Firebreak (Josie Gray Mysteries #4)(9)

Josie and Dell left and wound their way down the road to the next house, owned by Smokey and Vie Blessings. Smokey was a city council member whom Josie had worked with for many years. He was a voice of reason whenever Mayor Moss tried to fight Josie’s decisions. Josie was also friends with Smokey’s wife, Vie, a nurse at the town’s trauma center. Where Smokey was easygoing, Vie was passionate. She was often the only nurse working in an ER that shared rotating physicians because of the town’s small size and remote location. Vie got things done.

When Josie and Dell got out of the car and approached the house, they found Smokey standing by their pickup truck, his face red and angry. Josie reached her hand out and shook Smokey’s. “You heard about the mandatory evacuation? Fire chief wants you out immediately. The fire is too unpredictable right now.”

“I know about the evacuation. Tell my wife! I can’t get her out of that house. I don’t know what’s wrong with her.” Smokey turned back and glanced toward the truck, where his sixteen-year-old son was sitting, staring down at his cell phone. “Donny’s been sitting in there for fifteen minutes while she keeps dragging out more junk we don’t need. I can’t get her to stop and listen.”

Josie was stunned. She’d never seen Smokey lose his cool. “Let me go talk to her.”

Dell offered to help Smokey throw the suitcases situated behind the pickup into the bed, and she ran inside the house. It was a two-story stone house, decorated with Southwest fabrics and patterns. Josie heard noise from the hallway to the left of the front door and found Vie digging in a closet in what appeared to be a craft or sewing room.

“Vie, it’s Josie.”

Vie pulled out of the closet and Josie recognized the wide-eyed vacant look on her face as a combination of terror and shock. It was a look that Josie did not associate with the woman who remained in charge during whatever crisis was thrown at her at the trauma center. Vie said nothing, just stared at Josie, her eyes unblinking.

“Vie, you have to leave. The fire is headed this direction. None of this stuff is worth your life.”

Vie reached back into the closet and pulled out a box that appeared to hold memorabilia—baby books and a child’s blanket. “I can’t leave all this. I have boxes from Donny’s childhood. I’ve kept all this for him. I don’t have our photos yet. They’re in my bedroom.”

Josie put her hand on Vie’s arm to pull her from the closet but Vie jerked free. Josie reached for her again, this time grabbing hold in a tight grip. “Vie,” Josie said, her voice loud, her tone firm. “You are putting your son’s life in jeopardy right now. That fire is headed directly toward this house. Smokey and Donny are outside waiting on you.”

She turned and looked at Josie as if she’d been slapped. Tears welled up in her eyes. “We came from nothing. We built this home, piece by piece.”

Josie kept her hand on Vie’s arm and guided her out of the bedroom. Vie clutched the box but walked with Josie down the hallway. “You won’t lose those memories. You’ve made a great home for your family, and if you have to, you’ll rebuild. But we have to keep you safe. We need you to leave now so we can move on to the next family.”

They reached the door and Vie stopped again, staring at Josie for a moment before finally walking to the car without another word. She got into the passenger seat and Smokey backed out of the driveway without hesitation.

The next three homes were empty. As they reached the last home, Doug called and said it was time to get out. The flames from the peak of the fire were now visible. The fire was within a mile of the mudflats. The smell of smoke was strong now and the smoke completely blotted out any evening light.

Chester typically lay in the backseat and slept when he rode in a vehicle, but he was agitated now, whining, obviously alert to the danger they were facing. Josie was always amazed at the dog’s innate sense of natural dangers, such as approaching storms or fire.

Lights were on in the last home to check, but the front door was locked. Dell ran from window to window to see if someone was inside. Josie finally found the man in his woodshop behind the house. He was sitting on a stool at his workbench, whittling a small piece of wood and listening to the radio announcer discuss the evacuation. She knew him as a cantankerous retiree from the local bank who was now in his late eighties.

She told him, “Mr. Beeman, the fire is within a mile of your home. You are in extreme danger.”

He ignored her, refusing to look up.

Josie bent down, getting right next to him and speaking loudly. “You could die if you don’t leave.”

He swatted her off with his hand. “Get out and leave me be.”

Josie felt her face flush with anger. “Mr. Beeman, the flames are visible from here. It isn’t if the fire will burn your house, it’s when it will hit.”

He looked up and glared at her. “I’m not going anywhere. I got a storm cellar. That’s where I’ll go.”

“That cellar won’t do you any good if your burning house caves in on you!” She was furious at his unwillingness to help himself.

He turned back to his workbench and drew his whittling knife down the side of the piece of wood. Josie looked more closely at the piece and saw that it was in the shape of a heart, and he was carving the initial B in the center. His deceased wife’s name was Beatrice.