Forever After (19 page)

Jenna started the laundry and went back to her room and flopped on the bed again. She checked her phone and discovered a voice mail waiting. “Hanson’s Grocers” appeared on the screen, and her heart kicked up a notch. She clicked Play. “This is Hal Iverson at Hanson’s calling for Jenna Morgan. We’d like you to come in tomorrow morning at eight for training. If that time doesn’t suit, please give us a call. Otherwise we’ll expect you.”

She sat up on the bed, feeling a little stunned. She
had a job
. Wow. She wasn’t sure how to even feel about it. It wasn’t as if there had been forty applicants for this position, but still she must have done okay with the interview.

What would she wear? She seemed to recall that the checkers at Hanson’s wore smocks, but she hadn’t noticed what they wore underneath. Street clothes?

She went to the closet where her clothes were crammed together at one end of the narrow space. She chose a pair of khaki pants and a sweater. Remembering how much the sweater had cost, she replaced it and chose a less expensive polo. If she could get back every dollar she’d spent on the clothes in this closet—never mind what was still in storage at the Morgans’—she’d have enough to pay a month’s rent.

An idea started to germinate in the back of her mind, but she didn’t have time to entertain it fully. She had a job. As of tomorrow morning she would be gainfully employed. A working woman. The thought brought a smile. And with it, a tiny glimmer of hope.

She heard the phone ringing out in the kitchen and ran to answer it before it woke Bryn. But she heard Bryn’s low murmurs in the other room and assumed she was talking to Garrett.

She went back to the guest room, but a minute later there was a light rap on the door.

“Jenna, are you awake?”

“I’m up. Come on in.”

The door opened and Bryn appeared, eyes wide, the cordless phone dangling in one hand.

Jen sat up on the bed, her pulse quickening as she thought of Bryn’s father. “What’s wrong? What is it?”

Bryn gulped and shook her head. “It’s Susan. There was a fire at the shelter tonight. They think it was arson.”

“The shelter burned
down
?” Surely this nightmare couldn’t be happening all over again.

21

F
ire? What do you mean?” Jenna jumped off the bed.

Bryn stared at the phone in her hand. “Everybody got out, but they’re trying to get the residents into churches for the night.”

“The shelter burned
down
?” Surely this nightmare couldn’t be happening all over again.

“No … No, Susan said they were able to put the fire out before it got out of control. But there’s a lot of smoke damage. She said the fire trucks just left.”

“What happened?”

Bryn shook her head. “She said somebody set the fire.”

“How do they know that?”

“I don’t know.” She slumped into the chair at the desk. “Do you think she called me because … to see if I was home?”

Jenna stared at her, not sure what she meant, why she was so upset.

“Oh, Jen … do they think
I
did it?”

“Bryn, no! Of course not! Why would you even think that? Susan didn’t
say
that, did she?”

Bryn drew her legs up onto the chair, curling into herself. She hid her face in her hands.

This had to be bringing back horrid memories. Jenna hurried to envelope her in a hug. “Bryn, stop it. No one would even dream you had anything to do with this.” She looked around the room. “Where’s the phone? I’ll call Susan. We’ll find out what happened.”

Bryn didn’t respond and Jenna spotted the cordless on the end of the bed. She hit the Callback button and waited, patting the curve of Bryn’s back with one hand.

“Susan Marlowe.” Her voice sounded clipped.

“Susan, this is Jenna Morgan. Bryn said there’s been a fire at the shelter?”

“Can I call you back, Jenna? Things are crazy here right now. We’re trying to find places for the residents to stay tonight, and if I—”

“Bryn isn’t a suspect, is she? In the fire?”

“Why on earth would you think that?”

“I don’t …” Jenna slipped into the hallway, pulling the door shut behind her. She dropped her voice to a whisper. “For some reason she thought you’d called to see if she had an alibi.”

“Oh, dear Lord. I don’t know what I could have said to make her think that. That’s not it at all. We don’t know how it started. I just didn’t want her to hear about it on the news.”

The tension drained from Jenna’s shoulders. “Everyone’s okay then?”

“Yes. Our count was way down … and no children here tonight, thank goodness. But the smoke damage is extensive. We can’t let anyone stay here until we get the mess cleaned up.”

“And you don’t know what happened?”

“No. The fire investigators are searching the place now. They seem pretty certain it was set—like the other—but they haven’t really told me anything else. We’ve got all we can do to get everybody relocated. So far only one church is willing to house these people on a Friday night. I really need to go, Jenna.”

“Of course. Is there anything Bryn and I can do to help?”

“Some extra bodies here would be wonderful. Believe me, I can find something for you to do.”

“We’ll be right there.”

T
he shelter was in chaos when they arrived. Jenna and a much-relieved Bryn pitched in to help the residents pack their things and vacate the building. An acrid odor hung in the air and made her cough and cover her nose.

