Retribution (34 page)

Jimmy turned in a circle, examining the shadowy space. “Wow.” Then he turned toward Sandra. “I could have some iced tea, Grammie.”

Bill lifted the small boy, smelly and wet as he was, into his arms. And then he gathered Sandra with the other. “To the inn, and
I
will serve all of you. That includes you, Pat.”

“How you planning on getting all of us to your place,” Pat asked, “seeing as how your transportation is stuck under a tree?”

“Oh, yeah.”

Slipping from Bill's grip, Sandra stepped over the tree limbs toward Lillian. “What about our baby? I need details!”

Lillian put an arm around Sandra and laughed. “As soon as you tell me how you and Jimmy ended up in the tub!”

~*~

Exhilarated, but exhausted from the day's events, Lillian thought it would take an earthquake to move her from her bed. Life had taken a turn for the good with Bill's thawing attitude. All that remained were the unexplained fires. But she had a plan. The idea occurred to her as she had wiggled her way to Sandra, and the branches kept hitting her in the face. If only she had brought that duct tape, so useless during Trina's delivery, but just what she needed to hold back the lashing limbs.

The only way to definitely know if she was setting the fires was to make sure she never left her room. She would tape herself to the bed. It seemed silly, but it might work. After preparing for bed, she pulled the duct tape and a pair of scissors out of the drawer.

Bible reading done and prayers said, she put on a pair of socks. The duct tape released from the roll harder than she had thought. Had she ever used duct tape before? It wasn't one of the things she kept around her house. She wound the strip around her ankle over the sock, and secured the other end to the bed frame and lay down.

The short length of her tether kept her from moving, and she knew she would never be able to sleep flat on her back all night. She pulled off a longer strip, and tried again. Three tries and she got it right, and then duplicated it for the other leg. Now she could roll from her back to her side, but could not get off the bed. Even if she cut the tape in her sleep, she would find the discarded sections in the morning. Not scientific, but at least she would know.

The only downside to her plan was the need to anchor herself to her bed until another house burned.

25

Roger arose from bed, groggy from lack of sleep. This was day three, and as much as he hoped otherwise, he knew his partner would remember as well. He had never felt so alone. There had always been a solution, some better than others, but an acceptable way out of all past situations. Until now. Only one scenario showed promise, and with it came the pain of losing a woman he had learned to love.

He turned toward the closet probably for last time. After opening the box and pulling out the thumb drive, he inserted it into the computer. New data needed to be entered. The familiarity of the task steadied him. Two families had vacated their homes in the past week. As he waited, the spread sheet appeared on the screen. Finding what he wanted, he scanned the information and then pulled open the desk drawer, empty except for the city map marked with dots. Glancing at the screen for confirmation, he put an
X
over another dot. Now more than half the dots had a black
X
over them.

The call had come at three in the morning. Another house had burned; the fire chief would be in to see him first thing. These meetings were getting harder.

How much longer could he conceal the truth? He pounded a fist into the desk. Why was he keeping this data? What did it matter? Nothing happened as planned. He gripped the sides of his head, the headache already beginning to creep up his shoulders. And it was only 6:00 AM.

Needing coffee, he headed toward the kitchen only to be disturbed by the ring of his cell phone. He looked at the caller ID and allowed the ring to continue to the point of rolling over to voice mail before he answered. “What do you want?”

A chipper voice responded. “Today is the day. It's day three, and I have a ticket to Jamaica in my hand.”

Roger had never heard her sound this happy, or to be awake, for that matter, this early. Hatred for her sizzled under his skin but he held it in check before it gained control of him. Lillian had helped him realize he had to let go of his anger. But how could he forgive someone who was bent on destroying not only his life but Lillian's as well? “I can't do this.” He lowered himself onto a kitchen chair.

“Of course you can. Soon it will all be over, and both of us can start our new lives. Just think, with the money Leo helped you hide in bank accounts, you can go anywhere you want, live like a king. You can leave that dreary little town behind.”

