Ripples (19 page)

I walk over to the cupboard, holding my breath as I peek out the backdoor. Still no Bryce. Good.

The shelves are almost empty. Only a few things got left when Mr. Miller, Uncle Eric’s neighbor, interrupted us. There’s a jar of honey. I take it and pull up a chair next to the man … slather the honey over his wound. He wrinkles his nose … frowns.

I say, “Kills germs. Helps it heal. Bryce taught us that.”

“So … what are you doing out here … all alone?”

“Kinda got lost.”

He nods. “Me, too. Where do you live?”

I screw the top back on the honey … take it to the cupboard.

“You look a lot like the kid who lives across the lake from me.”

Point to the booze. “You gonna drink any of that?”

Shakes his head. “My name’s Jacob … you can call me Jake. What’s yours?”

Put the top on and start back to Uncle Eric’s bedroom. I stop … look back. “Amy.”

“Thanks, Amy … for saving my life.”

“It’s nothing.”

He wheezes. “Since it’s my life, I should be the judge of what it’s worth.”

I walk back … set the booze on the table … sit down. “Your granddaughter.”

His eyes get big. “What about her?”

“She’s lucky …” my voice breaks like I’m gonna cry.

Hangs his head. “I lost her ….”

“That’s right … you said somebody … took her.”

He wrinkles his forehead. “
I
told you? When?”

“You gave me a ride. I was walking up the mountain. I lied. Told you I didn’t live across the lake.”

He rubs the back of his neck. “Guess I forgot ….”

I stare down at my hands folded in my lap.

“Amy, I’d like to return the favor.”

“What favor?”

“Saving my life.”

“It’s not saved yet.”

He grins. “When we get out of this mess …. “

I shrug.

“Do you like candy?” he asks.

“Sure ….”

He digs into his pocket. “I always carry these. Just in case I find her again. They’re her favorite.”

When he opens his hand, I smile big. Cinnamon candy … in a shiny red, crinkly wrapper.

He stands. “We better get going if we’re going to outrun this fire to my bunker. Real medicine there … and food.”

When we step outside … big orange flames and smoke up on the ridge. A loud, groaning noise.

“Choppers,” he says. “Could be good news, could be bad.” He points ahead. “This fire break will take us home. Let’s just stay to the far side, away from those flames—and try to keep under cover so the helicopters don’t spot us.”

I look over my shoulder for Bryce. Maybe he’s not coming, after all.

Mercedes

Bryce and Tess ride double on the mare. With my wrists lashed together at one end of a rope—the other end tied to the saddle horn—I trot behind, gyrating to stay on my feet. Pain shoots through my shoulder every time the rope goes taut and jerks me forward.

The rocky ground would make it tough enough to keep my balance with arms free. Tied up, it’s only a matter of time before I do a face-plant. My stomach’s drawn tight as a crossbow. We left RJ lying back there on the ground. By now, the fire’s got to be closing in on him. I fight back tears—stumble—twist one way then the next—barely able to stay upright. Another surge of pain.

Bryce calls back to Tess, “We’re lucky that fire isn’t moving any faster. Won’t be long before it starts making its own wind—blows the flames along the ridgeline and over to our side. We better get to the lake fast or we’re toast.”

Tess scolds him, “Careful. She’s got to be in one piece when we find Chandler. He’s not going to pay for damaged goods.”

My foot catches a root. Twist to my good side … lose my footing. My ribcage slams against the ground. Rocks rip my shirt, pants … skin. Bryce pulls the mare to a stop. I get up on my knees … struggle to breathe.

Bryce shouts at Tess, “Not my fault that bitch can’t run without falling.”

Tess slaps the side of his head. “Don’t go so damned fast.”

They’re arguing—this could be my only chance. I peek around for an escape route.

Bryce grumbles, “Hey. It’s not me. It’s this damn nag.”

Tess smacks him again. “Shut up. I’m tired of doing everything your way. You’ve done nothing but screw up my life since we met. From now on, I’ll be calling the shots.”

“The hell you are. You’re living on borrowed time as it is.”

Tess laughs.

He turns in the saddle. “What’s so funny?”

“You. You’re what’s funny. Think you’re some hotshot. No, you’re a wannabe. Just a worthless, weasel wannabe. You’ve got this all backwards. We don’t need you. Not anymore. And I’m tired of being your surrogate mommy—somebody you can cling to, who won’t leave you all alone, staring out a window, worrying whether she’ll ever come home. No. Go ahead and stand by that damn window if you want. But get it straight. This ‘mommy’s’ never coming home to you again. Never. If anybody around here’s living on borrowed time, it’s you.”

