Incandescent (3 page)

“This morning, before dawn, Mr. Bernard was
walking his dog on Short Street and he saw smoke coming from your
place. He knocked on the front door but no one answered. He ran
home and called 911. By the time the fire department responded,
fire had engulfed the first floor.”

“Oh my God! What about Lacey? Is she okay?
Where is she?”

Rand replied stoically, “An emergency medical
team life flighted her to the hospital in Harrisburg.”

“Is she … I mean, how is she?”

“According to the paramedics, she wasn’t
responding at the scene. I don’t know how she is now.”

Tears coursing down her cheeks, Anna grabbed
her father’s hands and pulled him out of the chair. “Dad, we have
to get to the hospital right away.”

“Rand, is there anything else?” James
asked.

“We need to ask Anna a few questions. We’re
not sure how the fire started and we’re still sorting through the
rubble to make sure there wasn’t anyone else in the house.”

“Gretchen Engel! Oh no, Gretchen and Lacey
went home last night to watch a movie after my birthday party. What
if she’s still there?”

Anna ran to the telephone and punched in
Gretchen’s cell phone number. After four rings, the phone switched
to voice mail. Anna disconnected and dialed the number again.
Again, she heard the automatic voice mail message. The third time,
Gretchen answered, growling “What the hell?”

“Gretchen! Thank God, you’re alright. Where
are you?”

“Anna? Hold on. Wait a minute.”

Anna heard Gretchen mumble, and a man’s
sleepy reply. Seconds later, Gretchen was back on the line. “Sorry
about that. I, um, met Mark last night when he got off work.”

“There’s been a fire. Lacey is in the
hospital,” Anna said, sniffling. “We have to get to
Harrisburg.”

“What? Is this some kind of joke?”

“No. The police are here right now,” Anna
said, looking sideways at Rand. “They want to ask me some questions
but we have to get to Lacey. I need you to pull yourself together
and get over here now.”

“I’m on my way. Oh, wait. Damn, I don’t have
my car. Mark, can you give me a ride? Thanks, handsome. Anna, I’ll
be right there. Wait for me. Where are you?”

“I’m at Dad’s house.”

Rand interjected. “Anna, when can you come to
headquarters? We need to take care of this quickly. We need to talk
to Gretchen, too.”

She raised a hand, halting him. “First we
need to go to the hospital. Then we’ll come to the police station.”
She turned her attention back to the telephone. “Gretchen, Rand
says he needs to see you, too.”

“Later. Right now we need to get to
Lacey.”

Chapter Four

The hospital elevator crawled to the sixth
floor. Anna’s heart thumped. She dreaded what she’d find. The last
time she had been to Fairfax Hospital was five years earlier,
arriving too late to say goodbye to her mother. Angela Johnson died
with her husband at her side, never waking. The doctors called it a
“terminal event.”

Gretchen clutched Anna’s arm. “Do you think
they’ll let us see her?”

“No one’s going to stop me.”

Gretchen nodded, knowing from experience that
Anna could be stubborn and resourceful.

The nurse at the intensive care station
raised her eyes from her computer screen. “May I help you?”

“Yes. Our sister, Lacey Martin, is here. Our
parents are on their way from Florida,” she lied, waving her hand
to include Gretchen. “We’d like to see her now.”

The nurse studied them carefully, not fooled
by Anna’s blustering remark. She perused a clipboard. “Lacey
Martin…yes, she’s in 605. Only two family members are allowed in
the room at a time and I’m afraid her parents are already here.
They flew in early this morning. You’ll have to wait. You can have
a seat over there,” she said, using her clipboard to point towards
a small grouping of sofas and chairs. “I’ll speak with the Martins
and let them know you’ve arrived. What are your names?”

“Anna and Gretchen. Thank you.”

Anna walked to the sofa and sank into the
cushions, shoving her hands into the pockets of her hooded
sweatshirt. She was warm, but she still wore the sweatpants and old
T-shirt and didn’t want to take off the jacket. A cloud of dust
particles floated before her eyes. She focused on them until they
disappeared beyond her tears. Against the far wall, Gretchen
wrapped her arms around her shoulders. Her back shook from stifled
sobs.

Several minutes passed before the woman
returned. “Come with me, please,” she said, gesturing for them to
follow.

