A Tine to Live, a Tine to Die Page 24

Cam held her breath. Stuart clicked another time. He clicked several more times. He threw it hard against the wall.

  “Damn lighter.” He strode to Cam’s side. His face and neck had turned ruddy again, and the crazy, calm whistler had been replaced by a raging maniac. “Matches. Where do you keep matches?” His voice rose until he was almost screaming.

  Cam looked over at Ellie. “I don’t keep matches in the barn,” she lied. “Too dangerous. Anyway, this is crazy. Cut us loose and let’s talk.”

  Stuart answered her with a heavy slap across the cheek. Tears filled Cam’s eyes, but she kept her mouth shut. He slapped her even harder in the other direction. Then he glared at Ellie.

  “You know where the matches are, kid?”

  Ellie shook her head, fast.

  Stuart looked wildly around the barn. Suddenly the calm demeanor ruled again. He strode to the far corner, which Cam had been keeping her eyes firmly away from. The corner where she kept her charcoal grill. The corner with the shelf holding a collection of matchbooks.

  “I’m sorry, Ellie,” Cam murmured.

  Stuart lit a match. He held it to the corner of the matchbook until the thin cardboard began to burn, then threw both the match and the lit matchbook on the soaked hay.

  The flames whooshed.

  Chapter 24

  Stuart lingered until flames licked at the wall. He waved at Cam and Ellie. He slammed the door closed behind him.

  The thud of the thick plank of the outer lock falling into place was the worst sound Cam had ever heard. Smoke wafted up toward the high window above the wide door, the cracked window Cam had never gotten around to fixing.

  She froze. She was back in the burning house again. Six years old. Alone. Terrified. Flames crawling closer. Smoke thickening. She coughed.

  “Cam!” Ellie scooted her chair close to Cam with her feet. “Hey, what’s going on with you? We have to get out of here.”

  Cam shook herself and took a deep breath. Right. She’d gotten herself out then; she’d get them out now.

  “I have my Girl Scout knife in my pocket. Can you get it?” Ellie angled her chair so her left hip was as close to Cam’s right hand as possible.

  “You rock, girlfriend.” Cam wiggled her hand under the tape. She had hoped by keeping her wrists vertical when Stuart taped them that the tape would be looser. He seemed to have brought extra-sticky duct tape, though. She couldn’t get her hand free.

  The fire crept up the wall. She had to get her hand loose, and quick. An image of a trapped animal arose in her mind. The kind of animal that gnaws its paw off to escape the jaws of a trap.

  Cam bent over her right wrist. She chewed on the tape. The chemical taste of the plastic was acrid on her tongue, but not as bitter as the prospect of burning alive. Cam bit and tore at the binding, coughing from the smoke beginning to fill the barn.

  “Brilliant,” Ellie said.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Cam saw Ellie bend over her own wrist and bite at the tape, too. The fire crackled as it fed on the timbers that had been drying for centuries. Cam bent over her wrist again. They were almost out of time. Chew, spit, gnaw, pull. She was down to one fiber. She twisted her forearm and pulled her hand free.

  Ellie pointed her chin at her pocket. Cam slid her hand in and closed it over a pocketknife. She drew it out. She held it near her other hand but couldn’t get her fingernail under the slot in the blade to flip it out. She switched the knife to her taped hand and pried.

  The knife opened. Cam cut her other hand loose. She freed both of Ellie’s. Cam pulled the girl to her feet.

  The thick smoke almost obscured the flames on the far wall.

  “Cam, we’re locked in.” Ellie’s voice quavered.

  “I’ll get us out.” Cam took Ellie’s hand and pointed to the right of the back door. “Lie on the floor over there until I get the door open. You stay there, okay? Girl Scout’s honor?” Cam squeezed the girl’s small hand and tried to beam confidence into Ellie’s frightened eyes.

  Ellie nodded. She held up the middle three fingers of her right hand and set her mouth in a determined line. She ran for the area and lay prostrate on the floor.

  A bang sounded from the rototiller. Cam didn’t look. She didn’t need to see gas tanks exploding.

  Cam ran for the cabinet on the wall near the back door, where she’d stashed Bev Montgomery’s gun. She scrounged in her pocket for the key, desperately glad she hadn’t yet changed out of her work clothes for the potluck. She inserted the key in the lock and tried to turn it. It balked. Cam swore and coughed. She drew it out, turned it over, and tried again. It wouldn’t turn. She threw it down. So much for trying to shoot the lock off the back door.

