Blue Smoke (37 page)

She wasn't the only one bleeding.

But he was stronger, and he was winning.

The sound of Bo's voice wrenched a scream from her.

“Bo! Get out. Get the cops!”

Joey dived away from her. After the gun, oh God, the gun.

Her vision was blurred, her lungs all but shut down. Tears spilled through the blood on her face as she crawled toward the doorway and her own weapon.

Feet pounded. Or was it her heart? She rolled, the weapon gripped in both hands. And saw with dull horror that he hadn't dived for the gun.

“Don't. For God's sake. Can't you smell it? You'll go up like a torch.”

“You, too.” He held the flaming match in the air. “Let's see what it's like.”

He dropped the match into the pool on the floor. Fire burst, a quick roar of freedom. He flew onto the flames.

She rolled as it leaped toward her. Screamed as it snatched at her legs. Bo was dragging her away from it, smothering flames with his hands, his body.

“Linen closet, blankets.” Panting, she dragged off her smoldering pants. “Don't touch the extinguisher, he might have rigged it. Go. Hurry!”

She crab-walked back, teeth chattering.

He was screaming now—horrible, inhuman sounds as he spun around the room. Fire embraced him.

She saw, thought she saw, and would always see, his eyes locked on hers through the flames that consumed his face.

Somehow he walked toward her. One step, then two, toward the doorway.

Then he fell, with fire rolling over him like a molten sea.

They were coming. Cops battering down the door. Sirens would be close behind. The trucks, the hoses, the heroes in turnout suits.

She braced her back against the wall and watched the burn.

“Put him out,” she murmured when Bo rushed back. “For God's pity, put him out.”

She sat at her mother's kitchen table, sipping chilled wine with a blanket over her shoulders. She didn't need her brother the doctor to tell her she was shocky. She didn't want the ER, or sedatives.

She needed to be here, to just be.

The salve An dabbed on the burns was like heaven.

“Ribs are bruised, nothing broken that I can tell.” Xander frowned at her battered face. “You need X-rays, damn it, Reena.”

“Later, Doc.”

“Second degree.” An gently bandaged her ankles. “You're lucky.”

“I know.” She reached behind her for Bo's hand, smiled at her father. “I know it.”

“She's going to eat, and she's going to rest. She's not going to do cop work right now.” Bianca spoke straight to Younger.

“No, ma'am. We'll deal with it in the morning,” he said to Reena.

“When we go through the layers, we'll find the timers. I don't think he meant to die, not until the end. He just . . . he couldn't be humiliated. Beaten, like his father. He couldn't face it, or the idea of a slow death. So he chose.”

“You're going to eat. I'm going to fix eggs, and everyone's going to eat.” Bianca yanked open the refrigerator, then just covered her face with her hands and began to sob.

Gib moved to her, but Reena patted his arm, shook her head. “Let me.”

Her breath caught on a shock of pain as she got to her feet, but she went to her mother, slid her arms around her. “Mama. It's okay. We're all okay.”

“My baby. My baby girl.
Bella bambina
.”

“
Ti amo, Mama.
And I'm fine. But I'm hungry.”

“
Va bene
. Okay.” She mopped at her cheeks with her hands, then kissed Reena's. “Sit down. I'll cook.”

“I'll help you, Mama.” Bella blinked at her own tears when Bianca raised eyebrows at her. “I still remember how to make breakfast.”

Yes, this is what she needed, Reena thought. The noise, the movement, the sounds and scents of her mother's kitchen. She ate what was put in front of her with an appetite that surprised and pleased her.

Later, she found her father and John sitting on the front steps, sipping coffee. Dawn broke over the neighborhood, a pearly haze that promised another day of drenching heat.

She was sure she'd never seen anything more beautiful.

“Been a long time since we first sat out here,” John said.

“It was beer then.”

“Will be again sometime.”

“I was having myself a sulk. I'm not sure what I'm having this morning. You told me what a lucky man I was. Beautiful wife and kids. You were right. You said what a bright one I had in Reena. You were right about that, too. I almost lost her, John. I almost lost my little girl last night.”

“You didn't. And you're still a lucky man.”

“Room for one more out here?” Reena stepped out. “Going to be a hot one. I used to love hot summer days when I was a kid. They lasted forever, all the way into the night. I could lie in bed and listen to them. Fran coming in from a date, old Mr. Franco out walking his dog. Johnnie Russo driving by with those glasspack mufflers. You used to give him such a hard time about that, Dad.”

She bent down, kissed the top of his head. “Mornings like this, people'll start coming out early, before the heat hits. Walk down to the
park or the market, gab over the fence in the back, or across the front steps. Head off to work. Water their flowers, catch up on the news, if they have the day off. We're all pretty lucky, if you ask me.”

