“I don’t know what you’re trying to prove, but the help’s not coming from me.” Brandon spun his chair and wheeled toward the concession stand, where I saw Hannah waiting for him.
My foot almost slid out from under me. I had stepped on something near where Chad had stood. I picked up a business card. Using the light from my cell I took a look at it. The words Vulcan Catering were framed by wisps of curling smoke, and the edges had a distressed finish. An open grill was in the left corner. I pocketed it.
Cheers and boos shook the stadium. I wandered out of the alleyway, turning my attention to the game.
“You don’t miss those,” Coach Rutherford yelled.
One of the Eden players on the field shrugged.
The cheerleaders moved closer to the bleachers and formed a human pyramid. Their chants were almost loud enough to drown out the taunting and barbs being slung to and from Coach Rutherford.
I backed up a few paces to get some shots of the pyramid. The girl on the top was still just out of my viewfinder. I took a few more backward steps.
Someone careened into me, knocking me onto the field. A whistle blew. Two helmeted players were charging each other, readying for a near-the-sidelines tackle, and I had stepped between them. Placing my hands over my eyes, I screamed, knowing it was going to hurt.
A hand wrapped around my arm and dragged me backwards into a hard chest.
I was scooped up and set down on the spectator side of the football field. The whistle blew again and again. Someone was getting a time-out, and I had a feeling it was me.
“Your water guy needs to be more careful,” Ted said.
“It’s her own damn fault,” the coach said. “Spectators shouldn’t be that close to the sidelines.”
“Coach, the ref is coming over here,” a player said.
A very unhappy referee gestured at me.
“Keep your photographer off the field. Next time, Eden will get a penalty.”
“She’s not ours,” Rutherford said.
“Trust me, a penalty is the least of her worries.” Ted took hold of my arm. “I’ll see to it that she finds a spot away from the field.”
I didn’t want to create any more of a scene, so I didn’t argue and followed.
Ted escorted me away from the sidelines and out the front gate.
“I didn’t do anything wrong, and I paid to attend the game.”
Ted pulled out his wallet and handed me five dollars. “Go home and try not to stir up any more trouble.”
“I wasn’t.”
“Please, give me a break and go home.”
“I was actually taking photographs.”
“With no other ulterior motive for showing up at a football game? Good night, Faith.” Ted stood right at the gate and watched me walk past the baseball field connected to the football field and into the parking lot.
Grumbling unflattering things about Ted under my breath, I dug my keys out of my pocket. They slipped out of my fingers, falling onto the asphalt. I leaned over to pick them up, my camera clunking against me. I’d left my camera bag near the bleachers where the football players entered the stadium.
I could either risk Ted’s ire and go back into the stadium, or call Charlotte and see if Hannah could grab my bag for me. For once, I went with the better, and least likely to contribute to Ted’s bad mood, choice. She answered on the first ring.
“I’m here. I’ll get it for you.”
“Then I’ll forgive you for partnering me with Felicity.”
“I was trying to help you. If Felicity had new information to go on, she’d stop ranting to the cops about you.”
“I don’t think it worked out for me.” I ended the call, shuffling along the parking lot. The dim light made it hard to see any ruts. Crickets chirped and then stopped. I paused, squaring my shoulders and looking around me. Cheers carried over from the stadium. Steve announced the score: Eden 21, Hazard 10. I kept walking.
Coldness pricked my scalp. I glanced over my shoulder toward the ticket booth. I couldn’t see anyone there, but it was possible Ted was still watching. I turned on the flashlight app on my phone. It settled my nerves. A little.
The strap of my camera dug into my chest and shoulder. Screaming, I lurched sideways as someone jerked at it, dragging me across the lot. My heart pounded. I didn’t want to lose my camera, or more importantly, my life. Car lights turned on, highlighting the thief, wearing all black with a stocking cap tugged over their face.
“What’s going on over there?” Karen England called out.
The person inhaled a sharp breath and pulled out a knife. I dropped to my knees, trying to shove the strap off of me. The knife arced down, cutting through it. I was freed, splayed on the ground. The person ran off with my camera.
The pounding of my heart made me lightheaded. I took in calming breaths, dusting off my hands and pushing myself up from my knees.
“You okay?” Karen helped me to my feet.
“Yeah. Thanks for saving me.” I dusted myself off.
“No problem. I thought you were being assaulted.”
“I was. My camera was stolen.”
“We should tell Detective Roget what happened,” Karen said.
“I think he has enough going on.” Or rather had had enough of me. “I’ll report it when I get home. There’s nothing the police can do about it now.”
Karen linked her arm in mine. “Let’s go to my car. I’ll drive you to yours.”
“I prefer to walk.” I tried to slide my arm from hers.
Karen pressed her arm to her side so we looked like Siamese twins. “I don’t think that’s wise, considering what just happened. Whoever that was might decide you have money on you.”
She was right. I liked being independent and relying on no one, but I liked being smart—and alive—even more. “Sounds like a plan.”
“Good, because it’s also the safest place for us to talk.”
“About what?”
