All My Strength (5) (The Mile High Club) Read online

  Running with the lights off was a dangerous way to drive. Temper hesitated at every intersection, even when she had the right of way. They finally made it. As frustrating as the ride had been, Wendy was gratified to see that the men had not escaped.

  Temper parked kitty corner and down the street from Wendy’s house. There were four houses between her car and Wendy’s house. Wendy slid off her seat and carefully opened the door. She used the hood of the car as cover, practically on her knees while she took picture after picture of the men.

  It was too dark for any of the pictures to look really good, but she caught two of them walking under the streetlight toward her house. Too bad she couldn’t see their faces. She hated watching while they broke her windows. It took under five seconds for the men to break in. It gave Wendy the chills to think that she might have been inside. Even with Carson, three against two were terrible odds, and without her dream they wouldn’t have been expecting anyone. The element of surprise would have been with the burglars.

  Wendy started up, ready to protect the house. Temper blocked her path. “No. You are collecting evidence. That’s all. Don’t give them what they’re looking for.”

  Wendy wondered if any of her neighbors would call the police. She said as much to Temper, “Carson is alone in there. We need to get the police here now. Those guys have already broken in. Who knows what else they’ll do.”

  For once, Temper agreed. She said, “I’ll get help.”

  For Temper, that meant walking up to the door of the house where her car was parked. Mrs. Fitzsimmons lived alone with her two terriers, Mimi and Minnie. Temper rang the doorbell and knocked. The dogs barked up a storm. Temper didn’t stop knocking until a light came on.

  In the meantime, something was happening at Wendy’s house. At first, Wendy was just concerned that people were breaking into her house. That was bad enough, but then Wendy heard the a small explosion. She had no idea what was going on in her house, but it was nothing good.

  Wendy didn’t have to wait long. In minutes all three men ran out of her house. She thought she saw light flickering behind them when they ran out. She snapped more pictures, and this time when they entered the pool of light under the street lamps, their faces were visible. Wendy hoped the photos would turn out. It was proof of trespass if nothing else.

  The men were in the truck and already driving off when the window exploded out of the house. Wendy nearly dropped the camera when she realized what was happening.

  It took her an extra second to realize that Carson would have been waiting for the men in the house, but only three men had run out. Carson had not been one of them. Her house was on fire, and Carson hadn’t run out. It was likely he was still in there. Tears sprang to her eyes. Not again. This couldn’t happen to her again.

  CARSON GRABBED THREE of Wendy’s towels, the biggest, furriest that he could find and threw them in the bath tub, turning it on full bore. In seconds he pulled them out. He wrapped the first over his head and carried the other two. By now he could hear the crackles of the fire and coughed through the smoke. Keeping low, he ran for the staircase.

  He feared it would collapse under his weight with the fire licking up the walls. Still, better a broken leg than death by suffocation on the second floor. He ran down the stairs, unable to see. Now he was moving by feel alone. The whole place was too damn hot. When he lifted his head from the protection of the wet towel he discovered that Wendy’s entire living room was engulfed. He could see pools of fire where it was obvious accelerant had been used. He wouldn’t make it across that hell.

  Coughing, he scrambled toward the back door. The bastards had pulled the washer in front of the back door. Did they know he was waiting upstairs in the house? Maybe they were trying to stop the fire crews from getting in easily. Or did they perhaps think to surprise Wendy in her sleep? Any way he looked at it, he was screwed. There was a window in the back room. Using the towel to protect his hand, Carson broke out the window.

  The fresh air pouring in fed the fire and Carson heard a roar as the flames behind him rose. With a single sweep of his hand, he cleared the little table of a doily, empty vase, and a few little angel statues. If he survived this, he was going to buy Wendy flowers every month for the rest of his life—just because.

  With a giant step onto the table, Carson crawled through the window. He wasn’t at all pretty in his dismount, nearly falling on his face. He thought he would choke he was coughing so hard. He hit his knee on the concrete, and he was fairly certain he re-broke his arm. At least it was still in the cast...maybe that provided some stability.

