Firestorm (26 page)

Where was he?

Then she saw him.

And she screamed.

Jason was on fire, his entire body blazing. Yet he still was clinging desperately to his father.

“Drop him, Jason. Get down on the floor.” She pulled her father out of Jason's arms, threw the blanket over Jason, and tried to beat out the flames.

“No.” His voice was choked. “Too late. Save . . . him.” He stumbled back toward the burning railing. “Have to save . . . him. Have to make—” The rail gave way and he fell backward into the flames below.

“Jason!” His name was a cry of agony.

Try to get to him. It seemed hopeless, but maybe there was a chance. . . .

She started toward the stairs and then stopped short.

Save him. Have to save Dad, Jason had said.

But she didn't have to save him. Not when there was the slightest chance of saving Jason instead.

Yes, she did.

She picked her father up in a fireman's lift and struggled down the stairs.

Smoke. Darkness. Blazing patches of intense flame in the living room below.

And Jason was in the center of one of those hellish patches of fire.

She'd been lying to herself. There was no possible chance. No one could live through those flames. He was probably already dead.

“I'll take him.” Silver was beside her, lifting her father from her shoulder. “Get the hell out of here.”

She looked back and knew she had to make a try. She started back toward the fire. “Jason. I can't leave him. I have to—” She stopped as she watched the staircase buckle and fall toward her.

Or was it the butt of a gun coming down?

Man by the lamppost.

Yes, that was it. Fire.

Mama.

Mama, who could never be saved.

Try! Run.

But the path to the lamppost across the street was like an unending tunnel.

It's too late.

The gun coming down.

Blue eyes . . .

Y
ellow walls. White linen sheets. A plump nurse moving quietly, adjusting the oxygen in the tank beside her bed.

Hospital.

“Where . . .” She sounded like a frog.

The nurse turned and smiled. “Hi, I'm Patti. I bet your throat could use a little water?” She put a straw to Kerry's lips and held it while she sipped it. “You're at Macon General, and you're doing fine. A few first-degree burns and smoke damage to your lungs. You were lucky. Evidently that was quite a fire.”

Jason ablaze as he fell into the flames below. She closed her eyes for a moment as waves of pain assaulted her. “Yes.”

The nurse's smile faded. “Well, maybe not so lucky, but you still have people who care about you. Mr. Silver hasn't left the waiting room since they brought you in. Would you like me to check with the doctor and find out if you can see him? He's making his rounds now.”

“Not yet. What about . . . my brother?”

She didn't answer. “I think I'd better let you talk to the doctor.”

Because the nurse didn't want to tell her that Jason was dead. “Is my father in this hospital?”

She nodded. “Two rooms down. He's doing fine. They'll be releasing him later today.”

“Would you ask him to come in and see me?”

“Now?”

“Please.”

“I think that would be a good idea.” She moved toward the door. “I'll check with the doctor.”

Jason.

She closed her eyes as the tears welled up and ran down her cheeks.

“You want to talk to me?”

She opened her eyes to see her father standing in the doorway. He didn't look as fine as the nurse had led her to believe. He looked tired and pale and . . . broken.

“Jason is dead?”

His lips twitched. “Yes. You made a mistake. You should have saved him and not me.”

“I tried. He wouldn't have it. He's the one who carried you out of that room.”

He flinched. “No one told me that.”

“No one but me knew it. The last thing he said was that you had to be saved.” She paused. “He loved you very much.”

“I loved him.”

“I know.” She paused. “You loved him so much that you protected him all his life.”

He stiffened. “I don't know what you mean.”

“He was the one who set the fire the night my mother died. It was Jason who was standing underneath that light post watching the house burn.”

“You're crazy.”

She shook her head. “It was Jason.”

He stared at her. “You remembered?”

“Tonight.” Her lips twisted. “I hoped it was you. But it wasn't. It was Jason who set the fire, Jason who hit me. All I want to know from you is why? Why would he do that?”

“He didn't mean to hurt you. He loved you. He was just a mixed-up kid.” His lips tightened. “It was my fault. Mine and that bitch Myra's. We tore him apart. You were just a kid, but he was an adolescent and he knew what was going on. He was always a sensitive boy, and all that quarreling . . . It nearly destroyed him.”

