Chapter Seven

“Hey! You guys okay?”

Birley drew back from Harmony as his brother called out from behind him.

Dylan ran toward them, his big-ass boots clomping in the snow. As a volunteer firefighter, he usually assisted medics in traffic emergencies or rescued farm animals from poorly built fences. Fires were rare, but every firefighter worth his or her salt could handle a hose. He clutched blankets in his arms. His bulky turnout gear—flame-resistant pants and coat—sheathed his frame, and a breathing apparatus hung from his back.

“Do you need air?” Dylan draped a blanket over Harmony’s shoulders and then did the same for Birley. He snatched his breathing mask from a strap on his coat. “Any burns? Are you having trouble breathing?”

“No, I’m fine. Just shaken.” Harmony clutched the wool fabric and rubbed her nose, smearing soot.

“Same here. It’s good to see you.” Birley hugged his brother, and Dylan’s radio and flashlight jabbed him in the chest. His heart pounded so hard and fast his ribs strained. What was he going to do? He drew back. “Were you on call? Are the kids all right?”

“Of course they are. Erica is with them.” Dylan refastened the mask and cringed as flames ballooned higher from the strings room. “I was sleeping like a baby when my radio crackled. As soon as I heard the address, bam—” He smacked his gloved hands together. “—I was wide awake. What the hell happened?”

Birley bit his grimy tongue and spit on the ground. Goddamn it. Heat flared up his neck, despite the cold seeping through his clothes and pricking his skin. This was his fault.

A firefighter dragged a hose toward the side of the house and blasted water at the window. Flames sizzled and popped. Smoke and the stench of burning wood thickened the air.

“C’mon. Let’s give the guys room to work.” Dylan gripped Birley and Harmony by their arms and pulled them across the yard.

“I’m sorry, Dylan.” Prickly bushes snagged Birley’s coat. He tunneled his fingers through his messy hair and flung aside a glob of melting snow. “This is on me.”

Dylan snapped his shoulders back as Harmony’s eyes bulged.

“No, it’s not.” She clasped Birley’s arm and frowned at Dylan. “Some guy named Delwin did this. Birley stopped him from tossing another bottle through a window.”

“Bottle? This is arson? I was thinking an accident or an electrical issue.” Dylan’s voice dropped an octave. “Who the fuck is Delwin? Why is he burning down our school?”

Birley choked. He had to breathe, or Dylan would wrestle him to the ground and force him to suck air in from the mask. How humiliating. He opened his mouth, trying to get the words out, but his throat clogged.

Harmony sighed, shaking her head. “The smoke alarm blared like the devil and woke us up. We headed downstairs to check, and one of the practice rooms was on fire. Birley got a fire extinguisher. It helped some, but then I heard a crash in another room.” She brushed specks of ash from Birley’s coat. “I almost had to drag him out of there.”

“Damn it. When there’s a fire, always get out of the building, if you can. Don’t try to stop it.” Dylan stepped back and rolled his hands into his fists. “A beam could’ve fallen and hit you on the head, Birley. The flames could’ve leapt on you. Who knows what kind of carcinogens are in the smoke. The smoke that both of you breathed in. What if—”

“Enough, Dylan. Don’t preach at me.” Birley jerked from Harmony’s hold.

“You damn well need me to.” He thrust his arm toward the house. “The outside stairs were installed for a reason—to avoid the first floor. What were you thinking?”

“I was trying to save the school, our parents’ dream. Everything they’ve worked for. What we work for.” The words lashed from his tongue. Birley stomped closer to his brother, invading his space. “Don’t you dare get all high and mighty on me, has-been.”

“Screw you, man.” Dylan pushed him back, knocking the blanket from Birley’s shoulders. “I’ve never rubbed your mistakes in your face, but you get a kick out of doing it to me. It ends now. No more jabs about my band or the things I did back then. You disapproved of it; I get it. You were more vocal about your opinions than Mom and Dad.”

“Because I love you, and you were ruining your life.”

Dylan rolled his eyes. “At least I was living my dream. You don’t have any.”

Birley growled and lunged for him, but Harmony jumped in between them.

“Stop it. Both of you.” She shoved them back from each other. “Now is not the time for petty arguments. You’re adults. Act like it.”

Birley breathed hard, his lungs straining for air. His brother was in luck. If not for Harmony, he would be kicking Dylan’s ass. A whiff of smoke sliced down his sore throat. The stench burned his nostrils. Shit. Was he on fire? He coughed, fighting to clear his sinuses.

“Don’t fight me on this, Birley.” Dylan shoved the mask to Birley’s mouth and twisted a valve on his air tank.

