“Good-night, Carl.” She turned to open the front door as Carl leaned to kiss her cheek. It was an awkward, desperate gesture. Afraid he was going to say something more, or do something, she swung the door wide, using it like a shield.
Tejeda stood framed in the open door, making wide crescents in the fog with his swinging flashlight as he leaned easily against the wall.
Defeated, Carl sauntered out past Kate. “Evening, Lieutenant.” His words were rich with sarcasm.
“Mr. Teague.” Tejeda bowed in mock deference. He watched until Carl’s back had disappeared into the fog before he turned to Kate. “He didn’t pack his jammies.”
“He doesn’t wear any.”
“Right.” Tejeda whistled in some air. “Are you okay?”
“Surviving. It’s safe to come in now.”
“Not yet. If I go in there, I won’t be coming out real fast.” He gestured with his thumb toward the fog. “Until these guys finish setting up, I’m door monitor.”
Kate peered into the white. “What guys?”
“We have you surrounded in case anyone tries something. Don’t worry about it. Just go inside and bolt the doors. I’ll see you later.”
“Sure thing.” A cold draft ran up her back as she looked out into the gloom, trying to find some warm, human shapes. It was eerie, imagining people out there in the fog watching the house, watching her. Standing in the light of the open door she felt strangely exposed and vulnerable.
“See you later.” She retreated inside and shot the door bolt home with a firm and satisfying “chunk.”
It was going to be a long night, all alone in the house for the first time, with who knew how many people outside watching, and she felt frightened. Wanting a little fortification, she went to the kitchen to make coffee.
She found the kitchen in worse shape than the bedroom. No one had cleaned it since Esperanza was rushed to the emergency room.
And the police investigators had been there to add to the mess. Every surface had round black smudges where they had looked for fingerprints. Packages of food lay open on the table and the countertops. Had they taken samples from everything, she wondered.
Feeling a little squeamish about eating anything that had been opened and might still contain some lye, Kate went into the big pantry for a fresh can of coffee and something to eat.
Piling cans in one arm, she came out with virgin coffee, a few little paper-wrapped cans of deviled ham, and a Boston brown bread that was baked in its can. She opened a new jar of mayonnaise and could tell from the whoosh sound it made that it had never been opened before. It was hardly gourmet fare, but it would do.
While the coffee brewed, she began to scrub the kitchen. Closing her eyes, she rubbed out the blood stains in the sink, then fed the remains of the interrupted dinner into the garbage disposal. She went to the broom closet by the back door for a mop, and was startled to see a man standing outside. He smiled and waved, and she recognized him as the young officer who had come the night Helga burglarized Miles’s house. He was still there a few minutes later when she put the mop away.
By the time the coffee was ready, the kitchen, while not up to Esperanza’s standards, was presentable. Kate sliced the bread and made little round sandwiches spread with ham and mayonnaise. After sampling a few and deciding they were edible, she piled them on a plate and put them on a tray with half-a-dozen mugs.
She filled one of the mugs and carried it to the back door and handed it out to the policeman on duty there. “Hope you don’t get cold out here tonight.”
“Thanks.” He took the cup. “Fog’s a relief after all that heat, though, isn’t it?”
“Guess it is,” she shrugged, wishing she could see across the lawn. After bolting the door, she picked up the tray and carried it to the front door. She was a little disappointed to find Tejeda wasn’t alone. He stood with his back to the door, head bent in conversation, laughing, with another man in plainclothes. Still laughing, he came to her as she wrestled with the tray and the door handle.
“What’s this?” He took the tray from her.
“Just some coffee.” Because of the other man she didn’t remind him that he hadn’t had dinner. “I count three of you, but there are extra cups in case there are more of you out there in the fog someplace.”
“Thanks. I thought you couldn’t cook.”
“Can’t. But I can do wonders with a can opener.” She nodded to the other officer. “Good-night.”
“Wait a minute, Kate.” Tejeda put the tray down on the steps and sprinted toward her. “Let me check the lock for you.” He stepped inside with her and pushed the door shut.
