Dead Man's Rules (40 page)

Through growing flames she caught a glimpse of Mayor Foster, sweat pouring down his grim face as he hobbled toward the steps. Smoke floated under the door. If they didn’t move quickly, they were doomed. She swiveled the flashlight around the room, searching for the window and its rotting boards.

“Oh, no,” she whispered, pointing at it.

Rafe shook his head in frustration. “I had the windows boarded up with new wood to keep people out.”

A shiver of helplessness ran through Cere, but she shook it off. She couldn’t die, not now that she had found Rafe.

“I love you,” she said, as smoke billowed into the room. She wanted him to know that in case she was to die. Her mother had hidden her feelings, but Cere wanted hers out in the open.

His smile was grim, and he winked at her as he turned back to the door. “It’s about time you figured that out. Let’s get out of here.”

Rafe hurled his shoulder at the door. It groaned in protest, but held steady. Cere did the same, summoning all her strength. Pain stabbed her arm. They tried again, and a panel splintered. Focusing on that area, Rafe plunged against the door again. Its crack was a heavenly sound, but smoke floated through a small hole. Even if they got out, they would face the fire.

The door finally broke under their dual effort. Smoke invaded the room as the flames grew more intense. Smoke seared her throat and tears ran down her cheeks. Rafe handed her his handkerchief to put over her nose, and they kept on working.

He gripped the panel and pulled it to form a hole. He lifted Cere and shoved her through. She fell to her knees as she faced a wall of flames. Despite the handkerchief, smoke scorched her throat. Rafe appeared beside her and they crawled to the stairs.

A gaping hole in the middle of the stairs stopped their progress. Flames licked up one wall, and snaked down the railing on the other side.

“Let me go first,” Rafe shouted. He sat on the edge of the step and leaped to the floor below. His leg twisted, and he collapsed in a heap, but he sat up and held out his arms for her.

She dropped toward him and he caught her, clutching her to him. Pain contorted his sooty face. They were out of the immediate fire, but she could see he was hurting.

“Are you all right?”

“I twisted my knee.” He tried to stand, but stumbled against the wall. She put her hand under his arm and attempted to help him up, but they both collapsed.

“Get out of here,” he gasped as smoke swirled around them. “Go!”

“I can’t leave you.”

He tried to stand, but his leg buckled and he fell forward. The outline of a figure appeared through the smoke. Her ghost? Foster? Fear paralyzed her for an instant. No, the man was too lanky to be the Mayor.

“Help,” she cried.

The black clad figure of Diego Diaz came through the haze. He put his arm around Rafe and pulled him up.

“Diaz!” Rafe looked as surprised to see the man as she was, but he didn’t refuse the help.

“Get his other side,” Diaz ordered, and she put her arm around Rafe’s back. Together the trio staggered out of the building. By the time they reached Rafe’s Jeep he was about to collapse. He drew deep gasping breaths and she fumbled for a water bottle.

Diaz grabbed the radio microphone and called for an ambulance while Cere sank beside Rafe and gulped in welcome breaths of fresh air.

“Where did you come from, Diaz?” Rafe asked, coughing.

“Patrolling,” he replied in a rasp.

Cere was in no mood for the man’s sarcasm, but she was happy to see him. She pointed at a horse tied to a nearby tree. “You were riding around in the dark?”

Diaz jerked around and cursed. He turned toward the burning building. Cere looked down at Rafe.

“That’s Foster’s horse,” he gasped. “Don’t let him get away.”

Diaz quickly hobbled toward the horse. She headed around the other side, hoping to cut off Foster if he ran that way. As she came around the back side of the building she heard a familiar voice, gasping for air.

“Cere?” Bradley Foster slumped below a broken window, shirt and pants torn, face bloody. “I fell through the stairs.”

“Serves you right,” she said and then realized he couldn’t move. In a few minutes, the flames would reach the lower level. They needed to get away from the building.

“Help me,” he pleaded, holding out an arm.

“You tried to kill us.” But even as she spoke, Cere knew she couldn’t leave him. She tried to help him to his feet, but he was dead weight.

His eyelids fluttered. “I…only meant to scare you. Those messages...the watch... I just wanted you to stop...”

“You tried to run me over.”

“You were upsetting Lottie...”