  Carson hurt all over. He could barely crawl through the grass. Every time he put pressure on either knee or arm, he wanted to scream. He coughed and coughed while he scooted away from the fire, giving himself some distance in case the house decided to explode again.

  Halfway across the yard and he heard screaming, panicked high-pitched screaming. It was Wendy and she was screaming his name.

  She didn’t know he was in the backyard. They’d been pouring flammable liquid all over that house. If Wendy ran in, there was a good chance something would flare up and that would be the end of her.

  He pushed himself up from the ground and fast limped around the yard, stopped by the fence. He could barely lift the latch, he hurt so bad.

  WENDY SCREAMED CARSON’S name three times before she acted. Running for the door, she pulled it open. Wendy’s world was on fire. From the ballerina her mother gave her for Christmas her senior year to the couch where she and John had snuggled for years, everything was ablaze. Her mind catalogued this somewhere to be considered later, but at the front of her mind was Carson.

  She screamed his name again as the living room ceiling collapsed. Wendy took a step into the living room, feeling the unbearable heat on her hands and face. It was Temper who dragged her out, screaming at Wendy and physically pulling her back out of the house.

  Temper and Wendy were evenly matched for size, but Wendy wasn’t prepared to be yanked back. They both fell down the stairs. Temper hit her tailbone and elbow. Wendy landed on Temper.

  They were both in pain, but for different reasons. Wendy sobbed, “He’s still in there. He didn’t come out.”

  Feeling sick to her stomach, Temper tried to breathe through the nausea, those careful slow breaths that come when the wind is knocked out of a person. She had no words anyway. They should have followed the guys closer. Wendy was right. But Temper wasn’t about to let her best friend run into that inferno. If Carson was in there, Wendy wouldn’t be able to drag him out. He was twice her size, and they would both perish in the fire.

  “I’m sorry, Wendy.” Temper dragged herself up, her butt feeling bruised. When Wendy took a step toward the stairs, Temper wrapped her arms around her friend, “You can’t go in there. You wouldn’t be able to save him. You can’t.”

  “It’s my fault. First John and now Carson. I’m cursed. I can’t do this anymore.”

  “Don’t say that. It was that rat bastard Jonas. It’s not you. It’s not you.” Temper wouldn’t let go of Wendy. She feared her friend was going to run back into the blaze despite anything Temper said.

  “I’m okay.” Wendy shook herself away, but Temper wouldn’t let go. By now the air screamed with sirens. Wendy tried to pull away from Temper, haunted by the roar of the flames and the smell of the smoke and the ash. She tried not to think that the man she’d just fallen in love was right now dying in that house.

  Temper watched as the flames reached the third story, her arms still around Wendy, half comforting her friend, half holding her from making a fatal decision. When the flames reflected in the third story window, Temper really believed that Carson, if still in the fire was dead.

  If he was waiting to jump the intruders like he had planned, then they probably knocked him out and started the blaze. Carson might be on the ground floor, maybe hurt. It would haunt Temper for the rest of her life if they found Carson on the first floor, knowing she could have helped
Wendy drag him out. But it would haunt her worse if she lost Wendy.

  She’d seen Wendy in front of that inferno. No one could survive that. No matter how cunning or tough they were.

  A police cruiser pulled up first. It was Nate Tallman, the night shift deputy. Wendy said, “How long until the fire crew gets here? I think there’s someone inside. I tried to get through the door, but Temper pulled me back.”

  “She saved your life. No one could survive that. The fire department has been paged, but they’re still at least ten minutes out.”

  Wendy wiped her bangs out of her face, “It’ll be too late. Is there any way we can get in there. Maybe if we try climbing to the second story?”

  “Wendy!”

  It was Carson, coming around from the back yard. His face was black with soot and his voice was hoarse and interspersed with coughs. His limp was so pronounced it was amazing he could walk at all.

  With a cry of joy, Wendy ran into Carson’s arm. She nearly knocked him over. “I thought you were inside. I thought you were dead.”

