whisper in my ear. “Get up now, Muriel!” she yelled.
I sat up, rubbing my eyes, and took in a deep breath that threw me into a coughing fit. I tried to open my eyes, but they burned and I couldn’t see anything. The realization that smoke filled the room propelled me to action. “Nareece. Nareece!”
I reached forward and shook her, but she did not respond. I slid to the floor and pulled my purse and Nareece down with me. She hit with a thud but still did not respond. I crawled along the floor, dragging Nareece and my purse behind me. When I got to where I thought the door was, I reached up and rattled the doorknob until it opened, but there was no air, only more blackness. I inched farther along the floor, staying close to the outside wall, dragging Nareece behind me. Rest a minute. Need to get out before the smoke . . . I lay on the floor and closed my eyes from the burning.
Next thing I knew, a fireman was carrying me away from the house and handing me off to an EMT, who carried me to the back of an ambulance where they labored over Nareece. I knocked away an oxygen mask one of the EMTs tried to corner me with, as another EMT called, “Clear,” and zapped Nareece. He rechecked her pulse and rubbed the paddles together. “Clear.” He checked her pulse again. “I got a pulse,” he announced and pulled an oxygen mask over her face.
“She’s fine, right?”
“For a minute I thought we lost her, but . . .” He lifted the stethoscope from his neck and listened to Nareece’s chest. “She’ll live,” he assured me.
An EMT helped me into the ambulance and sat me on the cot next to where Nareece lay. “Miss, you need to wear this for a while,” he insisted, now on full attack with an oxygen mask.
I pushed it away, taken by the scene—red, orange, and yellow flames boogied skyward against a black easel, embers dancing like disco lights.
The EMT followed my gaze and came at me again. “Miss, please.”
I fell back and surrendered.
The siren sounded off in the distance and sputtered to silence, as we pulled into the emergency entrance of Martha’s Vineyard Hospital. An EMT rattled off stats to the attending nurse until we reached a treatment area.
“You two are lucky.” He squeezed my hand and headed out.
“Thanks,” I mumbled. “What about my car?”
“Call the fire station in the morning, they’ll know.”
I swung my legs over the side of the bed and reached for my purse. The attending nurse snatched it back. “Now, young lady, you lie down,” she said, guiding me to a lying position, objection not an option. She took my blood pressure and pulse and said the doctor would be in shortly.
I was uncertain how much time had passed when the doctor woke me.
“Your sister is going to be fine, but we’re going to admit her and watch her overnight. She’s got quite a bump on the back of her head,” he said.
“She banged her head when I pulled her off the couch trying to get out.”
“Good thing you did. Better a bump on the head.” He lifted my eyelid and flashed a light, then listened to my lungs and heart and checked my pulse. “I’m admitting you for the night, as well. You’re clear but better to be safe.”
The next morning, before I left the hospital, I checked on Nareece. She was resting peacefully. I thought about waking her, but decided more sleep would serve her better.
I took a taxi to the Edgartown Police Station. An officer drove me to the impound yard to pick up my car, then I drove out to the house. When I turned into the driveway, I gasped at the sight of charred objects strewn over the lawn. Only the foundation of the house remained. Its confines trapped a black hole.
I got out and walked the perimeter. A charred refrigerator and dishwasher and the scorched remains of an electric floor-sanding machine stuck up from inside the black hole. I remembered that Nareece had said John refinished the wood floors.
An unscathed soccer ball rolled along the property edge. I retrieved the ball, tossed it in the backseat of the car, and got in. While I was backing out, a car pulled in and blocked the way. My heart leaped before I recognized the man exiting the car as Mr. Galloway, our closest neighbor since we were kids. We were separated by a block of woods.
“Nareece, that you?”
“It’s Muriel, Mr. Galloway.”
“Muriel, girl, I haven’t seen you in a coon’s age. How are you, young lady? You’re all grown-up, that’s how you are.” He didn’t wait for me to answer before offering his condolences. “Sure is a sorry sight. Good thing no one was hurt, though, and they kept it from spreading”—he waved his arm in an arc to indicate the entire wooded area—“or we’d all been in trouble.” He searched the scene with his eyes. “Nothing left. Not a thing. Shame.”
