by Joan Rylen
Tar from the shingles had begun to melt and stick to Vivian’s hands, and smoke was pouring from the window and all areas of the roof.
“Okay, Vivian, you’re up.” Pierre clapped his hands and held his arms out for her.
Vivian had never been so happy to see two men waiting on her. She shifted around, getting on her knees, then dropped the first one over.
Audrey, Lauren, Oliva, Ben. Audrey, Lauren, Oliva, Ben.
Crash! The roof collapsed.
54
Sparks swirled around Vivian as the second-story roof caved in and she fell. Pieces of the house flew everywhere; one hit her leg before it hit the ground in a spray of embers. The kids’ faces flashed before her eyes, and she knew they’d miss her.
Before she could scream, strong arms caught her. She, Pierre and Brandon tumbled to the ground in a heap, Vivian on the bottom.
The men out of the way, Lucy poked Vivian in the face. “Viv, Viv, can you hear me? I think she’s unconscious.”
The cracking and roar of the fire blared in Vivian’s ears. She opened her eyes and sucked in a few lungs-full of air. “I’m not unconscious,” she responded, still trying to catch her breath. “I’m waiting for my fireman to give me mouth to mouth.”
“They’re almost here,” Lucy said, relieved. “My god, girl, you’ve got nine lives.”
Vivian sat up. “Meow.” She took a deep breath. “That was scary!”
“Get back! Get back!” Brandon yelled as more of the roof started to crumble.
Lucy helped Vivian up and they all backed away from the house.
“Where are the yearbooks?” Vivian asked between coughs. She spotted one close to the broken off porch railing.
Lucy dashed to pick it up.
Brandon got the other two and looked at Vivian in bewilderment as she took the books from him.
“I’ll explain later.”
A siren wailed down the driveway and red, flashing lights shone through the trees.
“How did the house catch on fire?” Brandon asked.
“Was that Tracy in the truck?” Kate asked, wiping at the tears running down her cheeks.
Brandon looked at Pierre and the girls. “Yes. What the hell is going on?”
Vivian looked at the yearbooks. Thankfully, 1995 was among them. She turned to Mary Beth’s senior picture and showed it to Brandon. “Tracy killed her. And probably Rebecca, too.”
Brandon’s eyes were wide and he shook his head. “No. No way. Mary Beth drowned and the police are looking into Rebecca’s death. Tracy didn’t kill them.”
Wendy pointed down the driveway. “Tracy almost ran you over just now, and I’m pretty sure that was the truck that ran us off the road.”
“No, I don’t believe it.”
Vivian pointed to the heart with SB+T beside Brandon’s yearbook picture. “This is scratched into the dock behind your house, and it’s also on the tree Rebecca was buried under.” Two fire trucks had parked in the driveway, and Vivian had to yell to be heard over them. “She called you Scooter Bill, right?”
Brandon ran his hands through his hair, then pulled on the ends. He looked from the fire truck to the house.
Six firemen jumped off the trucks and unrolled the hoses. Larson, in full gear, ran up to Vivian and the group. “Is anyone in the house?”
“Everyone’s out,” Vivian said, indicating herself and the girls.
He held her by the shoulders and looked her in the eyes.
Vivian was a sooty mess, her blonde hair frizzed out and her blackened face streaked with tears. “I’m mostly okay. I was hoping for mouth to mouth.”
Larson smiled at her and shook his head. “You’re one hot mess.” He turned serious, back to business. “Kate?”
“I need to get away from the smoke, but I think I’m fine,” she answered.
Larson glanced at the house, then back to the group. “Where were you in the house when the fire started? Any idea what happened?”
Lucy explained how they’d been locked in the attic, crawled out of the window and then on the roof. “Pierre and Brandon caught us when we jumped and Vivian fell.”
A Mustang and a sedan pulled to a stop behind the fire trucks and two more volunteer firemen got out and put on their gear. They ran to the trucks and started helping the others. An ambulance raced down the driveway and screeched to a halt.
Larson ushered them all farther from the house. “As you learned the hard way last night, debris can go a long distance.”
