A shiver ran down my spine and I suddenly had an empty feeling, like something wasn’t right. It felt like I was losing my best friend… if I had one. After Emily overdosed, I never wanted to get that close to anyone, again. That’s not to say I wanted to be celibate, though. Another shiver, but this time it came from further down and was much more pleasurable. Damn, she was good. She had barely touched me and I could still feel the tingling. Man, I hope she gets to finish what she started.
“Lillian, we’re here,” I said, waking her as I pulled into Mom’s driveway.
Lillian looked around, trying to get her bearings. “Oh, I remember this house,” she said. “Gloria and Jerry had us over every year for their annual summer barbeque bash.”
“Wait, I don’t remember those. Wouldn’t I have met you then?”
“Oh, no, honey. You were away at summer camp. You see, those parties were for adults only,” Lillian said as she unfastened her seatbelt.
“Hey, that’s not fair,” I complained as if I were ten years old again.
“Wait until you have children of your own, dear. You’ll think differently.”
Even as an adult, it was hard to imagine my parents having a life that didn’t include me. “Was Jordy at those parties?” Did she go in my room and look at my things?
“No, she wasn’t invited. Besides, she was either mowing yards or babysitting the neighbor’s kids, for extra spending money.”
At first, I couldn’t imagine Jordy babysitting small children. Then I remembered her handing that child a teddy bear. She knew just what to do to make the child feel better and the parent more trusting.
“Lillian!” my mother screamed as she burst out of the front door and over to the car.
“Gloria!” Lillian said, opening her arms and enveloping her.
“I’m so sorry about everything,” Mom cried.
“I’m sorry, too, Gloria,” Lillian replied.
I stood to the side and watched as the two women hugged, cried, and apologized for years of misunderstanding.
“You must be exhausted. Let’s get you inside,” Mom said, taking Lillian’s arm and leading her up the steps to the door. “Are you hungry? I’ve got soup in the pot or I can make you a sandwich.”
Mom made her soups from scratch and they could cure any ailment.
“No, thank you. I have no appetite right now,” Lillian said.
Mom showed her into the living room as I closed the door behind us.
“I’ve got Roberta’s room ready for you, if you’d like to lay down.”
“Would it be all right if we just sat and talked a bit?” Lillian asked, glancing at the overstuffed couch.
“Absolutely,” Mom replied. Mom took her hand and they both sat down on the couch. Then Mom looked up at me. “Honey, would you get the tea from the fridge and the finger sandwiches that are on the tray?”
“Sure, Mom,” I replied, and walked into the kitchen.
“You always were a gracious host, Gloria,” Lillian said.
“Not like you, Lillian,” Mom returned the compliment.
I got the feeling that they wanted to talk about the feud but they were too afraid of the pink elephant sitting in the middle of the room that they were trying hard not to notice. I gathered everything together, grabbed some glasses, napkins, spoons and sugar, and carried it all back into the living room. I placed the tray on the coffee table and as I poured tea into the glasses, I decided to poke the elephant.
“So, now you both know that it was the arsonist who set Jerry and Henry up and you’ve been carrying a stupid grudge, all this time, for nothing.”
To say that they were shocked would be an understatement.
“Roberta!” Mom bellowed.
“Sorry, Mom. I’m just calling it like it is. And you know what? It doesn’t matter. You’re both here now. That’s what matters.”
“She’s right, Gloria,” Lillian inserted. “I said some hateful things to you, after Henry’s death, and I’m so sorry.”
“No more hateful than the things I said to you, Lillian,” Mom reciprocated. “Can we let all that go and be friends again?”
“Oh, yes. I want that very much.”
Their twelve-year feud dissolved in an instant, as they hugged and began crying, again. I looked at the smile on my mother’s face and decided that I would wait to tell her about Patrick being back. She had told Jordy that she didn’t want to know, and I didn’t have the heart to throw cold water on her reunion with Lillian. Best to let sleeping dogs lie, as they say.
