Maggie lowered the book and closed her eyes. If it was possible to love Aunt Esther more, she did now. Her heart ached for the woman who was willing to put Maggie’s happiness above her own. She flipped back to check the date. It was several months before her wedding. Something must have happened since she married him when Maggie was seventeen and they all lived together for a year before Maggie went to college. What changed her mind? She flipped a few pages and began to read again.
Ron is insistent, and Maggie with him. The truth is…I’m afraid. I’ve lived alone, with the exception of dear Maggie, for the better part of twenty-seven years. Ron deserves better. I’m not sure a woman of forty-five can adapt to marriage the way a younger woman would. I feel the gate closing, and I’m fenced in. I must decline his invitation. I know it will hurt him, but I’m not ready.
She read on. Aunt Esther did, indeed, tell Ron she couldn’t marry him. Insecurities about her decision filled the next pages. A sentence caught her eye.
“I haven’t seen Ron in three months. I keep trying to get over it, but I can’t. I’m miserable without him.”
She closed the book, embarrassed to read the intimate details of Aunt Esther’s emotions. The experience opened a new world for her. The Aunt Esther she knew was strong and sure and kind. As a child, the stability Aunt Esther provided in her volatile, sometimes shaky, world comforted her. Aunt Esther was wise not to share those feelings then, but as Maggie drifted off to sleep, she let the knowledge they weren’t that different comfort her. And no matter what, she was Maggie’s Aunt Esther.
~*~
Grady watched the last light go out at Maggie’s house before pulling out his sleeping bag. Good night, beautiful.
He started to drift off when the motion detector light flashed on in Maggie’s backyard. A dark figure slipped through the gate, bent to pick something off the ground, and threw it. The light went out. What was up with that? He sat up and reached for the binoculars. What was this guy up to? He carried something at his side, almost as if he wanted to hide it. Grady focused on his hands and zoomed in. A gas can. He was going to light up Maggie’s house! What could he do? If he called the police, he’d get caught for sure. But Cam wouldn’t forgive him if something happened to Allie. Could he stop him? He zoomed back out until the guy was in full focus. He was big, that’s for sure, and built pretty solid.
Frozen, Grady watched him creep to the house, splashing gasoline over everything. A dog started barking. The man emptied the can, lit a match, and ran. The fire caught fast and spread to the siding. He slithered away, fading into the darkness.
20
Something on the outside of Maggie’s consciousness irritated her. What was it? As her dream slipped away, she woke to Honey alternately barking and tugging at her pajamas. “Honey, what’s the matter with you? It’s still the middle of the night. Are you so desperate to go out, you’re jerking me out of bed?”
What smelled…was it smoke? She jumped out of bed and ran to the hallway. Smoke drifted up from the kitchen. “Ginger! Allie!” she yelled. “Wake up. There’s a fire!”
Her heart pounded as she raced back to her room, grabbed the robe off the back of the door, and swept her phone off the charger on her nightstand. She struggled into her robe as she dialed 9-1-1, trying to hurry into Allie’s room at the same time.
Allie jolted awake, and Maggie sprinted to the next room.
Ginger was fast asleep.
“Ginger! Wake up!” No answer.
The smoke reached the detector in the kitchen.
Maggie shouted her address into the phone in order to be heard over the alarms shrieking throughout the house.
Allie shook Ginger’s shoulder, but received no response. Could she be suffering from smoke inhalation already? It wasn’t smoky in here yet.
Maggie dumped the phone into her pocket and helped Allie shake harder, pulling the listless arm toward her. Panic built in her stomach like a volcano. How on earth was she going to get the heavy woman downstairs?
Allie switched to the other side of Ginger’s bed, pushing her hard toward Maggie.
Ginger rolled over. If they kept it up, she would fall out of bed. At least, she might wake up. Before they got that far, she started to stir.
Maggie tugged again. “Wake up, Ginger. There’s a fire!”
“A fire?” Ginger mumbled. “No, it’s just breakfast. I’ll have it ready in a minute.” She opened her eyes and dropped her feet to the floor.
