Angel Fire (24 page)

Upstairs in their guest room, Uncle Edward was still asleep. When the reality of his loss had finally hit Uncle Edward at the hospital, he had become angry and yelled at the nurse until they gave him a shot to calm his nerves. He had gone to sleep as as soon as we got to Beth’s, and hadn’t stirred since.

Someone bumped my arm and I turned to see a hot cup of coffee held out for me.

“Thanks, Beth,” I murmured, and accepted the drink. Gingerly, I took a sip. It tasted like ash.

“No problem. I just hope that cot was all right; you should have taken the bed.”

“I didn’t really sleep anyway.”

I put the mug down on the counter as Neil came downstairs. His hair was still wet from the shower.

“Hey. You going to be all right?” he asked.

I drew my lips tight. “It’s just not right.”

“I know.” He spoke in a soothing tone, but I wasn’t going to be mollified.

I said, “She never hurt anyone in her life. She didn’t deserve this.”

“Everyone liked her,” Beth offered and put a hand on my arm. To Neil, she asked, “How’s Edward? Did you look in on him?”

“He’s awake, but he didn’t say anything when I asked if there was anything I could do. Just stared at the wall.”

I punched my hand on the counter, and the cup of coffee jumped.

Neil looked at me. “Darcy, I—”

“I know.”

“I’m so sorry.” He glanced at Beth. “I have to get down to the fire hall. There’s an investigator coming up from Phoenix, and I want to be sure he’s got the straight story.”

Beth nodded. “You go. I’ll stay with Darcy.”

I wanted to protest that I wasn’t a child; I didn’t need to be babysat. But I kept my mouth shut.

“Back in a few hours,” Neil said to me, and gently touched my shoulder. He moved closer as if to kiss my check, but then changed his mind and stood beside me, at a loss for what to do.

“You go ahead. I’ll be all right here,” I replied.

He took a step away, but before he left, I reached out and grabbed his arm. I said, “Thank you.” I gave him a kiss and hugged him tight. I could feel him relax.

I whispered in his ear, “Hurry back.”

* * *

Upstairs, I opened the door a crack and peered in. As Neil had said, Uncle Edward was lying in the spare bed on top of the covers and staring across the room at the wall.

“Uncle Edward?” I called over in a hushed voice. He didn’t stir, so I took a step inside and closed the door behind me.

“Are you going to be all right?”

I padded over to the reclining chair beside the bed and perched on the edge of it. I reached out and touched the back of my fingers to his forehead, brushed a few strands of his gray hair out of his eyes.

If I hadn’t been listening so hard, I wouldn’t have heard his soft moaning. A tear trickled down his cheek.

I stood.

It wasn’t right.

Something had to be done.

* * *

“Darcy, you all right? Where you going?” Beth called out as I stormed down the stairs, grabbed my jeans jacket, and left without an explanation.

I didn’t have time to get into a debate. My family was in ruins. First my mother and my father, then my aunt; and now my uncle was so far gone in his misery he might as well be catatonic.

All because of one person. I knew it deep in my heart and in my soul. Everything came down to Barry. I had spent half of my life suffering because of him. Now, he had gone too far. In his jealousy, he had lashed out at me, but instead had killed my aunt.

But I needed proof. No one would take my word for it. I’d seen Frank in the headlights; but it was a good distance away and at night. Could I be so sure?

Yes I could, but proving it was another matter. How could I convince anyone in authority that Barry was behind the entire plot?

There was no way on earth I could get any confession or admission out of Barry by confronting him. He would just throw my words back at me, dodge the truth, and twist the accusation around to make it look like it was my fault. After all, I was the one with a criminal record. With his father protecting him every step of the way, I needed something more before I could prove my case.

Frank was almost as bad as Barry; he had a mean streak a mile wide, and it hadn’t surprised me one bit that he had jammed our bathroom window closed and trapped us inside a burning building. I don’t think Frank ever had a conscience.

Back when I was married to Barry, Frank had gotten into a bar fight with a bouncer in Sedona and smashed an empty beer bottle against the other man’s face. The glass shards had embedded in the bouncer’s eye and he lost his sight. Barry and Frank got out of there before anyone could identify them, and no police officer ever came around Middleton asking questions. When we found out what had happened with the bouncer, Barry had been quiet and wouldn’t talk about it, but Frank laughed and said the guy got what he deserved.

