“This is highly unusual, Elizabeth, but you say Chief Reynolds asked to have the records?” The judge asked for the second time.
Libby fought the urge to growl. Her mother’s voice filled her head. You can gather more flies with honey than vinegar.
Sweet it was.
“Yes, sir, Judge.”
“Anything pertaining to the two fires in town?”
How much could she tell him without throwing Kyle under a train? She didn’t want to cause him any more troubles than necessary. Especially if he had nothing to do with these fires.
“Chief Reynolds isn’t sure, but he wants to check a few things about new people in town.”
“Might want to start with that new newspaper man, since the last one turned out to be such a rotten egg, huh?” Normally, his humor would make her laugh, but she was too frazzled about the new threat to not only her town but the man she loved to give in this time. Thankfully, the judge didn’t wait for a reply. “Tell Deke I’ll see what I can do. Might take me a while. Gotta go through some channels and call in some old favors.”
Libby raised her eyes to the sky and mouthed Thank you, God. “We understand that, sir. Anything you can do will be appreciated.”
“Well, just remember that come election time, Elizabeth.”
She promised to do just that, then disconnected the call. Dropping the phone into her bag, she put the car in gear and headed the last two blocks to the halfway house.
One problem solved, or at least one promise kept. Now to see what crazy, petty problem Todd had. The sooner she soothed his ruffled feathers, the sooner she could get back to Deacon.
* * * * *
Deke held the shirt up to the side at Kyle’s eye level. “So you’re saying this shirt is yours?”
For a moment the teen continued to just glare at him, then he slowly turned his head to the side. He took a step back, taking the shirt and looking at it in confusion. “I don’t know. Rachel gave me a shirt like this, but what the hell…er, heck happened to it?”
Rachel stepped closer. “It looks like someone put out a lit cigarette all over it.”
“Do you smoke?” Deke hadn’t smelled the lingering odor of tobacco smoke on the kid when he’d been around him. Not even just now when he was in his space.
“No, sir. It’s a stupid habit.”
“When was the last time you saw the shirt Rachel gave you?”
Kyle shrugged. “Yesterday, before I came to work last night. It was folded up and in my go bag.”
“A go bag?” Deke knew the term. Military men kept one ready in case they were called out at a moment’s notice.
“I’ve been moved so many times that I’ve learned to keep things I never want to lose in my bag.”
Rachel grinned. “You wanted to be sure and keep the shirt?”
Kyle shrugged again, this time with a half-smile at Rachel. “Yeah. No one ever gave me a shirt before.”
Deke wanted to groan. He didn’t have time for puppy love 101. He needed them to focus on the problem at hand. “So, you’re telling me the last time you saw your shirt that looks like this it was in your go bag at Colbert House?”
“Yes, sir, Coach. That’s where it was,” Kyle said, all the belligerence out of his voice.
“Then you want to explain to me how it got inside my mother’s house just before someone set it on fire and blew it up?”
* * * * *
“May I help you?” the lady in scrub clothes at the ER sign-in desk asked.
“They—I mean, Doctor Clint and his nurse brought Deputy Junkins here?” Sylvie asked. She wished Bobby had come in with her. She’d never been to a big hospital and wasn’t sure what to say or do.
“He’s being looked at right now. Are you a family member?” the nurse asked.
“I’m, um…” Sylvie hesitated. What should she do? Lie and say she was part of his family? Tell the truth and say she was a friend but was worried about him? Or tell her how much she liked Cleetus and wanted to be sure he wasn’t going to die after saving her?
“Hey, Nadine,” Bobby greeted the other woman as she came to stand beside Sylvie.
“Hey, Deputy Roberts. Are you here to check on your friend?”
“Yes, but I also brought Sylvie Gillis, Cleetus’ girlfriend, to see him. Doc Clint wanted her to be here when he woke up. She seems to keep him calm.”
