Up in Smoke (41 page)

Beads of sweat glistened on the governor's forehead. “Stay away from the fire line, he told us. Go straight up Pale Horse Mountain. We'd find good black. We'd be safe.”

He scrubbed a hand down his face. “Three men, including Vince Egelhoff, were on one end of the ridge, six were on the other end. We tried to radio, and got no response. We argued, Wakely and I. I wanted to start running. He said we had to find them. Tell them to go up instead of down the fire line. Going down is exactly what they'd try to do, if we didn't tell them. You never go up, because fire could just sweep right over you. You always go down. Because of the trust we had in our chief, we knew we had to go up.”

He took a sip of water. “Wakely took off and so did I. Fire everywhere. Walls of flame. Black as night. Two-thousand-degree heat, over sixty-mile-an-hour wind. So strong it blew off my hardhat. Dead stuff on the ground kept tripping me. Airborne embers, spot fires everywhere. I didn't know where I was. Grass beneath my feet burst into flames. All thoughts of anybody else stopped. I started running to save myself. My legs ached. I was lugging a twenty-five-pound chainsaw, not really aware of it. You never abandon your tools. If you do, it means you're in a situation where you'll die. And that's when I knew I wasn't going to make it.”

She could see he was in pain, but didn't know if the pain was here in this hospital room or back all those years on the mountain.

“A wall of flame was roaring up behind me, moving faster than I was, gaining with every step. I got five hundred feet from the top. Skin blistered, fire on all sides. Kept going. Fifty feet from the top, I was slapped to the ground by superheated gases. Like opening a blast furnace.” He stopped and took another sip of water.

“I was on the ground and the beast was devouring me. Then Wakely appeared. He slung me over his shoulder and headed up. A burning tree fell on us. Somehow or other, I was underneath and he got the weight of a toppled oak. It crushed him. I thought he was dead. If I hadn't found the damn chainsaw, I couldn't have gotten him free. I barely managed to drag both of us over the top of that ridge.”

“He came from where, the other end of the ridge?”

“Yeah. After telling three people to run up the mountain.”

“Why did he come back?”

A sour smile. “I think to make sure I got out. He never was certain I wouldn't trip over my own two feet.”

“He ran miles, through burning trees, thick smoke, to warn three men at one end of a ridge and somehow he managed to run all that way back to check on you?”

“Yes.”

“How'd he do that?”

The governor placed his hands by his side and shifted his position. “The man was a bear. Six foot four. Two hundred and forty pounds. Strength of ten. Tireless. A machine.” Thin smile. “Came from sturdy pioneer stock.”

She couldn't fit the image of the crippled Wakely slumped in a wheelchair into a six-foot-four frame with the strength of ten.

“He had all kinds of injuries and I don't suppose dragging him up the mountain helped any. Spinal cord smashed, third degree burns, concussion, broken leg, broken shoulder blade, cracked ribs. The man was a sack of broken pieces.”

“And you were a hero.”

“I was a coward,” he said.

“Reporters and newscasters said you were a hero.”

“Wakely was the hero.”

“Why didn't you tell the world that?”

“Six people died in that fire because I didn't warn them. Three were saved because Wakely did.”

“Could you have saved those six?”

“No,” he said. “I would have been number seven.”

“You let the world think you saved those three.” Susan hadn't meant to sound accusatory.

The look of pain that crossed his face was so intense, she thought she'd better get a doctor in here.

“I came out with some third-degree burns. Plus minor scrapes and knocks, broken arm, broken bones in one foot, concussion. I sank into a hospital bed and there I stayed for some days. I didn't know what was being said. When I found out, I figured I'd let Wakely set the record straight. Give him some show time.”

“Why didn't he?”

“He was two steps from death's door for weeks. When he finally rallied, he couldn't remember any of it.”

“And so you let it go.”

