Fair Warning

by Hannah Alexander

  Brittany’s seven-year-old sister, Lucy, was more circumspect with her welcome, but she tugged on Willow’s unhurt arm and urged her to the sofa. “Does your arm still hurt?”

  “It’s fixed. It’ll be better soon.”

  “Did you have to get stitches?” Lucy asked.

  “Yes.”

  Lucy shuddered theatrically.

  Brittany snuggled close, her long tawny-brown hair tangling over Willow’s left knee as she burrowed her head beneath Willow’s arm in an effort to cadge a hug.

  Willow grinned and rewarded the child’s efforts by drawing her more completely into arms that often ached to hug little children just this way.

  “Did you get a shot?” Lucy asked. “Did it hurt?”

  “Yes, I got a shot, but it didn’t hurt that much.”

  “Did you cry?” Brittany asked. “When I get a shot I always cry so they’ll know it hurts, because if I don’t cry, maybe they’ll stick me with a bigger needle next time.”

  “That isn’t the way it works, sweetie.” Willow glanced around the generous proportions of the living-dining area, then glanced toward the other doors. Was Sandi already off working again?

  But her car was parked outside.

  They definitely needed to talk.

  “Did you have to stay in that hospital?” Brittany asked, crawling onto Willow’s lap and snuggling against Willow’s chest. How did anyone resist this little charmer?

  “Mama said she heard the police took you to jail,” Brittany said. “Did you go to jail?”

  “Silly,” said Lucy. “She didn’t go to jail, or she wouldn’t be here, would she?”

  “Maybe.” Brittany gently tugged Willow’s arm back over her slender shoulders. “Maybe she broke out of jail.”

  Willow chuckled, hugging Brittany against her. “I didn’t break out of jail, because I never even saw a jail cell, though it might have been interesting, don’t you think?”

  “No!” Brittany exclaimed. “That’s where they put the bad guys forever. Mama says people die there, and that we must never go there.”

  “People don’t die at our police station,” Willow assured the children. “It’s just a holding cell where they put people they don’t know what to do with. But I was only at the police station because they wanted to ask me some questions to see if I had answers to help them find the bad guy who started the fire.”

  She had their attention immediately. Brittany looked up at her with adoring green eyes.

  “How cool!” Lucy, with long dark hair braided in slender pigtails, had large brown eyes that sparkled when she was excited.

  Willow hugged Brittany to her once more. “Girls, I need to talk to your mom.”

  The children looked at each other, and suddenly their exuberance dulled.

  “Is she at work right now? I could go talk to her there.”

  Again came that look of complexity between the children that tore at Willow’s heart. These little girls shouldn’t have to cover for their mother.

  “She was just going out for a while tonight,” Lucy said. “For a walk. That’s what she said. She’ll be back any time.” As if to prove a point, the child glanced toward the door.

  So Sandi had impressed upon them how they should never let on that they’d been left alone. Maybe she really was just out walking. But if so, couldn’t she take her children with her? Hadn’t she learned last night how quickly they could be placed in danger, especially with no one here to watch them?

  “While we’re waiting, why don’t you tell me about the neat playground I saw outside and the swimming pool?”

  “And the lake!” Brittany exclaimed. “If I could swim, I’d swim in the lake all the time!”

  “And a big television in the clubhouse,” Lucy said.

  “Lots of places to play,” Brittany said. “And a swing set and…”

  The chatter continued for at least fifteen minutes before the front door opened and Sandi entered. The girls fell silent immediately. Willow felt Brittany stiffen in her arms.

  Sandi was a pretty woman with her younger daughter’s tawny-brown hair and green eyes. She had dramatically slanted eyes and brows, high cheekbones and a voluptuous figure without being overweight. At this moment she was flushed, her eyes bright and snapping. Somehow Willow had the impression the woman was distracted, upset about something besides the fact that she had unexpected company.

  “Hi, Mama,” Lucy said. “Look who came to visit!”

  Sandi glared at her daughter. “I thought I told you never to answer the door when I’m not here.”

  “But this is the fire lady. She saved us from the fire.”

  Sandi seemed to deflate. She glanced into Willow’s eyes briefly, then looked away. “Girls, go get ready for bed.”

  After a few seconds of little-girl whining, Lucy and Brittany did as they were told. Once more shy with Willow, they said night-night softly before they trotted down the hallway, turning on all the lights as they went.

  Willow stayed seated, embarrassingly aware that Sandi waited for her to say good-night and leave. Sandi didn’t sit down, but stood by the door, arms crossed over her chest, looking anywhere but at Willow.

  Since Willow’s first meeting with Sandi, they had crossed paths a few times. Sandi had been polite, but withdrawn. According to Preston, she kept to herself. In fact, he had mentioned Willow and Sandi might make good friends, since neither of them seemed to like to mingle with other people.

  As Willow watched her now, the woman cleared her throat and strolled toward the bar that divided the kitchen from the living area. “Would you like a soda or something? I haven’t had a chance to stock a lot of food, but—”

  “What I’d like is to have a talk with you,” Willow said. “Because you and I have a problem.”