The group walked behind the fire trucks and the paramedics hustled over.
Larson handed Vivian, Wendy and Kate off. “This one took quite a spill and this one’s pregnant. They all jumped off the second-story roof.”
“Check her first,” Vivian said, pointing to Kate.
Two sheriffs cars stopped. Deputies Stokola and Young got out. “Is anyone in the house?” Young asked.
“Not anymore,” Pierre said.
“What happened?” Stokola asked.
“Tracy happened,” Lucy said. “She set the house on fire and blocked the attic door so we couldn’t get out. She tried to kill us, then took off in their truck.”
“She just drove off?” Young asked Brandon.
The flames reflected in Brandon’s eyes as he watched the bed and breakfast burning. He dropped to his knees, head in his hands, and began to cry. “Yes.”
Pierre stepped up. “She tore out of here like a bat out of hell and almost ran over Brandon and me. You need to catch her.”
“What’s the color and year?” Young asked, hand on his walkie-talkie.
“Black, 1977, GMC Sierra 4x4,” Brandon answered quietly.
Young called dispatch. “She’s suspected of arson and 4 counts of attempted murder.”
Vivian sat on the bumper of the ambulance. “We think Tracy killed Mary Beth and Rebecca.” She still held Tracy’s senior yearbook and showed them the heart with SB+T by Brandon’s picture. “She calls Brandon Scooter Bill. This same inscription is on the dock behind the house, and it’s on the tree at Rebecca’s grave.”
Brandon took the yearbook and opened to the page with Mary Beth’s scratched-out picture. Then he shoved it away, looking even more depressed and upset. He cleared his throat and wiped at a tear.
“Mary Beth had celiac disease. If she ate wheat it could cause cramping in her muscles, but she was beyond careful with her diet. I’ve thought about it and thought about it, and to me, it has to come back to the celiac disease. She must have eaten something with wheat in it. Please don’t tell me Tracy did this to her. Please.”
“Sorry, Brandon.” Vivian looked away from him, upset to see him cry. The fire was completely out of control. Not a good day for Brandon Holt.
Stokola turned to Brandon. “Do you have any idea where Tracy would run to? Any place she’d hide?”
Brandon sniffed and stood up. “No idea, but she does know all the back roads. I think she’d stick to those.”
“Hearing this makes me wonder if Tracy slipped something into Nicole’s hot tea the other day and that’s what made her sick,” Vivian said. “She said it tasted funny. I had a cup of tea, too, and it was fine so I assumed Nicole just didn’t like the taste.”
Wendy nodded. “Tracy might’ve overheard something. We still had the files in the house. Damn, they’re burned to a crisp now.”
The Talking Heads song “Burning Down the House” popped into Vivian’s head, which had begun to pound behind her eyes. “I think I need an aspirin.”
Larson had her follow his finger with her eyes, then he shined a small flashlight in them.
“You should probably come home with me tonight and let me do a more thorough examination.” He grinned. “Just to make sure.”
Her heart and parts further south fluttered at the prospect. She nodded. “That sounds like a very good idea.”
55
Day 7
Vivian heard water running. She stretched and slowly opened her eyes, taking a look around in the day
light. Larson’s bedroom was pretty much what she expected.
Flat-screen TV across the room, a large oak dresser, a bookshelf piled high with Sports Illustrated, a couple of classics and a dictionary. She pulled the plaid flannel sheets up under her arms and rolled onto her side, fluffing her hair behind her on the pillow trying to look pretty and peaceful all at once. She checked for sleep in her eyes, then heard his footsteps and couldn’t help but smile as she played possum.
“I see someone is awake.” Larson sat on the bed and stroked her blonde curls. “Good morning.”
She opened her eyes. “What do you mean? I smile in my sleep all the time.”
“I bet you do.”
She ran her fingernails up and down his muscular biceps, then smoothly transitioned to his thigh, playing with the hem of his boxer-briefs. “You know, you could make me smile a little bit bigger this morning.” She let her fingers slide upward.
“Haven’t you had enough yet?”
