“It’s possible that Scott wasn’t even in the cabin. You know how he forgets the time when he’s out in the woods.”
I want to believe him. Oh, I can’t express how much I want to believe him. But wouldn’t he rush back at the first sign of smoke? The West Coast is not known for bush fires. It’s much too wet with over a hundred and ninety days of rainfall a year. That makes smoke even more suspicious.
I shake my head in disbelief and rock my body, my arms holding tight around my pulled up legs. “Don’t give me false hope!”
“Listen?” He paused and I heard a siren howling. “It’s the fire brigade. They’ll be here soon.”
“What for? There’s nothing left to save.”
Minutes later the roof collapses with a roaring bang, sending an army of fire sparks into the air, just as the fire engine comes around the corner.
I stare at the burning ruin spitting black smoke in the air that hangs in the trees like a thick blanket. Only a few smoldering beams are still standing where once were walls with doorways leading to rooms.
It’s too late. Scottie is gone. We arrived too late. They arrived too late. There is a giant drum in my head and with each bang, I hear; Too late! Too late! Too late! Regular like a heartbeat. Too late.
Tom puts his jacket over my shoulder and is waiting for the firefighters. With the precision of a Swiss clock, they pull out their hose and turn switches and levers until water comes shooting out.
The captain walks up to us.
“I’m Chief Fire Officer Bruce Miller. What happened?”
“Tom Aldercroft.” He explains how we noticed the smoke as we came home from town and raced toward Scott’s hut.
“The flames had already engulfed the cabin when we arrived. We tried to get into it,” he pointed to my blistered hands, “but there was nothing we could do.”
The Fire Chief shot a glance at the smoldering remains of Scottie’s hut and returns to us with an incredulous frown. “Not once they burn. However, these log cabins don’t burn that easily. Is it possible that Mr. Thompson himself …?”
I’ve heard enough and jump up and stand between Tom and the captain, almost knocking Tom over. My clenched fists tell me that inside Amadeus is getting ready to lash out. I take a deep breath, hoping that’ll keep him inside, and snarl at the foreman.
“Don’t be silly, why would he do that? I haven’t met a single person who is more conscientious than Scott Thompson. He would never in a million years endanger the bush and wildlife with a careless fire. The question is, who has reason to burn down his cabin?”
The captain of the firemen looks at me surprised as if he only just now noticed me. “Who are you?”
“I’m okay, thank you. Just a few burns that’ll heal in no time. Thanks for your concern.”
Let nobody say Lilly Seagar doesn’t know how to do sarcasm. And it worked. The captain is blushing … or is it the heat from the fire?
“My name is Elizabeth Seagar. I own Wright’s Homestead, ten minutes down the road.”
The captain nods and holds up his finger. “We’ll talk later.” He rushes over to his crew and for the next while they drench the place until the last ember is extinguished and water is dripping down from every piece of charred timber.
I know they are looking for signs of a body when the firefighters enter the ruins with long sticks and shovels, poking around, and pushing charred beams aside. Have they found anything? I can’t keep my eyes off them. Tom and I move closer to the ruins to get a better view when the captain stops us.
“I’m sorry, you can’t go in there. Before the fire inspector has been, the place is off-limits to you and everyone else.”
“Can you at least tell us if you’ve found a body?”
He must have found something because his eyes are filled with pity and his voice takes on a softer tone.
“We haven’t found any sign of a body yet. That’s all I can tell you at the moment. Please, Mrs. Seagar, Mr. …?
“Aldercroft, my name is Thomas Aldercroft.”
“… there is nothing here for you to see. We have to do our job. I promise to call in at your place when we know more about what happened.”
He shoos us back to the car and joins his men again.
Back in my car, I’m holding on to the steering wheel. I’m terrified they might find a body, but I can’t take my eyes off the firemen bending down, picking things up, pointing to bits and pieces of bent steel, lifting what looks like a deformed cooking pot, and collecting samples of ash and wood in small containers.
I shake my head. This is just a nightmare and I’ll wake up any second now. But my burning lungs and my stinging eyes are real. Everything hurts. None of that matters, because Scottie didn’t make it out. I’m sure of it.
Terror is sending its icy tentacles through me covering my insides with a thick frozen layer, bit by bit until I’m completely numb.
“Let me take you home. There is nothing for us to do.”
I kind of recognize Tom’s voice but he’s not making sense through the darkness that swallows me.
Chapter Six
Ama: 3 March 2017, Late Afternoon, Wright’s Homestead
I watch Tom carrying the lifeless body up into our bedroom. He thinks it’s Lilly, but she’s long gone. She dissolved like a dream and disappeared. We’re all retreated into our rooms in the tree house. Without any of us being in the body, it looks odd and unfamiliar. I have no connection with it. It’s rather like a coat someone forgot when they went home. How can that be?
I swear in this state it has nothing to do with us. And yet, I know it’s not a dead
