by Cara Malone
Mari laughed, then let out a delighted giggle as Cyn dipped her over her arm and kissed her. When she returned Marigold to her feet, Cyn’s arms were still wrapped tightly around her waist and Mari could feel the desire building between them.
She broke away after a few indulgent kisses and looked at the clock on her nightstand. “We have to get you ready for the ceremony.”
“Just one more minute,” Cyn said, refusing to let go as she kissed Marigold again.
When they finally emerged from the kiss, Mari watched Cyn change into her dress uniform, then straightened her collar and adjusted her tie. Then it was her turn at the mirror and she retrieved a shimmering black evening gown from her closet. She turned around to ask Cyn to fasten the zipper and felt her hands taking a leisurely detour over her hips, her breath hot on Marigold’s shoulder. Then she finished the task and murmured in Marigold’s ear, “Do we really have to go to the ceremony?”
Mari laughed and said, “Well, I’m the host and you’re being honored, so I think we do.”
“That’s too bad,” Cyn said, nibbling on the soft skin at the curve of Marigold’s neck. Then she said, “I have something for you.”
Mari smiled, reaching behind her to slide her hand between Cyn’s thighs, but Cyn pulled away with a groan and went over to her garment bag on the wall.
“I hope you don’t mind that it’s second-hand,” Cyn said as she pulled a jewelry box out of the bottom of the bag and came back to Marigold. “My stepmother gave it to me but I thought you would wear it so much better.”
She opened the box and presented it to Mari. Inside, there was a string of delicate turquoise beads on a gold chain.
“It’s beautiful,” Mari said. “You want me to wear it tonight?”
“Only if you want to,” Cyn said, but Marigold was already turning around so that Cyn could clasp it around her neck. As the cool beads slid over Mari’s collarbones, Cyn looked over her shoulder to admire the necklace in the mirror. “I was right – they look much better on you than they ever did on me.”
The ballroom was crowded when Mari and Cyn came downstairs. People were standing around, chatting and waiting for the ceremony to begin, and the chairs were filling up quickly with the service men and women that protected the city.
Some of them were still on duty. Two uniformed police officers stood at the doors to the ballroom and there were three or four more walking the perimeter outside the estate. Cyn had insisted on it – after Drew failed to show up for his job interview, she was convinced that he had more fires planned. Several weeks had passed while Mari prepared for the service awards and Cyn worked with Detective Holt to find a way to prove her stepbrother’s guilt, but it seemed like Drew wasn’t so careless after all. There were no more fires, large or small, and all had been quiet in Grimm Falls.
“I can’t shake the feeling that he’s going to do something tonight,” Cyn had said as she came down the grand staircase with Marigold on her arm, looking all over the foyer for anything suspicious or out of place.
“Nothing’s going to happen,” Mari had tried to reassure her. “We’ve got tons of security – I think you’re just nervous about your award.”
“I wish Gus had never told me it was coming,” Cyn said. “I’d rather have been surprised.”
Mari and Cyn walked into the ballroom and a few heads turned their way. Mari’s father waved to her from the front of the room and she was looking forward to introducing him to Cyn once the awards were over and the dinner portion of the evening began. Marigold started to lead Cyn over to say a quick hello, but then Cyn tugged her in a different direction.
“There’s my dad,” she said. “He’s sitting by himself – I don’t think he knows anyone here.”
“We’ll go get him and seat him next to my dad,” Mari said. “He can talk to anyone so I’m sure they’ll be fast friends.”
They went over to Cyn’s father and she introduced him to Marigold. Then he gave Cyn a long hug and said, “I’m so proud of you, sweetheart, and I know how much Samantha was looking forward to this event, but I’m glad that it’s me who gets to see you accept your award.”
“Me too, Dad,” Cyn said.
“Is Drew working security?” he asked, looking around at the mix of private security guards and policemen who were mingling in the room. “He said he was working tonight.”