Vivian laughed at that and tucked her fingers underneath his waistband, then tugged. “This girl is from Texas where we like things bigger and better. You’ve got both, now get back in here.”
He let his underwear drop to the floor. “Is this what you’re looking for?” he asked, showing off his “bigger,” then slid underneath the covers, covering her body with his. His warmth and strength enveloped her and he kissed her passionately, letting his tongue linger. He smelled amazing, a mix of Irish Spring and sex.
He moved from her mouth, kissing and nibbling down to her neck, then nuzzled her breasts but didn’t stop there. That’s when he really got going with the “better.”
Two hours later they both were glowing from their morning romp. The covers and pillows were thrown all around the bed, and Vivian’s head was hanging over the side.
“You’re pretty flexible,” Larson said.
“All those years in dance class, at least I have that to show for it. Not sure I should tell my parents that’s where their money went.”
He laughed and stood up. “It’s almost 10, and we’re supposed to meet the combustion crew at the diner in 30 minutes. What time is your flight today?”
She groaned. “Around 3.”
“You can borrow one of my shirts for breakfast, so people don’t think the diner’s on fire, but then after that I suggest you hit one of the shops in town.” He reached for her hand and helped her sit up. “Want to hop in the shower?”
“Are you going to be there?”
“What do you think?”
“Then heck, yeah.”
They jumped in his tiny shower, taking turns with each other’s backs and other hard-to-reach places. He had two-in-one shampoo and conditioner, which her hair did not like. She needed more moisture for the curls, but it was the only option. She looked under the sink and found some hair gel, squeezed it into her palm, then ran it through her wet hair.
Larson carried a clothes basket into the bathroom and pulled out Vivian’s freshly laundered clothes. “I’d rather see you naked, but you’re going to need these.”
“I’d rather you see me naked, too!” Vivian laughed. “Thanks for washing my super sooty, stinky duds, I was dreading putting these on.”
“I couldn’t let you go home like that.”
She got dressed, then Larson wrapped a flannel shirt around her shoulders. “You’re going to need this, too. It’s chilly out.” He snuggled into her neck. “Mmmmm.”
She didn’t want to mess up the moment, but they were already 15 minutes late to the diner. “We better go.”
“Yeah, we better.”
They got in his truck and headed to town. The others had stayed at the Crowne Plaza, which was within walking distance of the diner.
Larson found a spot on the street and they hustled inside, finding Wendy, Kate, Lucy and Pierre already eating.
“Good morning,” Vivian chimed as she sat down and picked up a menu.
“Sorry, we were starving,” Kate said, taking a bite of a strawberry-smothered waffle.
“No worries. We overslept,” Vivian said and buried her head behind her menu.
She and Larson ordered, and pretty soon everyone was sitting back, full and happy.
“I see you’ve already been shopping,” Vivian said to them.
“Pierre treated us since everything we had is now ashes.” Lucy squeezed his hand. “And he gave us some cash for the trip home.”
“I have my wallet and keys,” Pierre said, “but lost my new Philipp Plein sneakers.”
“Uh oh,” Vivian said. “You don’t have an expensive shoe habit like Lucy, do you?”
He smiled and shrugged. “I might have splurged on those.”
“We ran to a five and dime last night,” Wendy said. “Not high falutin’ but we picked up some sweats to sleep in and a few toiletry items. I needed contact solution like nobody’s business. My contacts were practically glued to my eye balls.”
“Then this morning we found a little boutique that opened at 10 and made the clerk very happy,” Lucy added. “Probably met her day’s quota in the first 30 minutes.”
“Larson had everything I needed,” Vivian rumpled his hair. “He even washed my clothes for me.”
“I’m kinda digging your lumberjack-lady look,” Kate said. “It’s very Lake Placid.”
“It’s cool outside and I needed his flannel shirt to keep warm.”
Pierre paid the tab and Larson threw down a tip. “What time are you heading to the airport?” he asked.
“My, Viv’s and Kate’s flight is at 3,” Wendy said. “Lucy’s not until 3:40. We probably need to head to Albany around 12:30 so we can return our perfectly intact, beautifully undamaged rental.”
