“The — the fire department?” she echoed, an edgy sort of fear beginning to tighten her muscles. For a second, she wondered how he could have gotten her cell number, then guessed he must have reached out to one of her neighbors. They shared their contact information in case of precisely this sort of emergency.
Over on his side of the bed, Michael sat up, all sleepiness gone. His attention was fixed on her, expression hardening.
“Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry to tell you that there was a structure fire at your residence. The house is gone.”
“‘Gone’?” she repeated blankly. Somehow, the word wasn’t registering. How could her house be gone?
“It looks like some kind of wiring problem,” Captain Benitez replied. “The fire started in the living room and rapidly spread to the rest of the structure.”
“But…but I wasn’t home,” Audrey protested. Maybe if she kept challenging what this Captain Benitez was telling her, that would make it less true. “Nothing was on — I’ve been staying with a friend the past few days.” Closer to two weeks, she realized, much more than just a couple of days, but she decided the captain didn’t need to know all the details.
“We’re still investigating, ma’am. We knew you weren’t at home because one of your neighbors informed us that you’d been away, shooting a television show. She gave us your number.”
He sounded completely matter-of-fact as he made this statement, but Audrey supposed it probably didn’t seem that out of the ordinary to him for her to have been working on a TV show. After all, they were in Southern California, not a small town in Iowa or something.
And thank God for Mrs. Montoya’s casual gossip. Audrey couldn’t remember saying anything directly to her about being on Project Demon Hunters, but obviously word had gotten around. Good thing that no one knew the show had been shit-canned.
Then she realized it was pretty silly to be worrying about how her neighbors had found out she was away when she’d just learned that her house had burned down.
“So…what do I do now?” she asked, knowing she sounded like a complete idiot.
“Contact your insurance company,” the fire captain replied. “The Glendora P.D.’s arson investigator is on scene right now.”
“A-arson?” The word sounded completely foreign coming from her lips. Why in the world would anyone want to burn down her house?
“It was a quick fire. A hot fire. Generally, the police department will investigate anything suspicious like that, just because it seems as though accelerant must have been used.” The captain paused. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about. But…do you have anyone who can corroborate your whereabouts early this morning, sometime between five and six?”
“Yes,” she said. “I was with my boyfriend.” God, that sounded inane. Was Michael even her boyfriend? Such a stupid word for an adult man. But she couldn’t exactly call him “her lover,” not to this brisk-sounding man on the phone.
“Good. He might need to make a statement, but that depends on the police and what they find.”
Since Audrey had no idea what the protocol was in these situations, she asked, “Can I come over to the house?”
A pause. “I’d give it another hour. That’ll allow you some time to be in touch with your insurance company.” Another hesitation, and then Captain Benitez said, “I’m very sorry for your loss.”
The call ended, and Audrey was left standing there, phone in her hand.
She didn’t remember Michael getting out of bed, but suddenly he was next to her, his arm around her waist. “What happened?” he asked, but his gray eyes were sad, as if he already knew the answer to the question.
“My house is gone,” she said flatly. “It burned to the ground sometime between five and six this morning.” Or was that when the police and the fire department thought the fire had started? She couldn’t remember…her thoughts were all dancing around each other, and none of them seemed to make any sense.
“God,” Michael murmured, although both of them knew that God had nothing to do with any of this. He’d been pretty hands-off lately.
“I know.” She burrowed her head into his shoulder, breathed in the warm scent of his skin. Somehow, knowing he was there helped to steady her a little. At least she hadn’t been home, had been safe here at Michael’s house. “I — I need to call my insurance company. And then I guess I need to go over and survey the damage. Oh, and call my aunt, if only to let her know I’m okay. And — ”
“Audrey.” Michael’s voice was gentle, but something in his tone effectively stopped the flow of words. “It’s going to be okay. I’m here. Why don’t you get in the shower, and then we’ll figure out what to do next.”