Birley cursed but clutched the mask, holding onto his brother’s hand. Fresh, clean oxygen flowed down his esophagus and expanded his lungs. He shuddered. A wave of dizziness swamped him, but he blinked rapidly and focused. How about that? He really did need this, but he hadn’t sucked in that much smoke. Right?

“Breathe normally. Don’t force it.” Dylan grasped the back of Birley’s head and supported his neck. His lips moved as though he was counting the seconds. Then he pulled the mask back. “Better? Can you breathe without trouble?”

Birley inhaled a great gasp of air. It wasn’t as crisp as the heaven in the tank, but his throat didn’t burn or contract with the intake. He nodded and licked his dry lips.

Flashing blue lights lit the rear of the street. Two police cruisers whipped into the parking lot.

About damn time. Birley wrapped the blanket back around him. “I’m sorry. You’re not a has-been. I’ve always respected your choice to do your own thing, even though I didn’t like what you were doing. I just…I’ve made a mistake. I shouldn’t take my frustrations out on you.”

“What mistake?”

“Delwin Abbott did this.” Birley spat the foul words like he’d drunk a glass of poison.

“Who?” His brother scowled at him.

“I second that,” John Stevenson called out from the lot. The stocky, dark-haired sheriff’s deputy rounded the bushes. He plucked a notepad and pen from a leather pouch on his belt. “Start from the beginning.”

Birley and Harmony rehashed the story, from the alarm to Delwin’s escape.

The officer jotted something in his pad. “Who is this Delwin to you, Birley? The name sounds familiar.”

“A former coworker. He worked at the school about six years ago. Dad was hesitant about hiring him—he’d spent some time in prison for minor drug use—but Delwin could play a mean guitar. He didn’t have a history of violence or sexual offense, and I wanted to give him a chance.” He scrubbed his face and eased the tension pounding behind his eyes. “I later caught him and a fifteen-year-old student having sex in one of the practice rooms.”

Harmony grimaced and plucked her gloves from her jacket pocket.

“Damn. Now I remember.” Dylan snapped free the buckle on his helmet and stuffed the hard plastic shell between his arm and the side of his body. His hair sprang up at odd angles. “I was living in New York at the time, but Mom and I talked about this. The guy was arrested and sent to prison, right?”

“Oh yeah.” John pursed his lips. “The cops found him hiding at his mom’s place. He spent weeks in County before his sentencing.”

“The DA pressed charges for statutory rape, and he got eight years.” Birley clamped his jaw. What was heating him up more? The anger surging through his body, or the heat billowing from the house? “He was probably released early for good behavior. Hell if I know. He’s also probably the person vandalizing the property.”

“Revenge is a cut-and-dry motive.” Dylan crossed his arms over his chest.

Harmony gripped Birley’s hand. “What happened to the girl?”

“She was furious at me for getting her boyfriend in trouble.” Birley finger-quoted the air. “Her parents almost sued us for hiring an unscrupulous man, but Dad and his lawyer talked them out of it. We had no idea Delwin would do something like that, so any claim against us wouldn’t have held up in court. The girl and her parents later moved away.”

The academy’s enrollment for the following year had dropped. His parents filed in-depth background checks on the remaining employees and talked to numerous reporters about the incident. After the negative hoopla had died down, the students returned.

Just what he needed. That old bad press would haunt Birley and his family again once the media got wind of Delwin Abbott’s latest crime. Would the business and the Haynes family’s reputation survive another round of slander?

The firefighter shooting water into the strings room snapped the shut-off valve on the hose. Smoke drifted from the shattered window. Char marks gnawed the trim.

How many instruments were damaged beyond repair? At least his sax was safe in his bedroom. He never used it for his tutoring lessons. That was his baby and his alone. Hell, was the upstairs even safe? How far had the fire and smoke spread?

“It’s my fault Delwin got a job here. Dad saw through his easy-going façade, but not me.” Birley grasped his queasy stomach. “I should’ve kept tabs on him. If I’d known he was out, I would’ve—God, I don’t know.”

“You should’ve contacted us, if you’d seen him around here.” John tapped the metal badge pinned on his jacket. “From now on, don’t take matters into your own hands. Call us.”

“Look at what he’s done to my school.” Birley pointed at the house.

“I’m sure your parents would rather lose this place than you, Birley.” Harmony clutched his arms and turned him to face her. “What if Delwin had a weapon? He could’ve killed you.”

“Don’t think like that, babe.” He cupped her cold, smudged cheek. Her ski jacket, slacks, and the blanket couldn’t be providing much warmth. If only they could’ve had time to dress properly before hightailing it out of his bedroom.

