and choking on smoke.
Louisa was bent over Bob and rocked back and forth, her eyes closed. She almost seemed to glow in the murky air.
Fire cracked and popped around them; smoke stirred and boiled as if it were poured from a cauldron.
Maybe she is an angel, Amy thought. Maybe she’ll save us all or usher us into heaven.
Amy slid down to the bottom of the stairs where the smoke had not yet taken over and drew in a lungful of hot, dry air. She returned to the doors and once again threw her fists at them.
Jim crossed quickly to the cellar doors. And suddenly he heard it: knocking, rapid and panicked, like a frenzy of tribal drums. A thick piece of wood was jammed into the handles, locking the doors from the outside. He kicked the wood away, bent down, and lifted the doors up and out. Smoke as thick and black as charcoal bubbled out, stung his eyes, and momentarily blinded him.
“Jim!” It was Amy’s voice
She fell into his arms and nearly knocked him over. Louisa was there too.
When his eyes cleared, he could see his wife. Her skin was blackened with soot and dust, and tears streamed down her cheeks, leaving pink tracks in the dirt. Louisa clung to his waist. He stroked her grimy hair.
“Jim, they’re still down there.”
“Who?”
“Bob and Clare.”
But before Jim could rush for the basement, another shot cut through the night. Jim flinched as Louisa was ripped from his side and tossed to the ground. She lay motionless. Amy dropped next to the girl, sobbing.
Jim searched the darkness and found him, Peevey, standing at the corner of the house, handgun held chest high and aimed. Behind him the fire grew and licked at the cool air, lapping up oxygen.
“This is it, Spencer,” Peevey said. He stepped forward.
As he did, an explosion sounded from Jim’s left, accompanied by a muzzle flash. Peevey’s handgun discharged as well, but by then it was too late and the cop was already being pushed into the house, into the fire. He stumbled and was at once consumed by flames. His dying screams hung suspended in the air, then fell. Silence.
Jim spun around and fell to the ground next to Louisa. Jake arrived soon after that, shotgun in hand.
“The Appletons are in the basement still,” Amy said to Jake.
Jake nodded and disappeared into the cellar. The open doors were now belching thick, acrid smoke into the night air.
Jim cradled Louisa’s head in his arms. Her right hip area was misshapen and red. Tears pooled in Jim’s eyes, but he did nothing to wipe them away.
Louisa’s eyes fluttered opened, and her lips parted. Her eyes found Jim’s. A single tear slipped out and ran over her temple, clearing a line in the soot.
“Tell me what I need to do,” Jim said.
“Pray.” Her voice was thin and weak, on the verge of cutting out.
“That can’t be it.” The tears came from his own eyes now and caught at the corners of his nose.
She opened her mouth again. “Believe.”
“I can’t,” he said. It had been so long. He was so wounded, so far away from God.
Louisa’s eyes fixed on him, and in them he saw the peace that transcended all she did. There was no doubting in her and no fear at all. Jim remembered a line in the Bible that used to pique his curiosity. He couldn’t recall who had said it, but the words spoke to him now, and in his heart he repeated them: God, I believe; help my unbelief.
Louisa lifted a hand and touched Jim’s face. “I remember, Mr. Jim,” she said. “I remember so much now.”
Chapter 57
THE HOSPITAL ROOM’S lights were dim. Just one illuminated lamp above Louisa’s bed washed the
corner in a soft radiance, as if a light from heaven fell on its wounded angel. Jim and Amy had spent the night in the surgical waiting room, each sleeping in a chair, and Jake Tucker had stayed too, passing the time reading magazines on a small sofa.
The surgery had taken nearly three hours, and afterward the lead surgeon filled the Spencers in on the extent of Louisa’s injuries: fractured femoral head, fractured pelvis, torn colon. All was repaired, and he expected the hip joint to heal completely after a lengthy recovery period. She would need more surgeries, of course, as the bones grew and lengthened, but they would be minor compared to what had to be done to piece the bones back together after the bullet had ripped through them.