Deep breaths. “All right. We should probably both shower, right? I’ll use the guest bathroom.”
“Okay.” He studied her face for a moment, then bent and kissed her softly on the forehead. “That’s a good idea. Then we’ll have some coffee and grab breakfast on the way over to Glendora.”
While that sounded like a sensible plan, Audrey knew she wouldn’t be able to eat a thing, not until she’d seen the wreckage of her house for herself. Right now, it all didn’t seem real, was only a nightmare that should have faded away as soon as she woke up. “Michael, I really don’t think I could eat anything.”
“I understand.” A gentle hand brushed a strand of hair away from her face. “Whatever you need.”
“Th-thank you.” Because she could tell she was about to break down unless she had a chance to be alone for a bit, she hastened to say, “I’ll get in the shower now.”
Before he could reply, she’d gone to the dresser and retrieved a pair of panties from the drawer he’d set aside for her use, then hurried out of the bedroom and into the guest bath down the hall. A minute later, she was standing under the hot water, letting it flow over her as she closed her eyes and let the tears come.
Her house…gone. Had the Whitcomb-demon set the spark, or did he have one of his minions do the deed? Because now she realized he had to be behind this. Why, she wasn’t sure, except that destroying her house would send her off balance, would involve her in all sorts of paperwork and red tape as she dealt with her insurance company. Even though she’d faithfully paid her premiums every year and had never been late, what if they tried to deny her claim? If the Glendora P.D. proved it was arson, would the insurance company even have to pay out?
Yes, they would, she told herself as she worked shampoo into her hair. Because you know you sure as hell didn’t set that fire. Even if a crime was committed, you’re the victim here. Everyone knows how much you loved that house.
Only…did they? Her circle of friends had shrunk during the past few years. Bettina would vouch for her, but the neighbors could claim that Audrey had been absent for more than a week. All the blinds and drapes had been tightly shut, and so there wasn’t much possibility of anyone peeking inside to see the destruction the demons had left behind, but what if someone had found out? What if the insurance company decided that she’d had the place torched because she didn’t have the funds to repair it?
As best she could, she shut down that line of thinking. Bettina and Rosemary could both be character witnesses, and Michael as well. She’d been with him all day Sunday. Yes, she’d spent Saturday in Glendora, but she hadn’t gone into the house, had only done a drive-by after she saw her last client, just to reassure herself that everything was still okay. The house had looked fine, except for the front lawn, thanks to the crappy timer on her irrigation system. Still, a yellow lawn wasn’t quite enough reason to burn a house down.
A wave of remorse hit her as she recalled that just a few days earlier, she’d been thinking it might be a good thing if the Whitcomb-demon burned her house down, since she had no idea how she was going to pay for all the interior repairs. What a horrible, foolish thought to entertain, even if she hadn’t really meant it. Still, she should have known better than to put that kind of energy out into the universe.
Audr
ey realized her hands were shaking. She turned up the temperature of the faucet, hoping she wasn’t robbing Michael of too much hot water. Clouds of steam began to form in the bathroom, the fan overhead not doing much to keep them at bay. But that felt better. Some of the cold knot that had formed in her midsection began to loosen. She’d get through this, just as she’d gotten through all the other tragedies in her life.
At least this time she would have Michael with her.
Chapter 8
The place was a ruin. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Michael had been hoping that perhaps the damage wouldn’t be as bad as Audrey made out, that maybe the man from the Glendora Fire Department been exaggerating when he’d used the word “gone” to describe her house. Unfortunately, no exaggeration had been involved.
Tendrils of smoke drifted from the few bits and pieces of the frame that still stood. The chimney remained, an accusing finger pointed toward the sky — paint blasted away, black grime marring its brick surface. And he could see how most of the concrete foundation was intact. Everything else was just water-soaked timber and unidentifiable blobs here and there that might once have been pieces of furniture, or possibly appliances.