“How could I not? You guys were fighting like feral cats.” Her voice heightened. “You tried to give Delwin a chance, and he messed up. What he’s done is on him, not you. You’re a good man, Birley. Don’t let one bad choice—made for a good reason—affect the way you see yourself. Besides, I just found you again. I can’t lose you, not to a fire or to some asshole who hates you.”

Yet she was planning to move to California. He hugged her. How could he ever let her go? He scanned the area.

A police officer was wrapping yellow caution tape around the trees and stringing it across the property. Birley’s neighbors watched from their porches.

The fire had died down, but now water soaked the rooms. If the flames hadn’t destroyed thousands of dollars worth of instruments and furniture, the water and ice would have.

Fire Chief Redmond Brunner hustled toward them. “It’s a helluva thing, Birley. We contained the blaze to two rooms. Smoke filled the hallway, but very little crept elsewhere since all the doors were closed.”

Birley sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Good. Mom and Dad have always insisted on using non-flammable cleaners for the instruments, which we store in each room, but bleach and chemical stuff like that are in the hall closet. If the fire had reached it—kaboom.” Ugh. His dinner returned, and he swallowed back the bitter upchuck.

“Harmony is fine, Chief, but my hard-headed brother has been coughing.” Dylan clapped Birley on the shoulder and smirked at him. “Get a lot of rest. Suck on some lozenges or hard candy for a few days to soothe your throat. If you develop a persistent cough, go to the clinic for a checkup.”

“I’ll take it easy. Don’t worry.” Yeah, right. He had a house to fix and the press to handle. Damage control early on could make or break the business.

Dylan snorted. “If you expect me to believe that, you breathed in more smoke than I thought and lost a few dozen brain cells. You’re a nutjob when it comes to this place. I’m surprised you haven’t hyperventilated.”

Birley rolled his eyes. If his baby brother tried to mother him, God help them both.

Harmony shot him a small smile.

He wrapped his arm around her. Smoke masked the honey scent of her hair, and he winced. What had he been thinking? By trying to put out the fire, he’d risked her life. Of course, she wouldn’t have left the house without him. If she had, she probably would’ve run into Delwin. A red haze flashed over his eyes, blurring his vision. Had the man attacked her, nothing could’ve stopped Birley from pulverizing him into a bloody mess.

Chief Brunner grinned at Harmony. “It’s good to see you again, Ms. Holdich. Sorry, but I don’t remember your married name.”

Birley tightened his grip on her, trying to give her strength.

A thin smile curved her mouth. She shook the chief’s hand. “Corwin, but it’s all right. I’m back to Holdich. Please, call me Harmony.”

“Yes, ma’am. Harmony.” Brunner rubbed his mustache. “Listen, Birley. You can’t stay here, but we’ll inspect the scene right away. My arson investigator is on his way. He’ll document and photograph the interior damage and the non-damaged areas for comparison, as well as the building exterior.”

“Photograph? It’s dark out. I don’t know if the electricity is working.” Birley wiped his runny nose on the blanket. Would the investigator set up studio lights?

Dylan tsked. “What century are you living in, bro? These cameras are high-tech. They have special functions that can light up the school like the Fourth of July.”

Of course. Birley should’ve realized that, but he wasn’t thinking straight.

The chief bobbed his head. “If the building is structurally sound, you can return to clean out the mess and move back in upstairs. If it’s not, you can come by with a safety escort—Dylan will do—and get what you need from your apartment to stay elsewhere. This sure looks like arson, especially with that little cocktail.” He pointed toward the bottle as a firefighter placed a plastic orange cone beside it. “But the investigator still has to inspect the scene. Knowing him, he’ll want to interview you and Harmony. Clear your schedules for later today.”

“Sure.” Harmony drew back from Birley. “What happens next?”

“If the investigator rules arson, the police will take over the case and search for the culprit.” John scribbled another note.

“Delwin Abbott is your guy, John.” Birley trailed his fingers down his date’s arm, needing to touch her. “Do you mind if I join you at the inn?”

“I can’t get back in, unless I call and wake up Nate. He lives on-site and has a master key, but I don’t want to bother him so early. My room key is in my purse, which is in your living room.”

Birley grimaced. “My parents won’t mind if we crash with them.”

“They won’t mind you, but I might be another story. Do you have your phone? I should call Stan. I hate waking him up, but at least he’s family. His lumpy sofa is waiting for me.”

Birley handed her his cell, then she stepped away for privacy. Fine. If she didn’t want to be involved further in this mess, so be it.

“Speaking of parents.” Dylan cocked his head to the right. “Here they are.”