“I never meant that to happen. At first, the doctors said Wakely's memory would return. I wanted him to be the one. Stand up with all those reporters and newscasters and let the world know what a hero he was. But he didn't remember. Even after some months he didn't remember and time went by. A lot of time. So much I decided I'd hold a press conference and set the record straight. He said if I tried that, he'd tell them he'd suddenly remembered: He was the one who was supposed to tell the six guys on Horse's Teeth Ridge. They died. I went the other way and saved three people.”

“Why would he do that?” That sounded like truth to Susan, but this man was a politician, he was used to making whatever he said sound like truth.

“I argued. He stayed firm. He was so adamant, I wondered if maybe he believed it happened that way.” The governor scraped a thumb over a bristly jaw. “I should never have let him get away with it. I should have admitted to my cowardice.”

“You took care of him.”

“We were friends. He didn't have anybody. His parents were dead, he had no relatives.”

“What happened that Wakely had to be killed?”

The head of the bed rose a bit as he pushed a button. “Shouldn't you ask Todd that question?”

“I have. He's not talking.”

“Best thing in his position.” Governor Garrett, slowly and wincing with pain, changed position again. “I can only guess at it.”

“I'd like to hear your guesses.”

“Vince,” he said.

“Yes,” she prompted when he didn't go on.

“He wanted money. He threatened to tell the world I could have saved those six smoke jumpers. If I'd gone to the tail of the ridge and warned them, they'd have made it out. He'd say he was there. He knows what happened, but I was only interested in saving my own skin.”

“Did you pay him?”

“No. Todd wanted to. He was furious when I refused. I told him we'd just have to take what came if Vince went public with this story. Then Vince died, so it no longer was a problem.”

“Cass Storm said Todd killed Vince.”

“You believe her?”

“Todd is denying he said any such thing, but I do believe her, yes. Did he kill Vince's wife because she believed her husband, intended to go to the press with his story?”

The governor's face was gray and he was obviously in pain. “Probably.”

“Why did Wakely go to see Gayle? Was he going to back Vince's story?”

“He could only have been trying to take her out of it.”

“Then why was he killed?”

“Sometimes Wakely talked too much, if he had a little bit too much to drink.”

The governor sighed, a sad weary sigh. “I don't know about the little girl, Gayle's sister.”

“Sunglasses. He lost them when he killed Gayle. Prescription glasses he thought could identify him. When he came to look for them, she saw him. Even though she didn't get a clear look, he couldn't take the risk she'd remember something.”

Susan's job was to protect that child and the failure would stay with her the rest of her life.

“All this just because I decided to make a try for presidential candidate. I didn't think I had a prayer. I just wanted to make a few speeches, get a few key issues out to the voters. Then it began looking like I had a shot. Nobody was more surprised than I was.”

The governor rubbed a knuckle down his jaw. “Todd didn't ever hesitate. He was a man who took care of things and he meant to take me right into the White House. He couldn't let my cowardice get out. Who would vote for a coward? This is God's way of punishing me for twenty-year-old sins.”

“Did Todd use the same aftershave as you?”

“Huh, actually it was mine that he used. Molly always insisted on buying the stuff for me and I passed it off to him, because he liked it and I didn't.”

A nurse stuck her head in the door and said Susan would have to leave, she was upsetting the patient. Susan nodded and stood. “What did you say to the girl right before you left her hospital room?”

“‘May the sun shine down on you and bring you much happiness.' I guess that didn't come about, did it?”

“You were a hero,” she said. “With a broken arm and a broken foot, you managed to get your friend out of a killing forest fire.”

She thanked him for seeing her and wished him luck with his campaign. “I'm sorry we didn't do a better job of protecting you.”

“When that woman shot me, I thought I was dead.” With a soft trace of self-mockery, he said, “I reached up with outstretched hands and my fingertips touched the face of destiny.”