Allie shuffled to Maggie’s side of the bed and hauled on her other arm. “Hurry. We have to go now!”
Ginger’s eyes focused on Maggie’s face. “What’s the hurry?” She sniffed the smoke, fast becoming noticeable, and her sleepy eyes widened. “Maggie, the house is on fire!”
Maggie and Allie yanked on her arms and jerked her to her feet.
“Yes, we have to hurry!” Maggie tried to steady her.
Ginger, wide awake now, lurched forward.
Maggie scooped up her little dog, and all of them made their way to the stairs. Two steps down, Maggie stopped.
A line of flames snaked across the wood floor which separated them from the front door, and licked up the French doors in the kitchen.
Ginger bumped into her back.
“It’s burning down there. We have to find another way.” Maggie reversed direction. “A window. We can go out my bedroom window and climb out onto the porch roof.” Pushing Ginger back to her bedroom, she wondered if she could get her through the narrow opening. She’d have to try. How she would get her off the roof, however, was another matter. The firemen should be here by then. They could figure it out. She pushed her blanket chest underneath the window. Allie climbed on top of it and then crawled out, her cast making her exit less than graceful. She scrambled to her feet.
Maggie handed Honey out to her.
“OK, Ginger, you’re next. I’ll help you up.” She reached for her hand.
Ginger swayed back, her eyes huge with terror. “I can’t.”
“Yes, you can. It’s perfectly safe.” Maggie maneuvered behind her and started pushing, but Ginger wouldn’t budge.
“Here, I’ll go first.” She climbed on the chest and out the window. Bracing both feet, she leaned her body back through the opening and held both hands out.
Ginger started forward and clambered on the chest, grabbing one of Maggie’s outstretched hands. Her other hand shook as she put it on the windowsill. Sweat beaded her forehead. She froze. “No, I can’t do this. I’m afraid of heights. I can’t climb out there.” She wrenched her hand out of Maggie’s grasp and stepped down.
Maggie stood there, her arms stretched out, not believing her ears.
Allie leaned forward. “You have to, Ginger. The fire is coming,” she said. “Just don’t look down. You’ll be all right. Then a cute fireman can save us. Sounds good, doesn’t it?”
It sounded good to Maggie, but Ginger backed farther into the room, her body shaking violently. “I can’t. You go and get help. I’ll stay here.”
Horror coursed through Maggie as the large woman turned away from the window and lumbered toward the guest room. “Ginger, no! It’s too smoky. You won’t be able to breathe!”
Ginger kept going. The smoke was stronger now, and she started coughing.
Ignoring Allie’s cries, Maggie took a few breaths of precious air and climbed into the burning house.
21
Unable to sleep, Greg stared into the darkness. What could he do to convince Maggie they were right for each other? He had no doubts God had put them together. But if she didn’t agree, what could he do? Her parents had made such a mess of things. First, her father left when she was young, and then he didn’t stay involved. Maybe if he’d helped raise her, it would have been better. Truth be told, Greg couldn’t have lived with Maggie’s mother either. And speaking of Darla, he wasn’t sure how he could be civil to her if she kept insulting Maggie.
A low growl caused him to glance at up Snowflake, who stared out the window
flicking her tail. “What’s up with you, Stinky?” Another rumble came from her throat. He climbed out of bed to see what had her so riveted.
A glow rose to the east several blocks away. A fire? It looked as if it was near Maggie’s place. He dragged his cell phone off the charger and dialed 9-1-1, giving them an approximate location, still staring out the window trying to pinpoint it. It probably wasn’t as close to her house as it appeared. His breath caught in his throat. But what if it was, and she was asleep? He hung up and dialed her number. No answer.
He threw his clothes on and jumped into his truck, dialing her number again. Down at street level, he couldn’t see the red glow anymore, and it was too dark to see smoke, so he headed for her house and dialed again.
22
Smoke curled through the hallway from Maggie’s bedroom now, and as she climbed back inside, she wondered what on earth she was doing. How would she get Ginger and herself back out?
