“Oh, my dear,” Nadine said as she hugged Porchia. “We just heard. I am so sorry. What can we do?”
“Nothing, but thank you. I’m leaving tonight. Riding back with Marc.”
“Can’t you wait until the morning?” Clint asked, concern etched on his face. He looked so much like Darren right now it hurt.
“I can’t. I just can’t.”
Darren stood. “I’m going with them. Mom, will you pack up my clothes and get them to Whispering Springs?” He glanced toward Porchia. “Maybe to Porchia’s house?”
Porchia nodded in agreement.
“Sure,” his mother said. “What about your truck?”
Darren turned toward his father, who nodded. “I’ll get your truck back to town. You go with your lady. She needs you. We’ll handle everything here.”
Relief flooded through Porchia. Once again, Darren’s family had come through when he needed them.
“Let’s go,” he said, grabbing the two bags she’d set by the door.
Porchia hugged Nadine. “Thank you,” she said in a teary voice. She kissed Clint’s cheek. “Thank you both.”
Porchia scooped up her purse and headed down the stairs behind Darren. The rest of the family was waiting outside to see them off. She wanted to hug each and every one of them for welcoming her and making her feel so at home, and maybe someday she would. But right now, Marc was pulling his truck and fifth wheel out of its parking spot and she’d be damned if he’d leave without them.
Stretched out on the rear seat of Marc’s truck, Porchia was asleep within thirty minutes of leaving the campground, more like she’d cried herself to sleep. Darren threw his jacket over her and turned back around.
“Any idea what started the fire?” Darren asked.
Marc nodded toward the back. “She asleep?”
“Yep. Passed out cold.”
“Initial report is it looks like arson. We’ll know more once we get an arson investigator in.”
“We have an arson investigator in Whispering Springs?”
“Naw. Getting someone from the state crime lab to come take a look. You got any idea who’d want to burn her out of business?”
Darren shook his head. “No. None. You?”
“No. I’ve never heard anything negative about Porchia or her business. This doesn’t make a lot of sense.”
“Maybe someone wanting her out of business so they can come in?”
“I don’t think so. It wouldn’t make sense. There can’t be enough money in the bakery business to make it worth their while. Now if we were talking oil or cattle, sure. But pastries? Just can’t see it.”
Darren glanced over his shoulder to make sure Porchia was still asleep. Her breathing was steady. Her eyes were shut and still. Great. She was still out of it.
“You haven’t said anything about someone being injured in the fire, but I’ve got the feeling you were holding something back.”
Marc didn’t reply for a long time. Finally, he said, “That nighttime baker. James I think her last name is. She was there when the fire started. She has burns, but nothing serious. I think she knows more than she is telling.”
“Do you think she might have started it? Some conflict with Porchia that we don’t know about?”
Marc shrugged. “I have no idea. Maybe. Or maybe the chick is a psychopath. Nobody knows much about her. She is hardly ever seen around town. Anyway, I thought it would be a good idea to get back before she gets her story set in her mind. Plus, I want to see the bakery the first thing in the morning.”
As they parked in the departmental lot of the sheriff’s department over an hour later, Darren reached over the seat and touched Porchia’s shoulder.
“Hey. Wake up.”
A sleepy smile grew on her face. Then her eyes flew open and she jerked upright.
“Where are we?” she asked, shaking her head as if to jiggle the sleep away.
“We’re at the sheriff’s department.”
“Great. Let’s go.”
“Hold on, Porchia,” Marc said. “I need to go in and get a report before we head over. And I need to grab the keys to my car.”
“You may need a report and a car, but I don’t.” She opened the rear door. “I’m walking. I’ll meet you there.”
Darren saw the determination in her eyes. Even though it was just after four in the morning, she was determined, even if that meant she went by herself. He couldn’t let her go charging down to her bakery alone. It wasn’t safe. She had no idea that the fire was probably arson. From his way of thinking, that meant someone had a serious grudge against Porchia, or possibly someone else who worked there. The arsonist could still be around just waiting to get another chance to cause trouble. Well, that wasn’t happening on his watch.