  For a moment Sandi froze with her back to Willow. When she turned around, her expression was once again distracted. She didn’t meet Willow’s gaze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “In all the excitement, no one has picked up on the fact that you weren’t at home with your children when the fire broke out.”

  At last Sandi looked straight at Willow, then sank into a chair by the front door, arms still crossed. “But you got them out anyway, didn’t you? They’re safe. The fire didn’t even spread.”

  “What if it had? And what if I hadn’t been there? What if no one had checked on them?”

  Sandi’s shoulders seemed to hunch forward. “Nothing would have happened to them,” she murmured, defensive.

  Willow gave a frustrated sigh, in the back of her mind acknowledging that what Sandi said was correct. Preston’s cabin had been the only target for the fire. None of the other units had been touched. In fact, if things went well in the next few days, it was possible all the renters, except for Willow and Preston, would be able to return home.

  “Did you know I was a nurse?” Willow asked at last.

  Sandi frowned at her. “How should I have known that?”

  “No reason. But when I worked as a nurse, I would have been legally compelled to report the situation with the girls.”

  “What do you mean?” Sandi’s voice tightened with resentment—and possibly fear.

  Willow leaned forward, elbows on knees, hating the confrontation, but unwilling to back down. “Sandi, your little girls are too young to be left at home alone overnight while you work. They need adult supervision and protection.”

  “They live in a lodge with other people just next door, and they know my telephone number if anything happens.”

  “That isn’t good enough,” Willow said.

  Sandi leaned forward, watching Willow with sudden, fearful keenness. “But you aren’t a nurse anymore, right? So you don’t have to—”

  “I have to make sure the girls are safe. Knowing what I know, I can’t allow them to be left alone at home for prolonged periods of time. It’s too dangerous for them, as was proven this morning.”

  Sandi buried her face in her hands. “
What am I supposed to do? I’ve got to work two jobs to make a living. I don’t have a choice. I can’t afford a babysitter.”

  “Their father can’t help you financially?”

  Sandi stiffened at those words. “My little girls don’t have a father. The man who helped me make them was a vicious loser whose only interest in them would have been to use them to get back at me. We never even got married.”

  “He should still be paying child support.”

  Sandi gave Willow a withering look. “Excuse me, but welcome to the real world. Women like me don’t get child support. They get grief from people like you who tell them to watch their kids better.”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t want to cause you any more hardship.” Willow honestly was sorry. Still, she couldn’t, in good conscience, let the children be alone.

  “What do you think I ought to do, then?” Sandi snapped. “Quit my jobs and let my children starve?”

  “I think there are people who would be willing to watch them for a few hours while you’re working at night.”

  “Oh, yeah? Give me some names. And cost. It isn’t like I can afford a nanny.”

  “What are your hours? I could sit with them until you can find someone you can afford.” The words were out of Willow’s mouth before she could stop them. She certainly hadn’t intended to say that.

  Sandi’s lips parted, eyes widening with obvious surprise and some other, less apparent emotion…perhaps dismay? Remorse that she had spoken so brusquely?

  “So what do you say?” Willow asked. “I don’t charge anything except the company of the girls.”

  Sandi blinked, looked away, then back at Willow. “I work Wednesday, Thursday and Friday nights this week. Graham said we should be back in our own homes by Friday, if everything goes well.”

  Willow suppressed a sigh. What had she gotten herself into? “I’ll come here and sit with them. I could just plan to spend the night.”

  “No need. I’m usually home by two in the morning.”

  Willow said good-night and stepped out into the chilly spring air. In spite of her chagrin, she looked forward to time in the company of the two little girls.

  Besides, what else could she do? Sandi needed a job, and the girls could not be left alone again, as they most likely had been countless times before. What a mess.

  Chapter Ten

  By Friday morning, April 5, Graham was finally able to breathe more deeply, with fewer telephone calls from insurance claims adjusters, contractors, police, fire investigators and renters wondering when they could have their homes back. His calls so far today had mostly been from patients, begging to get in to see him at the clinic.

  At least he’d caught up with those surgeries he’d had to delay due to the fire and the fallout afterward. He didn’t perform nearly as many procedures now as he had when he belonged to a physician group, but he had his share.

  The only difference between the surgeries he’d done three years ago and those he did now was the lack of income for his work. Now his patients paid only the hospital charges. Graham waived his fee.

  Someday he hoped to have his own outpatient surgery, complete with paid staff, rather than simply follow-up care for his patients. That would be a long time in coming, though, and right now he had more important things to do than dream of a rosy future.

  He entered the familiar hospital lobby and took the elevator to the fifth floor. Preston and Mrs. Engle were on the same floor, making it easier for him to stay in contact with both of them.

  Both were coming along fine.

  He owed a great deal of thanks to Willow and to Ginger, who had both spent several hours a day helping him catch up with his month-end paperwork for the rental properties and had helped him in the clinic.

  Ginger had even taken several of his patients. As a physician’s assistant, she had the skills and authority to treat many of his patients under his license, leaving him free to catch up with the more complicated cases.

  This morning, as soon as Graham entered Preston’s room he noticed that his friend was anxious. Preston had tossed his blanket back and was sitting on the side of the bed.

