Paradise Burning (42 page)

“
Mandy, don’t be a goddamned idiot!”
Peter shouted, as he motioned her into the last boat. An equally
harsh exchange of Russian between Karim and Nadya ended with Karim
throwing up his hands and ordering Grisha into the third
boat.

“
Come back for us,” Peter directed the
boatman. “We’ll be fine. The fire’s not that close.”
Not if we keep running around stamping out sparks,
Peter thought glumly. And the whole damn thing doesn’t blow up the
way the fire did on the north road.

Flames from the house were rising high,
firing the treetops, leaping forward far faster than the ground
fire. In a matter of minutes the house fire would merge with the
wall of flames moving in from the east.
Damn it to hell!
Peter grimaced. He really didn’t
want to swim the river, but it looked as if they might have to. He
scrambled back up the bank, snugged his arm around Mandy, rested
his chin on her head, and held on tight. He should have picked her
up and tossed her in the boat, but that would have snapped them
back to Square One. Yet what good was love if your only choice was
dying together?

Peter peered downriver. The swirling smoke
was now lit by embers, sparkling and deadly, drifting down like
suicidal fireflies into the black hole of the river. He thought he
could see the boats approaching the campground dock.

Or maybe that was just wishful thinking . .
.

A scream ripped through the clearing. Anya
was long gone, and Peter would have sworn Nadya would never give in
to hysteria. He and Mandy swung round in time to see the Russian
girl disappearing into the smoke sweeping out of the woods where
the footpath led to the old house. There was no one else in the
clearing. Karim was gone.

“
Shit!” Before Peter could take in what
had happened, Mandy was half way across the small clearing. Karim,
determined to avoid the police, must have decided to find his own
way out. Nadya, finding him gone, had panicked and was heading back
into the fire to search for him. Peter muttered a few more choice
epithets as he pounded across the clearing after the two women. The
idiots were heading straight into the inferno.

She’d entered hell. The smoke was so
thick Mandy kept blundering off the path. But Nadya had gone this
way; she had to be somewhere not far ahead
.
Damn love!
Mandy steamed as she bent low, battling the
smoke
. Love was senseless. Mindless.
Pitiless
. Dumb stupid girl not to realize Karim would
never go this way. That he’d fade into the woods to the south, swim
the river downstream where it might not be so crowded with
wildlife. Mandy stumbled, fell to her knees. Eyes streaming and
swollen, she moved her hands over the obstacle that had tripped
her. Nadya. Relief was swamped by the realization she hadn’t a
snowball’s chance in hell of moving her. Mandy bowed her head,
gulped for air. The fire was all around her now.

To have come so close . . . so very close . .
.

She had to get up . . . save herself .
. . but she couldn’t move. Whatever toxic fumes had felled Nadya
were getting to her too
. Peter! Peter, I’m
sorry . . . so damn sorry. Love really does make fools of us
all.

Strong hands dragged her to her feet. “Move!
Get going!” Peter shouted, shoving her back down the trail. “I’ve
got to get Nadya,” he barked more urgently. “Get with it, Mouse.
It’s move or burn!”

Mandy staggered forward. Alone again. No
romantic endings for Amanda Armitage. While Peter Pennington saved
the Fair Maiden, she had to save herself.

When they broke into the clearing, two
johnboats were waiting. Even through the tears that ran down her
cheeks and the coughs that wracked her body, Mandy decided they
were the most beautiful sight she’d ever seen. She was the sole
passenger in the first boat. Peter, still hanging tightly to Nadya,
lifted his burden into the second johnboat. Just as Peter’s boat
pushed away from the riverbank, the far side of the clearing near
the path erupted into a solid mass of flames. Fire, rushing across
the clearing, began to lick at the brown fronds of the fallen palm
tree.

They’d cut it close. Very close. But it
looked as if the alligators would have to settle for a four-footed
menu after all.

By the time they were half way to the
campground dock, Mandy had recovered her ability to plot and plan.
When they got to shore, things could turn a bit sticky. She had a
good idea where Karim had gone. If the river hadn’t taken him. But
did she have a right to tamper with people’s lives any more than
she already had?