“Wait a minute,” Darren said. “It’s too dangerous for you to walk by yourself at this hour. Give Marc a chance to find out what’s going on.” When he saw that didn’t convince her, he added, “We need to check on Mallory before we go too.”
That stopped her dead. She whirled around and glared at Marc. “You said no one was there.”
“No, I never said that. Your employee, Mallory James, was in the bakery when the fire started.”
Porchia closed her eyes. Darren caught her shoulders as she swayed. “Is Mallory dead?” Her shoulders were as rigid as bricks.
“No. She got burned, but the report I got was that it wasn’t serious. I need all the information my deputies have before we go down there.”
She took a few long, deep breaths as though steeling herself. “Okay.” She stared into Marc’s face. “I want all the information too.”
Turning on her boot heel, she marched through the back door of the sheriff’s department with Marc and Darren trailing in her wake. Darren couldn’t help but admire her grit and determination. She made love like she lived life…full-out, no holds barred. In the sheriff’s office or in the bedroom, she was a force to be reckoned with, and damn if that didn’t make him want her all the more.
“Sheriff.” The threesome turned toward the male voice.
“Brody,” Marc said. “Want to bring me—us—up to date?”
Sam Brody was a new hire to the department. From what Darren had heard, he’d come from the Dallas Police Department looking for a quieter lifestyle. Arson might not be exactly what he was expecting in sleepy Whispering Springs.
“Sure thing, Sheriff.” He nodded to Porchia. “Sorry about the bakery, Porchia.”
“Thanks, Sam.”
Darren was surprised that Porchia knew Sam, but then he realized she probably knew most of the people in town since hers was the only bakery around.
“Well, best we can tell, Porchia, er, Ms. Summers’s employee Mallory James walked in on someone burglarizing the place. If the condition of Ms. James’s knuckles are any indication, we will be looking for someone who’s pretty beat up.”
“She served as a Marine,” Porchia said in way of explanation.
Brody nodded. “Anyway, the guy hit her with a paperweight on the desk. She went down, and he ran. But he’d already started the fire before their fight. Probably figured the fire would erase any evidence that he was there.”
“Do you keep money in your office?” Marc asked.
Porchia shrugged. “I have a floor safe, so sometimes I do, but usually just overnight. Tina Marie has been making my deposits while I’ve been gone, so I don’t have any idea if any money was there last night or not.” She looked at Brody. “What about Mallory? How badly hurt is she? Where is she?”
“Ms. James is in Whispering Springs Hospital. She got hit pretty hard on the head.”
“And her burns?” Porchia asked.
“Mostly first and second degree. Doctor said she would heal.”
At that news, Porchia’s shoulders sagged in relief. However, guilt that Mallory had gotten snared and injured during Slade’s—and she assumed it was Slade—vindictive payback ate at her gut. “Thank God.” She looked Marc. “Can we go down there now?”
“In a minute. You call in the Texas Fire Marshalls yet?”
“No, sir,” Brody said. “I thought you’d want to make that call.”
“You did secure the scene?”
“Yes, sir. Deputies Martin and Knue are there.”
“Any other stores involved in the fire?”
“The fire department jumped on it pretty quick. Since Heavenly Delights was the end store on that block, the fire was mostly confined there. The jewelry store next door has some smoke and water damage. And the windows of that store were broken out also. The owner is checking inventory now to see if the breakage is from the water hoses or if he was burglarized last night too.”
“Go ahead and call the state fire marshal’s office.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Okay, Porchia. Now we can head over,” Marc said.
The acrid stench of charred wood burned the inside of Porchia’s nose as she stood in her rear parking lot. The asphalt, never in great shape to begin with, was now littered with broken glass, blackened lumber and one burned-out Jeep. Mallory would be crushed about that Jeep. Porchia prayed Mallory had the clunker insured, but she doubted it.
