Fire Storm

by Nancy Mehl

  “Don’t finish that sentence,” Kaely said. “I can’t deal with that possibility yet.”

  “I’ll try, sis, but at some point we may need to call in—”

  “Hospice,” Kaely said, her voice breaking. She was surprised by a sudden rush of emotion. The mental wall she’d built to protect herself from her mother seemed to be crumbling. “Jason, are you sure it’s that bad? Marcie can be a martyr.”

  “You just said you didn’t want to talk about it.”

  “I changed my mind. I need to know the truth.”

  “I can only tell you what the doctor said,” Jason said softly. “He thinks she could go into remission. But . . .”

  “But what?”

  “He’s concerned that she’s given up. He said she needs to fight. If she doesn’t, she probably won’t make it.”

  For some reason Jason’s words made her angry. “So if we don’t give her a reason to live and she dies . . . it will be our fault?” She ran her hand through her unruly hair. “I can’t do this. I won’t be responsible—”

  Jason stood up and grabbed her shoulders. “Stop it, Jessie. This isn’t your fault. None of it is. If Mom gives up, that’s on her. This isn’t a time for faultfinding. It’s a time for—”

  “Healing,” Kaely said with a sigh.

  “Yeah.” Jason let her go. “It’s a time for healing. Let’s do everything we can to see that happen. That’s what Mom needs more than anything.”

  He was right. Kaely had to try to build a bridge before it was too late. If she couldn’t, the guilt would be too great for her to bear.

  four

  He has taken special preparations for his next unveiling. This one is special. He waits for the moment when his audience will gather once again. He thrills at the wonder he sees in their faces. And the fear that grips their souls.

  That fear belongs to him. It is his strength. His manifesto.

  His reason for living.

  Once Jason left the room, Kaely unpacked. Although she’d teased him about her ability to pack efficiently, there was actually a lot of truth to it. At Quantico, agents traveled quite a bit. She’d been forced to learn how to organize a suitcase. Blouses, jeans, slacks rolled tightly. The same for underwear. She grabbed some hangers from the closet and carefully hung up the clothes she planned to wear during her stay in Darkwater. She was satisfied with the results. A few wrinkles. Not many. The clothes in her Go Bag would stay where they were. They were for emergencies. For official assignments.

  She contemplated her conversation with Jason. It was clear God was peeling away another layer of emotional fortification she’d created for her own protection. It was time to face her mother. Deal with their issues. Start to heal little by little. Bit by bit. In ways she could handle. It was painful, but every time He removed some of the false security she’d wrapped around herself, she became stronger. She’d read once that plants pull away when they’re pruned. Kaely had no idea if that was true, but God’s pruning in her own life was certainly uncomfortable. Still, she welcomed it. Knew she needed it.

  She changed into a pair of dark brown slacks and a cream-colored sweater. Then she brushed her hair, trying to bring it into submission. She thought about gathering it into the bun she wore at work but decided against it. She needed a break from Special Agent Kaely Quinn, Behavioral Analyst for the FBI. Of course, that title wasn’t recognized by the Bureau right now, but she didn’t care. She knew who she was—with or without the approval of Quantico.

  She used her hands to smooth out her slacks, took a deep breath, and left the bedroom, heading for the kitchen, where Jason was preparing supper.

  As she came around the corner, she heard her mother say, “I told you not to call her. Why don’t you ever listen to me?”

  Kaely stopped and leaned up against the wall in the hallway where they couldn’t see her.

  “You’re her mother. She cares about you. You should have called her when you got sick. You’re the one who created this situation. I think you need to clean it up.”

  “What situation? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  Marcie’s voice became higher, a sure sign she was in defense mode. Kaely sometimes wished she wasn’t trained to read people, but it was second nature to her now, not something she could turn on and off. It didn’t work all the time, but her mother was easy to read. She didn’t know how to hide her feelings, giving Kaely a distinct advantage.

  “She doesn’t want to be here,” her mother hissed. “She only came because she felt she had to.”