“Oh, yes!” The woman’s smile brightened. “Dr. Preston did say to expect you and that you could come right back.” She pushed a button and the door beside her automatically opened. She met them on the other side and led them down the hall past several small rooms containing patients on stretchers. Other cubicles were empty, but the bed was ready for the next patient. Finally, she stopped next to a bigger room. “Emma went to clean up their van, but Dr. Preston went with Mr. Junkins to have the CT scan. You can wait in here. It shouldn’t be too much longer.”
“Thanks, Nadine,” Bobby said and Sylvie gave the nurse a shaky smile. She must’ve looked ready to cry, because Bobby suddenly put her arms around her and helped her into a chair. “He’s going to be okay, Sylvie. Cleetus is a lot tougher than most people think. Last spring he was shot and came through it with no problem.”
“How awful,” she whispered, wondering at how anyone could want to do a job that was so dangerous.
Bobby sat in the other chair beside her and patted her arm. “It was, but Cleetus is a fighter and he helped us stop a very bad man, then healed up good as new.”
Before Sylvie could ask anything more, the curtain was pulled all the way back and a young man dressed in scrubs pulled in the stretcher with Doc Clint pushing the other end. Cleetus’ eyes were still closed, but he appeared to be breathing easy. An IV attached to one of his hands dripped clear fluid from the bag hanging on the back of the stretcher. Someone had wrapped a bandage around the top of his forehead down over his left eyebrow. He looked pale and was still not moving.
“Why isn’t he awake?” Sylvie whispered, coming over to stand beside the stretcher.
“I’m afraid that’s my fault, Sylvie,” Doc Clint said, standing beside her. He and the other young man lifting the top of the stretcher so Cleetus was no longer flat. “I wanted to keep him sedated until we were done stitching him up and running the CT scan. I didn’t need him hurting himself worse or injuring someone if he thrashed around like before.” He smiled down at her. “You weren’t here to calm him down like earlier.”
Heat flushed her cheeks at the doctor’s gentle teasing. She didn’t know why Cleetus had calmed down when he held her hand, but she liked that he had.
A nurse stepped in the room. She wrapped a blood pressure cuff around Cleetus’ arm, put a piece of plastic on his finger and attached wires to the tabs stuck on his chest.
“Will he be okay?” Sylvie asked as she watched her work.
Doc Clint nodded. “He should be. The CT scan didn’t show any intracranial bleeding.”
Sylvie nodded, not quite sure what that was, but very glad Cleetus didn’t have any. “Will he wake up soon?”
“Fairly quickly now. I gave him one last dose while they were running the CT scan and it will be wearing off soon. I have to warn you though, he may say some funny things as he regains consciousness. Some of which he may or may not remember saying.”
“Sylvie?” Cleetus whispered, almost on cue.
She slid her hand over his free one. “I’m here, Cleetus.”
He clenched her hand in his and a smile slowly spread across his face. “So cute. You’re like a little pixie. My little pixie.”
Sylvie felt her cheeks redden again, and peeked over at Bobby, who was grinning, then up at the doctor, who gave her a wink. “He can’t help what he’s saying, but you can bet it’s what he truthfully thinks.”
He thought of her as his little pixie. Wasn’t that the sweetest thing ever?
“Can you open your eyes, Cleetus?” she asked.
Slowly, he turned his head and looked at her, his eyes not quite focusing
. “So glad you’re here. I was afraid I’d squish you. You’re so tiny.”
She grinned at his sweet words, said with a slur. “No, you didn’t squish me. You saved me.”
“Had to get you out of there. Fire outside and kerosene all over the floor.”
“You did. You saved me. Carried me out like knight in shining armor.”
He grinned at her a moment. “Your hair is like fire. I like the spikes.” Suddenly he scrunched his eyes tight.
“What is it Cleetus? You in pain?” Doc Clint asked beside him.
Cleetus’ eyes popped open. “No. Trying to remember something.”
“It’s okay if you can’t. Often people forget things that happened right before a head injury.” Doc Clint pushed a button and the machine started squeezing his arm for a blood pressure measurement. “Once the Propofol is out of your system, you may remember whatever it is better.”