“Here?” Cyn asked with a frown. She hadn’t told anyone except for Marigold, Detective Holt and Gus about Drew’s secret, but he wouldn’t have the guts to show up here in his capacity as a security guard… would he? Cyn looked agitated as she glanced around the room, trying to spot him, and then she said, “Will you excuse me for a minute?”
“Sure,” Mari said. Then she turned to Cyn’s father and said, “Elliot, my father and I are sitting in the front row because I have to be up and down to the podium throughout the ceremony. It’s a much better view – would you like to join us?”
Twenty-Seven
The Big One
Drew took one last look at his apartment.
He’d been laying low for the last week, keeping his head down and going to his shifts for the security company so he wouldn’t arouse suspicion. He’d thought long and hard about Cyn’s attempt to bury the hatchet – or so she claimed – and ultimately decided to skip the interview she’d set up for him. For all he knew, it was a trap that she was expecting him to be dumb enough to walk right into.
That was the worst-case scenario. The best case was that he’d get the job, then be just as miserable as a dispatcher as he was as a security guard. More likely, they’d just laugh him out of the police station and Cyn could add the incident to her list of all the times she’d successfully humiliated him.
Tonight, he was ready to make his final statement to Grimm Falls.
He had a backpack stuffed with everything he would need for the evening. He’d loaded the rest of his things into the trunk of his car – only the important stuff, the things he couldn’t live without. There wasn’t a whole lot inside the apartment that he would miss. As he decided what to bring and what to leave, he realized that there wouldn’t be much to miss about a city that had been rejecting him his whole life.
He did grab the singed boots out of the back of his closet. Even though he didn’t plan to return here, he was smart enough to know it was better not to leave a trail of evidence behind. He put the boots on because there was no sense in ruining yet another pair of shoes, and because damn it, he liked them. Once he got out of Grimm Falls, their history would fall away and they’d just be boots again.
And, of course, he took the lighter. He picked it up from the table by the door and slipped it into the pocket of his hoodie. One more fire, and then the itchy sensation urging him to flick the wheel might finally go away. The more distance he put between himself and Grimm Falls – or himself and Cyn Robinson – the better he would feel.
He’d go to a new town, get a new name, leave all of this behind him.
John Wilson, he thought. That’s a common enough name to blend into the landscape, and it sounds like the name of a nice guy. Somebody people want to hire, and date, and get a beer with. I could be John.
He’d miss his mother, but this didn’t have to be the end of their relationship. For a little while, he’d have to disappear, but once everyone forgot about him, he could set up an email account for John Wilson and explain it all to her. If there was one person in this world who would keep his secret, it was his mother.
If Grimm Falls didn't want him, then he didn't want Grimm Falls, either. There was just one more thing he needed to do here.
Drew closed his apartment door, but he didn't bother locking it. The police would be here soon enough and once he’d made sure his message was heard loud and clear, Drew didn’t really want to be more trouble to anyone. If someone came by and stole his junk in the meantime, it mattered very little to him.
He was wearing black from head to toe. His favorite work boots were comfortable, with good soles for
running. He’d have to make a mad dash to his car after it was done, so that was important. He wore black work pants and a long-sleeved black shirt to gain the element of surprise. He couldn’t very well let people see him coming.
He hid his car in some overgrown brush on the side of the road, and then he walked, for what felt like ages. His backpack was heavy and sloshing with liquid every step of the way, and the night was unseasonably warm.
He was sweating by the time he came up the alley that would open onto Main Street, catty-corner to the police station. He crouched against the building and checked the time.
It was half past eight and the service awards had begun. Cyn would be there, along with most of the fire department and the police force. While they were all busy getting dressed up and congratulating themselves, Drew would be doing the real work tonight.
He took off the backpack and set it on the ground, crouching just like he’d done in the empty swimming pool. It was dark in the alley, so he’d be mostly working from touch. That was fine, he’d had lots of practice. He put his hand inside the bag and his fingertips touched the cool glass of a bottle. There were three of them, protected from breakage and wrapped up in scraps of fabric that would become their wicks.
