Seeing Red

by Jill Shalvis

  “Finish what?”

  “Bill suggested I do it here, and I think he’s right. Everyone out.” Tina shut the door and walked toward the burned warehouse. As they hadn’t yet decided whether to rebuild or lease something else, no work had been done yet.

  Camille looked at Summer as she got out of the car. She shrugged and followed Tina.

  “Damn it,” Summer said to no one, and got out, too, just as her cell phone rang. It was Joe. “God, Joe, are you okay?”

  “Yes. Red, listen to me.” He sounded so urgent. “Tell me exactly where you are.”

  “At the warehouse, if you can believe it. We were coming to see you when Tina decided to stop and have a fight with my mom.”

  “I’m on my way,” came his terse reply. His fire marshal voice.

  “But I thought—”

  “Where are Tina and your mom?”

  “Inside, I think. Mom?” she called out as she entered the damaged open hull where the front door had once been. Everything was blackened and grimy, and she forgot about the earlier fire, forgot about Joe as she was hit with a terrible sense of déjà vu.

  That long ago day she’d been choking on smoke as she’d run through, desperate to get to her father. She’d made it to the very spot where she stood, and now her feet felt rooted as her breathing quickened. Oh, God, not now. “M-mom?”

  “Up here.”

  Tipping her head up she looked at the loft. All around her were burned-out walls and soot. The railing on the stairs was gone completely, though the stairs seemed intact.

  If she closed her eyes she could hear the flames. Could feel the heat searing her. Could taste the smoke. Her chest tightened. “I don’t like this,” she said to herself, and phone still in her hand at her side, trailed after her mom and aunt.

  The north and east walls of the loft were scorched. The south and west walls were down to the wood studs, allowing a view below to the main floor. In some places, where parts of the floor had collapsed, they could see all the way through to the basement.

  Camille and Tina stood in the middle of the room, right where Tim’s desk used to stand. Uneasy with the height, Summer didn’t look down. “What’s going on?”

  Camille looked at Tina.

  Tina reached for her sister’s hand. “It’s time to find out.”

  Camille looked worried. “Tina—”

  “I love you, Camille.”

  Camille’s eyes filled. “I love you too. I figured you had a good reason for taking the cash. And if you needed it, I wanted you to have it.”

  Tina’s eyes widened. “What?”

  “But now I’m afraid that you taking the money is somehow related to these fires, and that’s killing me.”

  Tina shook her head. “No, I—”

  “I never believed you started any of the fires,” Camille told her. “It never even occurred to me. But then Summer came back and began digging around—”

  “Hey,” Summer said. “I wasn’t digging—”

  “And you changed,” Camille told Tina in a shaky voice. “You got scared, and so did I. If you had anything to do with this fire, Tina…my God. I don’t know how to deal with that.”

  “Camille—”

  “You didn’t want to rebuild, you wanted the cash from the insurance. I never understood that back then. But then we eventually rebuilt anyway and life went on. Then it burned again, and then the store, where Summer nearly died—” Camille put her fingers to her mouth. “And then she started getting those text messages. You were trying to scare her away. I was so terrified for the both of you, I didn’t know what to do. I tried to talk her into going, but she wouldn’t. I just wanted her safe.”

  “I thought you didn’t want me here at all,” Summer said softly.

  “Oh honey, no,” Camille whispered. “I was just scared.”

  Tina looked sick. “You think I’d hurt Summer?”

  “I think you’re in trouble with money somehow, and not thinking clearly.”

  “Camille, I thought you were taking the money! I was covering for you! That’s why I brought you here. Bill said I should just get it all out with you.”

  The sisters blinked at each other.

  Summer divided a gaze between them. “Are you telling me neither of you took the money? Or had anything to do with the fires?”

  Camille shook her head.

  So did Tina.

  “But if it wasn’t either of you,” Summer said slowly. “Then…who?”

  Tina and Camille stared at each other for a long beat. “No,” Tina whispered, then staggered back a few steps to sit on a box.

  Camille just gaped at her. “You really think—”

  “Who else? Oh my God, who else?”