Now Louisa slept peacefully in her hospital bed, the sheets pulled up to her chest. Amy slept in a chair beside the bed. She’d cleaned up in the hospital bathroom, but remnants of soot still outlined her face and streaked her hair. Jim marveled at how peacefully she slept, despite the nightmare she and Louisa had been through. Amy had changed so much in the past week, come so far.
At nine o’clock Louisa’s eyes blinked rapidly and opened. She looked around the room until she found Jim.
“Hey, kiddo,” Jim said. “You’re awake.”
Her eyes closed slowly and opened again. She licked her lips.
“Are you thirsty?”
She nodded.
Jim touched her cheek. “I’ll be right back with some ice chips.”
He left to get the chips from the small kitchen area down the hall, and when he returned, Amy was awake as well, holding Louisa’s hand and stroking her hair.
Jim slipped some ice chips into Louisa’s mouth using a plastic spoon. “There you go. That’ll wet your whistle a little anyway. Doctor said no water until they say you’re ready.”
Louisa let the ice melt in her mouth then swallowed. “Thank you, Mr. Jim.”
“You’re welcome, sweetie. No problem at all.”
She looked at Amy then Jim again. “I mean, thank you for taking care of me. I . . . I remember what happened.”
She’d said that last night before passing out, before he helped Jake drag Bob and Clare Appleton from the burning basement, before Jim got on the police radio.
“You don’t have to talk about it now,” Jim said.
“I want to. I might forget again.”
Amy was still holding the girl’s hand, and now Jim took the other one. “Okay, but only as much as you want to. Okay?”
“There was a fire,” she said. “I woke up in my room, and it was filled with smoke. I couldn’t see anything, but it was getting really hot. I could hear my mom calling my name and coughing. I tried calling back to her, but I don’t think she could hear me. Then I heard my brother crying.” She stopped and stared at the sheets. Tears pooled in her eyes. “I couldn’t do anything. There was so much smoke I couldn’t even find the door. Then I didn’t hear anything except the fire right outside my room. I couldn’t breathe, there was so much smoke.” Tears slipped down her cheeks, and Amy wiped them away. “I laid on the floor. I thought I was gonna die, but I wasn’t scared at all. And then . . . ” She turned her face up and looked at Amy and Jim. “And then I was in Mr. Tucker’s house, and I saw him there and knew I had to help him. I didn’t remember anything about the fire or my mom or dad or brother. Not until the fire just now. Is Mr. Bob okay?”
Amy squeezed Louisa’s hand and wiped another tear from the child’s cheek. “Mr. Bob didn’t make it, honey. He had a heart attack.”
She was quiet for a moment, contemplative. “What about Miss Clare?”
“She had lots of smoke in her lungs, but the doctors fixed her up.”
“I’m sad for her.”
“Me too,” Amy said.
Louisa then turned her eyes to Jim and smiled. “You believed, didn’t you? You trusted God.”
He nodded and swallowed the lump that was climbing his throat. “I did. But I learned something else that you taught me.”
“I did?”
“You sure did. It’s not magic, and it’s not about me. It’s about surrendering to God’s will.”
The smile left Louisa’s face. “Not every prayer gets answered the way we want.”
Jim knew she was thinking about her family and about Bob Appleton. “No, it doesn’t. But that’s why we leave it in God’s hands, don’t we?”
“Yes,” she said. “He can handle it. We can’t.”
Her smile returned as she closed her eyes and fell back to sleep.
When Jim and Jake entered Miller’s room, the police chief was sitting up in bed watching TV. A thick, gauzy bandage wrapped his neck in a makeshift collar. His hair was a mess, and dark circles shadowed his eyes. His wife sat next to his bed, her legs crossed, worry lines deepened across her forehead.
“Mornin’,” Miller said as Jim entered. He clicked off the TV.
Jim dipped his chin. “Good morning, Chief, Mrs. Miller. How are you feeling?”
Miller shrugged. “Kinda like I just got shot.”
“How bad is it?”
“Not as bad as it could have been. Caught me in the neck. Just missed the jugular.”
“This your first time?” Jim said to Miller.