48

Wind tore across the prairie and clouds fled like frightened souls. In its wake, tree limbs littered the streets, roofs were blown off, windows were broken, power lines were down. Around noon, irritated that she couldn't find Parkhurst, Susan asked Hazel to track him to his whereabouts and tell him to get his ass in here. Hazel told her he'd taken the afternoon off to tend to some personal business. Grumbling that cops shouldn't have a personal life, she plowed through work. A little after seven when she left the office, it was dark, daylight saving time had gone the way of dead leaves. Heavy sadness sat on the brain sludge in her mind. The governor shot, his close friend dead, his campaign manager arrested. Gayle Egelhoff dead. Fourteen-year-old girl dead. No relatives. Casilda Storm was arranging both funerals.

When she rounded the corner, she spotted Parkhurst's Bronco parked in front of her house and he was sitting on the porch steps, forearms resting on his knees. She drove into the garage, cut the ignition and slid from the pickup. Trudging around to the front of the house, she climbed the stairs and sat beside him. “What are you doing here?”

“A favor.”

“For whom?

“Your cousin.”

“Sean Patrick? What favor?”

“He left.”

“Without saying good-bye?” Damn it. She'd been looking forward to a long evening of reminiscing, drinking, making snide comments about the rest of the relatives, maybe even getting pie-eyed. “Just like a man.”

“He left a note.” Parkhurst offered her a folded piece of paper held between first and second finger.

She eyed him suspiciously. “You read it?”

“Would I read someone else's personal note?”

She snorted. “Where'd he go?”

“The whole circus load of politicians and media left and he left with them.”

She unfolded the note and a twenty-dollar bill fell out.

Soon as this campaign is over, I'm coming back and we're having a long talk. In the meantime, buy a pizza and share it with your Friend. Whatever else you want to do is up to you. Can't say I admire your choice, but then you never liked my choices either, so we're even.

Don't kick a gift horse in the teeth.

Love,

Sean

She flicked the note with a finger. “You never answered my question.”

“What question?”

“What are you doing here?”

“He said I had a strong back.”

“A strong back.” She rubbed her forehead with her fingertips. She was trained to stay calm in the face of incipient lunacy. “I see. And do you?”

“Not anymore.”

She wanted to ask him where he'd been all day, but instead she said, “What's this about a gift horse?”

“He said you have trouble accepting gifts and you kick and scream. Bite, too.”

Waving the twenty-dollar bill, she said, “Want to share a pizza?”

“Sure.”

As she almost never went in by the front door, she had to fumble for the right key. Once inside, she stopped dead. Where the old upright piano always sat was a shiny black baby grand. She turned to look at Parkhurst.

With a shrug of innocence, he held out empty hands. “I just helped the delivery guy bring it in.”

“Who unlocked the door?”

“Right. I did that, too. Sean said no matter how much you beat me up I wasn't to tell you where it came from in case you feel a stupid obligation to return it.”

“That means it was expensive.”

“He also said the old one was taken out and humanely shot. Can you play this thing?”

With a half-laugh, she played a set of chords. “My mother was a musician. Children of musicians get piano lessons whether they want them or not. Order the pizza while I see if he left us anything to drink.”

A bottle of claret sat in the refrigerator and a bottle of chardonnay sat on the kitchen countertop. Maybe she'd get pie-eyed with Parkhurst and think about choices, loneliness versus being alone and time to move on.

Maybe.

49

It was early morning when Cass went out to the garden. She stood under the maple trees with the sun just rising over the hills and rosy new light filtering through the red and gold leaves. Frost sparkled on the grass and a crisp bite hovered in the air. Winter was coming. The thought of the earth tucking in for a cold sleep tugged at forgotten dreams. Rosie the dog scouted the area, trotting around with her nose down.

It's been over a year, Cass thought, one year without Ted and Laura. There was a time when she didn't think she'd survive. “We've come home,” she said. They didn't fill her mind as much now, there was room for other thoughts. Yesterday she'd taken the little leather pouch of mingled ashes from her purse and put it in a box with Ted's cuff links. The box sat on her dresser. She could eat, she could dress, she could talk with other people, but still unexpected times popped up when she'd feel what it was like to hold the warm weight of a three-year-old child. It wasn't a memory exactly, more an imprint that had been left in her body.