“It’s important, I have to tell Deke and Gage.” He squeezed Sylvie’s hand tighter, his eyes clearer and more focused. “He could’ve killed you.”
“Who? Did you see someone at the fire?” she asked, understanding the fire hadn’t been an accident.
“Where’s my phone?” he asked, looking around, struggling to sit up. “I need a phone.”
“Hold on big guy,” Clint said, pulling out his phone. “You can use mine.”
Clutching it in his other hand, Cleetus relaxed back on the stretcher, still holding Sylvie’s hand as he breathed deep for a moment. “Gotta warn Gage and Deke.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“Coach, I don’t know where your mom’s house is. And I don’t know how that shirt got there,” Kyle said, standing straighter, his hands clenched in fists at his sides. “If it’s the one that Rachel gave me. The one I have in my go bag is all white and doesn’t have any cigarette holes in it.”
Deke studied him—eyes narrowed, the muscles in his jaw and raggedly scarred throat working hard. Kyle knew that look—seen it a hundred times before. It meant the man was going to hit something. The urge to bolt itched up his spine. It took all his guts to stand there and defend himself. Especially with the entire café, Rachel, Lorna, Pete and several of his teammates watching.
Just when he thought the big man was going to grab him and starting swinging, Deke nodded and turned to look at Lorna. “How many of these did you order?”
“I ordered four dozen,” she said.
“Let’s count them, to be sure this is the one Rachel gave Kyle,” he said, then refocused his attention on Kyle. “The red on it is bloodstains. Blood from the injury to Coach Junkins.”
Bile rose in Kyle’s throat and his legs started to wobble.
“Grab him, quick,” someone said.
“Here ya go, son,” Pete said beside him and he felt the cook’s hand grab his shoulders. “You sit right down here.”
“Is the coach…is he okay?” Kyle asked once he was seated and didn’t feel so woozy.
“He’s alive, but he’s at the hospital and that’s all we know,” Deke said, pulling up a chair and sitting in front of him. “How do you know these are cigarette burns, if this isn’t your shirt?”
“Yeah, you told us you don’t smoke,” Tanner said from the other side of the counter where the crowd had gathered.
“I don’t,” Kyle said, narrowing his eyes at the wide receiver and wondering if anyone was going to take his side.
“Show him,” Rachel said quietly beside him.
He looked up and saw understanding in her beautiful blue eyes. Dang it, she’d seen his scars the night he’d switched shirts.
Keeping his gaze locked on hers, he reached down and jerked his shirt off, letting everyone see his shame. He knew what they’d see. Old, dark, round pucker marks all over his upper arms. From far away they probably looked like a weird skin pigment. As close as Deke and some of the others were they wouldn’t mistake them.
“My old man smoked. He thought a human ashtray was a fun way to put them out. Last thing I ever want to do is light one of those things up.” He clenched his jaw hard, then pulled his shirt back on. “Satisfied?”
Deke nodded.
Lorna walked back into the café area from her office. “I have forty-six, Deke. With the one Rachel is wearing and that one, that’s all of them accounted for.”
“So this is your shirt,” the coach said holding it up. “Any idea why someone would steal it and leave it at a crime scene?”
“To blame it on me?” He shrugged. Why not? People had been blaming him for any trouble that came along since the day he was born. Why not here?
“Look, Kyle,” Deke said, running his hand over his short cut hair. “I’m willing to believe you didn’t do this, but you have to help me out here. I need to know who would target you before someone else gets hurt. Who hates you enough to frame you for this?”
Kyle looked past him to the football team members.
“No way!” Tanner said, holding up his hands palms out.
“We didn’t do it.” The quarterback Ethan made the same gesture.
Cohn shook his head. “You’re one of us now.”
“Besides, we’re not that sneaky,” Riley said, looking at each of his buddies. “How would we get that shirt?”
Before anyone could say anymore the sheriff walked into the café, holding his cell phone. “Deke, Clint just called. Cleetus is awake. He said Todd Banyon bought kerosene for the Colbert House back in the spring.”