Towards the end of our marriage, Barry had become more and more like Frank in his outlook on life and his disregard for his fellow man.

To pursue Frank or Barry would be a fruitless effort. My only chance was singling out the odd man in their twisted trio.

Troy was a weasel. If he had a backbone, it was made of rubber. So long as he didn’t have Barry or Frank to back him up, I was sure I could coax the truth out of him. I had no idea if he had been involved, but if he hadn’t been there last night, he knew what went down. Maybe that would be enough to force Sheriff Burke to launch an official investigation and put his son behind bars. As sheriff, he could only turn a blind eye so long. If the sheriff wouldn’t hear me, then I would report it all to the state police.

And so I marched to Derring & Sons hardware store that morning.

* * *

When I arrived, I was startled to see old Tom Derring sitting behind the counter. The smile fell from his wrinkled face when he saw me.

“Darcy, I heard about your aunt, I’m so sorry.”

“Where’s Troy?” I said.

“Uh, he’s out in the storage yard, stacking lumber, I think.”

Without thanking him, I left Mr. Derring scratching his balding head and marched straight through the back of the store and out into the fenced area.

I spotted Troy working a forklift, and changed direction to intercept him. He saw me coming, and for a moment I thought he was going to bolt. Then, he steeled his nerve and shut off his vehicle. Looking at me askance from the seat, he forced out a weak smile.

“Hey, Darcy.”

“Troy,” I said. “We need to talk about last night.”

“Oh, yeah, I heard something about that. You had a fire there, didn’t you?” My first impression was that he spoke softly out of sympathy or guilt, but I had never known Troy to be remorseful in his life.

“Don’t play stupid with me, Troy. I know Barry and Frank were behind it. The only question is: are you going to go down with them? Or are you going to confess and make a statement to Sheriff Burke?”

I could see the skin on his cheeks pale, and his eyes widen as he struggled to come up with an excuse or a lie. Sweat beaded on his forehead, but whether it was from the Arizona heat or from guilt, I could only guess.

“Well?” I pushed him. “Are you going to tell me what happened? And don’t say you don’t know.”

He jumped down from the forklift and pulled his work gloves off. When he’d been in the vehicle, I’d only seen one side of his face. Now, I saw a large bruise covering the left half of his jaw; his eye was swollen near shut.

A sore mouth was the reason for his soft speech, not any possible feelings of regret.

When his rat-like eyes glanced toward the exit, I sidestepped and blocked him before he could make up his mind to run. “You spill it, Troy.”

“All right, look. You gotta know,” he said, “it wasn’t me. I didn’t want any part of it. As a matter of fact, I don’t think me and Barry is friends anymore. No way am I gonna cross him, though.”

I wasn’t going to leave without something, and I think he sensed that.

“Fine,” he said finally. “I’ll tell you what happened. But you didn’t hear it from me, understand?”

“Get on with it,” I growled.

“I don’t know. Maybe I was pushing too hard, teasing him about how you basically crushed him the other day. He left the store without a word, but he was in a dark place, you know.

“Last night I got a call to meet him and Frank at The Trough. I figured we were just going to throw back a few bottles after work, like we do a couple times a week. So I said, yeah sure, why not?

“When I got there, though, they were standing beside Frank’s pickup. In the back were two gas cans. Frank was smiling. His face has been peeling all week, and now it’s so pink you’d think he was wearing paint or something.

“They both figured it was time to set things right.

“The plan was to wait on the other side of the highway behind that copse of trees. When you went to bed, they were going to set the motel on fire to teach you a lesson, maybe get you arrested again.

“Darcy,” he said when he saw the look of outrage on my face. “I swear, I told them I didn’t want any part of it. I asked what was he thinking? Told him there were other people in the motel.

“He said they’d have more than enough time to get away; he only cared about getting back at you.”

I clenched my jaw. “So why didn’t you call his father to stop him?”

Troy flushed. “I couldn’t. Not right away. I mean, Barry smacked me so hard I saw stars. Said I was coming whether I liked it or not.”