Ginger huddled on the floor by the bed, shaking and crying.
“Come on. We have to leave. We can’t stay here,” Maggie said, peering down the hall.
“Stay on the floor. They always say to stay on the floor,” Ginger whimpered.
“Well, we need to go now. The firemen will be here soon, and we need to meet them outside.”
Ginger stopped shaking. “OK.” She hauled herself to her feet.
Maggie grabbed a blanket off the bed and ran to the bathroom. Ginger waited in the doorway as she threw it into the tub and turned on the shower. She yanked it back out, not as soaked as she would have liked, but no time to do more. She threw it around herself and Ginger, and they headed for the stairs.
Her kitchen curtains were ablaze now, the flames spreading farther into the living room. She veered toward her office and headed to the side window, the one without a planter box on the outside. The wall wasn’t burning, but heat radiated from it. Ginger would go through this one, either voluntarily or she would get shoved out.
Both women were coughing now, and Maggie used the blanket edges to cover as much of her nose and mouth as possible. They reached the windows, and lights flashed on a yellow truck outside with firemen swarming toward the door.
She touched the window latch. But it scorched her hand, so she put the blanket around it and tried again. It wouldn’t budge with the blanket, so she put her hand on it again and lifted with all her strength.
It flipped up, and she cranked the window open as wide as it would go. She called to the firemen, and the swarm flowed in her direction. Pushing Ginger forward, strong hands reached to pull her out.
Then everything went black.
23
Greg threw the phone across the seat in frustration and sped to Maggie’s, both hands gripping the wheel. If the fire wasn’t at her house, it was close. He swung onto her street, and his heart jumped into his throat as he approached the long yellow truck in front of her house. If possible, his heart pounded even harder when an ambulance buzzed past him, pulling away from the curb. They always send one. Don’t panic. If the lights aren’t on, there’s no one inside. He sighed in relief as the dark ambulance passed him. Then, before it reached the corner, the strobes flashed on.
He frantically spun the wheel. Flipping on his lights, he pushed the accelerator to the floor, and his truck leaped forward. Traffic was nonexistent as he raced through town. He veered into the hospital emergency entrance and parked while ER personnel unloaded two stretchers. He wasn’t close enough to see who they were, but then an EMT helped Allie down from the ambulance. She seemed OK, although she was breathing from a portable oxygen tank.
They took all three women inside, and Greg called Mark. Obviously, Bobby wasn’t their killer. Whoever it was wasn’t stopping, and Allie would need protection. Mark arrived with Robin, and Greg hung out with them in the waiting room until the doctor exited with Allie.
She looked unsure where she should go until Robin spoke up.
“Hi, Allie. Are you OK?”
She gave her a shy smile and nodded.
The doctor glanced down at her. “Is this your family?”
“No,” she said. “I came in with my sister, so she must still be here somewhere.”
Robin spoke up. “Speaking of Allie’s sister, doctor, can you tell us how Maggie Schreiber and Ginger Phillips are doing?”
“We’ll keep both of them a day or two. We’re checking Ms. Schreiber for damage to her airway or lungs, but she looks pretty good. Ms. Phillips is older, so we’re watching her heart as well as her lungs. But I think she’ll be fine. You were all very lucky.”
Robin put her arm around Allie. “Allie, we’d like to take you home with us until Maggie gets out. Is that OK with you?”
After getting another nod, the doctor left. Allie was still in her pajamas and robe, and she reeked of smoke. Robin returned to her chair, and Greg noticed the paper sacks she had sitting there.
“We have some clothes for you to put on until we can take you shopping,” she said as she picked up one of the sacks. “I don’t know if these will fit, but hopefully, they won’t be too big. I borrowed them from my niece. She gave me a couple different sizes, and since I wasn’t sure which to bring, I brought both. Do you want to try them on?”
Robin took Allie and the clothes to the restroom to change.
Greg arched a brow at Mark. “How did Robin know, and when did you guys have the time to do this?”