  She clung to him, laughing and crying and then laughing some more. He held her, and then coughed so hard he had to turn his face away from Wendy. She let go, but slid her arm around his waist. Wasting no time, Wendy said, “We need to get you to the hospital.”

  As if they heard her pronouncement, the ambulance crew and fire truck pulled in, sirens wailing and lights flashing. The house was a total loss, but Wendy couldn’t stop smiling. Carson was alive. Injured, yes and covered in soot, coughing like crazy, but alive.

  “I love you, Carson Nichols,” Wendy said. “Lie down in the grass here. You look like you’re going to collapse.”

  “I may be delirious or hallucinating. Can you repeat that?” Carson asked.

  Wendy helped him down and then said, “I love you. I’ll say it a million times.”

  She stayed close to his side until the ambulance crew shooed her away, one of the men taking her aside and asking her questions about Carson, many that she didn’t know. They gave Carson oxygen and settled him on the stretcher.

  Wendy felt unaccountably lost when they closed the door to the ambulance and drove off with Carson. She knew he was okay. She knew he would be just across town at the local hospital, unless they transported him to one of the bigger hospitals in the city. She missed him, but at least he was alive.

  The fire department put out the blaze, but the house was a total loss. Wendy didn’t watch them finish with the blaze. Yes, it was her house, but she needed to get the card from her camera to Nate. The police would have a better chance of arresting those men if they started the search right away. Then she was going to track down Carson at the hospital and stand guard for him.

  It was a good hour before Temper and Wendy were on the road to the hospital. Nate had wanted to see the camera, and then Temper insisted on driving Wendy. While Wendy was guarding Carson, Temper would guard Wendy.

  At the local hospital, Temper and Wendy discovered that Carson had been taken by ambulance to the hospital in Flagstaff. After a rather lengthy argument, Wendy convinced Temper to return her to her car. Temper had work the next afternoon and needed to sleep. Wendy would pack enough clothes for a few days.

  Temper dropped Wendy off at the rental house with admonishments to drive carefully and at the speed limit. Finally Wendy told Temper that she was absolutely fine now that she knew Carson was alive, and that she would need Temper’s help more than ever in the next few weeks, so Temper might as well go home and start resting up now. Wendy packed quickly, throwing clothes from her suitcase into her duffel bag. Then she packed for Carson. Hopefully he wouldn’t be embarrassed or angry that she’d gone through his things. Flagstaff was a forty minute drive, so she needed to plan.

  Wendy took a quick shower and changed clothes, grabbed her jacket and locked the door. She was grateful beyond everything that Carson was still alive. Her life had just gotten uncomplicated. With no job and no house, Wendy could do anything and go anywhere. She was completely terrified, but there was a thrill in not knowing.

  As she pulled out of the driveway and started down the mountain, Wendy passed a pickup truck. Her hands started to shake, and she thought she would throw up. The truck belonged to the men who almost killed Carson, the same ones who had been looking for her, and who set fire to her house. When they turned sharply in the middle of the road, Wendy knew they saw her. Jamming her foot on the gas, Wendy sent the car careening down the hill, sometimes barely making the turns.

  “John, help me. Please help me,” Wendy said the words aloud. She never really believed that John could hear her when she talked to him before. Wendy had been talking to John for a good eight months, and her husband never said a word back until her dreams started. She sped up on a straight stretch, slamming on the brakes going into a turn based on a thirty-five mile-per-hour sign. The car slid sideways on the gravel. Wendy screamed as the car skated toward the ravine.

  Time stood still. The headlights pierced the darkness, showing a huge amount of open space and a slender part of the road that turned sharply to the left. Wendy’s seatbelt came unbuckled and the door opened of its own accord. She felt someone push her out of the car.

  The car tumbled down the ravine over and over. There wasn’t much left where it rested. Wendy ended up sliding a few feet down the ravine herself, her hand bleeding from a sharp cut. She slid to a stop just above the steep cliff, surrounded by grass and gravel.