She didn’t know if she believed him, but his shuddering breath propelled her to try again. Her mother would never understand if she left him to die. As she tugged, another arm came into view. Diaz grabbed him around the middle and jerked him away from the side of the building.

The mayor collapsed onto the ground. “Thanks...” he mumbled.

Diaz stood over him, a grim look on his face. “I didn’t do it to be a hero. It’s time for honesty.” He prodded the supine man with the toe of his scuffed boot. “Tell us the truth, you bastard.”

Bradley lifted a shaking hand. “You going to kill me?”

“If I was going to do that, I’d have left you to broil. I want to hear the truth before God comes for you.” Diaz produced a water bottle from his back pocket and dropped it on Bradley’s stomach.

The mayor drew a deep shuddering breath and took a gulping drink.

“You framed that kid, didn’t you?” Diaz asked.

The question surprised Cere. She thought he would ask about Naldo’s death.

“Tell her the truth about Marco. You’re the only one who knows it now that the old man is dead.”

Bradley shook his head. “He committed those burglaries.”

“Like hell!” Diaz sounded as though he knew. Who was this man? “The first break ins?”

Foster’s face pinched as though he was in pain. “Not the second bunch...but I caught him…red-handed that first time. He had money. He...couldn’t explain it.”

“Sure. You never gave him a chance to explain. And then you framed him the second time. Naldo knew. That’s why you murdered him.”

“He had a gun. Crazy coot was gonna shoot me...if I didn’t tell…we struggled…the gun went off.”

“You killed Marco too?” Cere asked Foster, her breath catching.

His tired gaze slid from her to Diaz. “I…didn’t kill…Marco… Shark...”

“Berto?” She looked at Diaz, expecting him to protest again, but he didn’t.

He leaned toward Foster, his husky voice accusing. “The two of you framed Marco for the fires, the burglaries and then you paid Shark to kill him.”

“Why?” Cere asked.

“He was…no good...but he could talk...and people listened...”

Diaz grunted and poked a finger at Foster. “You were afraid of his ideas. Afraid he would overthrow the old boy network.”

“We wanted him gone…” Foster’s voice grew weak as tears streamed down his ruddy cheeks.

Cere turned to Diaz. “Mr. Clarkson saw Marco. He told Willie and Art his shirt was burned....”

Diaz shook his head, his face rigid with anger. “Marco caught Shark robbing the pawn shop, taking the coins and setting fire to the place. He tried to put it out and heard Clarkson next door. He saved him and followed Shark out here to meet his benefactor. Isn’t that what happened?”

“Marco had…burns… Shark hit him in the face with a rifle barrel. I…told him to keep the money, get rid of Marco…and left...” Foster stopped and gasped for breath.

“And called it suicide,” Cere accused.

“Everyone wanted it...over. Shark took the money, coins and left. He...knew better than to ever come back.”

“Sure.” Diaz sounded skeptical. “You sent someone to take care of him too, didn’t you? What happened to those coins, old man? They never turned up.”

“Crazy story…old man didn’t have coins any more. Shark took ’em.”

“You took his money box to try to make his death look like robbery,” Diaz charged.

“Naldo left me a note that he wanted to talk. Is that why you killed him?” Cere asked.

“You’ll never...prove anything.” Bradley groaned, lifting his hand to his throat. “Maybe...maybe...Shark came back…”

“We both heard your confession.” Cere straightened as she heard sirens blare in the distance.

“Tell Lottie…” Foster choked out.

“Leave my mother out of this.”

“She was…too good for him… I cared about her when she was young… That kid was no good. She shoulda been mine. Mine!” He wheezed and clutched at his shirt.

“Are you okay?” she asked, leaning over the portly man. “The ambulance is coming.”

She could see it turning off the main road.

“Heart,” he mumbled, and before either could move, he pitched forward.

Diaz leaned over him, touched his chest then his neck. “He’s dead.”

She leaped to her feet as the ambulance bumped over the uneven ground toward them. She ran to meet it, directing paramedics toward Foster and Rafe. A fire truck arrived right behind the ambulance.

As Cere paced the parking lot, firemen set up lines, while paramedics worked on Rafe and Foster.

Diaz walked over to join her. He showed no emotion as he spoke. “The bastard is gone. You okay?”