“Third time’s the charm,” Vivian said, but then she thought about everything they’d lost in the fire. “Aw, my souvenirs I bought for the kids. And how are we going to get on a plane with no ID?”
“At least we won’t have to check bags.” Lucy laughed.
“I’m serious! What are we going to do?”
“You’ll probably get an extra pat-down,” Larson said, then winked. “You’ll like it, I’m sure.” He pulled a couple of twenties out of his wallet and shoved them in Vivian’s front pocket. “Here’s some travel money, don’t let them grab your cash when they pat you down.”
The group ran in and out of stores on Lake Placid Village’s Main Street, getting souvenirs and a secret group gift for Kate’s baby.
At 12:20 they hiked uphill to the Crowne Plaza and began their goodbyes.
Pierre hugged Vivian tight. “I wish you the very best, Vivian. I’m happy to see you so happy.”
“Thanks, Pierre, that means a lot. I’m so grateful you were here for Lucy, and for us. We might be in a much different condition if it weren’t for you.”
He smiled and kissed her on both cheeks. “Until next time.” He turned to Lucy and scooped her into his arms. He kissed her like he might not see her again, or at least for a very long time. She kissed him back just as passionately.
“Get a room!” Wendy shouted.
Vivian laughed and ambled up to Larson. “So I guess this is it for now.”
He nodded yes. “Keep in touch.” He put his arm around her waist, then kissed her gently. “And stay out of trouble.”
“Never,” she whispered.
The four girls climbed into the rental and waved goodbye as they headed down the hill. They hadn’t gone two blocks when Wendy turned around from the front seat.
“This may sound morbid, but I’d like to run by the B&B. You know, maybe check on Brandon.”
“Why?” Vivian said. “He was kind of a jerk.”
Wendy shrugged. “He wasn’t the nicest guy I ever met, but I feel sorry for him. He lost two wives at the hands of someone who supposedly loved him. Talk about betrayal.”
“We probably should go by and ask about insurance taking care of our stuff,” Lucy said. “I lost four pairs of expensive shoes in that fire, and by god, somebody’s paying for that.”
Kate took a right, pointing them in the direction of Turlington Farms. “Okay, but we can’t stay long. We don’t want to miss our flights.”
56
As the girls pulled up to the bed and breakfast, a man in khakis and a white shirt carefully stepped through the rubble snapping pictures while another man in navy pants and a polo shirt took notes. The blackened remains of the house provided stark contrast to the bright, sunny day.
A few singed rose bushes outlined where the front porch used to be, and the yard was a muddy mess. The garage was still standing and looked untouched. The right side door was up and Brandon walked out.
Vivian was surprised. “I guess we should get out and say hello.” She opened her car door.
Kate grabbed her door handle. “You mean, goodbye?”
Vivian felt so bad for Brandon. She gave him a hug. “How you doing?”
“Called the insurance company. The adjuster should be here any time.” He hitched his thumb toward the guy walking through the rubble. “That’s Dan, the arson investigator, and John, the fire chief.”
“Where are you staying?” Wendy asked.
“We — ” he stopped for a second. “I have a garage apartment. It will do until I can rebuild.”
“Are you going to reopen the B&B?” Kate asked.
“I think it’s what Mary Beth would want me to do.” Brandon cleared his throat and looked away. After a moment he looked back at the group. “I’m going to do things a little differently, though. I’m going to hire the help, not marry them.”
The tension broke, and Lucy laughed. “Speaking of, any news on Tracy?”
“I’ve already talked to deputy Stokola this morning.” Brandon shook his head. “Tracy was caught in the middle of the night at the Canadian border. She had a bag of cash and a U.S. passport with a fake name.”
“Where did she get the cash and passport?” Lucy asked.
“I have no idea,” Brandon said. “She must have had it stashed here in the house.”
“Did she get booked for murder or attempted murder?” Wendy asked. “It should be four counts of attempted for sure.” She looked at Kate. “No, make that five!”