by D E Dennis
Smash!
The glass shattered under my assault and I cried out. The movies made that looked a lot easier than it was.
Carefully, I put my hand through and felt around for the lock. A small turn, a click, and I was in. I took my hand out and pushed open the door. The squeaks of rusty hinges echoed eerily throughout the space.
“Hello?” I called. I stepped inside. “Hello?”
No answer.
“Oliver?” I said. A few more steps and I cleared the front hall and found myself before the staircase. “Oliver!?” I yelled.
Again nothing.
I cursed. “Oliver, please. If you’re here, just come out.” Still, no response. I turned and wandered into the room on my left. It was the living room. I walked further in and stopped short of the couch, taking in the bay window and cozy little fireplace. “Oliver!” I screamed, trying one more time.
I blew out the breath I had been holding. “He’s not here,” I said loudly, eyes sweeping across the room. “It’s just us so you might as well come out...Veronica.”
The sound of sloshing liquid was all the warning I got. I spun around to see a large red container heading straight for my head. I got my hands up in time, but the blow sent me flying over the couch and onto the soft cushions. I didn’t have a millisecond to process what happened before I found myself being doused with the contents of the container.
The gasoline splashed into my open mouth and I wretched. Spitting and gagging, I rolled off the couch and scrambled away.
Veronica whipped the gas container around, emptying its contents on the couch, coffee table, and floor, when she was out she reeled back and flung the empty container at me.
“Hey!” I screamed, ducking out of the way. “What are you doing?! Stop it!”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that.” The dim light coming through the windows enabled me to make out a smirk. “I can’t believe you found me. Maybe you are a psychic after all.” She tsked. I frantically felt around for my phone and cursed when I realized I had left it back in my room. “But too bad you didn’t see this coming.”
Suddenly, I had no trouble seeing her face. It was clearly illuminated in the light of a match.
“Goodbye, Madame Moon.”
Entry Ten
MY MIND WENT BLANK with panic. “Wait, no!” I screamed. “Veronica, please listen. I know everything. I know why you faked your death. I know why you killed your husband.”
She sneered. “Then, you also know why I have to do this.” She held out the hand holding the match.
“But you got it wrong!” I yelled quickly. “You don’t know the truth! But I do!”
She paused, uncertainty breaking through her withering stare. “What are you talking about?” she hissed.
“You messed up, Mrs. Breyfogle!” I spat. “Everything you did was for nothing!”
Her hands shook, and my eyes followed the dancing flames. “Alright, psychic. Why don’t you tell me what you think you know?”
I gulped, eyes fixed on the match. “I should have known from the beginning,” I began. “But I was stupid.”
“Incredibly so,” she interjected scornfully.
I kept going like she hadn’t spoken. “The day you came to see me in my office you were filled with so much rage and sadness. Like your son, Oliver, you thought your husband was cheating on you. All the phone calls and coming home late without telling you where he’d been. You thought there was another woman.”
I shook my head. “The same things kept being said when I asked people about your husband. Tad adored you. No one could believe someone who loved you so much would hurt you. But, when you came up...people repeatedly tried to tell me what a pusher you are. You nudge and mold and pressure people into being your version of perfect. You did it to the people you met through your work. Chef Tatiana and Sloane Michaels were nothing before you came along. You made them into a success because that’s what you do.”
She was spellbound, hooked on every word that fell from my lips. “No doubt thinking, if you can make something of the people around you, then giving up the life you wanted for them wasn’t a mistake. You supported your husband’s ambitions. Pressured and browbeat your kids until Gwen gave up and Oliver rebelled.”
Her hand shook so hard the flame went out. She hurriedly lit another, screaming, “How dare you! I’m a good mother!”
“You are!” I said quickly, wisdom said this wasn’t a good time to piss her off. “You are a good mother. You tried to be a good mother from the moment you found out you were pregnant with Gwen. You dropped out of school, so that you could be the best mother and wife you could be.”