“You okay?” Darren asked.
“No. Of course I’m not okay,” she snapped, rubbing the tears off her cheeks. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have barked at you like that. This isn’t your fault.”
He put his arm around her shoulders. “Hey. I can take it.” He kissed the top of her head. “This has got to hurt.”
“You have no idea.”
Marc had loaned them powerful departmental flashlights, which they were beaming around the outside blackened hull that had been Heavenly Delights. Porchia picked her way over to the cinderblock wall that had made up the rear exterior of the kitchen. What had been white was now black from the scorch of the fire. The metal door that led from the parking area into the kitchen was a molten glob.
She took a step over the metal hurdle to enter.
“Stay out here,” Marc ordered.
“But I need to see.”
“Stay here.” Marc’s voice left no doubt that he was speaking as the sheriff and not her friend.
She lifted her foot back.
“I want to keep the area as it is for the fire marshal. I’m not an arson expert by a long shot, so we could screw up the investigation by accident. We don’t want to do that.”
She shook her head. “No. You’re right.”
The scene and the certainty that everything she’d worked for was gone, was almost impossible for her mind to register. She was right to come. It was hard to ignore reality when it stared you in the face. When she’d first heard, she’d held out hope that some of her store would be salvageable, but it wasn’t. She doubted there was a pan in there that would be usable.
“I’m walking around front,” she said over her shoulder and started around the end of the building. She didn’t have an ounce of proof Slade had anything to do with this. For all she knew, Sarah Jane Mackey had done it to get back at Porchia for being with Darren. Okay, that was grabbing at straws, but still, she didn’t have any facts other than it was arson.
There was one person, however, who might know more…Mallory. Porchia needed to talk to her and find out exactly what she’d seen. From the report she’d given the sheriff, Mallory couldn’t identify her attacker. Porchia didn’t believe it, and if the skepticism on Singer’s face was any indication, he didn’t either.
Until she talked to Mallory, she’d keep her mouth shut.
Darren followed her, not offering simplistic platitudes or fake optimism, which she really appreciated. It was obvious to anyone with a pair of eyes that the business was a total loss.
The front was no better than the rear. Charred wood. Broken glass. Puddles of water everywhere.
“Sheriff. Can I see you a minute?”
Marc headed toward the deputy who’d called him over.
“Seen enough?” Darren asked.
“I keep hoping to wake up and find this is all a horrible dream.” She looked at him. “Not gonna happen, huh?”
He shook his head. “Nope.”
“I don’t know whether to cry or cuss.”
“Maybe a lot of both is in order.”
She wrapped her arms around his waist. The position sent a wave of security through her. Still, a sob escaped and her breath hitched.
He held her, rubbing his hands up and down her back. “It’ll take a while, but you’ll rebuild. And I’ll be beside you every step of the way. Whatever you need, just ask.”
She realized how easy it would be to give up, just like she’d given up on her parents. Just like they’d given up on her.
She wasn’t quitting this time. She asked to go to the hospital right then to see Mallory. However, as Darren pointed out, it was four in the morning, not optimum visiting hours.
The sheriff was still tied up with the investigation at the jewelry store, which had been burglarized. Deputy Brody gave Porchia and Darren a ride to her house. When they walked in, the fresh, clean scent of her house was instantly marred by the reek of smoke from their clothes.
“Lift your arms,” Darren said. When she did, he pulled the foul-smelling shirt over her head. “The sight was bad enough for you. You shouldn’t have to relive it with this stench. I suggest we set our boots on the porch for tonight and let them air out.”
She nodded, but words couldn’t punch through the solid lump in her throat.
He set both pairs of boots outside and then turned his attention to her jeans. Once he got them unfastened, he helped her push the heavy material down her legs. She stepped free and stood frozen in place wearing only her bra and panties.