  Kaely’s first reaction to her mother’s declaration was resentment. How could she be so ungrateful when Kaely had given up so much to come to Darkwater? But as soon as the thought popped into her head, another voice reminded her that her mother’s assertions were true. Every word. Kaely hadn’t wanted to come. She had done so out of a sense of duty.

  Jason shushed his mother. “Look, she came. She could have said no, but she didn’t. Why don’t you give her a chance? You two need to find a way to mend fences. You’re family. We’re family. That’s worth fighting for. Especially now.”

  “You mean because I’m at death’s door?”

  “No,” Jason said with emphasis. “The new treatment has real possibilities. I have a good feeling about—”

  “For crying out loud, it’s a clinical trial, Jason. Because nothing else worked.” Marcie grunted. “It’s my last chance.”

  “But it is a chance, Mom,” Jason said gently. “Other people have responded well to it. No reason you can’t.”

  “Sure. Because I’ve had such good luck so far.”

  Kaely’s stomach turned over at Marcie’s propensity to feel sorry for herself. She understood her mother’s problems, but she couldn’t respect her refusal to fight. Kaely hated her tendency toward self-pity, but she planned to keep that to herself. Voicing it would be cruel.

  She walked quietly back toward the bedroom. Then she slowly opened the door and pulled it shut with enough force so it could be heard. She turned and started toward the kitchen, this time stepping purposefully so the heels of her flats could be heard on the wood flooring. Conversation immediately ceased in the kitchen.

  “Hey, something smells great,” Kaely said when she entered the room. She smiled at her brother. “When did you learn how to cook? I don’t remember you being handy in the kitchen.”

  “He wasn’t,” her mother said. “When he was a kid I couldn’t even get him to pick up his dirty dishes and put them in the sink.”

  “Necessity is the mother of invention,” Jason said with a smile. “Living alone meant I had to learn to cook. No one can live on fast food forever.”

  “What about your fiancée? What’s her name again? Audrey?”

  Jason nodded. “Audrey is an adequate cook but not as good as I am. She’s perfectly happy handing over the chef duties to me after we’re married.”

  Kaely plopped down on one of the stools next to the breakfast bar where her mother sat. Out of the corner of her eye she saw her mother slide over a bit on her own stool. She tried to ignore the quick rush of annoyance that surged through her. “When’s the wedding, Jason?”

  Her brother took a pot off the stove and turned around to face her. “We’re planning for something in the spring.”

  “After I’m gone,” their mother mumbled.

  “No, Mom,” Jason replied. Kaely could tell he was struggling to keep his tone level. Marcie was pushing all the buttons she could. “I already told you we both expect you to be there.”

  Jason took another pan off the stove and carried it over to the sink. He poured the noodles into a strainer, then added them to a large bowl. He grabbed the other pot and dumped the contents on top.

  “What is it?” Kaely asked.

  “Shrimp fettuccine,” Jason said. “My specialty. Audrey says it’s the best she’s ever eaten.” He winked at them. “It’s my super-secret recipe.”

  Kaely smiled at him and fluttered her eyelashes dramatical
ly. “But you’ll share it with family, right?”

  Jason laughed. “Never. And don’t try any of that profiler voodoo on me. It won’t work.”

  Kaely snorted. “Profiler voodoo? I don’t do voodoo.”

  Jason carried the bowl of fettuccine over to the table. Then he grabbed the salad he’d already put together, along with some garlic bread he’d just taken out of the oven. Kaely had only eaten a PayDay since early that morning. Her stomach growled with delight.

  “It sounds like you’re ready to eat,” Jason joked.

  “Yeah. It’s been a long day on the road.”

  “I’m sorry to put you out,” Kaely’s mother snapped. She slid off the barstool and took a seat at the table.

  “You’re not putting me out, Marcie,” Kaely said. “I’m just saying I’m hungry and the food smells great.”

  Kaely glanced over at her brother, who rolled his eyes.

