Dancing with Fire

by Susan Kearney

  “May I?” Sawyer gestured to the desktop computer. When she nodded, he sat behind the desk and booted it up. The machine asked for a password.

  Despite the minor blisters on the tops of his hands, Sawyer typed with confidence.

  “You know Dad’s password?” she asked.

  “D-A-N-N-E-R-K-K-B-L-B-I-O-D-I-E-S-E-L. Unless he changed it. Nope. We’re in.” Sawyer seemed as at home at the computer as he had on their roof repairing the shingles last summer. She found his knowledge of her father’s password odd since he’d never been at the house much. But he’d been nothing but helpful since the fire began. Too helpful?

  Could he want access to her father’s computer for reasons of his own? Kaylin didn’t know if her father’s claim of finding a secret formula to make biodiesel was for real, nor did she know if her father had shared all his research with Sawyer. However, she suspected that if her father had discovered something, he would have backed it up on this machine—if the explosion hadn’t happened before he’d had the chance.

  Had his formula died with him? Was it on the missing laptop or this desktop? And if it had been on the laptop—where was it? Frustrated and confused by her father’s actions on the day he’d died, she held her breath, wondering if Sawyer was about to open a file that would reveal not only who had been in the lab this past week, but the formula itself.

  She watched carefully as Sawyer pulled up the security files, burned them to a new disc, and handed it to Deputy Bryant. Meanwhile, on the monitor, she saw people come and go, in and out of the lab; some she recognized, others she didn’t, but it bothered her that Sawyer had known the password. But then, her father probably had used the same password on all his computers.

  Later, she intended to ask Sawyer questions about the biodiesel formula and the people caught on camera, but this wasn’t the time. She tried to put everything out of her mind, concentrating on watching what Sawyer brought up on the monitor.

  As far as Kaylin could see, Sawyer had found nothing useful on her father’s desktop. The security footage was three days old and hadn’t been backed up since then. The Middle Eastern men her father had ushered from the house to the lab weren’t there. He’d bought the additional interior cameras after their visit. She did see one baldheaded man with silver-rimmed glasses and tattoos who didn’t seem to be a businessman, but she had no clue to his identity.

  “Any chance you can trace that man from his tattoos?” Sawyer asked.

  “We can try,” Deputy Bryant said.

  On the security tape, another man strode into the warehouse and shook Henry’s hand. “That’s Dean Witman. We buy containers from him.” Sawyer pointed to the man beside Dean. “And that’s Mr. Lansky, Henry’s attorney.”

  “We’ll check them both out, too.” Deputy Bryant wrote the names on his pad.

  Sawyer searched the system. “From what I can see so far, the formula for Henry’s biodiesel isn’t here.”

  Disappointment flooded Kaylin. Apparently, her father had figured out the working formula on the day he died and hadn’t had time to make backups.

  Unless they found the laptop, his biodiesel formula had burned with him. A formula that may not have worked, she reminded herself.

  As she escorted the deputy and Sawyer from her home and closed the door behind them, Lia, with school books in her arms, came running into the foyer. She bit her lower lip and spoke softly. “Mitzy’s not right. She’s acting . . . weird.”

  “I’ll go talk to her. You’d better head to school.”

  “Maybe I should quit school. Get a job,” Lia suggested, setting down her books.

  Kaylin picked up the books and thrust them back into Lia’s hands. “Absolutely not. You keep up your grades. You’re going to college.”

  “But if we need money . . .”

  “We’ll manage. Lia, you know a college education is important. Dad wanted that for you.”

  “Okay. Okay. It was just a suggestion.” She shifted the books in her arms.

  Kaylin thought it would be best for Lia to resume her normal activities as soon as possible. Still, she’d allowed her sister to sleep in late this morning before heading back to class.

  But now her offer to quit school and get a job scared Kaylin. It was bad enough that Becca had dropped out; she didn’t want Lia to follow in her footsteps. Lia’s offer to find a job showed she had a good heart—if not the judgment that went with it.