  “But you said he was with you during the fires. You said you were both sleeping.”

  “I know, but I sleep like the dead. He could have…”

  “And you didn’t know,” Camille breathed softly. “You really didn’t know.”

  Tina put her hands over her mouth and shook her head.

  Camille dropped to her knees in front of Tina. “Oh, sweetie. Oh, God. I’m so sorry.”

  There was a creak on the stairs behind them, and the scent of a lit cigarette. Summer whipped around and saw black boots. Painter’s pants. An old T-shirt with ceramic stains across the chest. An apron over hips carrying an assortment of tools for working with clay that clinked when he walked.

  Bill.

  She closed her eyes, and lost the twelve years in a flash. That day, when she’d run up the basement stairs and into the fire, crying for her father, she’d seen black boots and painter’s pants, just before her world had gone black. “You,” she whispered, her grip tightening on the cell phone at her side. Joe. She hoped he was still there, listening. “It was you.” Fear took a backseat to rage. Pure, unadulterated rage. “You killed my dad—”

  “No,” he said, with real regret in his eyes. “I didn’t kill him.”

  “You did.”

  “No, damn it. He was supposed to get out of here. I called him to make sure of it. He was supposed to meet me for a drink, but he didn’t listen, he never fucking listened, that’s all.”

  “That’s all?” Tina yelled. “That’s all? What about what you nearly did to Summer?”

  His eyes were tortured. “She got out. She wasn’t killed.”

  Tina let out a growl. Eyes wet and wild, she lunged at him.

  Bill whipped out one of his tools, a nasty-looking sculpting tool with a jagged edge, and wielded it like a knife. “God, Tina, don’t. Please don’t make me use this, not on you.”

  Camille caught Tina around her middle and held fast.

  Tina was staring at her husband as if he’d grown a second head. “Who are you?”

  Bill’s eyes were damp. “I’m so sorry. I just wanted the money, I swear. None of this other stuff was supposed to happen.”

  “You wanted the money for the racetrack.”

  “Yes.”

  Tina looked sucker punched. “You should have told me, why didn’t you tell me?”

  “You said you’d leave me if I got into trouble gambling again.” He shifted on his feet, looked down at the weapon in his fingers as if surprised to find it there.

  “Again?” Camille asked, confused.

  “He was an addict,” Tina admitted, struggling against her sister’s hold. “But I thought he’d recovered years ago, and had it under control. My God, Bill—” She let out an anguished moan and covered her face.

  “I’m not a bad guy,” he whispered. “I’m not. I just kept having this unlucky streak, see.” He was blocking their exit, breathing erratically as he looked at Tina with tears in his eyes. “All I wanted was for you to come into the insurance money. I just needed the extra cash, that’s all. The warehouse paid off nicely, remember? You lent me money for my old debts.”

  “Oh, Bill.”

  “I had some nice winning streaks after that. Lasted a good long time. I didn’t think it’d be necessary to do
it again, but then I ran into another bad row.” He looked so baffled at that, that Summer couldn’t reconcile the two different Bills—the sweet artist…and the murderer.

  “You killed Tim.” Tina shook her head and clung to her sister. “And you nearly killed Summer and Joe!”

  Bill was shaking. “No. It was never about Tim.” His gaze landed on Summer. “Or you. I thought you couldn’t remember the fire, but that changed. I’m so sorry. And it certainly wasn’t about Joe. I didn’t even know he was there that night, I didn’t see his car.” He shook his head, looking more than a little crazy with his wild shock of gray hair waving around his face. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. But I just kept thinking that insurance is just one big huge scam anyway. No one was supposed to get hurt.”

  “It’s too late for that.” Tina turned in Camille’s arms to bury her face and burst into tears.

  “So what now, Bill?” Camille asked, holding her sobbing sister. “What are you going to do?”