“So, what did I miss?” Mom asked. “Tell me everything.”
Lillian chuckled and said, “You first.”
That was my opening to leave and get back to Jordy. I set my untouched tea glass down and picked up a finger sandwich, then changed my mind and put it down again “Well, this is great, but I need to get back to Memphis. You two call if you need anything, okay?”
“What’s your rush, honey? I’m sure Jordy is busy working right now.”
“Don’t you know, Gloria?” Lillian asked, a mischievous grin on her face. “She’s smitten with my daughter.”
“No! Really?” Mom gasped, winking at me playfully.
“Wha… what?” I held up my hands, as if that would convince them that they were wrong.
“Oh, yes. The way she looks at her when she thinks Jordy isn’t looking,” Lillian explained. “Which is the exact same way that Jordy steals glances at her.”
“The way they argue all the time, yet Robbie can’t be out of her sight for longer than…” Mom looked at her watch. “Forty-three minutes.”
Lillian laughed, nodding her head. “And why do you think she suddenly has no appetite?”
“Hmm, let me guess,” Mom said, tapping her finger on her chin. “Do you think?”
“I do,” Lillian replied.
“Could it be?” Mom asked.
“I believe so,” Lillian answered.
They both turned to me and said in unison, “She’s in love.”
*
On the drive back, I kept replaying their conversation. Were they right? Was I in love with Jordy? I knew I was in lust, but who wouldn’t be after watching her in action, or for that matter, feeling her in action. Yes, I argued with her, a lot, but she’s just so damn obstinate, ordering me around like I was a child. Irritating know it all, that’s what she was. Although, in retrospect, I had to admit that she was only bossy when it came to her job and I was mature enough to capitulate to the fact that she was the foremost authority on arson. But that’s practically all I knew about her. There was so much more to her than investigating arson. I wanted to know what made her happy, excited, and curious. Is she ticklish? Does she have a playful side? I know she can be mischievous and roguish at times, and incredibly charming, even if she does say so herself. I want to know the one place on her body that makes her beg for my touch, and most of all, I want her to discover that place on me.
Yeah, I’m in love, I thought with a smile as I merged onto I-240, taking the faster route this time. Then another thought hit me that made my heart flutter. Would it be reciprocated? Jordy had given no indication that she was interested in anything other than sex and thought of me only as someone who needed protecting. The way she felt about reporters, I was surprised she would even want to protect me, let alone have sex with me. Although, sex pretty much transcended everything else.
As I came to the stop light at the crossroad to Kensington Avenue, I thought of Emily. No, I’d keep my secret close to my heart. I wasn’t setting myself up for heartbreak like Emily did. Her one-sided love affair was unbearable for her and that’s why she turned to drugs, so that she could dull the pain. That’s also what killed her. I wasn’t going to die for love.
There wasn’t any traffic around, so when the light turned green, I revved the Camaro one last time before stomping on the gas and squealing the tires. What Jordy didn’t know wouldn’t kill me. I parked the car on the other side of the firetruck and got out, scanning for Jordy. I opened th
e door to the backseat. Just as I was about to reach for the helmet, something struck me on the back of the head so hard that I thought I had been hit by lightning. Then everything went black.
Chapter Nineteen
Jordyn Stringfellow
As soon as Robbie and Mom were out of sight, I pulled out my cell phone and called the Germantown police precinct closest to Gloria’s house and asked them to step up patrol in that neighborhood. My gut told me that Patrick wouldn’t go after Gloria because he still loved her, in a sick, drug-induced kind of way. But just in case my gut was wrong, I wanted to take precautions.
Just as I was putting my phone away, a text came in from Rosa, who was running cross-checks on the victims of all the fires. As I read the rather long text, I had to admit, I did not see that coming. Before I could mentally process all the information, Uncle Joe walked over.
“Did you find it yet?”
“The smiley face? Not yet, but it’s him,” he replied, walking toward the front entrance.