“So, that doesn’t mean much, Gunslinger. Everyone buys a new supply in case of power outages in the summer,” Deke said, and several of the patrons murmured they’d done just that.
Sheriff Justice stared straight at the Fire Chief and Kyle knew what he was going to say. “There’s no record of anyone purchasing a generator for the halfway house.”
Deke’s gaze swung back to Kyle.
Kyle shook his head. “Nothing like that anywhere inside or out.”
“Bobby said to look at the video she took at the fire scene.” Gage said.
Deke pulled the phone out of the pocket he’d stuffed it into. A moment later, all the color went out of his face and Kyle thought the man had just seen a ghost.
“Oh, God. Libby.”
* * * * *
“I was beginning to think you weren’t coming, Elizabeth,” Todd greeted her as he opened the door. “It’s not nice to keep me waiting.”
Despite the smile Todd gave her, an odd sense of unease settled on Libby as she entered the house. She shook it off. He’d always rubbed her the wrong way, even when his intentions were to keep the residents at Colbert House safe and on the path to a better future.
“I am sorry to be so late. I had to wait for Chief Reynolds to give me a lift back to my office to get my car.” She didn’t think it was any of Todd’s business to know the details of Deke’s investigation into the fire.
“You could’ve walked over. The Chief’s old home is just a few blocks from here.”
Todd’s tone once again held a degree of censure, which surprised her. Since the beginning, when they’d started working on managing the halfway house together, she’d always felt he hand an overinflated sense of expectation of her time. It really was time to put a stop to it.
She gave him a look that said she wasn’t going to explain her reason for going with Deke instead of hurrying over here at Todd’s request. “Well, I’m here now. What exactly was it you wanted to show me?”
“It’s upstairs.” He started up the steps, turning to wait for her at the landing.
Resisting the urge to roll her eyes at him, she set her bag on the floor and followed him up the stairs. “Whatever contraband you think you’ve found, you could’ve just brought it down to show me.”
“Yes, but I think you should see it where I found it, then you will understand its importance.” He stopped and opened a bedroom door, waving her in. “It’s over there.”
Shaking her head, Libby walked over to the bed. Lying on it was a box of cigarettes, lighter and an of
ficial paper. Ignoring the tobacco and lighter, which she knew was the contraband Todd was upset about, she lifted the document and began reading.
It was a letter from the judge sending Kyle into the state’s foster care system after the suicide/murder of his mother and father. It stated that the name of his mother, Katrina Gordon and her common-law spouse, Leo Harkin be kept sealed in order that the child, Kyle Gordon, not be treated with prejudice due to the sensational nature of Leo Harkin’s crimes as a serial arsonist that caused not only millions of dollars of damage and insurance fraud throughout the state, but had resulted in the death of a decorated fireman.
Bill.
Stunned, she read the paper again.
How had Todd gotten this? Had it been with Kyle the entire time?
Suddenly, Todd grabbed her from behind and a sickeningly sweet smell filled her nostrils as he slapped a cloth over her face.
The world went dark.
* * * * *
Deke couldn’t breathe as he watched the video.
On the edge of the crowd stood Todd Banyon. Instead of watching the firefighters like the other spectators, his gaze was focused to the right, away from the blaze where Cleetus lay sprawled on the concrete and the medical team was caring for him. But it wasn’t Cleetus Banyon was watching. It was—
“Libby.”
“Deke?” Gage said behind him.
“She’s with him.”
“Who?”
“Libby. She went to meet Banyon at the halfway house.”
He had to get to her. Fast.
He jumped up from the chair and bolted out the café. Footsteps pounded behind him, but he didn’t stop to see who it was as he raced to his truck. His phone in one hand, he tried to hit the button for Libby’s number as he opened the driver’s door.
A hand slammed it closed.
“What the hell?” He turned to shove Gage out of the way. “Did you hear me? The crazy bastard has Libby.”
Close To The Fire Page 26