He gritted his teeth. Monstrous thoughts pushed to be released, but none of them mattered. “Lillian doesn't deserve to die.”

Silence.

He could imagine her face reddening, eyes narrowing until they became angry slits. When she spoke, her words dripped with venom. “I understood my husband well, and I knew what he planned to do as soon as the guilty sentence was read, not that I blame him. His eyes told me. The thought of spending the rest of his life in prison was worse than death.”

“He had to pay for his crime.”

“His crime? Leo took the fall for both of you.”

He pulled the phone from his ear, her rage still banging against his eardrum. The past circled around him like a vicious lion, and he had no way to escape.

“He made sure you were squeaky-clean of the drug trafficking charges. Oh, he could have squealed on you, probably gotten himself less time, but he didn't. Let me ask you this, goody boy. Who put you through college?”

His arm shook as he tried to suppress the urge to disconnect the call. If he hung up, she would just call again and again, until she had her say. “We both know Leo paid for my education, and then I agreed to work for him.”

“Two for one, I'd say. A free education, and then a guaranteed job. And you married our daughter.”

Anger, no longer to be denied, exploded within him. “Carla was never part of the deal. I loved her. I loved her more than you ever did.”

“Don't you tell me about love, you ungrateful snit. You dragged her from her home in Cleveland to live in a dump.”

“It was all I could afford on what I could make here. We were happy—or we could have been.”

“You have no idea how miserable she was. You drove her to suicide. She hanged herself because of you.”

Angry lies, a low blow even for her. Carla had died of smoke inhalation. He had the autopsy report…

The woman's voice blurred. He closed his eyes. He hated his past deeds. He hated them more since listening to Lillian talk of God's love. But it was too late.

“Didn't you wonder why Leo was so willing to allow you to marry Carla? She was the light of his eye. His only child. He kept her innocent, out of the family business. But giving her to you would guarantee your cooperation.”

“And I got her away from you as fast as I could.”

“So you could let her die?” The angry words hissed. “Carla is gone, Leo is dead, and Lillian has to pay. Today. Or I go to the police.”

There was no way out; Lillian had to die. But at least he could make it fast, and as painless as possible. His soul was already dammed. One more deed, good or bad, wouldn't make a difference. If he didn't kill Lillian, his partner would.

Lillian had promised to fix supper for him today while he was at work. He would pack whatever he intended to keep and stow it in the car. Looking around, nothing except his metal box warranted saving.

26

Lillian unlocked the door of Roger's house and dropped the grocery bags onto the cupboard: ground meat for meatballs, tomatoes, tomato paste, onions, and fresh herbs for the sauce. Linguine from the new Italian store in Florence. The hour trip had been well worth it; fresh linguine tasted better. Salad and garlic bread would round out the main meal. Then cheesecake for dessert.

She started a pot of coffee and put the perishables in the refrigerator. It felt awkward to be in Roger's home alone, but when she had offered to fix dinner for him, he had said yes, and had given her a key. She looked around with uninhibited eyes. He certainly wasn't one for decorating. No pictures broke the starkness of the walls. The living room looked as if it had come from one of those room-in-a-box stores. The impersonal space didn't come close to reflecting the personality of the man who alternately tugged at her heart and caused her fear. Even though their conversations lately had become more intimate and revealing, she still knew very little about Roger Jenkins. She smiled. That was about to change.

Reveling in the domesticity she never had time for in Cleveland, she put the meatballs in the oven and started on the sauce. After dipping the spoon into the simmering pan and lifting it to her lips, she added more oregano. And garlic. One could never have too much garlic.

The bouquet of fresh flowers she had bought for the table would add a romantic touch.

The euphoria had started first thing in the morning. The duct tape had worked! During the night, another house had burned while she had remained safely anchored to her bed. Legally her trick did nothing to clear her name, but that wasn't important right now. She knew the truth, and the relief felt enormous.