Karen refused to say any more until we got to her car.
The moment I buckled in, I twisted my body to face her. “Start talking.”
“You don’t know everything that’s going on.” Karen expertly pulled from the spot where she had parallel parked. I wished it was so easy for me. “And you should stop trying to dig it up.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I know about your visits to Upcycle and Made With Love. If you think you’re going to clear your name by tarnishing someone else’s, it won’t work. I won’t let it.”
I opened my mouth a few times, finding it hard to come up with the right words.
Karen turned onto the main road. “Where are you parked?”
“On the right side, just past the grocery store. I’m not going to let anyone railroad me into a drug charge. No matter what you threaten,” I said.
“I’m not threatening you, I’m just giving you notice.” Karen pulled over, keeping the engine running. “Stop dragging others into your mess.”
There was something going on with Karen and I wanted to know what. She wasn’t overly fond of me—or I her—but we’d never wished ill on each other. There was an intensity in Karen’s eyes and a tightness in her body that told me this was personal to her.
I rifled through my memory for a family connection between Karen and the key players. Just because Karen changed her last name from Pancake to England didn’t make all her family connections disappear. Change of name. Before she married Allan Sullivan, Felicity was a Pancake.
Great. I’d dragged Karen’s cousin into a figurative—and literal—fire. I’d just made the woman in control of dispensing the information in Eden an even bigger enemy.
“Felicity came on her own free will. If you want to help her, find out who’s selling J
anie to the kids, and who gave some to Brandon.”
“I’m working on the story. So stay out of my way. If you ruin this for me, I’ll ruin you.”
SEVEN
I rummaged in my kitchen cupboards for something sweet. I’d already tried my old standby comfort food of grilled cheese, and my mind was still stuck on driving by Made With Love or playing tit-for-tat with Karen. Being threatened made me want to delve in deeper, not back off. Fortunately, there was a sliver of common sense in my head screaming neither idea was a good one.
The sound of an engine drew me out of the kitchen and to the front window. Leaning over, I pulled the curtain back a smidge and peered outside. A truck pulled into my driveway, darkness making it hard to tell the color. A feminine figure slipped out from the driver’s seat and hustled toward the front door. Charlotte.
My doorbell chimed, followed by an insistent pounding. I answered the door.
Charlotte tugged me out the door. “Come on.”
I held on to the doorknob. No way was I following Charlotte blindly. “Where and why?”
“Made With Love. An impromptu midnight celebratory bonfire was announced through social media. Hannah snuck out to attend. There’s a reason those kids are heading over there tonight. I want you to take pictures while I get Hannah out of there.”
Chad’s words haunted me. “Perfect timing. Has to be tonight.” Was he getting a delivery of Janie tonight? Whatever was planned, I was sure it wasn’t a good idea for unwanted guests to arrive.
“Let me grab my cell. My camera was stolen, so I’ll have to use it.” I ran back into the kitchen, plucking my phone off the counter. “We should probably let the police know.”
“No,” Charlotte said. “I don’t want Hannah getting into trouble.”
“If the drugs are making an appearance tonight, Hannah is already courting trouble. The police can stop it.”
“Hannah will be blamed.”
“Not if she didn’t bring it.”
“Those kids will never turn on Whitney. I know Hannah’s going there to try and get proof that Whitney’s involved. Hannah feels bad that her first attempt landed you in trouble.”
And her second attempt might get her hurt. “Chad Carr is planning something for tonight. I’m not sure what. I only caught the end of a conversation.”
“I’ll take care of him.” Charlotte pushed up the sleeves of her black and gold hoodie.
I was sure she would. Charlotte was the poster child for Mama Bear. She had spent some time in jail after setting her ex-husband’s garbage cans on fire, and was photographed having a knock-down slap fight with a former boyfriend who’d been on Naked and Afraid.
From the expression on the man’s face, I think he’d rather have spent another twenty-one days out in the swamps, trying not to be eaten alive by an alligator, than go up against Charlotte again. He did have it coming to him for hitting on Hannah, who’d been almost sixteen at the time. It was amazing how long pictures and stories are stored on the internet.
“It’s still best if we call the police, let them know what’s up,” I said.
“They’re monitoring social media. If they want to come, they’ll come. You don’t need to be a reason for them to show up.”
“A reason?”
“If you’re there, Detective Roget and Steve Davis will arrive to help you.” A twinge of bitterness entered her voice.
“And that’s a bad thing? Helping?”
“Helping you, not everyone else.”
I locked my door then followed Charlotte to her truck.
“Ted and Steve wouldn’t frame someone for me.”
“I’m not saying that, but they’ll dig until they find out the truth. And I’ll go to jail again to keep Hannah out. I’ve done it before.”
I remained quiet as Charlotte unburdened herself on the drive to Made With Love.
“Hannah started the fire at her dad’s place. I lied for her.”
I should’ve guessed last year there was something scandalous in Hannah’s past to have Charlotte move in the middle of her daughter’s junior year in high school. Most families would wait until graduation.