With an arm around each other, Anna and
Gretchen entered Lacey’s hospital room. Monitors beeped, a
respirator whooshed, and IVs hung from poles and snaked underneath
the white sheets. Lacey, pale and comatose, rested on the bed. Her
mother sat by her side, stroking her daughter’s cheek.

Anna realized she had been holding her breath
and her chest hurt from the effort. Lacey’s mother, Mildred Martin,
looked at the visitors with red-rimmed eyes as Anna whimpered. She
reached for Anna’s hand and squeezed it gently. Lacey’s father,
Buck Martin stood at the window, staring at the green
mountainside.

“How is she?” Anna asked.

Buck Martin bowed his head, his craggy, lined
face wet with tears.

“The doctor just left. Lacey …,” his voice
broke. “She ... she won’t wake up. There’s brain-stem injury,” he
whispered. “She may never wake up.”

Anna reeled, leaning against the wall. Her
knees gave way and she slid, boneless, to the floor.

Chapter Five

The police officer’s eyes flicked from his
notes to Gretchen. “Is there anything else you can recall? The
smallest details may be important.”

“I wish I could help. Like I said, she was
asleep upstairs when I left. There were no candles burning, nothing
cooking in the kitchen,” she said. “I was crashed on the couch
watching television until I met my friend, Mark, around two o’clock
and we went back to his place.”

Rand turned to Anna. “And you never went back
home?”

She shook her head. “No, I caught a cab and
went straight to my father’s house. It was my birthday and we had
plans the next morning. I mean, today.”

Anna peeked at the clock on the wall at the
Eaton City Police Department. It was nearing midnight, and she was
exhausted. She and Gretchen spent most of the afternoon and evening
at the hospital, comforting Lacey’s parents.

The doctor addressed the situation to them as
a group. Mrs. Martin refused to let go of Anna. His eyes pinned on
Mr. Martin, the physician explained Lacey’s injury in detail.

“The brain requires a constant flow of oxygen
or it experiences a hypoxic-anoxic injury,” he said. “HAI occurs
when the flow is interrupted, starving the brain. Hypoxic is a
partial lack of oxygen. Anoxic is a total lack. We don’t know yet
how long Lacey’s brain experienced oxygen deprivation from carbon
monoxide poisoning. In addition, she suffered cardiac arrest in
transit. Although we were able to revive her, she’s in a persistent
vegetative state. All we can do is keep her on life support and
monitor her brain wave activity.”

Gretchen and Anna exchanged confused looks.
Mrs. Martin’s body shook with sobs. Mr. Martin rubbed his
temples.

“Will she recover?” he asked. “Are you saying
there’s nothing you can do for her?”

The neurologist fiddled with the lapel on his
white coat. “When the brain’s oxygen supply is diminished, it can
result in impairments in cognitive skills and physical functions,”
he said. “I won’t lie to you, Mr. Martin. Recovery is possible, but
is it probable? We can’t predict anything yet. It depends on which
part of Lacey’s brain was affected. I can tell you, if we don’t
detect brain wave activity, you’ll have to make a choice about life
support.”

Mrs. Martin wailed and clutched at Anna. “My
baby! Oh, my baby.”

It had been a heart-wrenching sight, watching
the grieving parents as they coped with the news. The doctor
offered Mrs. Martin a mild sedation and Mr. Martin returned to
Lacey’s bedside. A nurse escorted Anna and Gretchen to a small
chapel to give the family privacy.

Hours had passed yet it seemed like days. She
couldn’t prevent the yawn, and Rand noticed.

“Just a little while longer, okay? The fire
marshal is asking to see you.”

Gretchen stopped texting from her cell phone
and rolled her eyes. “C’mon, you’ve had us here for hours and we
spoke to the jerk already. There’s nothing else to say.” She stood
and slung her bag over her shoulder. “It’s been a long day and I’ve
had it.”

“No, not Fire Chief Thatcher. This is the
state fire marshal. Just a few more minutes ...” he said, fumbling
papers back into the folder.

“Not a minute more. I’m leaving. When you
have something new, call me,” Gretchen said. “Quit pointing fingers
and find out what really happened.”

Rand and Anna exchanged glances, both
flinching as Gretchen slammed the door on her way out.

