Page 95 of Rest In Pink

I had no idea. I looked but the fire was in the back and I couldn’t see. But the amount of black smoke rising up was scary. “I don’t know,” I said, wishing I was better at lying, but a lie wouldn’t change what was going to happen.

Patsy hustled out the office door with a shotgun in one hand. “I called nine-one-one,” she yelled to us. “Stay there.” She sprinted across the parking lot toward the old creaking windmill. She slung the shotgun over her shoulder and clambered up ten feet and jerked on a chain.

What sounded like a foghorn roared, the sound echoing across the parking lot, over to Burney and along the river and up the valley into the hills. Peri covered her ears. Patsy sounded it six times, then climbed down and ran toward the back of the garage.

In minutes, I saw trucks and cars coming from up the valley, from Over-the-Hill, and people running to help. They raced into the parking lot and jumped out with fire extinguishers and shovels and buckets and ran toward the garage. A couple were hooking up hoses while others ran the lines to the garage. There must have been twenty of them, men and women.

I said to Peri, “I think it’s going to be all right.”

Then I heard the fire engine, and I said, “I know it’s going to be all right.”

Peri looked up at me. “Is that Mac coming?”

“Yes.”

She nodded and leaned into me, sighing a little, but not shaking any more.

It means a lot to a kid when she knows she has backup.

Means a lot to an adult, too,I thought, and then closed my eyes and prayed.

“It’s going to be okay,” Peri said.

“Yes,” I said, and didn’t really know if that was true.

I just needed it to be.

Chapter Forty-Four

We stopped it.

It took all of us. Garden hoses wetting down the unburned wood, volunteers shoveling dirt into the flames, household fire extinguishers from people’s homes and trucks making a dent, and finally the big fire truck pulling up with Chief Olson and Mac and his brother Chris and the rest of his crew. Once they got their lines going, it was over within minutes. I think Liz had surprised Mickey before he could do a proper job since there were two full gas cans about thirty feet away, where his motorcycle had been parked and just one empty one near the garage. He must have rolled in from the hills in neutral, engine off to get there unnoticed while I stood out front like an idiot.

I was hot and tired and pissed at Mickey Pitts, but in the back of my mind I still needed to know how Liz felt about the car. Will and Patsy were thanking the people who’d shown up and the firefighters. The rear wall of the old garage was scorched and some wood would have to be replaced, but the frame was solid and would hold.

As I came around the garage to go to Liz, George intercepted me.

“You saw Mickey Pitts?” he asked. “It was definitely him?”

I nodded. “Liz ran into him in the back.” I pointed. “He took off on his dirt bike into the woods. Could be anywhere by now.”

“We’ve got to stop him, Vince.”

“I know. We’ll get him.”

George didn’t look encouraged but headed over to confer with Olson.

Will was walking among the locals who’d answered the call, thanking them while Patsy was checking the damage. I went over to her.

“What’s with the horn?” I asked her.

“Our dad was head of the local volunteer fire department for decades,” Patsy said as she kicked a board to check soundness. I could tell she was calculating up lumber and repair costs in her head. “We even kept the old fire truck in one of the bays. That was before we finally got the full-time crew and the department moved into town.” She nodded toward the people. “They remember it, even if they were just kids.”

“But they all showed up,” I said. Even Bobby and Shelly were there. “They can’t all have been volunteer firefighters.”

Patsy stopped her evaluation and a slight smile crossed her face. “Will. That’s why. The people from Over-the-Hill? Almost all of them owe him. I give him crap about it all the time but he was right. He’d fix people’s cars so they could get to work or take their kid to school even if they couldn’t pay. We’ve got so many outstanding invoices it drives me nuts. Most come in and pay a little when they can. Some people barter. We’ve gotten pigs, corn, tomatoes. Heck, I haven’t bought summer produce in years.” She shook her head and I swear I saw a sheen in her eyes. “I give him so much grief about it. That it’s not the right way to run a business, but it’s Will, you know?”

“I know,” I said and put a hand on her shoulder because what else was there to say?

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