Birley sighed as his parents’ minivan parked across the street. “Ah, man. Erica probably called them.”

“One of my fellow officers did after your security company notified us.” John slid the pen and pad back in the pouch as static echoed from the handheld radio on his belt. “Excuse me.” He unclipped the radio and strode toward the curb.

“Hey, Chief. Could ya come here?”

The voice echoed behind Birley. He turned as one of the firefighters near the truck waved his arm.

“Now, what?” The chief grunted and wiped his brow. “Call me in the morning before you come back, Birley. Until further notice, this place is a crime scene. Give my best to Freddie and Brenda. Will you tell them what happened?”

“You got it.” Birley rolled his stiff shoulders as Brunner hurried off.

Harmony returned and handed him the smartphone. “The battery is on one bar, and I couldn’t get a signal.”

Sure enough, the Charge Battery symbol was flashing in the top right corner. If his little head hadn’t been in command earlier, he would’ve noticed the power issue when he last checked the device.

Several new texts from Erica clogged his inbox. Yikes. He’d been so focused on fighting the fire, then trying to stop Delwin, he didn’t hear or feel the buzzing phone. He slid it back in his pocket as his parents raced toward him.

“Oh, Birley. Thank God.” Brenda threw herself into his arms. “My baby. You’re safe.”

Still her baby at thirty-one? Yup. He was doomed.

The fur-rimmed hood of her parka tickled his nose. Birley twisted free from her hold and swiped a smudge of soot from her coat. He kissed her pale cheek. “I’m fine, Mom. Just frustrated and stressed. I’m sorry. I tried to put out the fire, but—”

“Stop.” She placed her fingers on his lips. Creases framed her teary eyes. “You got out. Both of you did. Nothing else matters.” A small smile lifted her lips as she faced Harmony.

“Hi, Brenda.” Harmony blushed and scraped the toe of her boot in the snow. “I—um—will you believe I heard about the fire through the grapevine, so I stopped by to check on Birley?”

“At two o’clock in the morning? Nope. Come here, sweetie. I’m happy you’re okay.” Brenda hugged her.

“Your mother has been frantic since we got the call.” Freddie drew Birley in for a one-armed squeeze and hugged Dylan with his other arm. After he pulled back, he looked each man in the eye. “You boys and your sister are everything to Mom and me. Without you, this academy means squat.” His forehead wrinkled as he licked his chapped lips. “Give Erica a call, Dylan. She’s been texting us for updates.”

Dylan blinked back tears and pivoted away. He grabbed his cell from his pocket.

Their father rarely made impassioned speeches, but Birley never doubted the man’s love. He swallowed the excess saliva in his mouth. “You’re right, family is important, but I’m not going to let Delwin Abbott destroy our business.”

“Abbott? He did this?” Freddie stiffened, his bloodshot eyes widening. His bulky flannel coat hung over his sweater and slacks, and his shoes sank in the first layer of snow.

“It’s a long story. A PR nightmare.” Maybe he should move to California? He’d rather deal with a beach rash on his ass than worry about this crap.

No. He couldn’t leave. Family stuck together, especially at the worst of times, but how would he explain this to his kids? Andy might understand, but not Kay. They were so young, impressionable. What if he and his children couldn’t return home for a few days or weeks? Would that scare them, unsettle them in their quiet, safe little world?

The divorce had given Andy nightmares about both his parents abandoning him. Would those bad thoughts resurface if Andy lost his home?

Birley straightened his spine, despite the ache running through his back. “I’ll explain everything, Dad, but how about we head to your place? I’m cold, hungry, and I need a shower.”

The chill had finally crept in. His teeth chattered. As Harmony shivered and rubbed her arms, he pulled her close. Bring on the body heat.

Brenda nodded. “Yes, sure. You must be pooped. Are you coming, too, Harmony?”

“No, I don’t want to be an inconvenience, but I’ll need a ride to Uncle Stan’s.” She plucked at her jacket.

“Nonsense. When have you ever been that to this family? Come with us.”

Harmony blinked her hazel-green eyes and smiled at the other woman. “Okay, thanks. I should call Stan when we get to your house. He’ll be worried about me once he hears of the fire. Whenever you’re ready to clean up, count me in.”

“Thank you. We’ll need all the help we can get.” Brenda hiccupped and stared at the old Victorian. Tears washed her cheeks.

Freddie hugged her, propping her up as Birley had done with Harmony earlier.

Birley’s throat tightened, his mouth dry. In thirty years, he and Harmony could be like his parents—devoted to each other and more in love now than they were the day they’d married. If only Harmony would give him that chance.