Audrey stood next to him, face white above the black long-sleeved T-shirt she wore. Ever since they’d arrived here a few minutes earlier, she’d been silent, had only walked back and forth along the sidewalk a few times as if to view the destruction from as many angles as she could without walking onto the actual lot itself. She couldn’t go any farther than that because the property was blocked off by yellow police tape, which was why she stood quietly next to him now. Even as they watched, an investigator from the Glendora police department was kneeling down next to what used to be the back door into the kitchen, scraping something off a charred piece of two-by-four and depositing it in a small plastic bag.
Someone from the insurance company was supposed to meet them here, but so far he — or she — was MIA. Michael had expected more looky-looing from the neighbors, but now that it was past nine in the morning, they’d probably had to head off to work or school and couldn’t linger.
However, as they were standing there, a silver Lexus SUV pulled up to the curb and parked, and a woman with striking white-streaked gray hair got out. Michael realized immediately that she couldn’t be the insurance adjuster, because she went up to Audrey and threw her arms around her.
“Oh, my girl!” she exclaimed, holding on tight, and Audrey returned the hug just as fiercely, tears gleaming on her cheeks in the morning sunlight. “I came as soon as I could — I had to find someone to cover my morning class for me.”
“It’s all right, Deb,” Audrey replied. She managed to disentangle herself from the woman’s embrace, then took a step away and looked over at Michael. “This is my aunt Deb. Deb, this is Michael, the, uh…the man I’ve been seeing.”
For some reason, he experienced a flood of relief at hearing her use this phrase to describe him. Audrey hadn’t tried to pass him off as just a friend, had admitted to her aunt that they shared a connection, even if neither of them had yet tried to formalize exactly what that connection was.
“Hello, Deb,” he said, going over so he could extend a hand to her. “It’s very nice to meet you, although I’m sorry we had to meet under such unfortunate circumstances.”
The glance she gave him was quick, keen. Her eyes were a clear blue, a contrast to Audrey’s warm brown ones. “Michael Covenant, isn’t it?”
He wondered how much Deb knew about his career, about Project Demon Hunters. From what he’d been able to tell, Audrey was fairly close with her aunt, but he wasn’t sure how much contact the two of them had had since the show began filming. Things had been somewhat chaotic, to say the least.
“That’s right,” he said. He recalled from what Audrey had told him previously that the woman who stood before him was a college professor, someone who probably didn’t have much patience for pretense. “Audrey and I met on the show.”
Deb nodded, something about her expression faintly approving, as if she had wondered whether he would be up front about the manner in which he and Audrey had come into one another’s orbits. But then her gaze moved back to her niece, and her mouth softened. “Do they know what happened?”
Audrey gave a helpless little shrug. She looked small and cold in her black T-shirt — she’d refused a jacket when he suggested one — and Michael wished he could take her in his arms and try to comfort her some more. However, he had a feeling that she wouldn’t welcome such an overture in front of her aunt, and so he remained off to one side, hands shoved in his pockets so he’d have something to do with them.
“They’re still looking at the evidence, I guess,” she said. “That’s the arson investigator around back. Maybe he’ll come talk to us when he’s done.”
“Well, if he doesn’t, we can go and talk to him if necessary,” Deb said crisply. “What about the insurance company?”
“An adjuster is on his way over. Or maybe on her way,” Audrey added, again with a lift of her shoulders. “They only said they were sending someone, but they didn’t give a name.”
“Hmm.” Deb glanced away from the two of them, her gaze seeming to take in the destruction before her. “Well, at least the garage wasn’t damaged. That’s something.”
From the way Audrey’s mouth pursed, Michael guessed she wasn’t too happy that the garage had survived. Her car had been damaged to the point of being unusable, and she was probably thinking it would have been a mercy if the fire had taken it as well.