What was she going to do? Her brain was on overload with flashes of ideas and thoughts, and yet nothing was sticking long enough to make an impact. What time was it? Should she make coffee? Offer breakfast? Take a nap? Was the newspaper here yet? Would the fire be in it?
A pair of warm hands on her shoulders turned her. She looked up into Darren’s blue eyes.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get you in the shower and get that odor off you.”
She started toward her shower as numbness overtook her. He finished removing her underwear and then his own clothes before putting them both under the warm water.
Her salty tears mixed with the warm water. “Thank you,” she said, hugging him.
“For?”
“The coffee you’re going to make when we get out.”
He chuckled. “Whatever you need, I’ll be here.”
Chapter Nineteen
Porchia woke to an empty bed about noon on Saturday. The sheet beside her was cold, so either Darren had gotten up earlier or he was gone. Staring at the ceiling, she made a mental to-do list. By the time she got to item ten, grief swamped her, overwhelming her emotions.
Throwing off the bedcovers, she stood and stretched. She could accomplish nothing by hiding. But first things first. Some food and then to the hospital to see Mallory. She needed to know what Mallory had told and would tell the sheriff’s department about her fight.
In the bathroom, she washed the sleep from her still-puffy, red eyes. Her hair looked pretty much like she’d invited a family of rats to move in. But then she had gone to bed with wet hair, so what could she expect?
The overcast sky set a dreary tone for the day, and that fit her mood perfectly. A bright, sunny day would have been more than her emotions could take.
Dressed in khaki slacks and a sweater set, she headed to the kitchen to find some food, which she knew would be a challenge. Before leaving for Whiskey Creek for her vacation, she’d made sure all the spoilable food was trashed. There was probably at least peanut butter and jelly in the cabinet and bread in the freezer.
Darren entered through the front door at the exact moment she walked into the living room. Startled, she screamed and then laughed at herself.
He slammed his hand over his heart. “Nice way to give me a heart attack.”
“Sorry.
I didn’t think you were here.”
“I wasn’t. But now I am. Did you know you have absolutely no food in your refrigerator?”
She chuckled. “Yes. I know. Sorry about that. But…” she shrugged, “…better to leave it empty than return to green mold.”
“I’ve lived as a bachelor for years with my brother. We, of course, know nothing about moldy, leftover food.”
“I’m sure.” She accompanied her remark with an eye roll.
“You better be nice to me.” He held up two brown bags. “I brought lunch from the Orchid Deli.”
“I’m restraining myself from falling over in starvation.” She held out a hand. “Gimme.”
He held up identical bags. “Pick one.”
“Does either of them have an anchovy sandwich?”
Grimacing, he said, “No.”
“Then it doesn’t matter. I’ll eat whatever is in the sack.”
She pointed to the bag in his left hand and he tossed it to her. Inside was a hot meatball hoagie, chips and three peanut butter cookies.
“I love the Orchid’s meatball hoagies. How did you know?”
He grinned. “Mental telepathy.” Then he pulled out the exact same meal from the second sack. “My favorite sandwich. Good that you love it too.”
They sat side-by-side on the couch and arranged their lunches on the coffee table before them. For the next few minutes, there were only groans of gastronomical pleasure.
“Hey. How did you get to the deli? Did you drive my car? How did you know where to find my keys?” Her eyes widened. “Did you go through my purse?”
“Slow down, Columbo. No, I didn’t go through your purse or drive your car. My truck was in your drive this morning. I guess my folks packed my stuff last night and drove the truck up sometime early this morning. My bags were in my truck along with this note.” He passed her an envelope with her name written on it.
Porchia, we enjoyed spending time with you and hate that it had to end with such a tragedy. You’re such a dear. If we can do anything for you, don’t hesitate to ask.
Love Nadine and Clint and the rest of the Montgomerys
“You have such great parents. Not only were they quick to volunteer to help last night, they did it immediately. That’s so nice of them to go to all that trouble for you.”
Texas Hustle Page 18