I followed him into the living room and stopped abruptly. I had seen my share of burned-out houses, but this one made me gasp. Most of the exterior walls were still standing, but the fire had gutted the interior. My dad always used fire-retardant paint on the walls, insisted on fire-resistant carpeting and had the furniture coated with a fireproof chemical. He also had fire alarms throughout the house and a special alarm that was linked to the fire station. Nevertheless, the furniture was burned beyond repair, strips of the carpet had burned away, and the few pictures still left hanging on the wall were smoldering. As I looked around at the devastation, my heart ached for my mother.
“Are you all right?” Uncle Joe asked.
“Yeah, I guess.”
“It’s different when it’s your own home, isn’t it?”
There were no words to describe what I was feeling that wouldn’t bring a flood of tears to my eyes, so I simply nodded and knelt to inspect the carpet. “Uncle Joe, what do you make of these burn lines?” Someone had gone to great lengths to draw lines on the floor that when burned, left what looked like tire tracks across the carpet. This was something new for the arsonist, who’d started out with just a smiley under a coffee pot.
Uncle Joe looked down at the burned carpet. “Peroxide used to draw lines up to the door.”
We looked behind us at the open front door. The floor in the entrance hall was covered in linoleum, which had all burned off. I backtracked my steps and inspected the foyer closely. The lines went right up to the doorway. I stepped outside the door and looked inward. It wasn’t leading out of the house, it was a path, a roadmap leading to somewhere inside the house. I followed the lines across the living room and stopped again when I came to a crossroads. A pair of lines came from the kitchen, another led down the hallway to the bedrooms and a set led out to the backyard.
I looked up and down the lines as if checking before I crossed the road. I finally settled on the lines leading to the kitchen and the door to the carport. “The garage was the ignition point, right?”
Uncle Joe shook his head. “Yes and no. So far, we’ve found evidence of incendiary devices in the garage, one in the kitchen that didn’t go off, and one in the living room that went off late so we were able to contain it quickly. I think we’ll find more, like in the tree.”
I stood there, unable to blink as my mouth gaped open. “Shit. Why is the house even still standing?”
“Faulty wiring most likely. Either the arsonist was new at this or he was in a hurry.”
“Have you found the smiley face yet?”
He shook his head. “No, that’s why we think it’s a separate case.”
I nodded, going through a list of things in my head. “You sent the devices to the lab, right?”
He nodded. “Yes, and Jordy, you’re not the investigator on this fire. You know that, right? You can’t investigate a fire of a victim you’re related to.”
“Yeah, I figured you’d call me on it,” I replied, knowing full well that wasn’t going to stop me. Looking down at the floor, I realized that he’d said one in the tree. “Wait. One in the tree?”
“Yeah, uh, Jordy, I think you need to prepare yourself for this one,” he said as he pointed at the glass patio doors.
The doors were open and I looked out at the large oak tree in the backyard. The tree that I climbed as a child, swung on, built a treehouse in with my dad, was on fire. Donny was dousing the tree with foam, and the fire was slowly being smothered. But the treehouse was gone and several branches were deeply scorched. I walked across the yard and stood beside Donny.
“I’m sorry, Jordy,” he said. “The chief told us this was your mother’s house. We did everything we could to save it, but…”
“I know you did. Thank you for trying,” I replied, fighting the urge to cry. “Would you mind washing down the tree with water so that the chemicals in the foam won’t kill it?”
I didn’t think it was that crazy a request, but Donny looked to Uncle Joe for approval. It wasn’t standard protocol, I guess, but if they had any water left on the truck, I knew Uncle Joe would say yes.
“I’ll take care of it, Jordy,” Donny said, after Uncle Joe gave him a nod.
“Thanks.”
“Chief,” Larry called over the radio.
Uncle Joe hit the button on his radio and said, “Go, Larry.”
“We found the smiley face. Smaller bedroom at the end of the hall,” he reported.