“Is she your ride?” he asked nervously.

“No, I have my own car. I’m going back to
Dad’s house,” Anna said.

“Can you please stay? He’ll be here soon.
He’s coming from Harrisburg.”

Too exhausted to care, Anna nodded. “Wake me
when he gets here,” she said, crossing her arms on the table, and
resting her head.

Groggy, Anna raised her head when the door
opened again and gazed into penetrating green eyes. The stranger
was dark, with thick ebony hair and bronze skin. Black stubble
concealed a chiseled chin. Heat radiated from him as he walked into
the room.

The man smoldered. The man was afire.

“Anna Johnson?”

“Yes,” she answered, breathlessly.

“Miss Johnson, my name is Aaron Tahir. I’m
the state fire marshal investigating the incident at your place
last night and the near fatality. A Miss…” he glanced at a notebook
in his hand, “Miss Lacey Martin.”

Anna continued to stare, and said
nothing.

“Miss Johnson, may I speak with you?” Aaron
frowned, wondering if Anna Johnson was lucid. She continued to
stare at him, biting her lip.

“Are you alright, ma’am?”

Anna dropped her eyes, gathering her wits.
“Yes. I am. It’s just the ‘near fatality’ you speak of was my best
friend. She was like a sister, so you’ll have to excuse me since I
haven’t adjusted to the fact she’s in a coma.”

Aaron waited for an onslaught. In his
experience, when people vented, their sadness twisted into anger.
He’d been on the receiving end of many such scenes. While Anna’s
eyes filled with tears and her breath hitched, Aaron studied her.
Displays of raw emotion often revealed a person’s guilt. Or their
innocence.

Anna stopped herself, looking at the clock on
the wall while she banked her passion. It was after one
o’clock.

“What do you want to know, Mr. …? I’m sorry;
I didn’t catch your name.”

He pulled out a chair and sat, dropping a
folder on the table between them. “Aaron Tahir, ma’am. I’m from the
state fire marshal’s office. When there’s a fire-related fatality,
I’m called to investigate.”

Anna arched a brow. “But Lacey is alive and
she’s not going to die. What are you investigating?”

“Ma’am, until we have a definite cause for
the fire, we have to assume it’s suspicious. I’m here to gather
information about Miss Martin, about you, about the residence where
the fire occurred. I’m obligated to sift through the evidence and
determine if there’s been any malfeasance. The commission of an
unlawful act, ma’am.”

“I know what malfeasance is,” Anna snapped.
How could he be so detached?

“I apologize, Miss Johnson. I’m not here to
offend you. I need to ask you a few questions.”

She sighed. “No, I’m sorry. I know you’re
trying to do your job.”

“Thank you. I understand this is difficult,
and from what I’ve learned, there is not much hope for Miss
Martin’s recovery. If so, this may be a homicide,” he added.

Frustrated, frightened, and sad, Anna passed
her hand over her face, willing away the threatening tears.

Aaron waited. Keep your perspective, he
warned himself. You’ve seen hundreds of women cry. Yet his hands
itched to hold this young woman, to pull her against his chest and
stroke her while she wept.

Instead, he opened the folder of police and
fire reports Rand assembled earlier, bending over the pages,
pretending to read while he gave Anna time to compose herself.

She stood abruptly, the plastic chair
screeching as it slid across the tiled floor. “Excuse me.”

He nodded, assuming she needed a bathroom
break, and kept reading as she walked from the room. After waiting
several minutes, Aaron leaned back in the chair and withdrew a
mobile phone. He thumbed through the different menus, checking for
missed calls, reading urgent texts and emails. Fifteen minutes
passed before he stood and opened the door. He peered down the
empty hall, and then strode to the window at the entrance.

“Where is Miss Johnson?” he barked at the
duty officer.

The older policewoman looked at him with
disdain at his abrupt tone.

“She left in tears, and I see why.”

Chapter Six

The Martins transferred Lacey to a brain
injury rehabilitation center in Florida, near their retirement
home. There, they could spend most of their time at her side.
Although she was stable, she remained in a state of “wakeful
unresponsiveness.” Her brain stem injury improved and she was
breathing on her own, but she wasn’t responsive to external
stimuli. Lying on the hospital bed, she could have been an
enchanted sleeping princess.