“Alone at last,” she laughed as he embraced her. The kiss he gave her was quick, but full of warmth and passion.
“Are you going to be all right in here tonight alone?”
“Is that an offer?” She smoothed the worried furrow on his forehead.
“No such luck. Look,” he held her close, “I know, with everything that’s going on, it’ll be a rough night for you. But I’ll be right here.”
He kissed her again lightly before he opened the door. “Here,” he paused on his way out and put something in her left hand.
She looked at the cluster of keys he put in her palm. “What are these?”
“My car keys. After my wife left, Theresa slept with them so she’d know I wasn’t going anywhere without her. I thought they might make you feel better.”
“Thanks.” She clutched the keys close to her. “But we didn’t come in your car.”
“Doesn’t matter,” he said as he went back out into the fog. “I have another set. Get some sleep. I have a feeling you’re going to need it.”
Kate closed and locked the heavy front door. Turning on every light switch as she passed it, Kate made her way slowly through the house, checking doors and windows, and watching for faces in the fog. As she walked up the stairs, she memorized every creaking step, just in case.
“In case of what?” she said aloud, watching for any movement in the dark passage above. She couldn’t see very much, like the night she was on the beach stairs. The stones had come so quietly out of the darkness then, slamming into her with no more fanfare than a sudden breeze. Shuddering, remembering the pain, she hurried down the hall to her bedroom.
“Go on. Scare yourself senseless,” she chastised herself. A look at the state of the room stopped her short. The clutter was like an unfinished argument, bits and pieces lying around to be picked up later. She wasn’t ready for it.
Stepping into the room only to get to her dressing room, Kate changed quickly into faded jeans and a pink pullover. From a hall linen closet she took a pillow and an afghan and retreated into her study, the room that had always been her “safe harbor.” With some effort, she pushed her desk in front of the door, knowing it wouldn’t stop anyone who was really determined to get in. But it would slow him.
Kate turned her big reading chair into the oriel and dropped the pillow and afghan on the seat. She opened the tall middle window and looked down into the fog, feeling the damp air smooth and cool on her cheeks. Standing there, the sea and the bluff hidden under the dense white blanket, the room seemed suspended on clouds. She was alone, isolated and safe. But she knew it was only an illusion.
Curled up in the chair, afghan tucked under her chin, Kate listened to the muffled “aah-ooh” of ships’ foghorns out on the water. The sound was familiar and comforting, a constant after all the chaos.
Snatches of low, male conversation outside her grandfather’s study door below reassured her that Tejeda was still there. Clutching his keys in her hand, she slipped into a light, fitful sleep full of harsh and confusing images too transitory to be dreams.
There was someone following her, but she couldn’t see his face. She tried to get away but the fog dragged her down and he kept getting closer. She beat at him with a cricket bat, but with no effect. A crowd of people she should have recognized loomed out of the fog and pleaded for her help. The
re was something terribly wrong, and she heard them screaming, “The bluff! The bluff!”
Kate startled awake, shoving the afghan away from her. As the dream images faded, the voices grew louder.
TWENTY
KATE GOT TO HER FEET, pushed the desk away from the door, and peered out into the dark hall. The silence in the house hung like a shroud around her. It seemed unnatural, as temporary as the pause between breaths. Someone was waiting for her. She could feel it.
Her back pressed flat against the wall, she made her way down the hall to the stairway. The cold, textured plaster snagged at her sweater, roughened the skin of her palms as she went down the steps, careful to put her weight only on the side of each riser to keep it from creaking. She didn’t make a sound, a technique she’d perfected as a teenager sneaking in after her midnight curfew.
From the bottom step, the front door seemed to be acres away across the exposed foyer. To reach the door she had to pass a trio of tall arches, gaping like great deep holes—one that led to the living room, one on the other side that led to the study, and one behind her that led to the back hall past the kitchen.
Summoning her failing courage, Kate dashed across the polished floor. Feeling the blackness close in behind her, she fumbled with the dead bolts. Finally, she got the door open and dashed out into the white night.