  Once they were seated, Jason said a prayer. He didn’t even ask. Kaely snuck a look at Marcie. She sat stone-faced, glaring at her son. Well, this promised to be a boatload of fun. Surely she could stick it out for two weeks. When she got home, she might just get down on her knees and kiss the ground. When Jason said, “Amen,” Kaely quickly closed her eyes so he would think they’d been shut the entire time.

  As he passed the fettuccine around, Kaely could swear she heard someone knocking at the door. But when no one else responded to the sound, she decided she was hearing things. Not unusual for her. Then a voice whispered softly to her. It sounded like Georgie. A familiar line from Shakespeare.

  “‘By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes. Open, locks, whoever knocks!’”

  The hairs on the back of her neck stood up.

  five

  Special Agent Noah Hunter pulled his frozen dinner out of the microwave. When he grabbed the plastic covering and pulled it back, steam released and burned his fingers.

  He spit out a curse word. The instructions had advised him to let the entrée sit for a couple of minutes before opening, but he wasn’t in the mood to wait. He dropped the meal on his kitchen counter and went over to the sink. After he ran cold water on his offended digits for a couple of minutes, they felt a little better.

  He turned off the water and went back to the plastic tray that held his supper. Small slices of beef drowning in lumpy gravy sat next to watery mashed potatoes. He stared at it for a few seconds before taking it over to the trash and tossing it in.

  Noah pulled his phone out of his pocket and ordered a pizza. He’d gone through two pizzas last week and had had an urge for something different tonight. But that mess in the trash was not it. The smell made his stomach turn over.

  He was bored at work, stuck working a wiretap, what the Bureau called a Title III. He was monitoring an import and export company doing business in South America and the United States. The FBI suspected they were bringing drugs into the country. Noah’s job was to monitor the company’s phone calls, listening for something that would give them a valid reason to raid the company’s shipment, confident they would find the drugs. The last thing they wanted to do was move too quickly and tip them off. They would simply move their operation somewhere else and the FBI would throw away months of work. Unfortunately, he hadn’t discovered anything unusual yet.

  This kind of work ate up time like nothing else. He listened in all day, but anytime he picked up a conversation that had nothing to do with the court’s specific guidelines, he had to stop. Eavesdropping on the administrative assistant chiding her daughter for staying out too late on a school night or overhearing someone calling in a lunch order wasn’t allowed. But when the company talked about shipments coming in or going out, Noah stayed on the line. So far the company seemed squeaky clean and full of incredibly normal, dull people. Unfortunately, he was stuck on electronic surveillance through Friday. He had a feeling this was going to be one of the longest weeks of his life.

  He pushed down a flood of frustration that rumbled inside him like a hunger. If he was honest with himself, he’d have to face the truth.

  He hated that Kaely was in Nebraska.

  Thinking about her made it hard to concentrate on anything. Even his job. He knew she had to go. Her mom was sick. But walking into the St. Louis FBI field office knowing she wasn’t there left him unsettled. Ever since she’d come into his life, he’d felt like he was walking a tightrope over the Grand Canyon. He had to be careful. Be her friend, but don’t care too much. It was frustrating, yet he couldn’t walk away. After his wife died, every morning when the alarm clock went off he’d lie in bed and stare up at the ceiling, trying to find one good reason to get out of bed. But since meeting Kaely he couldn’t wait to get to work.

  Some of his old pals from the SWAT team liked to tease him about being teamed up with “Crazy Kaely.” He tried to laugh it off, but it really wasn’t funny. He stared at his silent TV like there was something on. Was she crazy?

  She was definitely the most brilliant FBI agent he’d ever met. But he had concerns. Deep concerns. Kaely’s old FBI partner had told Noah about Kaely’s imaginary friend, Georgie. Made him swear not to tell Kaely that he’d breached her confidence. Noah was worried—not just about Georgie but also about an interviewing technique Kaely had created.

  She’d take the facts from cases, sit down, and pretend to talk to these twisted unidentified subjects, or UNSUBS, as they called them. It helped her to “see” them, to profile them. She’d use the interview technique until she could get a clearer idea of who they were—until she could clearly see them sitting across the table from her. The procedure had been wildly successful. Kaely had given law enforcement the information they needed to catch quite a few dangerous people. But at what cost? The criminals who she imagined were now talking back to her. Kaely had admitted she was losing control.

