A Tine To Live, A Tine To Die Part 24

Cam didn't have an answer. "What did you put in Lucinda's drink at the festival?"

"Same thing I put in yours," Stuart said. "I had a little extra. Waste not, want not. Isn't that what they say?"

His grin chilled Cam.

"Why did you kill Mike? Lots of people get their feelings hurt in love, but they don't murder the compet.i.tion." Cam stole a glance at Ellie, whose wide eyes pulled at her.

Stuart rose. He breathed fast, nearly panting. "He stole my girl. n.o.body steals from Stuart Wilson. I told him to meet me at the farm after I saw you leave that day." He waved the knife in the air.

He'd been watching her. She felt an irrational urge to scrub herself under hot water for a very long time. "So you planned to kill Mike?"

"Well, maybe, maybe not. But he wouldn't even apologize. He flaunted the fact that Katie had been with him the night before. That they had screwed that morning." Stuart looked at Ellie. "Sorry, kid. That's the way the world is." He peered at a dark corner of the barn. "So I knocked him down and used your pitchfork. Good riddance."

So that was why Mike had died. "But why did you do it on the farm?"

Stuart shot her a look that said, "Why not?" He began whistling a tune.

"That's, like, a Doors song," Ellie said. " 'Light My Fire,' right?"

"You're a smart chick. How'd you know that?" He leaned in, leering at her.

Ellie turned her head away with a look like she'd smelled fresh manure. "My dad likes to listen to that group."

Stuart turned to Cam and winked. "Come on, baby, light my fire," he sang in a creepy imitation of the original, stretching fire out into two syllables. He stuck his hands in his pockets and surveyed the barn. His eyes lit on a bale of salt-marsh hay in the corner. He stashed the knife in his knapsack. He strode to the bale and dragged it toward the large door.

He strolled, still whistling, to the corner of the barn where Cam kept the rototiller, the lawn mower, and gas cans. He hefted one of the cans.

"Great. It's full," Stuart said in a cheery voice, glancing over at Cam. He resumed his whistle as he wandered around the barn.

Cam stared at Stuart. Her palms sweated. Gasoline. He couldn't. He wouldn't. Cam watched through narrowed eyes.

"Sorry, girls. It's going to get a little hot in here." He turned and strolled back to the gas cans, whistling again. He opened the pour spout and the air breather hole on the largest can. He carried it to the bale and poured until the can was empty, shaking the last drops onto the hay.

"Stuart, stop!" Cam yelled. "You could claim self-defense for Mike's murder. But three people dead? You'll never get away with it. They'll find you."

"Maybe. Maybe not. You know. Another tragic farm accident. 'Newbie farmer stores gas near dry hay, loses life, barn.' " Stuart strode back to the machine area and grabbed a manual for one of the devices. He sauntered back to the bale. He tore out pages and crumpled them until he'd covered the top of the bale with paper.

"Cam, he's setting a fire." Blue veins stood out on Ellie's pale forehead as she whispered.

"I know. We'll get out, though." Cam swallowed. How would they escape this? She feared for the lovely old barn. She dreaded death by burning far more.

"Enjoy your sauna, girls." He picked up his knapsack and strolled away with another horrible giggle. Stuart unlatched the wide door. Backlit, he reached into his knapsack and drew out a long object. He held it down, pointing it at the bale, and clicked.

Chapter 23.

Cam held her breath.

Stuart clicked another time. He clicked several more times. He threw it hard against the wall.

"d.a.m.n lighter." He strode to Cam's side. His face and neck had turned ruddy again, and the crazy, calm whistler had been replaced by a raging maniac. "Matches. Where do you keep matches?" His voice rose until he was almost screaming.

Cam looked over at Ellie. "I don't keep matches in the barn," she lied. "Too dangerous. Anyway, this is crazy. Cut us loose and let's talk."

Stuart answered her with a heavy slap across the cheek. Tears filled Cam's eyes, but she kept her mouth shut. He slapped her even harder in the other direction. Then he glared at Ellie.

"You know where the matches are, kid?"

Ellie shook her head, fast.

Stuart looked wildly around the barn. Suddenly the calm demeanor ruled again. He strode to the far corner, which Cam had been keeping her eyes firmly away from. The corner where she kept her charcoal grill. The corner with the shelf holding a collection of matchbooks.