They sat for a while in silence, watching the light come into the morning, then John patted her gently on the knee. “Going to get on home, see what needs to be done.”

“I'm sorry about your house, John.”

“Sorry about yours, honey.”

“We've got a lot of hands to help you put it back together,” she told him. “And I know a good carpenter.”

Then he bent, kissed the top of her head. “Your partner would be proud of you. I'll be in touch. You take care, Gib.”

“Thanks, John. For everything.”

Reena watched him drive away. “He helped make me what I am. I hope you're okay with that.”

“Seeing what you are, I'm fine with that.” There were tears in his eyes. She could see the glimmer of them as he stared out across the row. “Your mom and I may be shaky for a day or two, but we'll settle down.”

“I know you will.” She leaned against him a moment, just sitting on the front steps, watching the light grow. “You helped make me what I am, too,” she told him. “You and Mama.
Vi amo. Molto
.” She leaned just a little harder against him.
“Molto.”

He slid an arm around her. Then his lips brushed her hair. “Are you going to marry that carpenter?”

“Yes. Yes, I am.”

“Good choice.”

“I think so. Now, I'm going to go in, say good-bye to everyone and see if I can push them along. You and Mama should get some sleep, too.”

“I could use it.”

She found Bella alone in the kitchen. “Cooking and cleaning up?”

“Fran's having some contractions. Mama took her upstairs.”

“She's in labor?”

“Maybe. Maybe just some Braxton-Hicks. She's got two doctors, her mother and her husband hovering. She's fine.” Bella lifted a hand, shook her head. “I don't mean to sound like that.” She tossed down a dish towel. “I can't seem to help myself.”

“We're all tired, Bella. You're entitled.”

“I envy her. Not just that serenity she wears like a custom-made suit, but the way Jack looks at her. You could just melt. I don't not want her to have it. I just wish I had a little of it myself.”

“I'm sorry.”

“No point. I made this bed.” She laid a hand on her belly.

“You're sure?”

“You can find out so soon, practically before you are. I'm pregnant. I got pregnant on purpose. Stupid, maybe selfish, but it's done. I'm not sorry about the baby.”

“Have you told Vince?”

“He's thrilled. He does love children, even if he doesn't love me the way I want. He'll be sweet and attentive for a bit, and he'll take a little more care to hide his next affair—if he dares to have one after you blasted him.”

“Will you be happy, Bella?”

“Working on it. I'm not going to divorce him. I'm not going to give up what I've got, so I'll make what I can of what I have. Don't tell the family yet. Fran ought to have this baby without another one in progress taking any shine off it.”

Reena smiled. “You're okay, Isabella. You always were.”

S
he studied the neighborhood as Bo drove them home. As she'd predicted, people were out early. Heading to the park to walk or jog, strolling with pets and kids. Hurrying off to work. She could smell fresh baked bread wafting from the bakery.

Even when she smelled the lingering traces of smoke and wet, it didn't dampen her.

She nodded to the cops left on duty.

“I need a little sleep, then I want to go to church, light a candle for O'Donnell,” she told Bo. “You're going to want to go see your Mrs. M., O'Donnell's sister.”

“Yeah.” He rubbed a hand down her arm. “Later today.”

“I'll go with you, and I'd like you to go with me when I visit his wife. But first, I need to go in.”

“I'll tuck you into my bed, and later we'll go to church, we'll light a candle, we'll go see his family. But you should go to the hospital, get checked out.”

“Nothing broken, second degree. Not that I don't intend to hit Xander up for some lovely drugs, but what I want most after this is a bed, and yours is just fine. But I have to go in first. I have to see it.”

She unlocked the door. She smelled the smoke, studied where it had stained the walls. In silence, she walked up the stairs. Her belly clenched.

Fire had charred her bedroom door frame, flashed over the floor. Her dresser was scorched, the wood buckled, the burn pattern on the walls showing the fire's greedy reach up.

And she saw where Joey's body had fallen, and smothered the flames under it.

“He wasn't crazy when this started, not the way he was when it ended. It ate at him, at his mind, maybe his soul. Like fire eats fuel. Like cancer's eating his father. So it consumed him.”

“You weren't the reason, and never were. You were an excuse.”

Surprised, she turned her head, looked at Bo. “You're right. My God, you're right. And that feels like, well, absolution.”

She leaned her head on his shoulder. “I'm lucky, and I know it. A few bumps, bruises and burns. But I feel sad when I look at this room. It wasn't perfect, I know. But it was mine.”

“It still is.” He slipped an arm gently around her waist. “I can fix it.”

She laughed a little, and her body relaxed against his. “Yes. Yes, you can.”

She turned away from it, and went home with the boy next door.