  Added to that, a recent traumatic incident involving someone close to her had shaken her deeply, but she wouldn’t talk about it. Noah was concerned it was affecting her work and emotional stability. She kept dismissing what had happened, insisting she was okay. It was clear to Noah she wasn’t. Was she turning to an imaginary Georgie instead of talking to a real person? He had no way to confront her about it. No way to help her. He felt trapped by the promise he’d made.

  Now she was in Nebraska with her mother. He knew they had a tumultuous relationship at best. Would this emotional reunion set her back even more?

  Kaely professed to be a Christian. She claimed she had faith in God, that He would see her through whatever she faced. Would her faith sustain her? Noah wasn’t certain. He wanted to believe the way Kaely did, but he just couldn’t. Noah had turned his back on the idea of God when his wife died. He couldn’t accept that a loving God could stand by and watch Tracy die. She’d been the best person he’d ever met—beautiful, talented, kind, loving. How could God allow her to suffer? At one point Noah had completely convinced himself God couldn’t possibly exist. Yet when Kaely talked about Him . . . well, now Noah wasn’t so sure.

  Noah picked up the remote and pointed it at his TV, but he didn’t turn it on. “Look, God. If you’re really out there somewhere, and if you care anything about Kaely, you need to help her. Please.”

  He finally turned on the TV and found The Letter with Bette Davis, one of his favorite film noir movies. But as he tried to focus, his mind kept wandering back to a small woman with wild, curly red hair and eyes like deep black pools.

  Kaely took a bite of her brother’s shrimp fettuccine. Her eyebrows arched in surprise.

  “Wow, Jason. This is delicious.” She put her fork down. “You’re a great cook.”

  Jason smiled. “It’s how I wooed Audrey. I’d love to introduce you to her before the wedding. Maybe we could come to St. Louis sometime soon.” He glanced over at Marcie. “After Mom gets well.”

  Kaely nodded enthusiastically. “That would be great. I can’t wait to meet her.”

  “Well, at least your sister will get to see the woman you’re goin
g to marry,” Marcie said.

  “Mom, I told you Audrey is making plans to come here. You’ll meet her before Kaely does.”

  Marcie grunted. “I won’t count on it.”

  Jason sighed. “Well, you should, because I’m telling you the truth.”

  Hoping to get through supper without an argument, Kaely changed the subject. “I picked up a local paper at a gas station just outside of town. It had an article about some house fires in Darkwater. What’s going on?”

  Jason shrugged. “I heard space heaters were the cause. Guess a lot of people use them when it gets cold. You know, to save money. Seems they’re pretty dangerous.”

  “The fire department believes all of these fires were started by faulty space heaters?” Kaely didn’t say it, but that was almost statistically impossible.

  “I’m not sure.” Jason pointed his fork at Kaely. “You should talk to Mom’s neighbor a couple of houses to the west. He’s a firefighter with the local fire department. Nice guy. I think he said they suspected space heaters caused at least two of the fires.” He looked at his mother. “Am I right, Mom? I can’t quite remember.”

  Marcie sighed, as if answering Jason’s question took all the patience she possessed. “Yes, that’s right,” she said. “But they were still investigating the third one. It takes a long time to go through all the evidence, I guess.”

  “Did he mention any suspicions he had?” Kaely asked.

  Marcie’s eyes narrowed. “For crying out loud, Jessica. I don’t know. They’re just fires. Fires happen. People are stupid, and they don’t take precautions. Please don’t try to see something nefarious in everything. It’s boring.”

  Once again Kaely had to fight to stay quiet. After taking a long, slow breath to calm herself, she said, “I’m sorry to annoy you, but something about the location of the fires bothers me.” She got up and hurried back to the bedroom, where she found her purse. She took out the newspaper she’d picked up at the gas station, then carried it back to the table and unfolded it. She pushed it close to her brother and pointed at the marks displaying the addresses of the fires on the map.