“Roger!” Kate screamed into the misted abyss. Footsteps ran toward her across the bricks, and she recognized their rhythm before she could see anyone. She left the shelter of the house lights to meet him.
“Kate!” Tejeda materialized out of the fog. “What are you doing out here?”
“I heard people screaming.” She put her arms around him, brushing her cheek against the damp front of his shirt, so familiar and normal. “What’s happening?”
“Look there.” He turned her toward the bluff. The sun was rising, turning the fog a blazing orange. Except that it was rising in the wrong direction. And hours too soon.
Then Kate smelled it. “Gasoline,” she said.
“Come with me.” Tejeda surrounded her with his arms. “And stay close.”
She tried to keep up with his long strides as they hurried through the fog toward the source of the orange light. Finally, near the edge of the bluff, she saw it, and dropped back in dismay. The beach stairs were enveloped in sheets of fire that rose into the night like silk scarves billowing in the wind.
Three uniformed policemen aimed garden hoses at the stairs. Their slim jets of water shot into the swirling mist and fell short of the flames.
“Forget it, Ralph,” Tejeda called to the nearest officer. “The stairs are gone and there’s not much else here to burn.” As he said it, an ember shot out from the side of the stairs and set off a line of flame that snaked rapidly across the dry ice plant on the bluff.
Frightening but beautiful, Kate thought, watching the play of light catch in the fog. She’d seen fire on the bluff many times, but it had never been this spectacular before. And it had never seemed dangerous. Except for the stairs, which were now beyond saving, there was little more than dry scrub and ice plant to burn.
The spreading line of flame lit the top of the bluff like a moving spotlight, picking up shapes in silhouette. Beside the gazebo Kate now saw Dolph, Lydia, and Mina’s maid huddled together in their robes and slippers, watching the fire below them. Reece, shivering in his khaki shorts and bare feet, stood away from the group, closer to the fire, as if he were trying to get warm.
Kate looked along the bluff through the fog, but couldn’t find Mina anywhere. Maybe she was still too humiliated by the secrets uncovered during the reading of Miles’s will to face anyone. Kate ached for her, wondering if she would ever be able to confess to Dolph the whole story about Helga, and about her own abortion. Old secrets, old scars, she thought sadly.
Eventually, Kate hoped, some of the damage done to the family could be patched up. Enough at least so they could live together again comfortably. But what were they going to do about Carl?
“Kate!” Reece jogged toward her across the lawn.
“How did it start?” Kate asked, fascinated by the twisting thread of flame below.
“Someone torched the bluff. Kids with a campfire again, probably.”
“Ice plant doesn’t burn like that,” Kate said, watching the thin line of fire define the arsonist’s path. “Smell the gas?”
A branch of flame licked up the bluff and caught an oleander ten feet below where they stood. The dry bush flared quickly, forcing them back a few steps. Through the fog, Kate felt its heat flash and die as it was almost instantly consumed.
“Damn kids,” Reece said. “Don’t they know what a pain it is to reseed the bluff?”
“Wasn’t kids,” Tejeda said. “Someone wanted us away from the house.”
“Scary shit.” Reece shook from the cold.
“Why don’t you go put on some clothes?” Kate snapped, a cover for her growing panic. “You’ll get sick.”
“My things are still at Miles’s.” Reece blew on his hands to warm them. “Carl has barricaded himself inside there and I don’t want to press him. Even to get my toothbrush.”
Kate touched his shoulder. “Sorry I got you involved in this mess.”
“Don’t worry about it. Keeps my other problems in perspective.” Reece plunged his hands into his pockets, his narrow frame bent in a depressed slouch. “Yesterday, Lydia and I got evicted. For cohabiting. Can you believe it? Damn philistine landlady. Anyway, we were going to stay with Dolph and Mina until we found something. But that’s been pretty awful; Mina’s been locked in her room all day, crying.”
“Has Mina talked to Dolph?” Kate asked.
“She’s not talking to anyone,” Reece said. “Even Esperanza.”
