Page 7 of Fear of Flames
“Then how do you know where everything is?”
“Because people are predictable. All you need to do is open your eyes and look around.” After adding the coffee grounds and water, Fletch turned away from the old-school coffee pot and crossed his arms over his wide chest. “Tell me about Tracy’s death.”
Chapter
Three
Tracy—her mother.
“How do you know about my mom?”
Michelle’s thoughts went back to eight years ago. The years warped into seconds of snapshots. A rapid display of images ran through her thoughts, their speed increasing like cards shuffled into a deck. She recalled that night.
Michelle opened the door to their home, the house where she’d lived most of her life with both her parents. Located south of Indianapolis, Indiana, the small city was quiet and uneventful. Michelle went to school in the area from kindergarten all the way through high school, where she was part of the State Championship Band. She made it home more often her first year away. Her sophomore year at Purdue University kept her busier. With her job, classes, and friends, she’d only made it back home one other time. It was already semester and holiday break.
“Mom. Dad,” Michelle said loudly as she stepped inside the house. She called out again. Nothing. That wasn’t like her parents. Usually, they were waiting for her. They knew she was on her way.
The inclement weather on I-65 and resulting traffic wasn’t conducive to a quick drive. What usually took an hour and a half, doubled. Three hours after leaving her apartment, she was finally home.
Michelle dropped her backpack by the front door and called again, her voice echoing throughout the house. A decorated tree in the living room was the only illumination, filling the room with vibrant, colorful lights. A smile curled her lips as she walked toward the tree, drawn by the memories of the ornaments.
Her mom never threw anything away.
Her smile grew as she stared down at the picture of a toothless, childish her pasted to a wooden tree. Flipping the ornament, the year was written on the back. She made it for her parents in the first grade.
The ring of Michelle’s phone made her jump.
Pulling it from the pocket of her jeans, she saw the screen said Mom. “Hi, where are you?”
“Oh good, you’re home. I wanted to be there before you arrived,” Mom replied. “I’m doing some last-minute shopping. And your father got called into work.”
Michelle’s heart sank. She wasn’t expecting a welcome-home party, but she was expecting her parents. Disappointment sounded in her tone. “How long does Dad have to work?”
“Until seven tomorrow morning. There’s a convention in town, and they needed more officers on the street.”
There was always something. As the daughter of a police officer, Michelle was used to the interruptions caused by his work. “Are you coming home soon?”
“Yes,” Mom replied. “I’ll bring home a pizza, and we can catch up.”
After ending Mom’s call, she saw that she’d missed a few text messages. They were from high school friends. Their tight group had scattered to different colleges. Now, everyone was in town for the holiday. They were all asking her to meet them at Misty’s house. It was an impromptu get-together, and they wanted Michelle with them.
Michelle wasn’t trying to be difficult or rebellious. She was simply young. Instead of staying and waiting alone, she quickly wrote a note to her parents and left. When the party grew late, Michelle sent a text to her mom saying she was spending the night. After all, she still had her suitcase in her trunk.
* * *
“We can catch up tomorrow,” Michelle texted.
* * *
At nearly four in the morning, the house of friends awakened to screaming sirens. Firetrucks and police cars raced past the front window as each friend woke up, drawn to the parade of lights.
“Did you hear something before the sirens?” Misty asked.
“No, I was asleep.”
“I did,” Taylor, another girl camped in the living room, said. “It was like an explosion or an earthquake.”
Indiana rarely had earthquakes.