“Nothing that can’t be replaced,” I offered with the conviction of an ant.
“Will you rebuild?”
“I guess.” I struggled not to seem anxious to leave.
“How are those little ones doing? They are something else.” He chuckled and bent down to rest his arms on the car, so he was on my level, head to head.
“They’re fine. Growing up,” I said, pulling back a bit to allow more breathing room between us, though his breath smelled of spearmint.
“There were two cars here early this morning. It wasn’t Lambert’s truck, though. Lambert’s the fire chief. Bret Lambert. I think one was blue and the other gray. I was out for my morning walk. They were leaving as I approached from the right, so I didn’t get a good look at who was inside. I did see that there were two men inside. What started it, anyway?”
“Actually I’m on my way to the fire station now.”
“I won’t keep you then,” he said, straightening up and moving back from the car. “Don’t mind if I nose around a bit, do you?”
“Not at all, but be careful.”
“You take care. Tell Nareece and John—nice fella, that John—tell them I came by and asked after them,” he said on his way back to move his car. He got in and pulled alongside my car. “Frances and I will support her and John any way we can if they decide to rebuild.”
“Thanks, Mr. Galloway.”
I did not tell him John was dead. More questions would arise that I did not have answers for. I drove away wondering about the two visitors.
When I arrived at the West Tisbury Fire Station 2, Chief Lambert ushered me into his office and offered me a seat. “Good thing your neighbor called. We would have arrived sooner, but it’s hard getting down those roads.” He leaned forward in his chair and rested his elbows on the desk, clasping his hands together in a prayerful fashion. “I’m glad you and your sister got out in time. We suspect arson, but we’re still investigating. I’ll know more in a few days.”
I flashed back to the noise I’d heard outside the window while I was talking to Dulcey.
The chief sat back in his chair. “Ms. Mabley, you know anyone who’d want to hurt you and your sister?”
Chief, to be honest, I am investigating a suspected murderer named Jesse Boone. I came down here to get my sister, who is in fear of her life from Boone. Didn’t think anyone would find us. But I did hear some rustling around the house last night. Brushed it off as some animals.
“Who knew you were coming?”
“That’s just it, nobody. Neither of us told anyone we were coming here. It was an unexpected trip, and what’s more, nobody even knows about the place down here.”
“Might be that someone sure the hell does,” he said.
I got up to leave. “I’m hopeful that when you finish your investigation, the findings will change.”
“I hope our findings change, as well. We’ve never had a problem with arson before, not as long as I’ve been chief, which will be forty years this August.”
I dug in my bag for a card and handed it to him. “Please let me know what you learn.”
I drove to the Vineyard Haven dock, checked the boat schedule, and rescheduled our reservation for 5:00 p.m. that afternoon. When I returned to the hospital, the nurse stopped me on
the way to Nareece’s room.
“She’s gone.”
I gasped and stumbled forward. She caught my arm.
“Oh no, I’m sorry. Your sister checked out, as in left the building. She went with some fellas who said they were her cousins. She said she was meeting you and would check in with her primary physician on the other side.”
CHAPTER 17
The nurse said she’d overheard one man say they could catch the 3:00 p.m. ferry. A quick look at the time on my cell phone showed I had ten minutes before the ferry left. I dashed out. My adrenaline surged at the slim likelihood of me catching the three o’clock.
A docker was waving the last few cars to the loading ramp when I pulled curbside under a FOR DROPOFF AND PICKUP ONLY sign. I got out and ran to the pier.
“Slow down, miss,” he told me, then stepped in front of me and held out his hand. “Ticket?”
“No. I mean, I just want to make sure my sister got on. Did you notice a young woman with two men drive on?”
“What kind of car?” He took tickets from a woman with two young boys who were arguing and slapping at each other. The smaller boy cried and called the bigger boy a “dummy,” “stupid,” “crackhead,” and my favorite, “bugga butt.” The mother walked ahead of the two in denial, tuned out, or just plain fed up.