“Her dad had no problem with her visiting him whenever she wanted, until his young girlfriend moved in. She was only a few years older than Hannah. After that, Hannah had to get permission to stop by and see him, and he quit paying child support because the girlfriend convinced him I was using the money for my truck payment. The night of the fire was Hannah’s birthday. Her dad was supposed to take her out to dinner. Instead, he told her he was taking out the girlfriend that night because she was feeling sad.”
My mouth remained closed. The last thing I wanted to do was react in a way that silenced Charlotte.
“She was devastated and acted out. She thought they had already left when she set the cans on fire. Her dad called the police.”
“If they saw Hannah set the fire, how did you get arrested for it?”
“I agreed to confess to it. The girlfriend changed her story, saying it was possible she really saw me because Hannah and I look alike from a distance. It worked out better for them. I lost my job, so we had to move. Now she wouldn’t have to share any more of the deadbeat’s time.”
A deep blare, like a foghorn, sounded from behind us. I looked out the back window. A fire truck bore down on us. Charlotte moved to the far right, the truck whizzing past us at almost the same speed as the red swirling lights.
“You don’t think…” Charlotte choked out the words, all color drained from her face.
She must think her daughter got into an accident or was responsible for a fire. I squeezed her hand. “I’m sure she’s okay. It’s probably another poorly planned bonfire. The team needs to find a better way to show school spirit.”
After last night’s uncontrolled bonfire that destroyed Lake’s florist business and damaged Clive Murphy’s pawn shop, Chief Moore might be able to get somewhere with Coach Rutherford and Principal Hanover to stop the tradition. And it might make it a little harder for the teens to buy the synthetic marijuana.
When we turned down the road leading to Made With Love, my breath caught in my throat. Every fire truck owned by Eden, and possibly ones from the neighboring counties, lined the road. Charlotte slowed the car, inching past the emergency vehicles and the burned timber that had once been Made With Love.
“Oh my God.” Charlotte slammed the truck to a stop. “I’m going to find my daughter.”
“They weren’t in there.” Bile snaked up my throat. I slid out of the truck. Charlotte had already disappeared into the darkness.
The scent of smoke clung to the air, filling my lungs and setting off a coughing fit. Everything smelled burnt. Not the good burn like a blackened marshmallow, but one of destruction.
Crime scene tape created a forty-foot perimeter around the entire store. The giant square was working to keep the arriving lookie loos away from the burnt building. Lights from the cruisers and the fire trucks flashed red on everything and everyone. I spotted Officer Mitchell talking to Chief Moore. A small movement to the right side of the burnt-to-a-crisp building caught my attention.
I squinted, straining my eyes to make out if the shape blending into and then out of the small grouping of trees was a shadow cast by the lights or something more. I leaned toward it, certain I’d spotted someone poking around back there. Tucking my chin to my chest, I slowly backed away from the fire scene.
It got darker the farther away I walked from the remains of Made With Love. The smoke smell lessened, making it easier to breathe. I focused on the movement near a grouping of trees. Were some teens hiding, afraid to come out after another bonfire destroyed a building, or was my imagination creating something from the night and white wisps of smoke?
My arm was snagged and I was whipped around.
&n
bsp; “What the hell are you doing here?” The lights from the emergency vehicles allowed me to see Officer Mitchell’s fierce look in full ominous view. The man looked even scarier with his expression highlighted by the rotating red lights.
“I saw the fire truck heading this way.” I made up the half-truth on the fly, feeling a twinge of guilt immediately.
“How would you know it was headed this way?” Mitchell still held my arm, his other hand resting on his handcuffs.
“It’s really easy to follow a fire truck with flashing lights at night,” I said. “Besides, the football team posted all over social media that they were having a midnight celebration bonfire near Made With Love. It was easy to put two and two together and come up with this location.”
“Of course you’d know where the kids were hanging out. I bet you’re bringing some party supplies for them.” Mitchell twisted my arm, bringing it behind my back. “How about we go search your car?”
Which was at my house. I just talked myself into a huge mess. I didn’t want Mitchell knowing I came with Charlotte.
“I didn’t bring those drugs into Polished. The girls did.”
“You mean your friend’s daughter?” Mitchell glanced around. “I think I see her truck. So you both showed up. I wonder what that means.”
“It means she has a teenage daughter. Maybe she wanted to make sure she wasn’t here with the football team.” I struggled to get free.
“You’re blaming those kids?” Mitchell tightened his hold, arcing my arm up higher.
Fear tumbled through me. I hadn’t been this scared of a police officer since an MP banged on my apartment door in Germany. I hadn’t been too thrilled when Ted questioned me after Michael Kane’s murder, but I was never afraid he’d hurt me. This officer I wasn’t so sure about.
“I’ll take it from here, Officer Mitchell.” Ted wore a firefighter’s helmet with the face shield pushed up. Soot dotted his face.
“I bet you will,” Mitchell said.
“I’d release her before you get slapped with an assault charge. The public doesn’t like it when the police manhandle people. Especially women.” Ted rested his hand on Mitchell’s wrist.
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