“I was shot at before, but this was the first time I was actually hit. And it’ll be my last.” He reached over and took his wife’s hand. “I’m retiring as soon as we get the mystery with Louisa solved. I’d do it now, but I can’t leave those ends hanging. I can’t do that. Not to her.”
Jake said, “Well, you may be retiring sooner than you think.”
“She remembers everything,” Jim said. “Well, almost everything.” He continued on, telling Miller the remarkable story of Louisa’s family and the house fire. When he finished, he leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. Jake put his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth on his heels.
Miller didn’t respond at first. He thumbed the buttons on the TV remote and stared at the blank screen on the wall. Glancing at his wife, he smiled and shook his head. “I’ve been in law enforcement a long time and seen and heard a lot of crazy things. Sad things. Women beat nearly to death by their husbands. Kids put out in the cold, nowhere to go. Car accidents that’d make your stomach turn inside out. I’ve wanted to quit almost on a weekly basis. Heard a lot of crazy stories over the years too. But this . . . this beats everything.” Then to Jim he said, “You hear they found the body of that EnviroPride guy?”
Jim nodded. Investigators had found Cody Wisner’s corpse buried in a shallow grave behind the farmhouse.
Miller was quiet for a stretch of seconds while he chewed his lower lip and thumbed the remote. Finally he shifted his eyes between Jim and Jake. “You believe her?”
“I have no reason not to,” Jim said.
“And what about you?” Miller said to Jake.
“All I know, Chief, is that if it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t be here. I don’t know where she came from, and until someone can provide a better explanation, her story is as good as truth to me.”
Jim pushed away from the wall. “She was put where she was needed. Jake, Audrey, Armand, Amy, and me—we all needed her.”
Miller turned to his wife. “What do you think?”
She kissed his hand. “I think you need to check out Louisa’s story.”
“I can get someone else to do it.”
She shook her head. “No. You need to do this. Get your mind off of . . . ” She didn’t say the name, but they all knew to whom she referred.
Miller looked at Jim and lowered his eyebrows. “You said she remembered almost everything.”
“She’s a little fuzzy on names,” Jim said. “Can’t remember her last name or the names of her parents or brother.”
Miller’s wife leaned close to him and kissed him on the cheek. “You can do it, Doug. Find this girl’s family.”
Chapter 58
WHEN MILLER CALLED and told Jim they needed to talk, Jim suggested they meet at the Red Wing Diner. After arranging for Jake t
o sit with Louisa, he and Amy drove to the Red Wing and found Miller in a booth, sipping coffee. A week later he still had a gauze bandage wrapped around his neck. The toil the ordeal had taken on his body was evident by his sunken eyes and slightly hollowed cheeks.
“Mornin’, folks,” Miller said. He did not smile, but there was a look of satisfaction in his eyes.
Jim and Amy sat across from Miller and held hands. “You have news about Louisa?”
They’d all assumed her family perished in the fire, but it was still a mystery why no one had come looking for her.
Miller nodded. “Her last name is Cartwright. Her father’s name was Alfred, her mother was Crystal, her brother, Thomas. He was six.”
Amy squeezed Jim’s hand but kept her eyes on Miller. “Was.”
“Yes, was.” Miller sighed. “They all died in the fire. In fact, the house was so totally destroyed only partial remains of her mother and father were found. The officials assumed the rest of the family had died too. Including Louisa.”
“Assumptions are dangerous things to make,” Amy said. “They can have catastrophic consequences.”
“Which explains why nobody came looking for her,” Jim said. “But where was this fire?”
“Colorado.”
Both Jim and Amy exhaled and sat back. It was too much for Jim to take in, too much to think about at once. His emotions ran so high, he nearly burst into tears right there in front of Miller.
“And what date was the fire that took Louisa’s family?” Jim probed, hardly daring to hear the answer.
“Same night as Jake’s.”
Jim shot a look at Amy, and the shock he saw there likely mirrored his own.
“How did Louisa get here?” Amy said. “How could she suddenly appear in Jake’s house?”
Miller shrugged. “Who knows?” he said. “What are the chances of any of this happening?”
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