Drew's heart was beating fast as he closed his fist around one of the bottles.
He had a clear sightline to the police station from here. All was quiet and there wasn’t a man in sight. Perfect. He unpacked all of his supplies. He’d have to prep it in the alley because he wouldn’t have much time after the first Molotov went flying.
He lined the three glass bottles up, then produced a plastic bottle of alcohol. He took the lid off and doused the three strips of fabric.
Then he took the lids off the three glass bottles. They were the last of the summer shandies he’d had in his refrigerator, and he’d taken great joy in emptying the bottles, envisioning their final use all the while. As he removed their lids, the odor of gasoline hit him and he wrinkled his nose. He really did hate that smell. He’d be happy to put it behind him once and for all.
He stuffed the strips of fabric into the mouths of the bottles, then he tucked two of them into the crook of one arm, held the third in his hand, and pulled the lighter out of his pocket. He flicked the wheel once just to test it. A tiny orange flame erupted and he grinned as excitement rushed into his head.
This is it. Time to pay, Grimm Falls.
He walked boldly into the street and flicked the lighter, holding the flame to the cloth wick of the first Molotov cocktail.
Twenty-Eight
Cyn
"Don't move," Cyn barked.
She got out of Marigold’s emerald green BMW and ran between Drew and the police station. Her heart was pounding harder than it had at the scene of any fire and it looked like she’d arrived just in time. Drew was standing in the light cast from a streetlamp and Cyn watched for any sign of his hand twitching or coming closer to the wick of the Molotov cocktail.
She had looked all over Grimm House for him and talked to several security guards who had no knowledge of Drew being scheduled for the event. She’d taken her seat, heart pounding and knowing that she was missing something, and the award ceremony had begun. Marigold was beautiful and glowing as always as she called the evening to order and brought the police chief up to the podium to make his opening remarks.
It wasn’t until a deputy that Cyn recognized from Drew’s class in the police academy was called up to the podium for his service that it finally clicked. She knew Drew would be going after the police station itself, not the awards ceremony, so she grabbed Gus for backup and borrowed Marigold’s car, then flew downtown.
The whole way here, she’d been thinking that there was still a chance she could end all of this without sending her stepbrother to jail. Now that she stood in the middle of the street and saw him with a lighter in one hand and a Molotov in the other, she knew it was all over.
“Don’t do this,” she begged while Gus waited, crouched behind the BMW and ready to act. “There are security cameras mounted on the police station – if you throw that bottle, you’re going to jail for a long time. If you put it down, maybe we can get you community service or something.”
“Community service?” Drew scoffed. “Please. At this point, I have nothing left to lose. I know there’s no coming back from this, and you’ve already taken everything else.”
For a moment, Cyn couldn’t catch her breath. She was standing between Drew and his target like a human shield, and it occurred to her that she didn’t know what he was capable of. What were his limits? What if he threw the bottle with her standing there?
"I’ve never wanted to take anything from you–" Cyn said, holding her hands up defensively.
"But you have," Drew cut her off. "My own mother thinks I’m a loser because of you. Couldn’t hack it in the academy, didn’t get the girl, can’t even get her attention with a freaking Molotov cocktail because she’s so busy jetting off to New York every other week. Meanwhile, she was ready to give you everything on a silver platter and you didn’t even want it.”
“Silver platter?” Cyn asked. “What are you talking about? She never accepted me for who I was, and the fact that she’s in New York on the night of my award should be proof of that.”
Her award… she felt a momentary sadness at the fact that she was giving it up to be here right now, but this was more important than standing in front of a room full of people and being recognized for merely doing her job.
“It doesn’t matter,” Drew said, then he hissed in pain as the lighter wheel got too hot and he was forced to let the flame go out. He shook his burned thumb in the air, then said, “Everything worked out for you in the end, didn’t it? Perfect job, perfect girlfriend, perfect life.”