  At least she hadn’t argued too much about heading back to school. Lia didn’t need to be around to deal with Mitzy’s grief. The teen had enough to manage on her own.

  With a sigh, Kaylin headed into the house to find Mitzy, who hadn’t been herself since she’d watched the emergency rescue people load the body bag containing Henry into the medical examiner’s van. She’d wailed, a long piercing cry like a wounded animal about to die, and had fainted. Her son Billy, totally wasted, probably from pot, had nevertheless helped his hysterical mother to her bedroom, where except for the funeral, she’d kept to herself, mourning in private.

  Kaylin hurried into the kitchen to find Mitzy collapsed at the table. Tiny, rounded, and wearing smudged, dark-red lipstick, she sobbed noisily. Her mascara ran and made her appear as if she had two black eyes. Since Henry’s death, she’d aged a decade. Her red-rimmed and bloodshot eyes looked unfocused. Her faded blue blouse was stained with tears. “I need whiskey,” she demanded.

  Kaylin didn’t mention that it wasn’t even lunch time. Mitzy’s coworkers had all pitched in to cover her shifts, but the time off didn’t seem to be helping her over the grief. Clearly Mitzy hadn’t slept last night. Kaylin poured two fingers of amber liquid from a decanter in a cupboard and placed the glass in front of Mitzy, who picked up the liquor and downed it in one swallow. A bit of color returned to her cheeks.

  Kaylin half expected her to demand another, but she didn’t. She sat perfectly still, except for her shaking shoulders, and allowed the elephant tears to fall. The tears turned into a waterfall, her large chest rising and falling with giant sobs. Kaylin didn’t know a lot about Mitzy’s past. But she’d lost Billy’s father to cancer, and now she’d lost Henry. Clearly, she’d cared a great deal. However, like a thunderstorm that blew in, darkened the skies, and was quickly over, she suddenly grabbed up several tissues and blew her nose.

  Kaylin should try to console her—but what could she say? Nothing would bring Daddy back. Not tears. Not pleading. Nothing. And Kaylin’s emotions were tapped out.

  Still, she asked. “Is there anything I can do?”

  Mitzy didn’t answer.

  Kaylin placed a hand on her shoulder. She hadn’t slept well last night, and exhaustion washed over her. “I’m going upstairs and back to bed. You could use some rest, too. Come upstairs with me.”

  Mitzy nodded. “Go ahead. I’ll be up after a while.”

  “You sure?”

  “Go on. I have to get over him. I forgot how hard it is.” Mitzy looked up and shooed Kaylin. “Go on. I’ll be fine. And don’t worry, I’m going back to work soon. I know we need the money.”

  “Thanks.” Kaylin left Mitzy and headed upstairs to her room to take a nap. Kaylin ached to lie down, close her eyes, and rest. She might be too wired to sleep, but she needed to gather her strength. She didn’t bother removing the coverlet as she sat on the bed. Between the loss of her father and her uncertainty over her sisters, her mind whirled. Was Lia ready to return to school? What was the best way to get past the nasty argument with Becca?

  And she also worried about Billy. She suspected he felt left out, not a real part of the family. She wished she could talk to her dad. Only he was gone. And they didn’t even know why the lab had exploded . . .

  Before she could lie down, the phone rang. Kaylin unplugged it. Voice mail could get it. Later she’d return calls from neighbors and friends. Right now, she so badly needed t
o close her eyes, to pull herself together.

  She must have fallen asleep. At a knock on her door, Kaylin jolted awake. Becca opened the door and walked in. “It’s an emergency.”

  6

  “AN EMERGENCY?” Kaylin shouldn’t have turned off the phone. Kaylin sat up so fast that dizziness made her close her eyes. “Is Lia—”

  “Lia’s fine.” Becca stalked into the room, her body language innocent, as if they’d never fought. But that was Becca. She lived in the moment. “Mitzy had a panic attack, and Billy gave her what he thought was a Xanax. It put her to sleep.”

  “That’s the emergency?”

  “Well . . . no.”

  Kaylin rubbed her eyes. “I’m too tired to play twenty questions, Becca.”