Bryce turns away from her. “What makes you think you can handle Chandler on your own?”

“I’ve got the leverage of three murder raps—on top of
two
granddaughters.” She mutters, “Once we find the little bitch.”

I grit my teeth and stand up. “What are you talking about, ‘two granddaughters?’ And what murders?”

She glares at Bryce. “First,
the sheriff thinks Chandler killed that bum at the shack the night it burned down—we all thought the poor schlep was Bryce. They also want him for Eric’s murder. On top of that, Bryce just set him up to take the fall for killing a local lawyer named Roy.”

Bryce mutters, “Amy’s his granddaughter and so are you.”

First, I’m Tess’s daughter? Now I’m some rich dude’s granddaughter? Makes no sense. But it keeps me alive … whatever. I narrow my eyes. “Since I’m worth a million bucks to you, seems like you should be treating me with kid gloves.”

Tess sneers. “Stay out of this. Chandler doesn’t know about you—and until I give him proof, he’ll just think we’re trying to scam him. But the proof’s right here.” She pats her breast.

Bryce clutches the stock of the rifle that’s hanging by a leather strap next to his knee. “She’s bluffing. Let’s get a move on before that fire catches up with us.”

Tess reaches in front of Bryce and starts untying the end of the rope that’s tied to the saddle horn. Bryce grips her hands. “Don’t get so grabby. I’ll say when I want to be touched.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean what I said. Just thought it would be safer if I hold the rope. She’s less likely to fall and break her neck.”

Bryce lets go of her hands. “Fine, and while you’re at it, you can start worrying about what I’m liable to do, once ….”

In a blink, she draws the rope tight around his throat, pulling harder and harder. “Say good night—for good, you ugly bastard.”

Bryce clutches the rope, gasps for breath. Tess cinches the rope tighter. He jerks from one side to the next—reaches back for her hands. She yanks down on the rope, pulling his head against her chest. He tries to turn in the saddle, his arms fall to his sides. His head droops. His body goes limp. Tess loosens the rope from around his neck—shoves him to the ground. I study his lifeless body. Always thought I’d dance at the sight of him dead, but instead, I’m frozen in disbelief.

She climbs down and unties my wrists. “Cooperate and you get to live….” Her cold, hard eyes start to twinkle. “And in grand style, I might add.”

My shoulders slump, my mind is numb. A question comes out of me—don’t even know how or why. “How you going to prove I’m his granddaughter?”

“Trust me, I’ve got it handled. But cross me, and you’re dead.”

I nod.

“Now, get up in the saddle. That fire’s not going to stand still for us.”

From on top of the mare, I glance down once more at Bryce’s corpse.

Tess prods the horse. “Only room for the two of us—good riddance.”

Deputy Sheriff Baker

M
y feet are propped up on my desk as Grimes walks into the substation and reports that he’s faxed the handbills to all the evacuation centers.

I sit up in my chair. “It’s just a waiting game at this point. Forest Service says the fire’s burning slowly—staying on the ridge—moving toward Chandler’s place. But if the wind picks up, it’ll charge through like a thoroughbred down the backstretch at Santa Anita.”

“Hope they give us plenty of time to alert folks if there’s an evacuation order.”

“I’m sure they’ll do their best.”

Grimes turns to walk away then looks back. “Oh, the dog lady is on her way back home. Told her we wouldn’t be needing her anymore.”

“Yeah, that was a bust.”

“Think we’ll get another shot at bringing in Chandler? Hate to think he’ll get away.”

“Don’t worry, Grimes. Justice will be served—one way or the other.”

The phone rings. Grimes turns and waits.

“Sheriff’s substation, Deputy Baker speaking.”

The caller reports, “Weather Service says the wind’s shifting to westerly at ten miles per hour—building to twenty—expect gusts to forty ....”

When I hang up, I look at Grimes. “This thing is bearing down on Chandler’s place, and it’ll have quite a head of steam by the time it gets there. Of course as the fire gets hotter, it’ll create its own wind ... and higher wind speeds. They might have to ground the choppers at some point.”

His eyes widen. “It’ll be a disaster if the flames jump the highway, or if the wind shifts and blows the fire into town. So what’s their plan?”

“They’re building a firebreak along the highway. Airborne assets are spreading retardant in the fire’s path. Controlled burns to check the fire’s progress are ‘under consideration’ at this point.”