The Presbyterian pastor and his wife had already picked up the four female shelter residents and taken them to the church for the night, but Susan hadn’t yet found anyone to take in the men. “Tony X and Bobby took off—probably for the bar, which is bad news waiting to happen. Especially since the police want to talk to them about the fire.”

“They’re two of the younger guys,” Bryn explained to Jenna.

“Are they suspects?” Jenna asked.

“Just about all the residents are suspects right now.” Susan sighed. “But I can’t worry about that right now. Even with those two gone, that still leaves nine men we need to put up.”

“I don’t know who you’ve already talked to, but I could make some calls for you.” Jenna felt helpless.

“I’ve called all the churches and half a dozen members that pastors thought might be willing to put people up in their homes, but so far, except for Pastor Bryant, either they’re not home or they said no. None of the Springfield shelters have vacancies.” She grabbed a dog-eared phone book off the desk behind her. “Would you want to contact the hotels? There’s no guarantee we can pay them a dime, but maybe we can get them to donate the rooms. Or get the churches to pay for them”—she rolled her eyes—“and give them a chance to assuage their guilt.”

Jenna didn’t blame her for being frustrated. What were churches for,
anyway, if they couldn’t pitch in during an emergency like this? But since the shelter had burned—the first time—the town had soured on the idea of having a homeless shelter in Hanover Falls. Most of the shelter’s individual volunteers still came from the community’s churches, but the churches themselves were hesitant to attach their names to the shelter.

Jenna took the phone book to a table in the corner and used her own cell phone to make the calls. She got turned down at the first hotel she called, but the small motel on the outskirts of town was willing to put up a few people.

She wondered if Lucas had heard about the fire. She looked at her watch. It was just after ten. He was probably still up.

He answered on the second ring, and she explained what was going on.

“I’m on my way,” he said.

Not ten minutes later he appeared in the doorway, Sparky in tow. “How’s it going?” he said softly, coming around to where she was sitting with the phone.

Her heart stuttered the way it always did in Lucas’s presence. It was good to have him here. “We’re still trying to find places for all the residents.”

He looked around the room that housed the shelter’s office and volunteer lounge, as if trying to determine the damage. Everything looked normal, but a heavy odor of smoke hung in the air. “Has the inspector been here?” he asked.

“I’m not sure, but I think she’s still out there.” She motioned to Lucas. “Follow me. I’ll show you where the fire started.”

L
ucas held Sparky’s leash loosely and went around to the back of the building. A couple dozen people huddled at the fringes of the site—harried city officials, curious neighbors wearing heavy coats over their
pajamas, and a few others who, Lucas assumed from their stunned faces, were displaced shelter residents.

He spotted Andrea Morley, the fire inspector, talking with a Hanover Falls police officer. He waited until they were finished and went over to talk to her.

“Hey, Vermontez. Are you stalking me?”

He grinned. “No, it just looks that way.”

She looked pointedly at his cane. “What are you doing out here? I thought you weren’t back to work yet.”

“I’m not.” He motioned toward the back of the building. “Have you found anything yet?” Sparky tugged at the leash, barking.

She shook her head, then bent to scratch the dog’s head. “Who’s this?”

Lucas introduced her to Sparky and explained about the training program in Tulsa.

Andi smiled. “I’d say it sounded great if I wasn’t afraid this pooch would put me out of a job.”

He laughed. “I think you’re safe.” He wanted to ask her if she’d ever worked with arson dogs, but this wasn’t the time.

“This is the dog you’re training?”

He nodded and didn’t correct her present tense reference. It was probably premature to be talking about this, yet it felt good to have a plan. Something with purpose, something connected to firefighting. He just hoped he didn’t have to admit later that he didn’t make the cut for the training.

Sparky barked and tugged at the leash, straining toward the place where the fire had started. The milling crowd turned toward the commotion. A woman in a hooded sweatshirt wore an expression of fear that reminded Lucas of Jenna. He spoke to Sparky firmly and made a show of holding the leash tighter. He gave the woman a look he hoped was reassuring, but she turned away quickly, retreating with the other onlookers as police officers cordoned the area with yellow barrier tape.

Lucas was curious how Sparky would perform in the field, but letting him loose now would contaminate the scene. Sparky had yet to learn the discipline of waiting for Lucas’s commands. Still, he couldn’t help daydreaming about someday being able to bring Sparky to the scene of a fire and turn him lose.

And tonight was good training for the dog to experience the sights and sounds of a fire scene. Things were pretty calm here now. … It would be a whole different test with fire engines on the premises and sirens blaring. But Sparky wasn’t too skittish, and he was obviously dying to get his nose into the action.

“You don’t know what started the fire?”

“Oh, it was set,” Andi said. “No doubt about that. Gasoline. Too soon to say much more, but we can hope it was just some kids messing around.” She shook her head. “But this is the second time …”

“Third,” Lucas said, immediately wishing he hadn’t given the thought voice.