“I’m not sure,” I said.
“Lady, over a hundred cars pulled onto this boat. If you can’t tell me the kind of car . . .” He rubbed his chin in thought. “You know, I vaguely remember a young woman who looked kind of sickly, a dark blue Ford Taurus. My brother-in-law has one. Nice car.”
He held up a finger for me to wait and talked with another worker who approached. A driver who was insisting on passage despite not having a reservation leaned out of his car window. He talked with the driver and directed him back to the holding area, as the dockmaster pulled the pins and the ferry chugged back from the dock, the bay doors closing.
I regained his attention. “You said a young woman. I only remember because the car had a big dent in one side. The woman was lying across the backseat. I asked the driver if she was okay.”
“Was she?”
“She didn’t look so good, but the guy ignored me and drove on.”
“Thanks for your help. Is there a ferry sooner than five o’clock?”
“Yeah, but I’d bet it’s full. Best you keep your five o’clock reservation if you have one.” He gestured to the cars lined up in the holding area. “End up in standby and not get off until tonight.”
“Can you say what the men looked like?”
“They were black, dressed up in suits. Looked like hoodlums, no offense.”
“None taken. Thanks again.”
The realization of the situation bowled me over. I watched the boat back away from the dock and move along the shoreline toward Woods Hole. The waiting area was near empty now. Flustered, I sat on a bench under a canopy where people waited for arrivals and called Laughton—wishful thinking. No answer. Then I called Cap. His administrative assistant said he was gone for the day and his cell phone was off. Then I called Travis. He answered on the first ring.
“Ma, where are you? You got me worried to death not knowing whether you’re okay or if something bad happened. Did you find Auntie?”
“I’m fine, Travis. Yeah, I found her. What’s going on with you?”
“Lying low is all. I’m at the crib now, but I been hanging at Aunt Dulcey’s every night with those crazy twins.” There was a moment of silence. “What’s wrong, Ma?”
“Everything’s fine, son. I’ll be home soon.”
“Everything’s not fine. Just please do what you gotta do and get back in one piece. I can’t take another episode. You hearing me?”
“I’m hearing you. I can’t take another episode, either. See you soon. I love you.”
“Love you, too.”
My next call was to Dulcey. She answered on the first ring, too. Women talking and laughing filled the background.
“Muriel, I’ve been calling you since early this morning.”
“Muriel”—that was new. Girlfriend called me everything but never Muriel. I hadn’t bothered to check my phone since that morning. I’d put the ring on silent while in the hospital and forgot to switch it back to a ringtone.
“How are the girls?”
“Are you all right?” she shot back.
“I’m hanging.”
“The girls are worried but good. They’re having a ball helping me in the shop and amusing my customers till they be falling outta the chair and switching their heads every which way. Can’t hold me responsible for a lopsided perm or styling job.” She let out a slight laugh, then quieted. The background noise faded. “I’m away from everybody now. What’s really going on?”
“Someone tried to burn us up last night. I mean, I think someone set the house on fire. Coulda been electrical or something.”
“Someone tried to kill you all!”
“We’re good. Well, we were good until I left the hospital and Reecey to get the car. Dulcey, two men kidnapped Reecey from the hospital. She was sleeping this morning when I left the hospital to get my car and check out the damage to the house. When I got back to the hospital, the nurse said she left with two men who said they were cousins. I think they got on the boat that just left the dock. I know they’re some of Boone’s henchmen. And there isn’t a damn thing I can do until I get off this island.”
“I can’t believe what you’re telling me. Burn you out? Kidnap Reecey?” I heard her sigh. “You don’t know who took her or where they’re going to take her or whether she’s even alive at this point.”
“I’d guess they’re heading to Philly. And she’s alive. Whatever it is she did or has, they aren’t going to do anything to her until they get it.” My brain said Nareece would die before telling her captors where it was, whatever “it” was, but I didn’t want to think too hard about that right now. “I’m going to see Bates first. I’ll head back after. I’ll call you when I leave Boston.”