“That’s my bedroom,” I stated, frowning at my confusion. Did the arsonist know it was my room? Of course, he knew. Mother still slept in the same room and the same bed that she had shared with my father. Although she kept my room as a spare room for guests, a few years ago, she’d had me prop my bed up against the wall so she could use the extra space for storage. Throughout the year, she collected toys for the annual firefighter’s toy drive at Christmas and also the teddy bears that I give to children involved in a fire. Mom and a group of firefighter wives met once a week at her house and sewed tiny turnout jackets for the teddy bears. Sometimes I’d join them and just sit back and listen to them talk about the latest gossip or kids problems. Recently a male spouse joined the circle, and I noticed that the conversations had expanded to include sports and fishing.
I ran back into the house and down the hall, expecting to find the familiar smiley face, taunting me with a wink, when I entered my bedroom. I didn’t expect to find two of them in the middle of a circle of burned teddy bears. The burned and mangled toys looked like some kind of macabre scene from a horror movie, made worse by the fact that they were lying on my bedroom floor, where I’d spent endless hours playing as a kid.
“This isn’t about random arson anymore, Uncle Joe. This is a message just for me.”
“What do you think he’s trying to say?”
“That he’s watching me. See the oblong box drawn beside one of the smiles? It looks like a book and it means he’s watching Robbie, too.”
“I don’t think it started out that way, but he’s fixated on you, now. Any idea why?” Uncle Joe asked.
“I have a theory but no proof. I think it’s someone carrying a grudge against the Stringfellows.”
“You think it’s the same guy? After twelve years?”
“Yeah, I do. And I think it’s Patrick Sanders, Robbie’s biological father.”
“What brings you to that conclusion?” he asked.
“Finally connecting the dots. The first victim of the serial arsonist was Jerry, Robbie’s stepdad, and my father. The third victim, twelve years later, was District Court Judge, Blanche Patrick, who had presided over Robbie’s adoption. The third victim was Douglas Patterson, the county clerk who filed the papers.”
“It revolves around Robbie’s adoption?”
“Yes, but please don’t tell her that. It would crush her soul to think people were murdered because of her, even though you and I both know that this is about revenge, not Robbie.”
“And Scott? How did he fit into the list?”
“I don’t think anyone in particular was the target. It was the building that the arsonist wanted to kill. I saw in the newspaper that the building was going to be renovated soon and I’m guessing that the owner or owners were connected somehow to the adoption process. Maybe it was owned by the lawyer Jerry used, or it could have been as simple as Jerry borrowing money from the bank that owns the building. I’m still trying to track that down.”
“And you mother’s house? Your bedroom?”
“Jerry had asked my dad to be Robbie’s godfather. I don’t know if Dad was also a target when Jerry was killed, but my mother certainly is now. And my bedroom was used to let me know that the arsonist has all the control. He is in charge and he is winning the war. I just need to keep Robbie safe, until I can catch him.”
“Surely, he wouldn’t hurt his own daughter?” Uncle Joe said.
“Robbie thinks he abused her mother so I’m not going to take any chances.” I stood up and put my hands on my hips. “I want you to get her out of the department, Uncle Joe. This isn’t a game anymore. Send her back to New York.”
“I understand that, but even if I could cut Robbie lose, which would have to come from the commissioner herself, wouldn’t that make her even more vulnerable? I don’t know her well, but she doesn’t seem like the type to give up something very easily.”
Apparently, Uncle Joe knew her a lot better than I did. He was right. It would be much more dangerous if she was left to her own devices. She was too stubborn to see reason, and it could get her into serious trouble. I wouldn’t let that happen. I couldn’t let that happen. The only option that I could see was keeping my friends close and my enemies closer.
“Uncle Joe. I need a favor.”
“Name it,” he said.
“I don’t trust anyone in the department right now, except for you. Would you stay with Robbie and keep her out of trouble?”
“Sure, but where will you be?”
“I’m going to find her father and get some answers,” I stated.
“You’re going to arrest him?”
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