She nodded. “Yes, yes.”
“For over twenty years, you put your family before everything,” I continued. “You poured all your time and energy into making them the best, and then your husband has the audacity to betray you.”
“He thinks he can cheat on me,” she hissed. “Me!”
“The final straw was when you overheard him arranging to change his will.”
“That’s when I knew he was going to leave me.” There was an insane glint in her eye that sent a shiver up my spine. “I wasn’t going to let that happen. Not after everything I’ve done for him. Be some pathetic, middle-aged divorcee while he ran off with some pert little slut!”
I nodded slowly. This was good. If she was talking, she wasn’t burning me alive. “So, you made a plan,” I said. “If your family was too stupid to see how lucky they were to have you, then you would be the one to walk out on them, not the other way around. But first, you would make your husband pay and you’d make sure it was a punishment that would last. His family, his reputation, his freedom. Gone.
“You came up with the idea of framing him for your own murder and it was a pretty ingenious plan. You needed to make it look like your husband did it while simultaneously pointing the investigation in the direction of the arsonist. Because if you were too obvious in framing your husband, then the police might question the evidence, so instead you copied the arsonist’s MO to lead the investigation one way but planted the tie clip and spun me a web of lies to make sure the cops didn’t veer too far off course.
“You did find out about me from Nadia and after some digging, you found out just how many high-profile clients I have. You didn’t buy into the whole psychic thing—”
“Still don’t.” She sneered.
“But you trusted me to keep pushing, until the person who killed the poor woman who came begging me for help was behind bars. But why me?” I asked. “Why not your children or Nadia?”
She scoffed. “I wouldn’t involve my children. This was between me and their father. As for Nadia, I was afraid anyone close to me would be dismissed. The cops might have thought Nadia was pinning the blame on Tad, because she had a personal grudge. As you said, I needed the investigation to not veer too far off course and to make sure it didn’t I needed someone to fight for me that had no personal connection to me or Tad. Nothing to lose or gain. The police would have no reason to think you were making it up when you told them the mayor of Zinnia Springs was a murderer.”
I inclined my head. “Fair enough.” Gasoline dripped from my fingertips onto the carpet. “You had it all worked out. You even picked the perfect person to take your place in the fire.” I balled my fists, choking back tears. “Daisy Hollins.”
Veronica blinked. “How do you know her name?”
“Daisy was my friend,” I snapped. “And she was a good person. And you killed her and five other innocent people for nothing!”
Her mouth twisted. “I had to,” she replied. “To make it look like my husband was framing the arsonist. I had to die in a fire. I couldn’t set fire to the house and put my children at risk, so that left my job. I truly regret those who didn’t make it out, but it had to be done.”
I scowled furiously, she didn’t sound remorseful at all. “Yes, you were very committed to your plan. You knew your husband’s routine well. You knew he liked to spend
his Saturdays locked up in his office working which meant you knew he would have no real alibi. That’s why you chose a Saturday morning even though Best Foot Forward would be filled with people.”
“Had. To. Be. Done,” she said through gritted teeth.
“That would have been the end of it...until Sophia Bell got in front of those news cameras and gave him an alibi.”
“I couldn’t believe it.” She practically vibrated with rage. The match whooshed out again and another was lit in its place. “There she was. I knew it was her, it had to be. The slut that ruined my life was back again to ruin my death.”
“You flew into a rage,” I prompted.
“She practically confessed to the affair in front of all those cameras. Might as well have been wearing an ‘A’ on her chest because everyone would know what she meant by them being together when the fire started.” She shook her head. “It was the last straw. He had wrangled a way out of prison and humiliated me in the process. That was the final straw,” she repeated.
“So, you went to the house.” I went on when it was clear she wasn’t going to say anymore. “Lurking around, waiting for the right moment when Gwen, Oliver, and Tatiana were gone, and it was only your husband left inside. I think he caught a glimpse of you too. That day, his last word to me were ‘I thought I saw...’” I said to her questioning look. “He thought he saw his dead wife.