I hung up and checked my messages. Dulcey, Travis, and Calvin. I called Calvin, but he didn’t answer. I clicked off without leaving a message.
It was 3:05. I had two hours before my reservation. The next boat was in an hour. I decided to get in the standby line in hope of getting off an hour early. Back at my car, a police officer stepped off the curb to check my license plate and write a ticket just as I arrived. She smiled and moved on to the next car.
I got in and drove around to the reservation booth. A man poked his head out of the door. “Lane two,” he said and handed me a receipt and boarding pass. I rolled to a stop, the last car in line for a forty-five-minute wait. If I didn’t make the next ferry, I still had a confirmed reservation for the one at five o’clock.
The quiet breeze was in direct contrast to my mood and the day’s events. I got out of the car, walked to the water’s edge, and sat on a bench facing the ocean. Waves of anxiety belabored my breathing. My emotions climbed to near hysterical and kept climbing. My phone dinged—a text from Travis. Be safe. lol xxxxoooo. My anxiety waned.
Travis had Nareece’s high forehead and green eyes with a broad toothsome smile. He was soft-spoken like her, but unlike Nareece, if you pushed Travis to the wall, and even through it, he would keep control. That was the opposite from Nareece, who was quick to get enraged if denied her way. Tell that girl “no” and she would go ballistic, especially after Mom and Dad died and I inherited the parent role. She aimed my revolver at me once and pulled the trigger. The almost dying didn’t haunt me, but the fact that she was the one who pulled the trigger would scrape my flesh from my bones if I thought about it too long. The gun misfired for no reason that I could find. No reason but God.
“And it’s not her time now,” I told myself out loud. I called Bates.
“What’s going on, Mabley?” he said. “You lose your sister again?”
I ignored his sarcasm. “As a matter of fact, I did. I found her here on the Island, Mar
tha’s Vineyard, then someone tried to kill us by burning our house down, and then two guys kidnapped my sister from the hospital.”
“Now tell me what really happened.” Bates sounded unconvinced.
“I know it sounds crazy. And I’m sorry I wasn’t completely up front with you before, but I am being up front now. No bullshit, Bates.” I told him the whole story about Nareece dating Jesse Boone and taking the drugs and the money. When I was done, Bates was quiet for a good while.
“I’m on the Island waiting for the ferry now.”
“Then that seals it. It was Boone’s fingerprints on the ChapStick and on the chair the guy, John, was in. We have a warrant out for him now.”
“I’m pretty sure he’s back in Philly by now and that’s where they’re taking Nareece.” I stopped short of telling him the part about where Nareece hid the money. “Look, Bates, I gotta go, but I’ll call you when I get back to Philly.”
“Muriel, I know you think this is all about your sister, but I’m telling you to watch your back out there. I did some more deep digging and used up a few favors, top gun favors, and it seems like there is someone in the PPD, someone in the know, who might be feeding Jesse Boone information. We took a computer from your sister’s house, and there was a picture of a chick named Lakisha Butler and you on it, in the same frame.”
CHAPTER 18
A raucous noise assaulted me, snapping me back to consciousness. The car I was driving swerved over rumble strips along the breakdown lane. I jerked the steering wheel too far to the left, too far to the right, to the left again, to the right again, before finding balance and straightening the ride. Suddenly the decision to hit the road back to Philly at 10:00 p.m. seemed a stupid one.
I pulled into the next rest area on I-91. My knees buckled when I stepped out of the car. My saving grace was that I had hold of the door. I straightened and limped across the lot and into the building to the bathroom, where I splashed cold water on my face. I pulled a paper towel from the wall dispenser and held it to my face. When I took the towel away, my reflection in the mirror shoved me back a step. The devil’s fury showed over my face—dark circles framing my eyes, hair standing on end, eyes bloodshot. I stepped forward again, daring the image to say something bad to me. “Emergency services definitely needed now, Dulcey girl.” I wiped at my eyes, patted my hair down, straightened my posture, and moved on.
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