  Her sister strode to the window and peered out. Kaylin knew she was stalling. Uncomfortable. Since Becca had practically accused Kaylin of murdering their father, Kaylin wasn’t inclined to be patient or congenial. With a sigh, she reminded herself that Becca had just lost her father, too.

  “What’s wrong? What’s the emergency?”

  “Maybe now isn’t a good time.”

  “In my experience, emergencies never come at a good time.”

  “Why do you do that?” Becca asked.

  “Do what?”

  “Talk like you’re the mom. Talk like you’re twenty years older than me.”

  Kaylin scooted upward on the bed until her back rested against the headboard, and she could pull her knees to her chest. “Maybe I feel older. And you’re stalling. Spill it.”

  “I have a problem.”

  Kaylin just waited. She didn’t have the energy to prod. Becca had come to her. Eventually she’d talk. Unless Kaylin blew it and asked too many questions, and they started yelling at one another. She didn’t want that. With Dad gone, they had to pull together. But why couldn’t Becca have waited until she’d slept a little longer, or at least had time to really wake up?

  Of course, even if Becca left right now, sleep was out of the question. Kaylin’s raging curiosity had spiked enough to short-circuit any chance of returning to sleep.

  Becca moved from the window and perched tentatively at the foot of the bed. “First, I want to apologize. I should never have accused you of . . . it was a terrible thing to say. I’m sorry, Kaylin.”

  “Come here.” Kaylin moved over and patted the bed beside her. “If I had known buying that centrifuge would have saved Dad, I wouldn’t have cared if we lost the house. I’d have mortgaged this place to the leaking attic.”

  “I know. I wasn’t thinking. I was scared and angry, and the funeral was more than I could handle. I’ve been in over my head lately.” Becca bit her lip. “I think I’m in love.”

  In love? The conversation seemed weird. Inappropriate. It was as if Becca was already done with her grieving and ready to move on to normalcy. Kaylin wasn’t there yet, but with Becca reaching out to her, she wasn’t about to criticize, either. Everyone grieved and mourned differently and at their own rate. Perhaps Becca was stronger than Kaylin, ready to accept their father’s death and move on. But it also crossed her mind that Becca might not be able to deal with such a painful loss, so she’d manufactured another problem. She’d said she thought she was in love.

  Please God, don’t let her sister be in love with a married man. Kaylin took her sister’s hand. “Being in love can be scary.”

  “I’m terrified. I was going to talk to Dad but . . .”

  “Now you have to settle for me.” Kaylin said what she knew her sister was thinking. There was a long awkward silence. Finally, Kaylin found the words she wanted. “You know, since Mom died, it hasn’t been easy for me, either. I try to look out for you and Lia, but I don’t always know what to do. I’m not Mom. Neither is Mitzy, but we’re both here.”

  “I want Mitzy to stay,” Becca told her. “And she has nowhere else to go.”

  “I agree,” Kaylin said quickly, anxious to have common ground. Her sister was impulsive, but she could also be generous and loving. “You know that no matter what you tell me, I’ll be on your side.”

  “You’ll disapprove of him.”

  “It won’t be the first time. We’re still sisters. We’ll always be sisters. Besides, being in love should be a good thing.”

  “Yeah, it would be if I knew . . . oh, Lord . . . I made love with Shadee Sumad and now I’m afraid it was a mistake.”

  Uh-oh. Kaylin knew now was not the time to play the mom card. Right now, she was Becca’s sister and had to be nonjudgmental. However, she didn’t know if she was qualified to give any advice.

  Four years ago, when Kaylin had broken up with Kevin, she’d messed up her own love life. At the time she’d believed she loved him, had intended to go to New York with him. Then her mother had died. He’d left for New York without her.

  But if she’d loved him enough, wouldn’t she have found a way to go with him? Kaylin still didn’t know the answer to that question and hardly felt qualified to talk to her sister, never mind give advice.

  Becca shifted restlessly. “I’ve been seeing Shadee for a year. He’s kind, and when Dad died he was gentle and compassionate. He cares about me.”

  “But?”