“I wouldn’t call it perfect, but I worked hard for what I have,” Cyn said. She inched a little closer to him. If she could just take the lighter out of his hands, this would be so much easier. “You could, too.”
“Stay back!” he snapped when he noticed her approaching. “I’m not an idiot, okay? I know I screwed up in the academy, but it’s not as easy as you make it sound – I can’t just try harder and suddenly get everything I want. All I can do now is let everyone know how I feel about it.”
He flicked the lighter again, grimacing through the pain, and Cyn shouted, “Drew, don’t!”
But it was too late. He touched the flame to the tip of the rag and it caught fire immediately. The whole world slowed down as Cyn watched Drew’s arm arch backward to throw the bottle.
Then Gus came running.
He tackled Drew from behind with a flame-retardant blanket, throwing him down to the pavement. Cyn heard glass breaking and there was a scream – she couldn’t tell who it came from.
Then everything sped up again. Gus had Drew pinned beneath the blanket, putting his weight on him to keep him down, while a couple more police officers came running out of the building at the sound of the commotion. They hauled Drew up to his feet and when the blanket dropped, Cyn saw a long cut running down his cheek where the glass had cut him and the gasoline seared into the wound.
“Call a medic,” Gus told one of the other cops as he slapped a pair of handcuffs on Drew.
They dragged him out of the street and sat him down on the steps of the police station, reeking of gasoline. When Cyn walked over to him, he refused to look at her. The cut was deep, and he’d been lucky – a few more millimeters and he might have lost his eye.
“I tried to tell you,” Cyn said, but as she spoke the words, she found that the undercurrent of guilt that she’d lived with ever since she became part of Drew’s family was gone. I’m not my brother’s keeper. He was going to throw that Molotov at me. She turned to Gus instead and patted him on the back. “I think I know who I’m going to nominate for a service award next year.”
“Speaking of,” Gus said with a grin, “Frank radioed over while you were talking to Drew. He wants you back at Grimm House – police escort.”
>
“Is everything okay?” Cyn asked.
“Yeah,” he said, “but people are getting impatient waiting for you to come back and receive your award.”
Cyn couldn’t help grinning. With her stepbrother bleeding and in handcuffs on the steps of the police station, she really shouldn’t have much to smile about, but in that moment, she could have jumped for joy. They were waiting for her.
“Okay,” she said. “I’m going.”
“I’m going to hold you to that nomination, Cinders,” Gus teased as she headed back toward Marigold’s BMW.
By the time Cyn got back to Grimm House, all the other awards had been given out and the ballroom had been converted into a dining hall. The chairs were rearranged around the large, round tables that Marigold had used during her father’s retirement party, and Cyn found Mari sitting at one of them with both of their fathers, who were making fast friends with each other just as she’d predicted.
As soon as Marigold saw her, she got up and ran across the room to her. She threw her arms around Cyn’s neck and showered her with kisses.
“I was so worried about you the whole time you were gone,” she said. “How did it go?”
“Drew was arrested,” Cyn said. “He’s at the hospital right now getting treatment for a nasty cut, but he’ll be okay. I tried to talk him down but it didn’t work, so Gus did a heroic flying tackle and brought him down.”
“That’s incredible,” Mari said. “I’ve been keeping your dad company. He’s getting along really well with my father – they’ve been talking business since we sat down.”
Cyn smiled. “Good. Oh man, I don’t want to tell my dad about Drew.”
“So don’t,” Marigold said. “At least not yet.”
She gave Cyn a wink, then went to the front of the room, where the podium had been left in its place. She turned on the microphone and said, “Excuse me, can I have everyone’s attention? There’s one more award yet to be given tonight. You may have noticed that the Firefighter of the Year award was skipped over. That’s because our award recipient was so dedicated to her job that she had to leave the ceremony to go be a superhero for a little while. She’s back now, and I think we need to give her a hearty round of applause for catching the arsonist that has been plaguing Grimm Falls over the last month. Please put your hands together for the incredible Cyn Robinson.”