  “You look ready to go jogging this morning,” Graham said, sinking into the chair beside Preston’s bed.

  “I’m about to demolish the place. I’ll be climbing the walls if I have to stay here another week.”

  “Then we’d better see about getting those walls reinforced, because you’re not ready to be released yet.”

  “What ever happened to managed care limits?” Preston complained. “You know, where they patch you up and kick you out the door to get well at home.”

  “You’re doing well to be sitting up after what happened to you Monday,” Graham said. “Stay here and heal. You don’t get a break like this too often.”

  “Have you spoken to Willow?” Preston asked.

  “Of course, every day. She’s been a lifesaver for me.”

  Preston’s expression lightened. “Has she?”

  “Yes, she has. You could stand to place a little more confidence in her.”

  “Have the police released her car yet?”

  “Just this morning.”

  Preston slid from the bed and walked gingerly across the room. He looked disheveled, with unshaven face, hair sticking in every direction, eyebrows not yet grown back in and a scrub of a mustache.

  Willow had purchased several sets of pajamas for him so he wouldn’t have to make do with the hospital gowns. She also brought him at least one meal a day so he wouldn’t have to live on a constant diet of hospital fare.

  He sat gingerly in the chair by the window. “She’s really holding up okay? I thought maybe she was just putting on a good act for me.”

  “You can stop worrying about her,” Graham said. “I don’t know what I’d do without her. She’s organized, compassionate and she seems able to read my mind. I have trouble imagining why she thought she should quit nursing. She’s a natural.”

  Preston fidgeted on the chair, obviously trying to get comfortable. “She always has been. She knew she wanted a career in medicine since she was ten. I, on the other hand, was a goof-off.”

  “Tell me about her.”

  “Have I mentioned she’s headstrong? That has a tendency to drive a guy crazy trying to keep up with her.”

  “Independence seems to be a strong trait of hers,” Graham said. “What else?”

  “She was ten when she started bringing home stray birds and squirrels,” Preston said. “Later, when she was in high school and college, she dragged home lonely kids without families for dinner and holidays.”

  Graham grinned at the thought of Willow bringing home an injured squirrel to nurse through spring break, or dragging other students from her dorm to her family’s Christmas celebration.

  “So your mother’s mental illness wasn’t so debilitating that Willow hesitated to bring visitors home with her?”

  “She always knew to call first and check with Dad or me.”

  “What if there was a problem?” Graham asked.

  “Then she took her friends to our aunt’s house three blocks away.”

  Graham chuckled. “I’m sure your aunt appreciated that.”

  “She loved to see Willow, and she understood the situation. Everyone usually knew when my mother had a breakout episode, when her medication wasn’t working, or when she neglected to take it. It was very obvious and very public.”

  “Preston,” Graham said, leaning forward in his chair, “do you think it’s possible that your experiences with your mother had such an impact on you when you were growing up that you’re hypersensitive to Willow’s every move now?”

  Preston frowned. “Of course. That’s exactly what I’m doing. I know it is. But did you ever stop worrying about Ginger when she was off in a foreign country alone for ten years?”

  “Once or twice. Probably no more than that.”

  There was a knock at the open door of Preston’s room, and both men looked up to find Carl M
ackey standing in the doorway, a derby hat in his hand, gray hair slicked back neatly, wearing his usual tan jumpsuit.

  “Came to see how the landlord’s doing,” the older man said, nodding to Preston, then to Graham. “I’m awfully glad to be moving back into the place today, but where are you going to stay when you get out of here, Preston?”

  “I’ve been working on my own place in the woods just north of the complex,” Preston said. “It shouldn’t take long before I can move in there.”

  “That right? Shoreline property?”

  “Nope,” Preston said. “Give me the woods any day. It’s quieter and less populated.”

  “Guess that’s right. Well, I’m off to make another visit. I’m getting my car worked on today, so the Jasumbacks dropped me off to visit while they’re in town.” He waved his hat at them and left.

  Graham wasn’t as acquainted with Carl as he was with some of the other renters. “He’s fairly new, isn’t he?”

  Preston got up stiffly from his chair and walked back to the bed. “He moved in about six weeks ago. You know we have several new renters. He’s a retired pharmacist from Minneapolis. Said he wanted to move where it was warmer in the winter, and when his wife was alive they always came to Branson for two weeks every summer to see the shows.”

  Graham studied Preston for a moment. “Do you know all the renters that well?”

  “Sure, it’s my job.”

  “I don’t suppose you’d suspect any of them of arson.”

  Preston hesitated a second too long. “Their references all checked out.”

  “So why do I get the feeling you’re not quite convinced?”

  “No good reason. I’ve just had a gut feeling the past couple of weeks that something isn’t quite right with Sandi Jameson.”

  “How?”

  Preston considered his answer for a moment, then shook his head. “Forget I said that. She just acts a little whacked sometimes.”

  “Whacked how? Are you talking about drugs?”

  “I’ve had my suspicions, but I’ve never seen any material evidence, just her behavior. But I wouldn’t suspect her of arson. Especially not with her little girls alone in the apartment.”