  Wendy heard the pickup chasing her, but never saw it. It flew around the corner, catching the gravel, but the truck righted itself and continued on. Wendy felt a brief pang of annoyance. If she were going to be driven off a cliff, why couldn’t the bad guys, too. Suddenly she heard a loud bang and a fireball.

  She didn’t feel guilty, not about those three men. Not because her thought had come just seconds before their accident. They were trying to kill her. Wendy survived, and from the sounds of things, they didn’t. It might be evil of her, but she felt a small amount of satisfaction.

  Chapter 15

  WENDY TRUDGED BACK up the road, her body aching. In her hurry, she had left the house with wet hair and even in summer, the mountains had a chill. At least her hair was back in a pony tail. Shivering, she focused on taking one more step, then one more, then one more.

  One half of the sky was ablaze with stars twinkling in their constellations, but a storm cloud rolling across the mountains had blotted out the other half of the sky, and the wind was picking up. The hills reflected just enough light for Wendy to keep walking. She feared the approach of the storm.

  An owl hooted, and Wendy wondered about the superstition that the calls of night owls preceded death. Wendy’s mind played all kinds of tricks on her. She heard the calls of the night creatures while she was walking in the dark and imagined the worst. She started to get scared.

  Wendy wrapped her hand around the edge of her jacket to stop the bleeding and forged ahead. The worst part about the journey, besides the darkness and the fear, was that the house had been on a hill. She was walking uphill. The longer she walked, the harder it was to take the next step.

  Wendy wanted to give up, wanted to collapse. She had to encourage herself, “Come on Wendy, you can do this.”

  As if in answer, a coyote yipped. Wendy had always liked the coyotes’ barks when she was safely tucked away inside. Now that she was a creature of the wild herself, she didn’t like it at all. Not that a coyote would bother her. She was big enough for them to leave her alone...but she still would have preferred a night without animal noises.

  The clouds rolled over, a final insult to Wendy’s sense of well-being. The rain started with a small pitter-patter, striking the top of her head and her coat. As the water droplets broke from the sky in a torrent, Wendy realized that between the rain and the darkness, anyone coming along that road would probably hit her before she moved out of the way. Plus, she needed to rest.

  Wendy crawled up the side of the mountain and found shelter under a tree. She curled
up with her back against the bark. Thunder rumbled above her head, and lightning illuminated the clouds in bright flashes. The downpour drove sideways stinging Wendy’s face and preventing shelter even under the trees.

  The lightning was another worry. She shouldn’t be sheltering under a tree in a lightning storm. The alternative was to face the downpour without any kind of protection. Wendy decided she’d take her chances under the tree.

  A puddle had started to form in the hollow where Wendy was sitting, so she stood, leaning against the tree and waiting for what seemed an endless eternity. Finally the rain stopped. It was still dark, although there was a sliver of light on the horizon. Wendy fell a few times returning to the road. She was freezing, exhausted, and muddy, but she was determined.

  It was now or never. She was going to walk back to the house no matter what.

  Step by step, she tackled that mountain.

  Wendy was still walking when the sun rose. She had no idea that she’d driven that far...or perhaps it was just that everything had happened so late at night and with the rain her sense of distance was skewed. It felt like she’d walked miles and miles. Finally she turned the bend and saw Carson’s rental house in the distance. With a cry of relief, she doubled her speed, still walking but without that depressive feeling that she would be walking forever.

  A tremor shook her body while she walked. Wendy’s clothes were wet and her calves and thighs ached from exertion. When Wendy reached the door, she was ecstatic. With a laugh, she pushed, thinking the door would just open.

  “No.” Wendy groaned.

  Her keys were still in the car, including the house key. She was locked out of the damn house.

  “No, no, no, no, no,” Wendy banged on the door until her fist hurt. Wiping rain off her face, Wendy stared at the door. She’d come all this way. She wasn’t about to be beat by a door. Sucking in a breath, Wendy had to talk herself down, “Be smart. You can get in. Just figure it out.”