She studied the impassive figure, puzzled by his knowledge about Marco’s case. “What made you say Marco was innocent? How would you know? Exactly what is your interest in this?”

He rubbed the side of his face, his visible eye focused on the scene at the ambulance. “Maybe I was an impetuous kid too, serving time in an adult prison with hardened guys like Shark. Scared boys like that crazy kid.”

A wave of surprise swamped her. “You knew them in prison?”

“Could be.”

“We never found that in your record.”

He grunted and rubbed his fingers together. “You should know money talks. Back then it could even get juvenile records expunged.”

“Do you know what happened to Berto? You said something about not getting away with the money.”

“He never made it out of this valley alive.” He gestured toward where paramedics were loading Foster’s covered body into the back of the ambulance. “That old man sent someone after him and I’m convinced they took those coins.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Just a hunch.” Diaz refused to look at her. What else did he know? Did it matter?

She drew a deep breath. “It’s over. Finally.”

“Not yet. Thousands of dollars are still missing.”

“And I repeat, how do you know?”

He lifted a shoulder in a stiff shrug. “Don’t worry. You have your Marco story. Now you know his death was not suicide. “

“Shark killed him,” she said sadly.

“The town,” he said, husky voice filled with sarcasm. “That mixed up kid left prison ready to change the world, and that bastard and this town killed him. There’s your damn story.”

Tears flooded her eyes. “I don’t know if I can tell it. My mother loved him.”

His head swiveled to her. For once he actually appeared to be surprised. “Who the hell said that?”

“That money Mr. Foster said Marco had…” She sniffled and choked out the truth. “It was hers. Theirs. She was running away with him.”

“Running away or paying him off?”

“She was going to meet him…” She stopped, realizing the confidence she was revealing. “I’m sorry. I can’t discuss this. I promised Mom...”

“I won’t tell anyone. The kid said something about a girl. She was going to write, but she never did, and the idiot kept writing to her.”

“Apparently her friend who got Marco’s letters kept them and never gave them to her until the day he died. But the letters, the songs he wrote, they’re beautiful... They made her cry.” Her own tears stopped her from continuing.

“She read them?” Diaz straightened, the gaze of his green eye blazing into her, as intense as the heat from the fire. For an instant she could hear the pain in his voice, similar to her own feelings over the tragedy of Marco’s lost love.

“I guess you’re right. It isn’t over. See, she loved my dad, I know it…but you never forget the first love of your life.” A lump filled her throat and she jerked around and sought Rafe. He sat hunched at the back door of the ambulance, watching her. She started toward him.

“Where you going?” Diaz asked.

Her heart swelled and the words could barely come out, but she wanted to say them. “To tell someone I love them.”

“You mean your job?” The emotion was gone, replaced by his normal sarcasm.

She whirled on him. “You’re a fool, Diaz.”

His laugh was harsh. “So I’ve been told. See you around.”

As she approached the ambulance, Cere’s confidence dissipated. Telling what she and Diaz learned before Foster died was an easy alternative and she launched into the details for Rafe.

“Mr. Foster said Naldo’s death was a mistake,” she concluded, “but I doubt we’ll ever know the truth. I was more surprised that Diaz knew so much about Marco.”

Rafe contemplated Diaz as the mysterious man limped toward his SUV. “I suppose I should apologize and thank the S.O.B.”

“He claims Berto never got away with the money but he wouldn’t tell me how he knows.”

“You’re moving on to another story?”

“I got my story, but I’m not certain if I’ll tell it.” She drew a deep breath and licked her dry lips. Without further thought, she moved to Rafe, wrapping her arms around his back, leaning her head on his chest. “Thank you for coming to save me.”

He put his arm around her and held her against him. “You’re far from helpless, sweet Cere. And you saved me.”

“Maybe that’s the answer,” she whispered. “You can’t keep everyone around you safe, but together we make a good team. I love you. I want to be with you, wherever you are.”

“Enough to sacrifice for me?”

She thought of her mother and the sacrifices Lottie had not made. Of Marco’s sad life. Of Rafe who had shown how much he would give. “Yes!”

“I wouldn’t ask it of you.” His sober eyes gazed down at her. “Do your story. I trust you to do the right thing. And you’re right. Together we can try to keep those around us safe. I love you too, sweet Cere.”