Page 140 of Good Girls Lie
There is awhooshbehind me. A crackle. Then heat, searing heat.
It happens so quickly I barely have time to take a breath before the room is ablaze. The smoke billows, chasing me into the hall.
Uh-oh.
85
THE BURNING
The alarms go off with a clamor unlike anything I’ve heard before—sirens and screams, flashing white lights. The detective shoots us a glance and bolts out the door. The dean follows in her wake.
The sheriff puts a hand on my shoulder so I won’t run.
“You stick with me, and I won’t cuff you just yet. Understand?”
“It’s probably not occurred to you, Sheriff, but I have nowhere to go. Goode is my home now.”
His cell phone rings, and with another warning glance, he answers it. “Yeah, Kate. Yes. We can smell the smoke. Second floor? Got it.”
The dean comes back into her office. “The security panel says there’s a fire on the sophomores’ hall. The fire suppression system should have kicked in by now. I don’t know why it’s not. It’s new this year, they tested it, our art is—”
“Ford, we need to get everyone out.”
The dean turns on me, face ferocious. “Did you do this?”
“Me? No, Dean. I swear it.”
“The alarms started across from your room.”
“It’s her,” I breathe. “You know it is. She ruins everything. She’s trying to cover her tracks.”
“Come on, we can do this later.” The sheriff hurries me out of the dean’s office with a hand clamped on my shoulder. There is pandemonium in the hall.
The detective runs up, breathless. “We have to get the gates open, Tony. The fire trucks need to park in front of Main.”
“That’s a crime scene. Damn it all, Ford, why don’t you have cameras so we can see what the hell is happening?”
“You can berate me later. Damn, Tony, there’s real smoke here.”
She isn’t wrong. There is a fire burning, and burning hard. If it started across from my room, it’s Ashlyn, doing something to draw the attention away.
Has she done this for me? To give me a chance to escape the sheriff’s custody?
Possibly. But there’s nowhere for me to go. I refuse to run anymore.
Dr. Viridian, the chemistry teacher, is waving toward the dean. “The fourth floor is clear, so is the third. The fire is moving quickly. What happened to the suppression system?”
“It’s not working, Phyllis.”
Melanie, loyal assistant to the end, hurries forward, a handkerchief over her mouth.
“Dean, we have to get out. Now. The students are all outside. We’re doing a headcount. A few are missing.”
“Who?”
“We don’t know. We don’t know! But there are only 195 girls outside.”
I hear the fire now. It chuckles to life behind me, the ceilings are starting to blister.