“So he killed his own mother?”

“He didn't mean to kill her. I'd told him you and your mother were going to leave for Macon to visit your aunt. I thought it would be easier for him to leave Myra and come with me to Canada.”

“If you were both in Canada, how did he get back to Boston?”

“I got called away on assignment when we were at a lodge outside Toronto. The story was only supposed to take a couple days, but that was the window of opportunity for him. He told me later that he'd been planning on torching the brownstone before we even left Boston. He'd been hiding gasoline in the alley behind the house. After he dropped me off at the airport, he took my rental car and drove back to Boston.” His lips twisted bitterly. “Anyone can get back from Canada to the U.S. if they want to avoid the border checks. Jason was always very clever.”

“Yes, very clever,” she said dully.

“Stop
blaming
him,” he said fiercely. “He didn't mean to hurt anyone. I tell you, he thought the house would be empty. He knew I didn't want her to have it. He knew how much it meant to me. He did it for me.”

“But it wasn't empty. He knew that when I ran up to him in the street. He might have saved our mother.”

“It was probably too late then.”

“He could have tried.”

“He panicked. He was in shock.” As she continued to stare at him, he said harshly, “It's easy for you to judge. I tell you, I did this to him. Myra and I. Do you know how tortured he was for years later? While you were in that coma in the hospital, I was having to get psychiatric help for Jason. He wanted to go to the police and confess. He wanted to be punished. I wouldn't let him. They would have locked him up for something I'd caused.”

“So you got him to agree to keep it secret?”

“He deserved a good life. It wasn't his fault.”

“Not in your eyes. I don't think he ever got over the guilt. When he was trying to save your life, he wouldn't give up. I don't think he could bear the idea of another death laid at his door. He said something . . .

I have to make—

“He didn't get to finish, but I think he was trying to say he had to make amends.”

“He was a good boy.” She could see the tears glinting in her father's eyes. “And he didn't want to hurt you. Over and over he said that he should be the one in that coma, not you.”

“What did he hit me with? I thought it was a gun.”

He shook his head. “A piece of lead pipe he found in the alley where he stored the gasoline. He didn't even know why he picked it up. I guess he was scared to death about what he was going to do.” He drew a shaky breath. “When you woke up from the coma, he did his damnedest to be the best brother he could to you. You can't deny that.”

“No, he was a good brother. No one could have been kinder or more loving.”

“See? He couldn't help— It was my fault.” He turned away. “And his death is my fault too. He'd never have walked into Trask's hands if it hadn't been for me.” He suddenly turned back to her. “You think that I wasn't a good father to you. That it was all Jason.” He defiantly lifted his chin. “Well, maybe it was. I had a duty to him. I'm sorry, but there wasn't room for you.”

She stared at him without answering.

He muttered, “The funeral is the day after tomorrow.” He turned and left the room.

She closed her eyes as the tears came again. She wasn't sure if she was crying for her mother or Jason or maybe for the father she'd never really had. Maybe for all of them.

Christ, it hurt.

S
he finally fell asleep near dawn.

Silver was in the chair beside her bed, holding her hand, when she woke a few hours later.

“Don't tell me to go away,” he said harshly. “It's not going to happen. I won't bother you. I'm just going to . . . I want to be with you.”

He was with her in that most intimate sense, and she didn't want to shut him out yet. She needed the comfort of that closeness. “You know about . . . Jason?”

“How could I help it? Since the moment you found out that house was on fire your mind was screaming. That's why I turned around and came back.” His lips tightened. “And you never stopped screaming. Only, after you woke up here, it was more like a child sobbing. Do you think I could stay out when you were hurting?”

She tried to smile. “Well, at least you didn't try to fix me.”

“I was tempted. But that would keep you from healing. You have to deal with the pain.”

“Yes, I do. I . . . loved Jason, Silver.”

“I know you did. I guess we know why you didn't want to remember who torched the brownstone. You couldn't stand the idea that the one person you loved was responsible.”

