Flashover (19 page)

The flames licked closer and closer to the gas tank.

“No,” she screamed, pulling him. “It's too late.”

They both staggered away as the car exploded in an enormous angry fireball, the force pushing them to their knees.

Gasping for breath, Ivy and Tim watched in horrified silence as the flames continued to devour the car and its occupant.

Tim swallowed hard. “I guess Mr. Smalley's not going to be making that flight after all.”

 

Nick pulled the motorbike to the shoulder, idling for a moment in the glare from the burning wreck.

He watched the sleek car blister and pucker, its sides blackening and twisting in the intense heat.

“Shame,” he said, over the crack of the fire.

I
t took a half hour for Detective Greenly to arrive at the accident scene. The afternoon sun bathed the woods in long shadow. Ivy and Tim sat on a fallen tree as the detective unwrapped his last stick of gum.

“Are you sure he didn't crash, then explode?”

Tim nodded vigorously. “Very sure. As soon as he accelerated, bam. The thing just disintegrated.”

“What a waste of a fine automobile.” Greenly watched his officer photograph the scene from every possible angle. He shook his head. “Sometimes this job is the worst.”

Ivy shivered as a wind swirled through the pine needles above their heads. “Can we go now?”

He cracked his gum thoughtfully. “Yes, but don't do any more investigating. Stick to finding Moe.”

She nodded, allowing Tim to guide her back to the truck.

He signaled for a turn.

“No, keep going. We've got to check out Lake Soway.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You're sure? Wouldn't you rather go home?”

“Yes, I would, but it's even more important now that we find Moe before the bad guys do.”

He gritted his teeth. “You're right. Let's hit it.”

Lake Soway was lovely, a crystal-clear oblong of water providing entertainment to swimmers, boaters and kids on inner tubes. They hiked the steep trail around the water, checking with everyone who would talk to them, with no luck.

Hot and tired, they drove back toward town into a brilliant sherbet sunset. Neither one of them spoke but Ivy knew they'd both hoped to give Madge good news. Instead they headed to the apartment complex in somber silence until Ivy's cell phone rang.

“Hey, V. Where are you?”

“Hi, Mitch. Heading home finally.”

“So late? Where have you been all day? I tried to call earlier but there was no answer.”

“Searching for Moe and before that, dealing with the police. Someone blew up Roger Smalley's car.”

“Smalley? The guy you think is connected to Cyril somehow?”

“Yes.”

There was a long silence.

“Someone blew up his car?”

“Into smithereens.”

Another silence.

“Mitch? Are you still there?”

“Yeah, yeah. I'm here.”

“You okay?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Still helping with the search?”

“Yeah, why? Did you and Tim find any leads on his whereabouts?”

“No, we still have no clue. We'll be at Madge's in the morning.”

“Oh, okay. See you tomorrow.”

Ivy thought she heard a strange note of relief in her cousin's voice before he disconnected.

Tim glanced at her. “Is Mitch staying out of trouble?”

She closed the phone thoughtfully. “I wish I knew.”

 

The next morning, Ivy said goodbye to Cat after filling her bowl and checking the baking pan she'd turned into an impromptu kitty litter box. Tim hugged Ivy before they got into the truck. She leaned into his chest, wishing they could avoid adding to Madge's pain by telling her the official searchers had given up on her son. Ivy inhaled the scent of soap and snuggled her head under his chin.

When she finally took a deep breath and settled herself in the truck she felt sad at the loss of his touch. She wished they could drive away, to some warm sunny spot and leave all the trouble behind them. Starting over. It sounded so good.
It's been a trying time, Ivy. Don't turn to mush.

She diverted her mind to trying to think of positive things to say to Madge. Mitch was already there when they pulled up.

Madge greeted them with a hopeful look. “Any news? Did you find anything? Anything at all?”

“No, Madge, but we haven't given up,” Ivy said, holding her hand.

“Maybe they'll find him tomorrow.” Her look traveled over the three of them. “Where will they look? What areas?”

They were spared from having to answer her when the detective arrived and broke the news that the official search had ended.

Madge blinked several times and sank into a chair. Ivy thought she was going to burst into tears but she composed herself enough to thank the detective. “God will provide for my Moe. He'll help him find his way back, I know it. I appreciate all the time those searchers put in. Now at least we know where not to look for him, right?”

“Right. That's a good way to look at it.” Greenly gave her a sympathetic look and excused himself. “I've got to go to Salem overnight. Can you two stay out of trouble until I get back?”

Tim laughed as they walked the detective to his car. “We'll try.”

Madge had the phone pressed to her ear when they returned. Her expression was a mixture of wonder and disbelief.

Ivy could imagine only one thing that would put such a smile on the woman's face. “Is it Moe?”

Madge nodded so hard the curls flapped against her forehead.

“Where is he? Is he all right?” The words tumbled out of Ivy's mouth.

“He says he's okay. Don't hang up, Moe, honey. Tell Mama where you are. Please…”

She lowered the phone slowly. “He hung up before he told me his location.”

“What did he say? Anything that would be a clue?” Tim said, after he hugged her.

“No, no. He said he's been watching his shows and eating graham crackers. He loves those. He rambled a bit. Nothing concrete.”

“Did the number come up on your caller ID?”

“It just said ‘out of area.'” Her eyes misted. “Oh, I'm so relieved that he's okay. I just know he's somewhere close. I can feel it. He sounded so happy.”

Mitch double-checked the phone. “Yes, it does say ‘out of area.'” He blew out a breath. “How can this kid be so hard to find?”

Ivy felt a mixture of relief and frustration at being connected so briefly to the man they simply couldn't locate. She sat next to Madge and held her hand while she cried, fighting to keep the tears out of her own eyes. “Tell me again what he said, every word.”