  A crash sounded behind her. Cam whirled. The old hayloft on the far wall, above the wide door, collapsed. Cam turned her back on it. Cam’s heart raced. She couldn’t give up. She had to save Ellie. And Cam had to get herself out of this hell of fire.

  She glanced up. The clerestory window above the door. They might get out, after all.

  “Ellie, turn away and cover your face.” Cam grabbed a shovel from the wall. She took aim and hurled the shovel javelin-style at the window. The thin old glass shattered as the shovel fell back into the barn. Cam pulled her T-shirt over her head and off.

  “Here’s the plan,” Cam said to Ellie in a short, fast burst. “You wrap my shirt around your hand. I boost you up. You knock the glass out to the outside.”

  Ellie nodded with wide eyes.

  “Lay the shirt on the bottom of the window. That’ll protect you from the sharp edges of the broken glass. Then jump out. Try to steer away from the granite step, and roll when you land.”

  “How are you going to get out?” Ellie said in a rush.

  “I’ll be right behind you.” I hope. “Work quickly. It’ll be a furnace up there.”

  “Got it.” Ellie wrapped the shirt around her right hand. “I’ll stand on your shoulders.”

  Cam laced her hands into a step. In a flash, Ellie was up, her weight light on Cam’s shoulders. Cam glanced up. Ellie shoving glass out with her improvised mitt. Ellie folding the cloth into a cushion. Hurry.

  “See you out there,” Ellie said. A second later she was off Cam’s shoulders and out.

  Cam heard a cry as she upended a bucket under the window. She looked up. Shards still stuck out, and it was going to be a lot tighter fit for her than for petite Ellie. An explosion blasted a corner of the barn a few yards away. Cam took a deep breath. She stepped onto the bucket and set her hands on the hot cloth at the base of the window. She worked her legs up and through.

  She landed with a thud and a sharp pain in her shoulder. She winced, squeezing her eyes shut. When she opened them, flames licked out the window she’d just fallen from. She rolled away from the building, then pushed herself to standing. Ellie lay curled up nearby.

  “Ellie!”

  The girl remained still, not responding. Cam scooped her into her arms. Ellie’s eyes remained closed. Cam staggered toward the house as the burning barn crashed down behind them with a sound like a thousand memories dying.

  Chapter 25

  Cam tripped on a root of the ancient maple in the yard. It sent her sprawling on the grass, but she managed to protect Ellie’s head from the fall. She pulled herself to sitting, Ellie still unconscious in her arms. Felicity and Wes appeared from somewhere, Felicity running to Cam and Ellie with her arms full of tablecloths. And a Westbury fire truck roared up the drive, all lights and sirens, with two Westbury police cars right behind.

  Cam blinked. Smoke tainted the air. A coat of ash filmed the leaves of the tree. She took a deep breath and then coughed.

  “Cam! What happened? Is Ellie all right?” Felicity dumped the tablecloths and knelt next to Cam. She stroked Ellie’s cheek.

  Ellie opened her eyes. “I’m fine. I think.” She looked up at Cam, then wriggled out of her arms and sat cross-legged, rubbing her eyes. “Gross. What stinks?” She wrinkled her nose.

  Cam, sud
denly weak, sniffed. “It’s the smoke, Ellie.” She suddenly wanted to restore human contact. She put her arm around the girl’s shoulders.

  “Oh, yeah.” Ellie turned wide eyes to the flaming wreck that had been the barn.

  “You have cuts all over you.” Felicity pointed to Cam’s arms and legs, which were indeed riddled with scratches and cuts from the broken glass.

  Cam looked down, startled to realize she was clad from the waist up only in her sports bra. Even her stomach was cut.

  Felicity handed her a blue-and-white tablecloth, which Cam gratefully wrapped around her shoulders.

  Firefighters poured off the engine. Two hurried toward Cam and Ellie. One carried a kit with a red cross on it. He knelt in front of Ellie and asked how she was.

  The other firefighter shouted at Cam over the noise of the fire, “Ma’am, anybody in there?”

  “No,” Cam called back.

  The firefighter turned toward the barn. “Surround and drown,” she called out and then began barking orders.