“It was hours before he was finally alone in the house,” I continued. “When he was, you came in with the key you still had, took the gun and went into the study. What did you even say to him?”
She shrugged. “I told him that I escaped the fire and hid, because I was afraid someone was after me. I was afraid to come home and put him and the kids in danger, so I stayed away but I just couldn’t be away from them any longer.” She scoffed. “He acted like he was so happy to see me. Crying and going on about how much he loved me, that he had been given a second chance and he was going to be a better husband. He was going to tell me the truth. Well, it was too little, too late,” Veronica snapped. “I had him sit down in his desk chair and then...I shot him.”
I picked up where she left off. “And you wrote the note blaming him and Sophia for your supposed murder.”
“That’s right.”
I shook my head. “But here’s what I don’t get. Why are you still here? Why aren’t you halfway to a country with no extradition treaty?”
She frowned and didn’t reply.
“He’s dead,” I probed. “You got your revenge so why...” I drifted off. “Oh, I see. You haven’t gotten your revenge. Not yet anyway. You’re stuck out here with no clue what’s going on except for what you see on the news. You’ve been hiding out here waiting for the ZSPD to announce to the world that Tad Breyfogle is a killer and Sophia Bell is going to prison.”
“Yes,” she hissed. “What’s taking so long?! It’s been days!” Her eyes narrowed. “And how did you know I was here?”
I swallowed thickly. “Your son,” I said softly. “I remembered him saying he likes to come out here, but that this place is ‘totally haunted.’ When I realized the killer could only be you, I knew what all those creaks and groans he heard in here must have been.”
She sniffed. “You’re smart, but I’d guess you have to be to keep up this psychic con for as long as you have. You really did figure everything out.”
I nodded sadly. “I did, Veronica, and that’s why...I feel sorry for you.”
Rage distorted her pretty face into something else entirely. “I don’t need your pity!” she shrieked. “What do you know? You’re a child. You have no clue what it feels like to dedicate your entire life to a man and have him toss you aside like trash.” The hand holding the match reared back. “It was his fault! I’m not going to prison for setting things right!”
I knew at that moment what she was going to do next. “Veronica, he didn’t cheat on you!” I screamed.
She halted mid-throw. “What?! Yes, he d—”
“No!” I cried. “He didn’t. I told you, you got it all wrong.” I took a deep breath, trying to slow my racing heart. “Sophia Bell wasn’t his mistress. There was no mistress.”
“You’re lying!” She flung the match. I screamed and ducked out of the instinct. But the throw was too hard and resulted in the match going out midair. She fumbled to light another one; I straightened and spoke quickly.
“Sophia wasn’t his mistress. She was his daughter!” I said in a rush.
She froze. The match was lit, but she made no move to use it. “What?” she whispered. Her deathly pale face looked ghoulish in the light of the flame.
“Sophia was his daughter. He got his high school girlfriend pregnant and she never told him about the baby. Sophia tracked him down and told him the truth months ago, but he was afraid to tell you and blow up the perfect life you had together.”
I sighed. “That’s what I sensed the night I met him, Veronica. When he thought of you, he was filled with guilt, disgust, and anger. That guilt and disgust, it was shame for lying to you and keeping his daughter a secret. That anger was toward himself for being such a coward. It drowned out everything else,” I said softly, “like strong emotions tend to do. I couldn’t feel his love for you, but...but I know it was there, because someone who didn’t care wouldn’t have been so tortured over keeping that secret.”
“N-no...”
“Yes,” I said firmly. “He didn’t change his will to take you out. I’m pretty sure he did it to put Sophia in. So that even when he wasn’t around he could take care of her. She’s in a very bad situation, Veronica, he did everything he could to try and get her out of it. In trying to be a good father to her, he was a lousy husband and father to you, Gwen, and Oliver.”
