Fran screamed again. Through the haze, Erwin saw her fighting with a man dressed in black.
Erwin’s bowels churned, and he felt like his legs wouldn’t support him. This was just like what happened with Sheriff Streng. He wanted to make this all go away, to turn back time and not pick up the phone when Josh called and told him about the helicopter crash. Everything would work out better if he wasn’t a part of it.
The man in black hit Fran across the face, and she fell to the floor. Erwin watched him lift something—it looked like a sledgehammer—and hold it over Fran’s head.
Then he surprised himself by running into the burning house.
Jessie Lee Sloan tried to dial Erwin again and got that annoying message about the cell phone customer not being available. She threw the phone in her purse, annoyed. Why did anyone in Safe Haven even bother with cell phones? They were a cruel joke.
“Is Erwin coming?”
Mrs. Melody Montague, whom Jessie Lee had as a second-grade teacher and who still taught second grade all these years later, leaned into Jessie Lee’s personal space. Her breath smelled like mentholated cough drops, and Jessie Lee didn’t like her any more now than she did at age seven when Mrs. Montague taught them how to draw Thanksgiving turkeys by tracing their hands. The drawings didn’t look like birds—they looked like palm prints—and when Jessie Lee said so she was given a time-out in the corner.
“He’s coming,” Jessie Lee answered without facing the elderly woman.
“Isn’t this exciting? I suppose we should all be mad at Mayor Durlock for using the Safe Haven coffers to buy Powerball tickets, but what a treat that he’s sharing it with the whole town. What are you going to do with your forty-thousand dollars?”
“Eighty thousand,” Jessie Lee corrected. “After the wedding.”
“Of course. I’m sure it will make the wedding even more spectacular.”
Indeed it would. Sometimes it seemed to Jessie Lee that she’d been dreaming of her wedding day since her birth. Though Erwin wasn’t rich, he’d been working tirelessly to give her all that she wanted, which was one of the reasons she loved him. She had diamond earrings, and a thick gold Omega necklace with matching anklet, and was the only woman in Safe Haven with a Gucci handbag. Erwin treated her like a princess.
Even so, budgetary constraints had forced her to cut back on some of the more extravagant expenditures. But with this money the whole storybook fairy tale could come true. There would be ice sculptures, and a full orchestra, and a gourmet seven-course banquet, and a designer dress rather than one she found at the outlet mall. Her ceremony would be the talk of Safe Haven for years to come.
“Will the next person please come up for their check,” the lottery commissioner announced into the gymnasium’s PA system. He was a tall, roguishly handsome man who wore a strange black uniform. Mayor Durlock sat next to him, looking oddly depressed considering all of the excitement. Jessie Lee could guess that he was annoyed, having to share the money with the whole town. She certainly would be.
“Melody Montague.”
Mrs. Montague squealed and clapped her hands together. As with everyone else, the late hour and long line hadn’t depressed her in the least. She scurried up to the podium, shook the lottery commissioner’s hand, and he escorted her out of the gym, into the boys’ locker room.
A few seconds passed, and another, louder, squeal came from Mrs. Montague. The crowd on the bleachers chuckled, then resumed their conversations.
Jessie Lee looked at her watch, then surveyed the gym. Most of Safe Haven had shown up for this impromptu town meeting. In small towns, bad news traveled fast, but good news spread like lightning. The mayor’s initial phone call to his staff had ballooned into everyone calling everyone within fifteen minutes. And people still kept coming. As they entered the gym, the town treasurer, a wisp of a man named Rick Hortach, explained that they’d be cut a check and then added their name to the list. No one seemed bothered by the fact that it was almost one in the morning. Everywhere she looked, Jessie Lee saw big smiles and laughter.
Jessie Lee located her boss, Merv Johnson, in the crowd, spotting the glare of his bald head in the overhead lights. The entire town—Jessie’s apartment included—had been without electricity for the past hour, but the junior high boasted two huge gas-powered generators. Jessie Lee stood up and bleacher-walked down two flights, putting her hand on his large shoulder.
“Merv, you came in just before me, right?”
Merv shrugged, all three of his chins jiggling. “I dunno. Wasn’t paying attention. You think Corvettes are sexy?”
“Very sexy. Look, I saw the list, and you were one ahead of me. I need to run outside, have a smoke. If you get called next, tell them I’ll be right back.”
“Sure. What’s sexier, black or red?”
“Red, Merv. You’ll tell the commissioner?”
“No problem, Jessie Lee. Automatic or manual?”
“Automatic. That leaves your hand free for other things.”
Merv slapped his massive thigh and laughed. “Good call, Jessie Lee. I’ll make sure you don’t get skipped.”
Jessie Lee gave him a decidedly unsexy pat on the head, then made her way down the bleachers to the gym floor. A few people waved at her, giddy as children on Christmas morning. She waved back, grinning. Free money brought out the best in people.
Jessie Lee headed for the side door to access the parking lot. Locked. She sighed and walked to the next door down. Also locked. Odd. These were emergency doors, with the long bar across the middle that you pushed on. They weren’t supposed to be locked. She had to walk back the way she came in. Rick Hortach eyed her as she walked to the entrance and pushed at the door lever. It didn’t budge.
“Rick, what’s up with the doors?”
His voice matched his appearance, thin and reedy. “The mayor wants them locked. If anyone leaves, there won’t be an accurate head count.”
“Next up is John Kramer,” the PA system boomed. John gave a hoot, then made his way down the bleachers.
“It’s a fire hazard, Rick.”
“The mayor said—”
“Does the mayor want me to smoke inside?”
“There’s no smoking in—”
“Look, Rick.” Jessie Lee leaned in close. “If I don’t get my nicotine fix I’m going to bite someone’s head off. Now open the door before I start screaming that you touched me inappropriately.”
Rick blinked with sad basset hound eyes and then fished around for his keychain and opened the door. Jessie Lee smiled sweetly before leaving the gym and stepping out into the cool, dark night. It took a lot of fumbling through her purse to locate her cigarettes and lighter. She lit up, and the hot smoke saturating her lungs was a gift from God.
After a few puffs she began to get chilly—it was much cooler outside than in the gym. The sleeveless top she wore didn’t provide much in the way of coverage. Neither did the denim mini. But the outfit showed off her figure, and it was damn cute.
She rubbed her arms and took a brisk walk across the parking lot to kick-start her circulation. When she reached the end, she spotted the distinct shape of a Ford Fairlane. Seamus Dailey’s car. A 1955 Skyliner Crown Victoria, completely restored. Seamus had taken just about everyone in town for a ride at one time or another. Jessie Lee didn’t understand why the car was still here, because Seamus had been one of the first people on the list and must have gotten his check a while ago.
Jessie Lee sucked in more smoke and continued to walk. An aisle over was another car she recognized, Mary Porter’s beat-up Pontiac. Mary had been driving on the undersized temporary spare for over two years. This also seemed strange. Jessie Lee could have sworn she heard Mary’s name called by the lottery commissioner a half an hour ago at least.