  “Shadee’s parents are from Lebanon. His father’s a professor at USF.”

  “Hold on. I’m not following you. What does his family—”

  “Shadee’s going to think I’m not good enough for him.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake. Why would he think that?”

  “Don’t you see, it’s because I made love to him, and no, I’m not pregnant.” Becca paused, but Kaylin said nothing. Her sister was already upset, and there was no point in heaping more blame on her head—she’d already done that to herself. Besides, Becca was a grown woman, entitled to do what she wished with her life. Obviously, she cared about Shadee. Although it was news to Kaylin that her sister had been seeing him for a year, and it was clear this was no one-night stand. Besides, there could be no undoing what she’d done. Kaylin wasn’t even sure what she’d have advised if Becca had discussed it beforehand. “Shadee’s culture and morals are different,” Becca continued. “I should have waited. His family is probably conservative.”

  “Probably?”

  “That’s what’s so strange. I’ve met his family, of course.” That was more than Kaylin could say about Shadee, but she bit her tongue. “But after we started hanging out, he kept me away from them. Kept me apart. And now that we’ve made love, he’ll probably think I’m not good enough for them.”

  “You don’t know that.” Kaylin didn’t know the family, but had heard neighbors mention them, always favorably. “And haven’t they lived in this country for years?”

  “I guess.”

  “Some of our culture may have rubbed off. Besides, it wasn’t all your fault. He could have said no.”

  Becca sighed. “I’m so into him, I couldn’t have said no. But no guy is going to blame himself. And I really, really like him. I may have just blown my long-term chances with him.”

  “Back up. Start over. Why do you think you blew it? I think you need to begin at the beginning.”

  “There’s not that much to tell. We had chemistry right from the moment we met. I was hanging out with Shadee about a week when we exchanged sweatshirts.” She smiled at the memory, the passion in her eyes reminding Kaylin of their father. “I’d bought mine at a concert, and they only had size large—so we traded. I got his Katy Perry, and he got my Chili Peppers.”

  “And?” If Becca had given away her Chili Peppers sweatshirt she must adore the guy.

  “We’ve spent a lot of time together. And I love everything about him. His smile. His hands. His sense of humor. And the way he really cares about me. Last night I pulled up to his family’s driveway, and he was bent under the hood of his car, checking
the oil. I asked if he was ready to go. He said sure and hopped in my car. We ate burgers at DQ and then parked. One thing led to another and . . . God, he was wonderful. Sweet and tender and . . . well, anyway, everything was perfect until I took him home, and his brother, Tariq, walked up to the car and glared at me as if he knew . . .”

  “He couldn’t possibly have known what you’d done,” Kaylin tried to reassure her.

  “But Tariq hated me on sight.”

  “That’s his problem.”

  “I wish.” Becca paused. “He looked upset. Asked why we’d left without him.”

  “That doesn’t mean anything.”

  “He disapproves of me. I know it. And Shadee told me they’re tight.”

  “So we’ll think of a plan to win Tariq over.”

  “You’ll help?” Becca paced, her long dark hair flying over her shoulder as she spun. “You think I need a makeover?”

  “You look fine.’’ With her dark curly hair and curves, what man wouldn’t want her? “Why don’t you find out his favorite food? Then maybe you and Mitzy can make whatever it is and take it over there as a peace offering.”

  “But if Shadee’s ashamed of me, he might not want me to show up on his family’s doorstep.”

  With their relationship so tenuous, Kaylin thought carefully before she replied. “You know how you’re always telling me that I don’t have the experience to tell you what to do?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Well, I don’t have that kind of experience. Only you can tell if Shadee has real feelings for you, enough to re-introduce you to his family, enough to stick by you no matter what others think.”

  “But what if I can’t tell? What am I going to do?”

  “Why do you have to do anything? Why not just wait and see what happens?”

  “Because I can’t stand not knowing what he thinks about me.”

  “You could ask him.” Kaylin raised an eyebrow. She sympathized with her sister, she truly did. But Becca only had a few choices. And she didn’t seem to like any of them.