  Bill’s eyes shone with a tortured regret. “I don’t have a choice. There’s going to be one more fire.” He backed down a step. “One more terribly tragic fire.” He looked at the burning tip of his cigarette. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out some sort of remote. “I’ve learned a few things along the way. This time no one’s going to find any accelerant, or Tim’s old size eleven-and-a-half boot print.” He lifted his foot. “I’ve had these since the day he lent them to me fourteen years ago.” He let out a low grief-stricken sigh. “Don’t worry, this’ll be quick.” He held up the remote.

  “Bill,” Tina choked out. “Don’t.”

  “I have to,” he whispered.

  “You won’t get away with this,” Summer said, and took a step toward him.

  He lifted his lethal looking gouging tool. “I don’t want to use this, damn it. Just stay right there, and it will all be over soon, I promise.” He began to back down the stairs.

  Go after him, a voice screamed inside Summer’s head. Don’t let him do this. She took a furtive step, and saw a long, lean shadow flattened on the lower stairs. Joe. Seeing him gave her courage, and she took another step.

  “Summer, no,” her mother breathed.

  Bill began to turn away, toward the shadow, and afraid for Joe, Summer made a split second decision. She leapt at Bill—and landed on the top few steps, arms empty, air flattened right out of her lungs. Joe had surged up, wrapped his arms around Bill’s lower legs, and pulled.

  Bill went down hard, but so did Joe, the two of them entangled on the narrow, steep stairs. Wrestling, they grappled for space at the very edge, dangerously close to where the railing had collapsed.

  Summer shoved upright to her knees. “Joe! Careful—”

  But they rolled right off.

  And fell into the dark, open chasm.

  Chapter 27

  Summer staggered to her feet. Tina and Camille flew to the side, all braced for the impending explosion from Bill’s rigged device.

  Nothing.

  Summer flew down the stairs, then stopped in horrified shock at the gaping hole in the main floor.

  The two men had fallen straight through to the basement below. Heart in her throat, she dropped to her knees at the torn, splintery edge. “Joe!” she cried.

  From the terrifying black silence came a beam of light. Kenny was down there, on his knees, speaking into his radio, calling for an ambulance. His glasses were crooked, his face filthy when he looked up.

  “Kenny,” she cried urgently. “There’s some sort of a device—”

  “I got it.”

  “Joe—”

  “I’ve got him too. Listen to me, Summer. All of you. Back up away from the edge.”

  He didn’t want her to see, which meant it was bad. Camille had dropped down next to Summer, gripping Tina with one hand, her daughter in the other. Summer looked into Tina’s blank and shocked eyes, and then back at Camille. “I love you both,” Summer said fiercely, knowing she’d never hold back those words again. Not ever. And then she ran for the stairs that would lead her down to Joe.

  Kenny quickly moved to block her way. “Summer—”

  She shoved around him. Joe lay on his side, covered in dust and debris, eyes closed. “Oh my God.”

  “Don’t move him.”

  “I won’t.” His big, long, beautiful body was far too still. Whipping around, she searched out Bill. He was there sitting up, his back to a wall, his leg bent at a funny angle, cradling his arm, his face pale and clammy, eyes closed. Summer didn’t waste another second on him and turned back to Joe, dropping to her knees at his side.

  In the distance came the sirens, and she nearly cried in relief. “Hang on,” she told Joe. “You hang on.” She covered one of his hands with hers. It was warm with life, and she bowed her body over his, as if she could protect him, but it was too late for that. He’d put it all on the line.

  For her.

  “I love you.” She stroked a light finger over his jaw. “Joe. I love you so much. Please hear me.”

  Pounding footsteps hit the stairs, and then there were more lights, and she was gently shoved out of the way. The paramedics moved Joe onto a stretcher with a c-collar and a firm backboard, immobilizing him, and then began an IV.

  Surrounded by Tina and Camille, Summer watched him being loaded into the ambulance, then Bill into another one, with a police escort.

  “I’ll take all of you to the hospital,” Kenny said.

  Camille hugged him hard, then cupped his face and kissed him right on the lips. “Yes, take us to the hospital. And then you can take me. Anywhere. I’m yours.”

  Kenny let out a rough sound and hauled her close for a tight, hard hug.