But if she mentioned that particular detail, she would also have to try to explain who — or what — had vandalized her car, and Michael knew Audrey would rather avoid bringing any of that up with her aunt. Deb seemed very sharp and no-nonsense, and probably wouldn’t want to hear stories about demons and possessions and infestations. Maybe someday she would learn the truth, but he had a feeling Audrey wouldn’t want to broach the subject until they’d closed the book on this whole Whitcomb mess, one way or another.
“Yes, and my car was in the shop, so even if something had happened to the garage, the car wouldn’t have been affected.”
Michael lifted an eyebrow at this outright lie but didn’t say anything. They’d driven Audrey’s rented Charger here, rather than the Land Cruiser, and maybe she’d decided it was better to fabricate a story to explain the Charger away in case Deb asked. Or maybe she was just trying to think of a way to keep Deb — or the insurance adjuster — from taking a peek in the garage and seeing the ruin of the Toyota Corolla.
Something else they probably should have taken care of but hadn’t, mostly because far more important matters had occupied their time — and also because they both had known it was going to be difficult to come up with a plausible way to explain the damage to Audrey’s car insurance company.
“Well, I guess that’s good,” Deb said. “What’s wrong with your car?”
“Alternator,” Audrey said promptly. It seemed clear that she’d already thought this through — having a dead alternator was no fun, but it also wasn’t such a costly repair that it would cause too much concern for anyone involved.
Deb nodded, but if she’d meant to reply, she was forestalled by the arson inspector approaching them. He was probably in his late thirties or early forties, wiry with sandy hair.
“Are you done looking things over?” Audrey asked, the strain returning to her expression.
“Yes, I think I have what I need.”
“And that is…?”
He hesitated, his gaze moving from Audrey to Michael, then briefly to Deb. “It’s strange…the fire burned extremely hot, but so far I haven’t seen any signs of an accelerant.”
“You think someone set this fire?” Deb demanded, obviously shocked that anyone would have made such a horrible assumption.
“Well, that was my first thought, due to the heat of the fire and how quickly the house went up, but….” The investigator let the words trail off, then shook his head. “Then
again, it’s old construction, wood frame and siding. Not the same thing as a newer stucco house.” His gaze flickered to Audrey. “I’m very sorry about the house, but I don’t see anything here that would interfere with you filing a claim with your insurance company.”
She didn’t look as relieved as Michael had thought she would. A brief nod as her mouth tightened slightly, and she said, “If they ever get here.”
The man gave her a sympathetic look. “That’s something I can’t help you with. I’ll go file my report now — that should help to speed things up. Have a better one.”
He headed toward an unmarked white Suburban that was parked across the street and one house down, then got in. For a moment, none of them said anything. Audrey’s brows were pulled together and her jaw still looked tense, but it seemed clear enough that she didn’t feel like talking.
However, Deb wasn’t nearly so reticent. “I still don’t see why they would have thought it was arson.”
“I think it’s just standard procedure,” Michael said. “If something doesn’t fit the regular profile, then they need to dig a little deeper.”
“Hmm.” For the first time, Deb seemed to falter as she stared into the ruins of Audrey’s quaint little Craftsman-style house. “I’d hoped I could help you find a few things to salvage, but….”
“But it’s all gone,” Audrey said. Her chest lifted as she sighed, and she crossed her arms, hugging herself. “Well, not all of it. I still have that picture of me and Mom and Dad from Christmas when I was fifteen.”
“You do?” Deb asked, looking surprised. “The one that was on the mantel?”
“Yes, I…I’d taken it with me to Michael’s house because I was going to look for a new frame while I was in Pasadena.”
Deb’s gaze sharpened again. “Oh, you live in Pasadena, Michael?”
“Yes,” he replied. “In Orange Heights.”
“Oh,” she said.
That was all, but he thought he caught a flicker of appreciation in her eyes. Not so surprising — Orange Heights was an expensive area, and so Deb must be thinking that he’d done well for himself if he could afford to live there.
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