As for Roger, she had prayed for God to lead her to the man that was to be a part of her life. God would handle the details.

Looking through the kitchen cupboards for scissors and tape, plastic tape this time, and finding none, she wandered down the hall to the master bedroom. Roger had a desk in his room, and that was most likely where he kept the tape. While waiting for the meatballs to cook, she would wrap his Christmas gift.

Entering his bedroom, she sighed at his compulsive neatness. The bed was made, all his clothes put away. Walking into the master bathroom, she shook her head. The toilet seat was down and no toothpaste coated the sink. But he must have forgotten to open the drapes, leaving the room cold and dark. Humming to herself, she pulled the curtains and straightened them neatly.

The desk looked like one of the cheap fiberboard varieties sold at office supply stores. It had the expected long middle drawer with three drawers on each side. Pulling out the top right-hand drawer where she kept her tape, she found it empty. So was the next drawer, then the bottom one. All were empty. With each empty drawer, the unease creeping up her back intensified. Who had a desk and put nothing in it?

She opened the long middle drawer and gasped.

~*~

“I'm sorry you're leaving us,” Sandra said.

Nadine Blackwell continued eating as her coffee cup was refilled. “My business is finished.”

“It's always a blessing to be home for the holidays. Will you be with family?”

Mrs. Blackwell smiled. “Yes.”

“I know Trina would like to say goodbye, but under the circumstances…”

The woman wiped her mouth, leaving red lipstick on the linen napkin. “I fully understand. I'm glad Lillian was there for her.”

“Ted can bring down your luggage if you can wait a little bit. He's…busy at the moment.” She stared toward the parlor.

Ted had been on his knees in prayer since before she had arrived.

“Bill would have carried them down for you before he left for school, but we didn't know…”

“Oh, it's quite all right. I am capable of carrying my bags.”

Nadine Blackwell had to be the strangest woman she had ever met, but apparently, she could hold her own with business executives.

Sandra shook her head. The world held all kinds.

A half hour later, footsteps sounded on the stairs.

Sandra dried her hands on the dishtowel and walked to the kitchen door.

Nadine descended the stairs, her suitcases gripped in her hands.

“Is there anything I can do to help you, Mrs. Blackwell?” Anxious to get to the hospital and see the baby, she hoped any needs Nadine might have would be small.

“You have done more than you know.”

27

Lillian wasn't sure how long she stared at the paper in the open drawer. Her heart, which moments ago had leaped into her throat, now lay flaccid in her chest.

A map of Darlington. The streets clearly identified. Marked off with
X
's, the houses that had burned since her arrival.

She started to shake. Why did he have this list? Had he tracked her actions, trying to predict which house she would burn next? Did he still suspect her, even after she told him someone was trying to frame her? And now she had proof of her innocence.

The longer she stared at the map, the muddier her thoughts became. If he was tracking the houses that had burned, why had he circled ten additional addresses? Were those houses recently vacated?

With trembling hands, she reached into the drawer and hesitated, fingertips hovering just above the paper. She could close the drawer and pretend she had never seen the map. But could she really hide her emotions, or would Roger look into her face and see reflected the hidden
X
's?

The scent of tomatoes and basil reminded her of the sauce still simmering on the stove. Supper could burn for all she cared. She grabbed the map, hoping Roger would have an explanation. As she strode back to the kitchen, she stared at the paper. There must be some clue that she was missing, but what?

The kitchen door handle rattled. Her breath caught in her throat. Roger wasn't due for two hours yet. That meant whoever was trying to gain access was doing so for ill gain. The map in her hand burned like fire.

Roger stepped into the room.

She heaved a sigh of relief and planted a kiss on his cheek. “I thought you weren't going to be home until after five.”

Roger's eyes narrowed as he noticed the paper in her hand. “Where did you get that?”

She glanced at the map, and then back at Roger, her nerves zipping against her skin.