"I'm sorry, Ellie," Cam murmured.

Stuart lit a match. He held it to the corner of the matchbook until the thin cardboard began to burn, then threw both the match and the lit matchbook on the soaked hay.

The flames whooshed.

Chapter 24.

Stuart lingered until flames licked at the wall. He waved at Cam and Ellie. He slammed the door closed behind him.

The thud of the thick plank of the outer lock falling into place was the worst sound Cam had ever heard. Smoke wafted up toward the high window above the wide door, the cracked window Cam had never gotten around to fixing.

She froze. She was back in the burning house again. Six years old. Alone. Terrified. Flames crawling closer. Smoke thickening. She coughed.

"Cam!" Ellie scooted her chair close to Cam with her feet. "Hey, what's going on with you? We have to get out of here."

Cam shook herself and took a deep breath. Right. She'd gotten herself out then; she'd get them out now.

"I have my Girl Scout knife in my pocket. Can you get it?" Ellie angled her chair so her left hip was as close to Cam's right hand as possible.

"You rock, girlfriend." Cam wiggled her hand under the tape. She had hoped by keeping her wrists vertical when Stuart taped them that the tape would be looser. He seemed to have brought extra-sticky duct tape, though. She couldn't get her hand free.

The fire crept up the wall. She had to get her hand loose, and quick. An image of a trapped animal arose in her mind. The kind of animal that gnaws its paw off to escape the jaws of a trap.

Cam bent over her right wrist. She chewed on the tape. The chemical taste of the plastic was acrid on her tongue, but not as bitter as the prospect of burning alive. Cam bit and tore at the binding, coughing from the smoke beginning to fill the barn.

"Brilliant," Ellie said.

Out of the corner of her eye, Cam saw Ellie bend over her own wrist and bite at the tape, too. The fire crackled as it fed on the timbers that had been drying for centuries. Cam bent over her wrist again. They were almost out of time. Chew, spit, gnaw, pull. She was down to one fiber. She twisted her forearm and pulled her hand free.

Ellie pointed her chin at her pocket. Cam slid her hand in and closed it over a pocketknife. She drew it out. She held it near her other hand but couldn't get her fingernail under the slot in the blade to flip it out. She switched the knife to her taped hand and pried.

The knife opened. Cam cut her other hand loose. She freed both of Ellie's. Cam pulled the girl to her feet.

The thick smoke almost obscured the flames on the far wall.

"Cam, we're locked in." Ellie's voice quavered.

"I'll get us out." Cam took Ellie's hand and pointed to the right of the back door. "Lie on the floor over there until I get the door open. You stay there, okay? Girl Scout's honor?" Cam squeezed the girl's small hand and tried to beam confidence into Ellie's frightened eyes.

Ellie nodded. She held up the middle three fingers of her right hand and set her mouth in a determined line. She ran for the area and lay prostrate on the floor.

A bang sounded from the rototiller. Cam didn't look. She didn't need to see gas tanks exploding.

Cam ran for the cabinet on the wall near the back door, where she'd stashed Bev Montgomery's gun. She scrounged in her pocket for the key, desperately glad she hadn't yet changed out of her work clothes for the potluck. She inserted the key in the lock and tried to turn it. It balked. Cam swore and coughed. She drew it out, turned it over, and tried again. It wouldn't turn. She threw it down. So much for trying to shoot the lock off the back door.

A crash sounded behind her. Cam whirled. The old hayloft on the far wall, above the wide door, collapsed. Cam turned her back on it. Cam's heart raced. She couldn't give up. She had to save Ellie. And Cam had to get herself out of this h.e.l.l of fire.

She glanced up. The clerestory window above the door. They might get out, after all.

"Ellie, turn away and cover your face." Cam grabbed a shovel from the wall. She took aim and hurled the shovel javelin-style at the window. The thin old gla.s.s shattered as the shovel fell back into the barn. Cam pulled her T-shirt over her head and off.

"Here's the plan," Cam said to Ellie in a short, fast burst. "You wrap my shirt around your hand. I boost you up. You knock the gla.s.s out to the outside."

Ellie nodded with wide eyes.

"Lay the shirt on the bottom of the window. That'll protect you from the sharp edges of the broken gla.s.s. Then jump out. Try to steer away from the granite step, and roll when you land."