  Firefighters in bulky suits pulled flat hoses out of the back of the vehicle, its emergency lights still flashing. They dragged the hoses closer to the barn. Another couple of firefighters connected the hoses to the side of the engine. They began spraying the closest side of the inferno. It hissed and steamed like an angry dragon. The hose writhed on the ground, three firefighters struggling to tame it. A spray of water fanned out from a connection, creating a strobing blue-and-red light show. Another engine pulled in behind the first.

  A police officer appeared from the road, followed by Chief Frost, who made a beeline for Cam as he spoke into a phone and then pocketed it.

  “Are you all right, Ms. Flaherty?”

  “I think I am. But my barn isn’t.” She raised her voice above the din of engines running, flames crackling, more sirens speeding toward the farm, an air horn blaring, commands being shouted.

  “What happened? Careless with the barbecue?” He folded his arms and looked down at her with raised eyebrows.

  Cam opened her mouth to object, but Ellie spoke first.

  “No! A guy tried to, like, burn us alive in there.” Ellie frowned at the chief. “He lit it on fire and then locked the door on his way out. Cam rescued us.”

  “Is that true, Cam?” the chief asked.

  “Yes.”

  Ellie snapped her head toward the back of the property. “Hey, there he is.”

  Jake strode around the corner of the hoop house with a yelling Stuart fighting to get loose. Jake clamped Stuart’s neck firmly in the crook of his elbow and held one of Stuart’s arms twisted up behind his back, making him walk in front as they skirted the engines and hoses.

  “Anybody want this guy?” Jake brought Stuart to a spot a few yards away from Chief Frost.

  Stuart glared daggers at the chief. “I didn’t do anything,” he snarled.

  Frost looked from Stuart to Cam and Ellie. “Stuart Wilson locked you in the barn and set it on fire?”

  “Yep.” Cam shuddered. “Not just locked us in but taped us to chairs. But Ellie had her Girl Scout pocketknife, and we not only got free, but got out. And just in time.”

  “It’s your word against mine,” Stuart spat.

  “Well, here’s another word for you,” Cam said. “Stuart told us he killed Mike Montgomery.”

  “He did?”

  Cam looked up at the new voice. Pappas had materialized.

  “Yes, he did.”

  “I never said that.” Stuart’s strident tone was defiant.

  “You did so. I’m a witness,” Ellie said. “I’m glad this dude caught you.” She glanced up at Jake.

  Pappas nodded at Chief Frost. He and the other officer took over for Jake, cuffing Stuart’s hands behind his back.

  “Stuart Wilson, you are under arrest for the murder of Mike Montgomery and very likely arson and attempted murder, as well.” Pappas read Stuart his rights. “Let’s go.” He and the police officer steered a cursing, struggling Stuart toward a cruiser.

  Cam extended a hand to Jake, who helped her to her feet. “Thanks. But how . . . I mean, why are you here? How did you . . .”

  He blushed, looking around at the listening group before returning his eyes to Cam. “I wanted to see you again. I called your cell and your house, but you didn’t answer, so I came out here, anyway. When I drove up, Stuart was just standing in your driveway, staring at the barn. Something didn’t seem right.”

  “Boy, were things ever not right.” She leaned down and rubbed the aching knee Stuart had kicked.

  “When I called to Stuart, he started running away, toward the back. I smelled smoke and saw some coming from the top window of the barn. I called nine-one-one. Then I chased him out to the fields.” Jake smiled. “He didn’t have a chance against these long legs.” He laid an arm over Cam’s shoulders and gave a squeeze.

  Cam winced at the pressure.

  Jake drew his arm back with a quick move. “Sorry. Did I hurt you?” His heavy eyebrows pulled together.

  “I banged it when I landed. It’ll heal.” She nudged him with her shoulder, leaning into him, until he replaced his arm.

  “I’m just glad you’re all right. You too, Ellie.” He patted Ellie on the back with his free hand.

  “Cam?” Ruth, wearing red capri pants and a white T-shirt, loped toward them. One twin in each hand ran to keep up with her. “What happened? I heard on the scanner as we were heading out here for the potluck that your barn was on fire.”

  “It’s a long story, Ruth. We’re fine. He’s not, and that’s good.” She nodded her head toward Stuart, who was being carefully folded into the backseat of the cruiser.