Mark smiled. “That’s my Robin for you, always three steps ahead. She thought about it when we were waiting and called Melissa. She brought them over while you were talking to the doctor.”
Greg took the time to speak with the doctor and, knowing Maggie would be worried, called around to find Maggie’s dog. After confirming one of the policemen had taken the dog to the station, Greg arranged to have Honey taken to his penthouse.
After a long while, Allie returned, cleaned up and dressed. Robin was right—one of the sizes fit her pretty well.
Allie seemed awed by Maggie’s heroism, telling everyone who’d listen about her going back into the house to save Ginger. Then she smiled and laughed with Robin about the cute fireman who carried her down the ladder. She must be feeling OK, if she was ready to flirt again.
“We’re taking Allie home with us to let her rest,” Robin said. “Please call the minute you talk to Maggie. And tell her I’ll call later, will you?”
He agreed and they left. The hospital staff allowed him to wait with Maggie in ICU. Her bed was elevated, and an oxygen mask covered her face. Her eyes were closed, so he found a chair, placed it as quietly as he could next to her bed, and lowered himself into it. He sat back and listened to the rhythm of her breathing. Her right hand was wrapped, and it and the left lay outside the blankets. He fought the impulse to tuck them underneath, afraid he would wake her, or worse, hurt her.
He waited next to the bed until she stirred and opened her eyes. At first, she focused on the fluorescent lights. Not wanting to scare her, he kept quiet. She must have felt the mask covering her face, because she reached up to yank it off. Her bandaged hand wouldn’t grab the offending article, and she pawed at it, trying to sit up. Before he was able to stop her, it dislodged from her face, but her fingers tangled in the strap. She started to panic and shake her hand, but she froze when the pain must have hit.
“Wait, honey. You’ll hurt yourself.” Greg maneuvered the mask off her face and disentangled her hand from the strap. “Don’t get up. They’re moving you to a room in a minute.”
She lay back down and smiled at him, the one that made his face smile back before his brain had a choice. Her eyes traveled to the oxygen mask in his hand, and she looked at her hands, discovering the bandages. She frowned in confusion. “What happened?” she croaked. Her whole body jerked as she remembered, and she tried to throw her legs over the side of the bed. “Allie and Honey are on the roof! I have to get them!” Her hoarse voice whispered into the room, and her bandaged hand went to her throat.
“They’re all right.” H
e kept his voice as calm as he could. “Allie’s in seventh heaven because a cute fireman—her words, not mine—carried her down the ladder.”
She stilled, and he continued, “They brought her here and checked her out, and she’s fine. She’s going to stay with Robin and Mark for a few days. A friend of mine carried Honey down and took her to my place. She’s terrorizing Snowball as we speak. Ginger is staying here overnight, but they only kept her because of her age.”
Maggie eased back to her half-sitting position. She melted into the pillow and cleared her throat. “Why do you never call Snowball Stinky except when you’re home?” This time her voice was stronger.
“I don’t know. I guess it’s not as much fun if she isn’t around to get mad.”
Maggie grinned. “She does seem to know what you’re saying. Every time you say it, she swishes her tail and turns her back on you.”
“I know. It’s a riot.” He sat with her, not knowing what to do or say. After all, she’d said she wanted space. He should go, but she wasn’t pushing him away, and he couldn’t stand the thought of leaving her.
The doctor breezed in and smiled down at her. “Hey, hero, how are you feeling?”
“My head and hand hurt, and my throat is kind of sore,” she said. “Otherwise, I’m OK.”
“Your headache and sore throat are from the chemicals in the smoke. I understand you put a blanket over your heads, and both of you breathed through it.” He sat in the chair on the other side of the bed. “Good thinking. Your lungs don’t seem to have sustained serious damage, but I want to keep you overnight. We’re moving you to a room, and you’ll be on oxygen for a little while today. But we can give you the nasal prongs since you seem to be doing pretty well without the mask.”
“What about her hand, doctor?” Greg asked.
Deadly Diaries Page 15