“Their lawyer sprang them already.”
“But why—”
“My turn. I got a bad feeling,” he said.
She hung up and stared at the phone. She was rubbing off on Garcia.
BERNADETTE PARKED a block over from Summit and jogged to the mansion, instinctively feeling the inside of her jacket pocket before remembering her gun was gone. When she got to the front door, Bernadette raised her fist to knock but hesitated. She had no idea what this was about, and Garcia had asked her not to go inside. Reluctantly, she stepped off to one side of the porch to wait.
She heard a vehicle rumbling down the street, but it wasn’t her boss; it was someone in a beat-up station wagon. She saw the driver slow in front of a neighbor’s house and toss a folded newspaper from the car window. It landed on the front stoop. Not a minute later, an early riser came out in his sweats and picked up his morning read.
Bernadette wondered if the carrier was going to stop in front of the VonHader place. She stepped away from the porch windows and watched while a newspaper landed on the sidewalk leading up to the steps.
“Shit,” she muttered. Afraid someone inside was going to come out for the paper, Bernadette took cover behind the army of statues. Several minutes went by, and she wondered if she was being too cautious. As she started to stand, the porch light flicked on. Ducking back down just in time, she heard the deadbolt slide open.
Peeking out from behind a statue, Bernadette saw the doctor step out onto the porch. “Damn paper boy.” Wrapping his robe tighter around his body, he pushed the screen door open and went outside to collect the morning news.
Immersed in the headlines, he paused in front of the door. With the porch light directly over his head, Bernadette was able to get a good look at his face. His mouth dropped open, and he put his hand out to steady himself against the doorframe. Whatever he was reading, it horrified him. “God, no,” he said under his breath.
The Dow is down, Bernadette thought cynically.
As he folded the paper in half and tucked it under his arm, his expression changed. Relaxed. It was almost one of surrender, and it disturbed Bernadette. He disappeared through the door, closing it and locking it behind him.
Something was wrong, and she was impatient to get inside. Abandoning her hiding spot, she went up to the porch windows to scan the street for Garcia’s car. She fished out her cell to call and then dropped the phone back into her pocket. He’d be there soon enough. She left her post at the windows and sat down on a concrete bench to wait.
______
INSIDE, LUKE VONHADER sat in front of the fireplace with a cup of coffee and a yellow legal pad. Tucked between two burning logs, the morning headlines erupted in flames and quickly collapsed into ash. Already yesterday’s news. Shuddering at the bitterness of his dark brew, he wished there had been cream in the house. He had meant to pick up a few groceries Monday, but the day had gotten away from him. Clicking his pen, he began to write.
Dear Liz:
All of the documents are where you’d expect them. If you have any questions, call Chip or one of his assistants. Susan in particular is up to speed on our holdings, as she handled matters related to my sister’s passing.
I suggest you sell our Scottsdale and Twin Cities properties and relocate to the East Coast. The private schools are good, and your mother would enjoy having you closer. Of course, it is entirely up to you.
DO NOT believe what you read in the papers and see on television. I know you will try to shield our daughters from the ugliness, but it will be difficult. Again, a move might be best for all concerned.
Kiss Em and Mel for me and tell them to take care of each other. I apologize for leaving my girls like this, but you more than anyone understand these demons of mine. I have lived with them for so long, they have taken over. Forgive the heartache I have caused you and try to move forward.
All my love, Luke
He set the pen and pad down on the coffee table and finished his drink. He carefully tore the sheet out of the pad and folded it in half, running his thumb along the crease. He folded it two more times and stood up to tuck the rectangle into the front pocket of his robe. He’d thought about finding a fireproof place to hide the letter, but he was confident the fire department would douse the fire before his body was incinerated.
He stepped up to the mantel and reached for one of his mother’s favorites, a tall Victorian pedestal oil lamp with a painted base and original crystal chimney.
Chapter 42
A POP INSIDE the house made Bernadette jump to her feet. She went to the door, knocked twice. No response.
The smoke she smelled was too acrid to be coming from a fireplace. She went over to the windows to check. The lace curtains were enveloped in flames. “Jesus Christ!” she gasped, backing away from the glass.
She ran to the front door and put her hand over the doorknob.
“Shit!” The knob was already too hot to touch, even with gloves on. She pounded on the wood with her fists. “Fire! Get out!”
Bernadette darted back to the windows but couldn’t see anything past the flames. “Luke!” she yelled to the glass. “Matt!”
She ran back to the door, lifted her foot, and brought it down on the lower panel.
Garcia was bounding up the porch steps. “Cat!”
Taking a step back, she raised her foot higher and kicked the door next to the lock. “There’s a fire!”
Garcia saw the flames through the glass. “Crap!” He flipped open his phone and called for help.
She brought her foot down on the wood a third time, and it bounced off. “You take this fucking thing!” she yelled.
He replaced her in front of the door while she ran to the other side of the porch. She lifted a bust off its pedestal and ran to the windows. Swinging the statue upside down by the neck, she heaved it through the middle panes. The sound of breaking glass was followed by a roar as flames rolled out of the hole. “God Almighty!”
Garcia cranked his foot back and brought it down against the middle of the door. The wood didn’t budge. “Try the back door!”
Bernadette pushed open the screen door, jumped off the steps, and ran around to the rear of the house. She went up the back steps and jiggled the back door’s knob. Locked. She pounded on the wood with both fists. “Fire! Get out!”
She heard glass breaking above her and ran down the steps and into the middle of the yard. A wooden chair came sailing out of a second-floor window and landed on the ground, exploding in a dozen pieces. Dressed in a T-shirt and boxers, Matthew VonHader stuck his torso through the broken window while smoke billowed out from behind him. “Help! Please help me!”
Bernadette heard sirens in the distance. “Help’s coming!”
He started coughing. “The smoke … I can’t … I don’t want to burn!”
“Stay low! Close the door and stuff a rag in the bottom!”
He turned away from the window and returned a moment later, coughing harder. “I can’t … see anything!”
“Jump!”
He looked down with saucer eyes. “No!”
“It’s not that far! Jump!”
Coughing and shaking his head, he answered, “I can’t!”
“Tie a sheet to something and climb down!”
He backed away from the window. Bernadette kept her eyes glued to the dark hole and became worried when he didn’t immediately reappear. “Matt!” she yelled up to the window. “Matt!”
Bernadette swept the yard with her eyes and in a far corner spotted a birdbath perched on a concrete column. She ran over to it, shoved off the bowl top, picked up the pedestal, and carried it to the back of the house. Using the pedestal as a battering ram, she slammed the bottom end against the middle of the door. The wood didn’t move. She raised the concrete as high as she could and brought the bottom of the column down on the doorknob. The hardware fell off. She set the pedestal down, caught her breath, and picked it up again.