“I still can't stand it.” Jesus, don't cry now. She changed the subject. “Ki Yong?”

“George took care of him and his driver. Very efficiently, very lethally. I called Travis and told him to get a team down here to get rid of the body so that we wouldn't have a diplomatic incident.”

“Firestorm?”

“Destroyed. We're still searching for Trask's pad so that we can gather any documents. There were a few gas receipts in his van that might yield some answers. If not, they'll just keep looking.”

“They have to find everything. Someone else might . . . Armageddon. Dangerous . . .”

“They'll find it. Don't worry. Just go back to sleep.”

“I will. I don't want to stay awake. Sad . . .”

“I know.” His hand tightened. “It will get better.”

“I hope so.” She said unevenly, “I'm going back to Atlanta right after the funeral. Will you have someone bring Sam down to my house in Atlanta as soon as possible? I need to work.”

He nodded. “I'll do it myself.”

She shook her head.

He shrugged. “I thought I'd try. That's okay. I'll give you some space.” He paused. “How long?”

“I can't . . . I don't know. Maybe it would be better if we went our own ways.”

“Hell, no. That's not acceptable. How long?”

“Stop pushing me.”

“Why not?” His lips twisted. “I'm so good at it. It's the one facet of my personality you found valuable.” He stood up. “But you're not fair game right now. I'll let you have your period of mourning.”

She glanced away from him. “And I want you to try to break the link.”

He stiffened. “Bullshit.”

“It's time we were both free.”

“Then break it yourself. I like it fine just the way it is.”

“Why? You told me yourself you hated to be tied to anyone.”

“You know why.” He leaned forward, grasped her chin, and turned her face to look in her eyes. “If you'll admit it to yourself. Tell me, how long do I want to be tied to you? How many years? How many ways?”

She couldn't tear her eyes away from his. For the first time he'd left himself totally open to her. Open, vulnerable, and lonely. Dear God, how lonely.

The moment seemed to go on into eternity. It was Silver who broke it by turning away from her. “I'll stay apart from you as long as I can stand it.” He walked out of the room.

Christ, she was crying again. It made no sense. He was everything that was prickly and rude and dominating, and life with him would never have the normalcy she'd craved all these years. She'd been right to attempt a total break with him. It was the smart, practical path to take.

And this feeling of desolation would go away soon.

T
he long trail of cars was winding its way out of the cemetery as Kerry moved toward the limousine where Laura was talking to her father.

Don't look back at that tent that sheltered the coffin. Keep your eyes on Laura. You can get through this.

Laura turned as Kerry approached. Her eyes were red from weeping, and she looked haggard and . . . old. “It was a nice service, wasn't it? So many people loved him. . . .” Laura's voice broke and she had to stop. She drew a breath before she continued. “Ron was telling me how brave he was. He was a real hero.”

Kerry's gaze shifted to her father. He looked almost as broken as Laura. “Yes.”

“But then, I always knew what a wonderful man Jason was.” She shook Ron Murphy's hand. “Thank you for being so kind to me. I know it wasn't easy for you to talk about it, but it means a lot to know the details of that night.”

“Call on me if there's anything I can do for you. Jason would want me to take care of you.” He glanced at Kerry and said jerkily, “Good-bye, Kerry.” He walked quickly toward his car, parked behind the limousine.

Kerry turned to Laura. “Do you want me to go back to the hotel with you?”

Laura shook her head. “I'm going to my mother's house. I thought maybe I'd try to work in her garden. I need to keep busy, and there's so much life and rebirth in a garden.” She tried to smile. “It's funny how we go back to the womb when something tragic happens, isn't it? We haven't progressed very far from the time we lived in caves.”

“I think that's a great plan.” Kerry hugged her and then stepped back. “I'll call you in a few days.”

Laura nodded. “Yes, do that.” She got into the limousine. “But not
now. Later . . .”

Kerry stood watching as the limousine pulled away from the curb. Life and rebirth. Even in her despair, Laura was reaching out to try to find some sense, some continuity to the meaning of life. She wished she was that far along in the grieving process.