I put my hands on my hips. “So you were there!”

“Yes and no.” His eyes kept darting around, as if he were looking for an escape.

“Which is it?” I asked.

Troy took a deep breath. “We rode down to the motel in Frank’s pickup. He brought a six pack and was already working on his second beer. He kept saying, ‘Look what that bitch’s boyfriend did to my face,’ and ‘Going to get some payback tonight.’

“Barry didn’t talk much, but when we drove out into the field to wait, he laughed and said, ‘When you play with fire, you get burned.’ ”

My gut clenched. Knowing that someone wanted to do you harm was a horrible feeling; when that person was someone you were once married to, it was worse.

Troy continued the story. “We thought we were going to be out there for a few hours, but we saw you and that firefighter boyfriend of yours go into the room together. That’s when Barry lost it. He told Frank to make sure you and him didn’t get out, and to jam the windows in the back while he and I poured the gas on your front door. He wanted you dead, I could tell.”

I felt the anger within me grow. There was nothing more I wanted to do at that moment than release the power within me and make Troy suffer for his part in the fire.

He held up his hand as if sensing my rage. “I swear to you, Darcy, I didn’t do nothing. The moment Frank and Barry got out of the truck I bolted and never looked back. Soon as I got back to The Trough
,
I called the fire department. I swear,” he repeated.

“Troy,” I said. “You’re going to tell everything you just told me to Sheriff Burke.”

He shook his head. “No way. Barry’s insane. He’d kill me.”

“I don’t care. We’re going to the sheriff’s office right now.”

Troy’s eyes shifted back and forth, then he looked down and let out a deep sigh. For a split second, I thought he was going to give in, but before I knew it, he burst into action and shoved me out of his way. I fell to the gravel, the wind knocked out of me.

By the time I got back to my feet and ran after him, he was already out of the lumber yard and into his truck.

“Troy, you little weasel!” I screamed at him.

“It ain’t worth me dying over,” he called back as he hit the gas. I had to throw my hands up to protect my face from the rocks flying from underneath his spinning tires.

Within moments, he was gone from sight.

* * *

Sheriff Burke sat in his office chair. He leaned back and folded his hands over his ample belly, his face drawn in a wide smile.

I slammed my hand down on his desk, and he jumped forward, the smile instantly vanishing.

“Now you just calm yourself down right now,” he ordered, pointing a finger at me.

“I demand to know why you haven’t arrested Barry yet,” I said. “I don’t care if he’s your son; he tried to kill me, and instead killed my aunt. Or don’t you remember her?”

“Don’t sass me, little girl.” He pointed a finger at me. “I knew Martha from before you were born, so don’t you go spitting out accusations about how I do my job. I took statements from everyone there last night, and not a single one of them mentioned anything about Barry starting the fire.”

I grabbed at my hair in frustration. “He’s a murderer. He was there!”

“Says who? Troy Hartman?” Sheriff Burke picked up my report up and scanned the page. “According to your statement, Troy never actually saw anyone start the fire. For all we know, he just made everything up to get back at Barry for smacking him around. Or he just told you what you wanted to hear so you’d go away. Your statement is all hearsay; this piece of paper isn’t worth spit.”

“If you don’t believe me, find Troy and take him in for questioning.”

He glared at me. “What do you think this place is? We don’t take people in for questioning on your say so.”

“Damn it!” I yelled in frustration.

“Look, I’ll talk to Troy next time I see him,” the sheriff offered. “As part of standard procedure.”

I huffed. “Next time you see him? He took off like a bat out of hell. He’s probably halfway to New Mexico by now.”

“Convenient,” Sheriff Burke said.

“Why are you protecting Barry so much? If you think he’s innocent, why not track down Troy and get his statement?”

“It’s not Barry I’m protecting,” he said to me. “I’m protecting the town.”

“The town?” I was completely stunned. “From what?”

“From you!” He pointed an accusing finger at me, and I took a step back.

“Me? Why?”

Keeping his finger out, he ticked the end of it with the index finger of his other hand. “One, you are a convicted arsonist on parole.” He extended and touched his second finger. “Two, I have statements from the other guests that make me think you might never have been in that fire.”