when Violet blurted, “What are you doing here?”
I flinched and glanced to the side. A familiar stocky form, in jeans and flannel coat — not in his usual olive drab sheriff’s uniform. It appeared Des had just rolled out of bed too.
“Ms. Burns,” Des Forbes replied, but he was watching me with amused eyes. “Happens to be my county.”
I noticed he left off the Special Agent title when he acknowledged her. Relations were not quite peachy between law enforcement agencies. I grinned at him. My sentiments exactly.
Des stretched out his arm and shook hands with Walt. “Heard you had some trouble here.”
How he heard, I had no idea, but neither was I surprised. News travels faster than proverbial wildfire in Mayfield County. Maybe Clarice had called 911 even though there really had been no point.
“It’s under control,” Violet muttered, conveniently ignoring the fact that she’d had nothing to do with containing the fire.
“Got a few deputies here. They’ll assist you,” Des continued as though he hadn’t heard her. “I had the fire department stand down since it looks like what’s done is done. How’re the boys, Walt?”
“Fine. Tired.”
“Cause?” Des asked.
Walt stuffed his hands in the deep pockets of his coat. “Wiring was from the 1940s. I had all the breakers flipped off except for one light circuit for when we came to tend the animals. Based on what we’ve found so far in the garage, which is from the same era, I’d suspect a faulty connection and a little juice still flowing where it shouldn’t have been. It’d only take one arc or a mouse chewing through the wrong wire with how old and dry the timbers were.”
Des matched Walt’s shrug. “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve seen it. Nor the last, unfortunately.”
I quickly became unnecessary to the mop-up operation. I signaled Violet that I was returning to the mansion so she wouldn’t get all harpy again and trudged home.
The sun was coming up, although I couldn’t see it. A thick, gray blanket of clouds had moved in low over the trees. They had the iron-metallic feel of impending snow and muted the scraping and shoveling sounds of the final firefighting efforts.
Clarice met me at the kitchen door, a pair of binoculars in her hand. “You need to see this.”
“Spying on the neighbors?” I joked. At least, I thought it was funny. I was also a little punch-drunk.
She shot me a disgusted look, turned on her heel, and marched up to the bedroom wing and down the hall to Emmie’s open door.
Emmie was still holding vigil at her window, nose against the glass. She’d pulled on jeans and a t-shirt, but her hair was a tangled mess.
“Find a sweater.” I nudged her toward her dresser. Apparently the fire had been an all-consuming event inside the mansion as well. I hoped she wouldn’t ask me about the animals.
“Here.” Clarice thrust the binoculars toward me. “See that rock outcropping to the left of where that horrid FBI woman is bossing everyone around? Where that dead tree is leaning on that other one? The rocks right next to it.”
I wrinkled my nose and squinted through the eyepieces. I was half tempted to tease Clarice about her amazing descriptions, but the truth was that I wouldn’t have done any better. My entire field of view was composed of rocks and trees and brush. “Her name’s Violet. Where the two trunks are kind of shaped like an A?” I asked.
“Yeah. Go left a little more. See that other tree?”
“Um?”
“Well, it doesn’t matter anyway. They’re gone now,” Clarice huffed.
“You want me to look for something that’s not there anymore?” I leaned back from the window and stared down at her. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one operating on a woeful lack of sleep.
“Not something. Someone. Several someones. I saw them run away in the light from the fire.”
“A couple were kid-sized,” Emmie said. “I saw them too.”
I glanced back and forth between their serious
I flinched and glanced to the side. A familiar stocky form, in jeans and flannel coat — not in his usual olive drab sheriff’s uniform. It appeared Des had just rolled out of bed too.
“Ms. Burns,” Des Forbes replied, but he was watching me with amused eyes. “Happens to be my county.”
I noticed he left off the Special Agent title when he acknowledged her. Relations were not quite peachy between law enforcement agencies. I grinned at him. My sentiments exactly.
Des stretched out his arm and shook hands with Walt. “Heard you had some trouble here.”
How he heard, I had no idea, but neither was I surprised. News travels faster than proverbial wildfire in Mayfield County. Maybe Clarice had called 911 even though there really had been no point.
“It’s under control,” Violet muttered, conveniently ignoring the fact that she’d had nothing to do with containing the fire.
“Got a few deputies here. They’ll assist you,” Des continued as though he hadn’t heard her. “I had the fire department stand down since it looks like what’s done is done. How’re the boys, Walt?”
“Fine. Tired.”
“Cause?” Des asked.
Walt stuffed his hands in the deep pockets of his coat. “Wiring was from the 1940s. I had all the breakers flipped off except for one light circuit for when we came to tend the animals. Based on what we’ve found so far in the garage, which is from the same era, I’d suspect a faulty connection and a little juice still flowing where it shouldn’t have been. It’d only take one arc or a mouse chewing through the wrong wire with how old and dry the timbers were.”
Des matched Walt’s shrug. “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve seen it. Nor the last, unfortunately.”
I quickly became unnecessary to the mop-up operation. I signaled Violet that I was returning to the mansion so she wouldn’t get all harpy again and trudged home.
The sun was coming up, although I couldn’t see it. A thick, gray blanket of clouds had moved in low over the trees. They had the iron-metallic feel of impending snow and muted the scraping and shoveling sounds of the final firefighting efforts.
Clarice met me at the kitchen door, a pair of binoculars in her hand. “You need to see this.”
“Spying on the neighbors?” I joked. At least, I thought it was funny. I was also a little punch-drunk.
She shot me a disgusted look, turned on her heel, and marched up to the bedroom wing and down the hall to Emmie’s open door.
Emmie was still holding vigil at her window, nose against the glass. She’d pulled on jeans and a t-shirt, but her hair was a tangled mess.
“Find a sweater.” I nudged her toward her dresser. Apparently the fire had been an all-consuming event inside the mansion as well. I hoped she wouldn’t ask me about the animals.
“Here.” Clarice thrust the binoculars toward me. “See that rock outcropping to the left of where that horrid FBI woman is bossing everyone around? Where that dead tree is leaning on that other one? The rocks right next to it.”
I wrinkled my nose and squinted through the eyepieces. I was half tempted to tease Clarice about her amazing descriptions, but the truth was that I wouldn’t have done any better. My entire field of view was composed of rocks and trees and brush. “Her name’s Violet. Where the two trunks are kind of shaped like an A?” I asked.
“Yeah. Go left a little more. See that other tree?”
“Um?”
“Well, it doesn’t matter anyway. They’re gone now,” Clarice huffed.
“You want me to look for something that’s not there anymore?” I leaned back from the window and stared down at her. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one operating on a woeful lack of sleep.
“Not something. Someone. Several someones. I saw them run away in the light from the fire.”
“A couple were kid-sized,” Emmie said. “I saw them too.”
I glanced back and forth between their serious
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