Jenny and Ainsley-they both needed me.
“What do I do?” I said.
“Jenny is safe here,” Tonya said. I understood her offer even before she added, “And I’m not going anywhere.”
“I don’t want Jenny to wake up without me.”
Tonya nodded. “Then hurry back.”
AUDIO (V.O.):
TUESDAY
It took me forever to get out to the Jost farm. Tonya’s Escort was not made for high-speed maneuvers.
The smell of smoke was apparent miles away. The first red lick of dawn was beginning to give way to a weak gray sky that was part smoke and part nasty weather.
When it finally came into view, the house was a shock. That perfect image of country life was a wreck of blackened timber bones. Smoke rose in drifting towers, solid yet impermanent.
The front porch and most of the entrance facade were intact, like an old movie sound stage. Straight through to the back, there were timbers still smoldering. The smell was intense. There was no escaping it, no shift of air current made a bit of difference. It clung to the inside of my throat and nose, rough and bitter. Coughing didn’t help. Neither did spitting. There was a low hum in the air, part buzzing sub-woofer and part baby-cry. It took me a while to figure out what I was hearing. The cows wanted milking, crisis or not.
People were everywhere. The Amish neighbors seemed focused on the animals. They moved deliberately, going about work that was as foreign to me as my camera would be to them. The county volunteer fire department had sent a pumper truck. Fire service types, easy to identify in their bulky uniforms, were raking out smoking clumps and spraying down others. I momentarily wished I had a camera in my hand when I saw a tired, dirty fireman in fifty pounds of gear standing near Rachel’s chicken shed while a rooster on the gable crowed the arrival of dawn-exhausted modern man glaring at old-time alarm clock.
I grabbed the arm of the first firefighter who passed me. “Ainsley Prescott? Have you seen him? Young, blond guy-not Amish.”
“The one who went into the fire? They’ve got him over by the ambulance.”
“Into the fire?”
The flash of the ambulance’s warning light led me over the grass, my footsteps tumbling faster and faster.
I found Ainsley sitting on the ambulance tailgate, having his hands wrapped.
“They keep slipping off,” he told the paramedic. The long shock of blond hair he usually combed so neatly off his face drooped over his eyes. He reached up to flip it back.
“Stop using your hands,” the paramedic said.
“Yeah,” I interrupted. “Try using your head.”
“Maddy!” Relief was all over his face. “What are you doing here?”
Looking at his hands bandaged like The Mummy, turned all my fear into anger. With all the trouble he was in, he should not be glad to see me. I did not understand this kid.
“How’s Jenny?” he asked, his face full of concern.
It was hard to launch into lecture mode with Jenny as the lead. “Fine. She’s going to be fine. She hasn’t woken yet. It may be a while-later this morning.”
“Good. That’s great.”
“What the hell happened to your hands, College Boy?”
He looked down at his wrappings, looked up at me and smile-shrugged. He was about as filthy as a fellow can appear in khakis and a Brooks Brothers button-down. The smear of ash on his cheek looked like the makeup department had arranged it for maximum cute with minimum muss.
The paramedic helping with his bandages jumped in. “Not to worry. Only second degree. And this guy’s a hero. Went in there and dragged the old man out.” Mr. Paramedic clapped him on the shoulder.
“I’m no hero.” Ainsley shook his head.
“Old guy might not make it,” the paramedic said to me. “Smoke. Really hard on the heart at that age. Took him to the hospital a few minutes ago.”
“Great. That’s where I’m headed next. What about Rachel?”
“She wasn’t in the house,” Ainsley answered. “It’s weird, Maddy. Nobody seems to know where she is. But nobody seems worried either.”
“That is weird,” I whispered, suddenly very aware of all the ears nearby.
“No shit,” Ainsley repeated all-seriousness.
I flashed back to the day I was hired and Uncle Richie’s concern. If teaching the kid street-French was a problem, second-degree burns acquired during unsupervised location shoots were going to be a hanging offense.
I sat down next to him and rubbed my throbbing head. “What happened here? You didn’t mention a fire on the phone. How’d it start?”
“Not sure yet,” the medic answered. “Looks like the kerosene stove had something to do with it. Everybody’s saying it started in the kitchen.” He tied off the last bandage. “No operating any heavy machinery today, got it? In a few hours, those puppies are gonna smart a bit.” For my benefit, he added, “I’d have someone at the ER give him the once-over. They can give him something for pain as well.”
“I’ll make sure he checks back.”
“Not yet,” Ainsley complained. “There’s stuff to do here.”
“Get there before nine. The wait won’t be as long,” the medic offered, before heading off to pack his gear. One guy’s emergency was another guy’s average day. I could relate.
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Well?” I asked.
Ainsley held up the swaddled palm of his right hand. “I used this one to open the door.” He pantomimed reaching for a doorknob, metal no doubt, and snatching back a burned hand. “This one,” he blocked with the back of his left hand, “kept something from falling on Jost.”
“As you were dragging him out of the house?” I said, marveling at my own calm.
“But don’t worry, I remembered to leave the camera rolling. I’ve looked at some of it, Maddy, and it’s not bad. I’ve got this great idea for a dissolve. Fire into dawn? Sort of re-create a time-lapse look?” He was so excited he stood up and waved his thickly padded hands in the air.
“Go on.”
“As soon as we hung up, I saw weird lights moving around inside the house. Not the same kind of lights though. Upstairs, the light was a muted yellow-red. Downstairs it was a blue-white light.” His eyebrows emphasized the point. “Really hot.”
“Halogen?”
“Definitely. Mondo flashlight, I’d bet. Remember, the kind Mrs. Ott said they used for courting?”
“Somebody was coming for Rachel?”
I could tell he was thinking the same thing, but he shrugged. “The blue light went out. And then I saw a yellow glow downstairs. It was a fire, Maddy, I could tell by the color and the smell the minute the wind turned. So I called 9-1-1 and ran across the yard, climbed the fence, got into the house as fast as I could.”
I started shaking my head. I felt sick again-the way I had when I found Jenny in the ditch.
“As I was going in the front door, I heard a car pull out. Gravel. I know I did.”
“Did you tell the police?”
“Yeah. They acted like I was the suspect. What was I doing there? Did I have permission? All these other questions.”
“They think somebody set the fire on purpose?”