  “Mommy, why’s the building burning?” Nettie pulled on Ruth’s hand.

  “I’m not quite sure, honey. Let’s make sure we stay out of the firefighters’ way, all right?” She glanced at Frost. “Hey, Chief. Everything under control?”

  Chief Frost greeted her and the girls. “We got it covered.”

  Cam shook her head to clear it. “Chief Frost, Lucinda is free now, isn’t she?”

  “I would say so. It looks like we were wrong about that arrest.”

  Cam nodded. She leaned into Jake’s solid form. The relief at it all being over—Lucinda free of suspicion, Cam free from trying to track a killer—washed through her, her legs suddenly as unsteady as hollow cornstalks.

  “Cam?” Felicity tapped Cam on the shoulder. “I hate to say this, but what should we do about the potluck?”

  The potluck. Several dozen subscribers were about to descend on the farm. No barn to eat in, no tables to eat off of.

  “There will be no potluck here tonight,” Frost said. “Ellie has to get checked out at the hospital, and you do, too, Cam. You both could have had a concussion and smoke inhalation damage.”

  “But . . .”

  “No buts.” Chief Frost crossed his arms.

  “Let’s just postpone the potluck until tomorrow night.” Felicity bounced a little on the balls of her feet.

  “I need to get statements from you tonight, too,” Frost added.

  A bicycle bell dinged a few yards away. Alexandra dismounted. “You sure know how to light a bonfire. But did I just see that scumbag Stuart in the back of a police car?” She shed a full backpack and stuck her hands in the back pockets of overalls printed with smiling vegetables.

  Cam nodded. “You can thank him for the bonfire.”

  “Well, good riddance. Are you all right?”

  As Cam nodded, she began to shiver. “Maybe.”

  Frost looked at her and motioned to the firefighter who sat with Ellie. “Might have shock setting in here.” The firefighter wrapped a blanket around Cam’s shoulders.

  “You’re going to need help picking in the morning,” Alexandra said, raising her eyebrows.

  Cam slapped her forehead. “Tomorrow’s share day.” She looked around at the group and then gazed at the ruins of the barn. “I don’t have tools. I don’t have baskets. I’m not sure I�
��ll even be able to walk tomorrow.” She rubbed her stiffening knee again, and the bruise on her shoulder twinged.

  Alexandra spread her arms wide. “We’ll all help. It’ll be a pick-your-own share day. How about that? Right, people?”

  Felicity nodded. “Of course. We’ll each bring tools, scissors, baskets. Whatever we have.”

  Wes spoke up. “I’ll contact everyone tonight.”

  “I’ll help. We can split up the list,” Alexandra offered.

  “Wow. Okay. You guys are the best.” Cam wondered if her inner glow showed through to the outside.

  Darkness crept in around the edges of a perfect June Saturday evening. The core group of subscribers, plus Ruth, her twins, Albert, Cam, and Jake, sprawled on Cam’s lawn. The remains of the barn lay dark and forlorn like some giant’s abandoned campfire. One charred post still jutted bravely toward the sky.

  The potluck had been a success. Wes had fetched Great-Uncle Albert and had brought a comfortable chair out from the house for him to sit in. David Kosloski had been keeping Ellie close by his side all evening. Even the ever-tasteful Irene Burr had shown up, bringing an elegant platter of tiny herb quiches in puff pastry, which, she said when complimented on them, her cook had prepared. Everyone had clapped and cheered when Lucinda arrived. Cam was the first to give her a big hug, surprising herself with the pleasure of giving her friend an embrace. Up to now, hugging had never been one of Cam’s favorite activities.

  “Sorry I couldn’t help out this morning. To be out of jail and in my own bed was just too delicious.” Lucinda looked like she could still barely believe her fortune had changed.

  Cam then took a moment to explain to everybody how Stuart had framed Lucinda and what had transpired in the barn, earning another round of applause for Ellie and her.

  “We got out because Ellie here is resourceful. We made a good team.” Cam cocked her hand at Ellie in a gun imitation. The girl returned it with a smile.

  “Stuart’s one sick dude,” Jake said. “When I got here, he was just standing there, watching the barn burn. That’s bad enough, but knowing you and Ellie were trapped inside?” Jake shook his head and whistled. “I hope he never gets out of prison.”