"How are you going to get out?" Ellie said in a rush.

"I'll be right behind you." I hope. "Work quickly. It'll be a furnace up there."

"Got it." Ellie wrapped the shirt around her right hand. "I'll stand on your shoulders."

Cam laced her hands into a step. In a flash, Ellie was up, her weight light on Cam's shoulders. Cam glanced up. Ellie shoving gla.s.s out with her improvised mitt. Ellie folding the cloth into a cushion. Hurry.

"See you out there," Ellie said. A second later she was off Cam's shoulders and out.

Cam heard a cry as she upended a bucket under the window. She looked up. Shards still stuck out, and it was going to be a lot tighter fit for her than for pet.i.te Ellie. An explosion blasted a corner of the barn a few yards away. Cam took a deep breath. She stepped onto the bucket and set her hands on the hot cloth at the base of the window. She worked her legs up and through.

She landed with a thud and a sharp pain in her shoulder. She winced, squeezing her eyes shut. When she opened them, flames licked out the window she'd just fallen from. She rolled away from the building, then pushed herself to standing. Ellie lay curled up nearby.

"Ellie!"

The girl remained still, not responding. Cam scooped her into her arms. Ellie's eyes remained closed. Cam staggered toward the house as the burning barn crashed down behind them with a sound like a thousand memories dying.

Chapter 25.

Cam tripped on a root of the ancient maple in the yard. It sent her sprawling on the gra.s.s, but she managed to protect Ellie's head from the fall. She pulled herself to sitting, Ellie still unconscious in her arms. Felicity and Wes appeared from somewhere, Felicity running to Cam and Ellie with her arms full of tablecloths. And a Westbury fire truck roared up the drive, all lights and sirens, with two Westbury police cars right behind.

Cam blinked. Smoke tainted the air. A coat of ash filmed the leaves of the tree. She took a deep breath and then coughed.

"Cam! What happened? Is Ellie all right?" Felicity dumped the tablecloths and knelt next to Cam. She stroked Ellie's cheek.

Ellie opened her eyes. "I'm fine. I think." She looked up at Cam, then wriggled out of her arms and sat cross-legged, rubbing her eyes. "Gross. What stinks?" She wrinkled her nose.

Cam, suddenly weak, sniffed. "It's the smoke, Ellie." She suddenly wanted to restore human contact. She put her arm around the girl's shoulders.

"Oh, yeah." Ellie turned wide eyes to the flaming wreck that had been the barn.

"You have cuts all over you." Felicity pointed to Cam's arms and legs, which were indeed riddled with scratches and cuts from the broken gla.s.s.

Cam looked down, startled to realize she was clad from the waist up only in her sports bra. Even her stomach was cut.

Felicity handed her a blue-and-white tablecloth, which Cam gratefully wrapped around her shoulders.

Firefighters poured off the engine. Two hurried toward Cam and Ellie. One carried a kit with a red cross on it. He knelt in front of Ellie and asked how she was.

The other firefighter shouted at Cam over the noise of the fire, "Ma'am, anybody in there?"

"No," Cam called back.

The firefighter turned toward the barn. "Surround and drown," she called out and then began barking orders.

Firefighters in bulky suits pulled flat hoses out of the back of the vehicle, its emergency lights still flashing. They dragged the hoses closer to the barn. Another couple of firefighters connected the hoses to the side of the engine. They began spraying the closest side of the inferno. It hissed and steamed like an angry dragon. The hose writhed on the ground, three firefighters struggling to tame it. A spray of water fanned out from a connection, creating a strobing blue-and-red light show. Another engine pulled in behind the first.

A police officer appeared from the road, followed by Chief Frost, who made a beeline for Cam as he spoke into a phone and then pocketed it.

"Are you all right, Ms. Flaherty?"

"I think I am. But my barn isn't." She raised her voice above the din of engines running, flames crackling, more sirens speeding toward the farm, an air horn blaring, commands being shouted.

"What happened? Careless with the barbecue?" He folded his arms and looked down at her with raised eyebrows.

Cam opened her mouth to object, but Ellie spoke first.

"No! A guy tried to, like, burn us alive in there." Ellie frowned at the chief. "He lit it on fire and then locked the door on his way out. Cam rescued us."

"Is that true, Cam?" the chief asked.