Where There's Smoke

Darcy, who still looked spectacular while everyone else was covered with grime, continually scanned the gathering crowd for sight of Heather. She’d asked Lara several times if she had seen her. She wept softly and daintily and kept repeating to those who offered words of encouragement, “I just can’t believe that all our hard work went up in smoke. But of course we’ll rebuild.”

Fergus, however, seemed more nervous than disconsolate. Lara found his behavior puzzling. Perhaps he hadn’t kept up his insurance premiums.

“She ought to be here,” Lara overheard Darcy say to Fergus, her exasperation plain. Apparently she felt that Heather should be on the scene to round out the family image for the media.

Two shouts were uttered almost simultaneously.

Both came from the west side of the complex where the first explosion had occurred.

“Give me some help here!”

“Sir! Maybe you ought to look at this.”

Lara and Key were among those who broke into a run. They and several others clustered around the man who’d shouted first. “There’s a body underneath here.”

Key helped him lift an iron support beam off the charred remains of a human being.

Before anyone had time to absorb that shock, one of the other agents said, “Christ. Here’s another one.” He’d made another grisly discovery several yards away.

“Sir!” The second agent who had shouted ran up to his superior. He was winded from his twenty-yard sprint. “I found something.” He pointed toward an open field. “I think it’s a gas line, but it isn’t on the motel schematic. It’s coming up vertically. My guess is that it’s linked to an underground line that leads straight to that well.”

Key shouldered his way up to the agent. “What are you saying?”

The senior agent frowned. “Mr. Tackett, it looks to me like somebody’s been siphoning natural gas off your well.”

Just then a scream rent the morning air. It came from the crowd behind the sheriff’s cordon. Darcy was clutching a teenage girl by the shoulders and shaking her until her head wobbled back and forth.

“What are you saying? You’re a liar!” She slapped the girl hard. “Heather was at cheerleading practice. She told Fergus she was leaving early to go to cheerleading practice. I ought to kill you, you lying little shit!”

The girl blubbered, “I’m not lying, Mrs. Winston. Heather told me to cover for her if you called my house. We didn’t have cheerleading practice. She said…” She hiccupped; the words came out choppily. “Heather said Tanner was going to meet her here and they were going to spend the night in one of the motel rooms.” Misery contorted the girl’s tear-bloated face. “She said it was going to be so romantic because they were going to sneak into the honeymoon suite.”

Ollie Hoskins had worked tirelessly throughout the entire night doing whatever he could to help. He panicked upon hearing his son’s name. “Tanner? Tanner? Tanner was here? No. It can’t be. My boy, he… No!”

Darcy pushed aside Heather’s sobbing friend and watched the grim firemen as they carried two stretchers from the smoking debris of what had been the honeymoon suite. On each stretcher lay a sealed black plastic bag.

“No. No. Heather? NO!”

Then Fergus stunned everyone by dropping to his knees and folding his arms over his head. With an anguished cry, he fell face first onto the ground.

“I could use a cup of coffee.” Key approached her as she moved to

ward her car. “Besides, I don’t have a car here.” He had arrived with Darcy, and that hadn’t been coincidental. However, mentioning that now would have been petty, so neither did. “I’ll call for a ride at your place if that’s all right.”

He was as grimy as she, his clothes sweat-and soot-stained. She’d lost count of how many times he’d taken off in the helicopter only to return as quickly as possible to transport another casualty.

When all the injured had been taken to area hospitals, he began helping the volunteer firemen. Lara too stayed at the site to administer first aid for their minor cuts and burns. Subconsciously she had found herself listening for Key’s distinguishable voice. Even in the predawn gloom she could easily pick him out among the others.

She motioned with her head for him to get into her car. Once they were under way, she asked, “What do you think they’ll do to Fergus?” He’d been taken away in handcuffs.

“He’ll spend the rest of his life behind bars. Besides stealing from us, he’s got twelve deaths to account for.”

Lara shivered. “Including his own daughter.”

“He’d better hope they never let him out. Darcy threatened to kill him if she got the chance. She would, too.” After a moment, he said, “I only slept with her that once. The night she shot me.”

Apparently the look she gave him was inadvertently accusatory, because he added, “Last night, I’d just told her to take me back to my car, and we were arguing about it, when the explosion occurred.”

“I did her a disservice,” Lara admitted in a quiet voice. “I didn’t credit her with loving anyone except herself. She loved her daughter very much. I know how it feels to lose a child. I can also relate to her wanting to kill Fergus for the role he played in Heather’s death. It was accidental, but he was ultimately responsible.”