Kira, forgive me. Right or wrong, I played
the only ace I had. The “kill” gene skipped me. I want to save
lives, not destroy them.

They were a sorry-looking lot. Mandy
surveyed the cluster of girls in the campground’s clubhouse and
shook her head. Soot-streaked faces, swollen red eyes, hair hanging
in tangles, clothing streaked with grime and burn holes. Too
exhausted to cry, they simply sat, heads hanging, while Glenda and
several other women bustled about offering coffee and, incredibly,
chocolate chip cookies. The only men present were their three
rescuers. Their names had sailed over Mandy’s head but not their
histories. The oldest had survived the Inchon landing. One was an
ex-marine who had served in Desert Storm; the third, a retired
detective from Philadelphia. Mandy assured them they were the
greatest heros she had ever met.
Eat your
heart out, Daddy.

But their own men were missing. Mandy had
gotten Ed Cramer to drive Peter to Amber Run to check on his house.
Grisha, she’d been told, had jumped ship five feet short of the
dock and disappeared into the woods. Irrational as it was, Mandy
couldn’t help but be glad. Karim was . . . well . . . Karim was
gone. Nadya was slumped down at a trestle table, head in her hands,
refusing all food, drink or consolation, in spite of Mandy’s
repeated assurances that she was sure Karim had gotten away, that
he was only trying to make the police think he was dead. Nadya,
desolate, simply didn’t believe her.

Which left Mandy with an unanticipated
problem. She had never before attempted to play God. The
responsibility was awesome.

At least the police had not been waiting for
them. Glenda, knowing every officer must have been out on emergency
duty, had never called them. Nor did the older woman have any idea
the FBI was involved. Mandy would have to make that phone call
herself. After all, what was she to do with eight soot-streaked,
frightened young women? Doug Chalmers would be here any minute now.
And she had a moral dilemma to face. Time was running out.

Mandy touched Nadya’s shoulder. “Come on,”
she said, “There’s something I need to show you.”

A defeated Nadya lifted her bleary eyes,
shook her head.

“
It’s important,” Mandy urged. “There’s
something I have to check on. I need your help.”

Nadya’s red-rimmed eyes narrowed. A spark of
her customary intelligence lit her eyes, a realization that
something important might be happening. She nodded, pulling herself
up by leaning on the heavy trestle table.

“
Glenda,” Mandy called. “I’m going to
check on my RV. Be right back.”

With weary, somewhat uncertain steps, the two
women made their way out of the clubhouse into the night.

Her RV might be dark and silent, Mandy
thought as they approached her campsite, but she was nearly certain
life lurked inside. Turning to her companion, she announced,
“Nadya, you have a decision to make.”

“
What a mess!” Mandy breathed. She and
Peter were standing on the edge of the rear deck, looking out over
the blackened expanse of what had once been lush green grass and
bushes stretching down to the river. Around them, all four sides of
the deck were marred by scorch marks. The roof, windows and deck
were streaked and dirty from the river water the fire department
had been forced to use after their pumper truck ran out, but nobody
was complaining. Peter had already vowed to make a substantial
contribution to Golden Beach Fire Department.

“
Poor Brad,” Mandy added
softly.

“
He only lost the house they’d just
framed, and insurance will cover it. The firemen had to let that
one go while they hosed down the homes that were
occupied.”

“
But the firebreak,” Mandy murmured.
“Everything along the river . . . it was so beautiful, and now it’s
gone.”

“
This is Florida, Mouse. A year from
now most of it will be back. The trees are a little singed, I
admit, but I think most on this side of the river will recover. The
firemen did one hell of a job. I hear only a barn and a garage
burned on the east side. Not counting the line shack,” Peter added
on a more somber note.

“
Mm-m-m.” Mandy turned to look at the
live oak where she had seen the owl. On the east side its outer
leaves were brown and curled at the edges. The Spanish moss dripped
sickly brown and black. But nine tenths of the huge tree stood as
it had for years. Tall, green and sturdy, fluffy air plants and
drooping moss decorated its branches in their customary pale
gray-green. Mandy supposed Peter was right. The greenery would come
back, but she was afraid Brad and Claire Blue were going to have a
rough time for a while. Along the river Amber Run had lost most of
the “old Florida” ambiance proclaimed in its
advertising.