Kate brightened. “Esperanza called?”
“She wanted to talk to you, but you weren’t back yet. I couldn’t understand her very well, but she said something like Rosa only speaks for herself.”
Kate glanced up at Tejeda, who shook his head as if cautioning her not to hope. But she couldn’t help it. “Does she want to come home?”
“She’ll call again in the morning.”
“Good.” Kate looked at Reece, shivering in his shorts. She admired him, always so loyal when it got him so little. “Until you find a new place, you and Lydia can stay with me. I’d love some company. That house is too spooky to be in alone.”
“Thanks. We’ll be over tomorrow sometime.” He flinched as a scrub oak incinerated below them. “Shouldn’t someone call the fire department?”
“We have,” Tejeda said. “All the units in the area are out on other calls.”
Kate looked toward the hills, where brush fires had raged out of control earlier in the week. The feeling that someone was out there waiting flooded back as she saw only the white drape of cold fog. “All the big fires are out, aren’t they?”
Tejeda held Kate close. “This is probably the only fire in Santa Angelica tonight.”
“The spook’s getting better,” she said appreciatively, watching the policemen wet the bank with their hoses. “As a diversion, this is damned good. With no firemen available, your policemen would have to leave the house and come down here, wouldn’t they?”
A loud snap cracked the air like a starter’s pistol. An upper stair-support piling gave way and fell to the side. There was a pause, then the remains of the stairway swayed to one side, groaning an octave lower than the foghorns in the bay. All at once, as if some connective string had been jerked out, the whole stairway collapsed against the bluff, sending a shower of sparks into the fog like fireworks in slow motion.
When the ash and dust settled, Kate saw the embers of the stairs glowing in a line down the face of the scorched bluff. They looked like the skeleton of some monstrous beast. Now extinct.
* * *
Tejeda opened the bedside drawer and put something in it.
“What’s that?” Kate asked.
“My service revolver.” He sat down
beside her and folded his legs tailor-fashion in front of him, his back against the headboard.
Kate slid into the nest made by Tejeda’s folded legs and snuggled against him. “Is it all over?”
“For a while. There’s no one inside the house, and they’re still watching outside.” He wrapped his long arms around her and rested his cheek against the top of her head, naturally, as if he’d been with her just like this a hundred times before. He yawned. “What time is it?”
Kate glanced at the bedside clock. “Four-thirty. You tired?”
“Sleepy.” They stretched out on the bed and he closed his eyes. “Lovin’ makes me sleepy.”
Kate watched him fall asleep. One of his hands rested on Kate’s hip, the other under his cheek, pushing out his mouth like a pouty child. As he fell deeper into sleep he seemed to become totally vulnerable, and totally desirable. Must have been an adorable child, she thought, regretting that she had missed knowing him then.
She draped an arm around him and closed her eyes. But it took too much effort to keep them closed. She was tired, but after all the day’s excitement and trauma she couldn’t sleep. Slowly, so she wouldn’t disturb him, she got up. She took a blanket from the cupboard and spread it over Tejeda, kissing him as she tucked it around him.
He smiled and sighed, but didn’t move. She put on a short robe and went to the bathroom to run a hot bath. After soaking for half an hour she still didn’t feel like sleeping.
She looked out the bedroom window. A long run on the beach would help, she thought. But it was still dark outside, and it was beginning to rain. Something glinted wetly near the beach stairs and she remembered sadly that they were gone. It would be a long, muddy scramble to run on the beach until the stairs were rebuilt.
The best alternative to a run, she decided, was the boring new book about Alexander Hamilton and the Federalists. She pulled her robe closer around her and went down the hall to her study, pausing first to listen to Tejeda’s soft snoring.
The afghan was still draped over her chair on the oriel. Kate turned on the reading light and sat down with the new book. She opened it to the middle and studied the half-dozen pages of black-and-white pictures and reproduced documents. Then, sighing heavily, she found the dog-eared page where she had left off and started to read.
No Harm (The Kate Teague Mysteries Book 1) Page 22