I took a step toward her. “But that was his only crime, Veronica. He did not throw you away for someone else. He did not cheat. And he would have explained all of this to you himself...but you killed him before he could.”
“No...” she whispered through bloodless lips. She started shaking her head. “No, no, no.” With every no her voice got louder. “No! No!” she screamed. She was jerking her head roughly, frantically. My eyes were glued to the match she was holding.
If I can grab her hand—
“No, Tad!” she wailed. “Tad, what have I done!? What did I do! Tad!”
I lurched forward just as the match slipped from the fingertips of a hysterical Veronica. I whipped my hand out but caught only air. Time seemed to slow as the match made its final descent and then landed softly on the cushion.
The couch went up like a bonfire; I flung my gasoline-soaked body away from it.
It was spreading fast, blocking the way I had come into the living room, and I couldn’t risk going near the fire. I could make Veronica out through the haze.
“My Tad! Taaaaaadddd!” She tore at her hair and face. “Noooo!”
“Veronica!” I screamed. “We need to get out of here now!”
She gave no indication that she heard me. I frantically cast about for another way out and my eyes landed on a bay window. I didn’t spare another moment. I seized the armchair in front of the fireplace and lifted it with adrenaline-fueled strength.
“Arrggh!” I cried out as I sent it flying through the window. Air whooshed in, feeding the hungry flames. and they reached for me as I took a running leap and went soaring through the shattered window.
I landed hard on a bed of weeds and broken glass. I cried out, dazed and in pain. I was so out of it, I thought I heard sirens.
Wait—
I rolled over and pushed myself up with some difficulty. A police car careened down the path and almost collided with mine.
“Amari!” Arnie bellowed. He threw open the car door as I struggled to my feet.
“She’s still inside!” I cried. I ran for the front door.
“Amari, no!”
But it was too late, I was already in. I hurried down the hallway and turned the corner for the living room. Veronica was still in the do
orway, wailing and throwing herself about. The sleeve of her blouse was on fire. She made no effort to put it out. She was too far gone.
The fire had taken over the living room and was turning its attention to the rest of the house. Smoke billowed out, stinging my eyes and choking my lungs. I needed to get her out, now.
I darted forward and snagged her blouse. With a rough yank, she flew back crashing into me. We fell into a heap on the floor as the fire consumed the spot she had just been standing in.
She was fighting me, wiggling, struggling, and lashing out. “Veronica! We need to get out!”
“Taaaaddddddd!”
Her grief, stronger than any emotion I had felt before, sunk its hook into me and dragged me down.
It paralyzed me. My grip on Veronica slackened and my arms flopped down to my sides. She was still on top of me, thrashing about, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered anymore.
Tears silently leaked down my face.
Two bare feet appeared before me and I slowly followed them up until Kayla and I locked eyes.
“I’m coming,” I whispered to her.
She smiled back at me. “Not yet, Mari. Not just yet.”
Suddenly, Veronica Breyfogle was lifted off of me and strong arms scooped me up. Arnie sprinted toward the front door and out into the cool, night air. Kindler wrestled with Veronica on the front lawn, wrenching her arms behind her back.
“You have the right to remain silent!” she yelled. “Anything you say can and will—”
Arnie brought me a safe distance away and sat me down on the soft grass. “Mari, are you okay?! What happened?!”
My answer was to lurch forward and throw my arms around him. He held me tightly.
“It’s okay, baby,” he said into my ear. “You’re safe now. It’s finally over.”
Entry Eleven
“OUCH!” I CRIED, BUT the paramedic ignored me and continued dabbing my cuts with antiseptic.
“You’ll run into a burning building without a blink.” A wry voice made me look up. “But you’re afraid of a little cut cleaner.” Kindler came around the back of the ambulance and stopped in front of me. She jerked her head at my torturer. “Give us a minute.”