  At the hospital, the doctor came out and looked at Summer. “Mrs. Walker.”

  “Yes,” she said without qualm. “Tell me.”

  “He’s in ICU. Stab wound to the thigh, broken sternum, three cracked ribs, and we’re watching his O2 stats to make sure his lungs are okay. He’s also got a severely bruised spinal cord and a concussion. No elevation of intracranial pressure so far, which is promising.”

  Summer covered her mouth, nodded her head. “Can I see him?”

  “One at a time for brief periods of time.”

  He lay so still in the bed, one arm and shoulder in a sling, the rest of him covered in sheets and bandages, and connected to all sorts of machines that bleeped and blipped. But his chest rose and fell, and keeping her eyes on that, she sat next to his bed and stroked his fingers. “That was a damn stupid thing to do,” she told him. “I had things under control. You didn’t have to be the hero. You didn’t have to try to save me.” She stared at his far-too-still face. “I’ve been so stupid, Joe, so slow, and all along, the truth was there.” She leaned in, close to his ear. “You are my whole life. I don’t know how I ever lived it without you.” A tear escaped and she sniffed, wishing she had a tissue but not wanting to leave his side for a second. “Are you listening to me, Joe Walker?”

  “Hard not to.” Eyes still closed, he grimaced, and licked his dry lips. “You’re shouting.”

  “Oh my God. Joe! I love you so much.”

  “Well look at that,” he said slowly, eyes still closed. “You didn’t…choke over it.”

  She let out a laughing sob. “No, I didn’t choke on it.”

  “How bad is Bill?” He spoke very softly, as if it hurt to talk.

  No doubt, it did. It must hurt to even breathe. “Just a few bumps and bruises. He’s going to jail.”

  “Tina?”

  “Joe, please,” she begged. “Don’t worry about any of us. Just rest.”

  Opening his eyes, he took in her face, then blanched. “You’re crying.” He closed his eyes again. “Oh, Christ. I finally get you to say you love me and I’m dying.”

  “You’re not—”

  “My head’s going to fall off. And I have this pain in my chest—”

  “That’s the concussion and the broken ribs.”

  “No. I see a bright wh
ite light. You’d better devote yourself to me for the few minutes I have left. Let me die a happy man. Just say you’ll marry me. Then I can let go.”

  “Joe.” She had to laugh. “I’d promise you the moon, but—”

  “Red.” His pupils weren’t the same size and there was a world of pain swimming in those whiskey orbs. “Just say ‘yes, Joe.’”

  Her heart stopped. “Are—are you serious?”

  “As serious as falling thirty feet.”

  Her heart kicked back into gear, slamming against her ribs. “But we can’t—you can’t just—”

  “I’m dying,” he reminded her.

  “You’re not—”

  “Humor me.”

  “Okay, but my job—”

  “I don’t care. I don’t care if you come and go daily. Just mostly come, and be mine while you’re at it.”

  She bit her lower lip. “I don’t want to go at all. I want to stay here in San Diego and run day trips. I want to be home every night. I want to be with you every night—”

  “Excuse me, Mrs. Walker.” His nurse rushed into the cubicle, followed by the doctor. Both shooed her out of their way and began asking Joe questions. Did he know where he was? Did he know what year it was? Could he see clearly?

  “All I know is that I hurt like hell and you’re blocking my way,” he said. “I’m trying to talk to my almost fiancée.”

  The nurse frowned. “You’re already married. You don’t remember?”

  A slow smile broke out over Joe’s face as he studied Summer. “Oh, yes. It’s all coming back to me.”

  “Excuse me,” the nurse said to Summer. “You’re going to have to leave now.”

  “Don’t go far,” Joe said. “Wife.”

  Summer looked back at him. Though his eyes were closed again, his mouth was shooting her a crooked smile that flashed his dimple. “I love you, Joe.”

  “Hold that thought. You’re good at that.”

  Unbelievably she laughed through her tears. “Maybe I was, but no more. Life is too damn short. I’m not holding back on anything, not ever again.”