“They’d better make a decision soon, while the winds are still down.”

“They’ve got their jobs ... we’ve got ours. Let’s get do it.”

RJ

My head throbs. The butt of Bryce’s rifle left a nasty gash. Pain shoots through my neck, too. I squirm, work my hands into the back pocket where I keep the pocket knife Uncle Eric gave me—the one with the church key for those times you come across a bottle of beer that needs opening. Good thing that Bryce creep didn’t pat me down before he tied me up. I pull out the pocket knife. Feel for the edge of the blade—pinch it between the tips of two fingers—open it.

Damn. Slips out of my hand. I roll on my side fishing behind me for the knife. A helicopter’s drone on the other side of the ridge gets louder. It’s not just ash falling. Embers, too.

Found it. Push the blade up between my wrists—grip the knife as tight as I can with the tips of my fingers and thumbs—roll on my back—use the ground to help hold it—slide the blade back and forth across the rope—keep working it. It takes a few minutes, but I cut through. Turn to my side and wriggle my hands free. Sit up and untie the knot at my ankles. Scramble to my feet. Look around to get my bearings.

It’s only a matter of time before the fire breaks over the crest and starts scarfing down the fuel on this side. Not a safe escape route anymore. But if I cross the ridge and head straight down, I should find myself pretty close to Uncle Eric’s ranch—and with any luck, the stallion will be waiting at the barn door.

As I get close to the top, the air burns my throat and lungs. A flash of heat on the crest sucks the wind out of me—every bit of moisture sapped from my eyes. I drop to one knee. An explosion off to my right is followed by trees thundering to the ground. Can’t stay here. Don’t dare go over the top. Have to outrun it. Stay just below the crest until it’s safe to cross over. But the heat’s too much to stand up. Have to crawl.

The ground gets hotter by the second. Can’t stop. Have to keep moving. Another explosion … right overhead. Limbs come crashing down. I look up. A large flaming branch—headed right at me. I scramble ....

Mercedes

The reins tempt me. Tess can’t see my hands gripping the saddle horn—she’s behind me in the saddle. I see hers real good, though. She’s got a loose hold on the reins. I could just grab them. ’Course, the pain in my shoulder reminds me of why I hate horses. But I gotta get back to RJ—what other chance does he have? I glance over my shoulder at her. “So you never answered my question back there.”

“What question?”

“How you going to prove I’m this rich dude’s granddaughter? I thought
you’re
supposed to be my mother. How does that work?”

“Don’t get sassy with me ... I told you ... I’ve got it handled.”

“No ... seriously.” I force a laugh. “Are you his bastard daughter, an oops from some drunken one-night-stand he forgot ever happened?”

She lets go of the reins in her right hand and slaps me hard on the side of the head.

I yank the reins out of her left hand and plant my elbow hard in her gut.

She hammers both fists into my bad shoulder. “You little bitch ....”

Pain shoots through my neck and arm. I slump forward, face buried in the horse’s mane. My hand goes numb.

She grabs the reins and pulls the mare to a stop. Pushes me off.

I collapse to my knees.

She jumps down and stands over me. “I need to deliver you to Chandler in one piece—but, that doesn’t mean you’re going to be a pretty sight. Now up on your feet.”

I stand slowly, hunched over, holding my throbbing shoulder.

Tess takes rope and binds up my wrists. As she boosts me up, I slump over the saddle horn … slip in and out of consciousness, catching glimpses of RJ’s freckled face racing in and out of my mind.

Bryce

This damn ground’s hard. My head’s all fogged up. What the hell happened? Grab my throat —neck burns like I scraped myself shaving, big time. Throat’s sore—almost swollen shut. Can’t swallow. Can’t breathe.

A crack—an explosion—somewhere close. What the hell’s going on? I prop myself up. Open my eyes. Right eye’s sore—like I got poked with a damn finger. Blurry. Everything’s flat white, colorless—except for tiny gray spots floating in front of me. My head starts spinning. A ringing in my ears. I lie down. Got a headache—a bad one, worse than any hangover. Close my eyes. My heart’s pumping in overdrive.

That damn whore! She tried to kill me. I grabbed for the rope—choking. Strong bitch. Never fought me so hard. She yanked the rope tighter. Popped a damn blood vessel in my eye. Sore as hell. I remember thinking,
this is it—meet your maker
. Broads have dumped me before—even my fuckin’ mother—but shit, none of them tried to kill me.