Madge went through everything she could remember. “Oh, wait. He did say something about church chairs. He's always liked to count the chairs at Cornerstone.” She blushed. “That's really why we switched from your church, Tim. Moe couldn't stand the pews. I figured if he wouldn't even sit down there was no hope of hearing the message. But he couldn't be there. Someone would have found him for sure.”

Ivy frowned. “And why would he need to snatch a motor scooter and look at maps to get there?”

“We should check it out anyway. Closest church first.” Mitch stood to go. “Let's move before the trail gets cold.”

Ivy eyed him. “It just doesn't make sense.”

Mitch snorted. “Maybe not, but do you have any better ideas?”

She had to admit she didn't. They said goodbye to Madge and headed for the oldest church in town, a clapboard-sided building covered by a brilliant wash of green ivy. A prechurch choir practice was under way. The director took a break to come and talk to them.

“Moe used to come in every Saturday morning to watch us set up the chairs for service. He could tell me without even counting how many we'd put out.” He took off his glasses and polished them. “He's some kind of genius. I haven't seen him recently, though.”

They chatted for a bit and he returned to the choir. The three prowled the property, stopping in the library. Ivy flipped through a scrapbook with photos from a year's worth of church events. A cheerful woman in a pink pantsuit insisted they take it after she heard about their mission. “We try to photograph everyone at our major events. Maybe it will help with the investigation somehow.”

Tim thanked her and they left. The sunlight dazzled their eyes as they stood in the parking lot to reconnoiter.

Tim folded his arms across his chest. “Where to now?”

“Well,” Mitch began after a pause, “Moe could have been talking about another church. Maybe one from a neighboring town, say?”

Ivy sighed. “Oh, man. There are three right here in our town plus six in Centerville and four that I know of in Brubaker.”

“Looks like we've got our day planned then.”

“Okay.” Mitch fumbled for keys. “Let's split up. I'll take Centerville and the south end here. You two take the north end and Brubaker.”

Ivy felt a new hopefulness course through her body. “Sounds good. We'll meet back at my apartment for dinner. I'll spring for pizza.”

Mitch waved and drove away.

“He sure is determined,” Tim said with a puzzled look.

“Yeah.” They fell into silence as they set off in search of the nearest church.

Three hours and two stops later they pulled up at the Loving Hands Church in Brubaker. The day had progressed to sweltering and Ivy's shirt stuck to her body. They found the elderly pastor on a stepladder trying to repair the sign outside the front door.

Tim hustled over and grabbed the heavy board, which threatened to slip out of the man's hands. He looked up in surprise, round cheeks flushed pink. “Well, hello. I was hoping God would send me a helping hand and here you are.”

Tim introduced them and changed places with the pastor on the ladder. He set to work nailing the sign securely in place. Ivy and the pastor watched.

“That's a good fellow you've got there,” the man said.

Ivy blushed. “Oh, he's not really…” She swallowed. “Yes, he's a real good fellow.”

The pastor insisted they partake of some ice water. He led them inside the tiny church. Ivy and Tim sagged in disappointment. Shiny wood pews filled the small space instead of chairs.

The pastor gave them a questioning look and Ivy explained their mission. He raised an eyebrow. “Oh, yes. I believe I met the boy you're talking about.”

Ivy coughed on a sip of water. “Really? Recently?”

“No, I remember him from an all-county church retreat, I think. Loves numbers, right?”

Tim nodded. “Yes, that's Moe.”

The man laughed. “I remember. I told him he'd be a great pastor because he'd remember every page, chapter and verse he ever read.”

Though she knew it was hopeless, Ivy asked the question anyway. “But you haven't seen him in the past week?”

“I'm sorry, no. I will definitely let you know if I do.”

They thanked him and returned to the truck.

The pastor leaned his head in the open window. “I'll pray for Moe. God has a way of bringing home lost souls.”

Lost souls.

Ivy felt a jolt of realization. For the first time in a very long time, she did not feel adrift. In spite of being removed from her profession, and the worry about Moe, she reveled in a peace that she couldn't have imagined. It was too incredible to comprehend. He'd finally brought her lost soul home, kicking and screaming all the way.

She looked over at Tim. His warm smile told her he was thinking the very same thing.

 

Tim propped his feet up on the ottoman, next to Ivy's. The pizza sat on the coffee table, dripping with cheese, but fatigue outweighed hunger. He tried again to route his mind back to the search.

Cat wandered among them, twisting her tail around their legs.

Mitch reached for a slice of pizza. “This is getting to be a pattern. We search all day with absolutely no results.”

Tim closed his eyes, willing the tiredness to retreat long enough for him to think of another place they could look. “At least we know he's all right. That was a pretty big encouragement. We're not searching in vain.”

Mitch sighed. “Yeah, well, if he doesn't show up soon he might not stay that way.”

Ivy started. “I hate to hear you say that.”

He shrugged. “Just worried, that's all. Cyril's dead. Guy blows up in his car. Bad stuff.” He finished the last bite of pizza and stretched. “I'm bushed. Can hardly keep my eyes open.”

Tim eyed the shadows under Mitch's eyes. “Why don't you bunk in Moe's apartment with me? He's got a futon that would work, I think, if you're not picky.”

“At this point, I could sleep standing up.” He took the key from Tim. “See you in the morning.”

Tim helped pick up the pizza mess. He felt Ivy's eyes on him as he wiped down the counter.

He looked up. “What?”

“I was just thinking what a nice person you are. Helping out the pastor today, and all the things you've done for me.”

He tingled at the emotion in her eyes.
Easy, Tim. She's just thanking you. Her position hasn't changed.
“My pleasure. I have enjoyed every minute of your leave from work way more than you have.”