“
Just think how much more of the river
we see now,” Peter remarked, straight-faced.

Mandy sighed, leaning her shaky legs against
the deck railing. There were things that had to be said, but her
mind refused to frame the words. Last night Peter had returned to
rescue her, informing Doug Chalmers he could finish questioning
them in the morning, that he and Mandy were both too tired to know
what they was saying. A gallant gesture, Mandy thought. Peter,
sensing she was treading on thin ice, had gotten her out of a tight
spot.

Score a big one for Pennington.

The firebreak along the river was so
effective the Fire Marshal had actually allowed them to return
home. They’d dropped their ruined clothes on the kitchen tile, then
staggered, hand in hand, into Peter’s huge shower where they
scrubbed each other down, alternately wincing at the discovery of a
welter of tiny burns and grinning like idiots as the pain
emphasized they were alive and well, safe in their own home. They
took turns spreading cortisone cream on their various sore spots,
fingers lingering, caressing, pressing on to the next burn or
scrape, conceding the physical impossibility of doing anything more
interesting. Finally, they’d tumbled into bed, not even their
wounds keeping them from sleeping wrapped in each other’s arms,
undisturbed by the soft sounds of the weary firefighters keeping
watch throughout the night.

Only after they crawled out of bed just
before noon and fixed a leisurely brunch did they face up to what
had happened to their idyllic world. As depressing as it was, Mandy
found she considered the blackened expanses along the Calusa River
a challenge. The debris would need to be cleared, new plantings put
in to aid Mother Nature. Whatever was needed to bring back the
idyllic nature of Amber Run, she wanted to be part of it.

The doorbell rang.

“
That’s Doug,” Peter growled. “I hope
you know what you’re going to say.”

“
Of course,” Mandy replied demurely.
Her biggest lie so far. Heart pounding, she followed Peter inside.
Amanda Armitage was unaccustomed to finding herself this far over
into the dubious side of the law.

After a brief and sympathetic overview of the
devastation outside, Doug Chalmers accepted a tall glass of iced
tea before facing Peter and Mandy across the coffee table in the
library. Face somber, his fingers beat a tattoo on the side of the
glass. “We found the Buick,” he said. “A charred wreck. Two
bodies.” A rather long silence. “Big car,” he added softly.
“Somehow I’d expected more people to be in it.”

“
We were afraid they wouldn’t make it,”
Peter explained. “We . . . ah–persuaded them to let the rest of us
try the river.”

“
The van was wrecked by a tree across
the road,” Mandy contributed. “The river was the only certain way
out.”

“
So exactly how many of you made this
trek?” Doug asked.

Mandy and Peter glanced at each other. There
were too many girls who knew the correct answer to that one. There
was no way they could lie about it. “Twelve,” Mandy replied. “Eight
girls, Peter, myself, Karim Shirazi, and a guard named Grisha.”

“
So where did you lose them?” Doug
inquired, his voice so quiet his heavy sarcasm could almost be
ignored.

“
The man who was rowing the third boat
told me Grisha jumped overboard about five feet from the dock, swam
to shore and took off. Nearly swamped the boat, he said,” Mandy
contributed helpfully. “I suppose Grisha was afraid the police
would be waiting.”

“
No doubt,” Doug muttered.

“
Doug,” Peter interjected, “we had a
fire on our heels. We had to call for the nearest help. I’m afraid
the police weren’t our top priority.”

Special Agent Doug Chalmers, obviously
recognizing a stacked deck when he saw it, made a show of looking
Peter, then Mandy, straight in the eye. “So what happened to
Shirazi and Nadya?” he inquired.

“
What do you mean what happened to
Nadya?” Peter demanded. “I dragged her into a boat and up to the
damn clubhouse myself. Saved the silly twit’s life. Don’t tell me
you’ve lost her, because I don’t believe it.”