Playing Dead in Dixie Read online

  They'd be ruined.

  So here she was, back in Floyd's office, aided by a flashlight she'd borrowed from the store's stock, moving files and ledgers from Floyd's office to a shopping cart she'd pulled from the front of the store. Time was ticking away. Fire licked at the doorway that closed off the hallway from the stock room in back.

  But she couldn't leave the books to burn.

  As she tossed the last file into the cart, she heard sirens approaching. She yanked the cart toward the doorway, grunting a little as the weight of the files and ledger books dragged on the cart's wobbly wheels, and pushed it down the hall to the main sales floor.

  She headed toward the front door, her flashlight illuminating the smoke-filled haze of the center aisle. As she neared the front door, flashing red lights from outside bit through the smoke, and the sound of sirens grew louder.

  At almost the same moment, the door burst open, letting in the full force of the siren's wail. A dark figure dashed through the front door. Carly directed the flashlight's beam toward the entrance and saw Wes's wide, dark eyes.

  "Carly?"

  It took all her self-control not to knock the shopping cart aside and throw herself into his arms. She dragged the wet vest away from her face, coughing as smoke filled her lungs. "Help me get this outside!"

  The door opened again and a fireman burst through. "Get out of here! Is there anyone else inside?"

  "No, I was here alone," Carly answered as Wes grabbed the shopping cart and dragged it with him toward the open door. "I think the fire started out back."

  The fireman hustled them outside, looking oddly at Wes and the shopping cart. He waved the other firefighters toward the back of the building.

  Wes pushed the shopping cart up against the side of his truck, tucking it there so it wouldn't roll down the sidewalk, and turned to Carly, clutching her shoulders with shaking hands. "What the hell did you think you were doing, staying in there with the place on fire?"

  "I had to get the books."

  "The books aren't worth getting yourself killed, you crazy idiot!" He jerked her roughly to him, pressing his cheek against her hair. She relaxed against his solid strength, adrenaline swirling away like water down an open drain now that both she and the files were safe.

  "What happened?" Wes asked a few moments later, holding her at arm's length. He looked her over, checking for injuries, she supposed. She wondered if he saw any. She couldn't feel much of anything except a harsh tickle in her throat and a gritty sensation in her smoke-stung eyes.

  She coughed again. "It was eight o'clock and you hadn't called."

  "I tried."

  "I knew you would have. That's how I knew something was wrong. I checked the phone and found it wasn't working. That's when the power cut off and I started smelling smoke." She coughed again, a hard, wracking spasm that made her chest hurt.

  Wes opened the passenger door of his truck and lifted her inside. "Stay right here." He waved someone over—an EMT, Carly realized, spotting the medical kit slung over his lanky shoulder.

  Wes introduced him as Phil Toomey. "I think she may have some smoke inhalation."

  Phil checked her over quickly. "Can you get her over to the bus? I'll give her some oxygen. How does your throat feel? Scratchy?"

  Carly cleared her throat. "No, not really. I covered my mouth and nose with a wet vest while I was in there, so I didn't take in a lot of smoke."

  "I would say you're a smart girl, but when I see why you stayed in there—" Phil looked pointedly toward the shopping cart still tucked next to Wes's truck.

  Carly didn't bother to try to explain. In retrospect, she had to agree. She'd taken a very foolish risk without even knowing for sure that there was anything in those files and ledgers to prove fraud against the Stricklands.

  But all she'd thought about as she frantically gathered up the files was how much the Stricklands had done for her over the past couple of weeks. And in exchange, she'd brought danger into their midst in a way that even Wes, with all his suspicions, probably couldn't fathom.

  Taking a chance to help the Bonnie and Floyd out of an even bigger mess had seemed the least she could do.

  Wes scooped her up from the front seat of his truck, tucking her close to him. She briefly considered protesting that she was strong enough to walk, but the truth was, she liked the feel of his hard, warm body pressed so intimately against hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her face into the curve of his throat, breathing in the smell of him, more potent even than the smoke swirling around them in a thin, brown haze.

  Wes laid her on the gurney in the back of the ambulance, where Phil and another EMT were waiting. As he started to straighten, she grabbed his arm, keeping her voice low. "Go guard the files. I'll be fine."

  He shook his head. "You're out of your mind."

  She stood her ground. "Why else do you think the fire started at the back of the store?"

  He gazed at her, his eyes narrowing, suspicion evident in their dark depths. After a moment, he gave a brief nod and climbed out of the back of the ambulance.

  Phil placed an oxygen mask over her nose and she breathed deeply, the pure oxygen easing the tightness in her lungs. From her perch on the gurney, she could see only what was directly in front of her, so she didn't know how the firefighters were faring with the store fire.

  She could see Wes, however, as he started pulling folders and ledgers from the shopping cart and putting them inside a large olive-drab duffel bag lying in the bed of the truck.

  The other EMT, who introduced himself as Tommy, checked her vitals again just as Wes was returning to the ambulance. "I think you'll live," the EMT murmured, softening his tense expression with a half smile. "Wes, you can take her home, but someone should stay with her, make sure she doesn't have any delayed reaction to the smoke."

  Wes nodded. "Got it covered."

  Tommy turned back to Carly. "If you start feeling hoarse or short of breath, you tell Wes. He'll get us out to Floyd's place in a heartbeat, okay? Smoke inhalation isn't something to mess around with."

  "I promise." Carly relinquished the oxygen mask and took the filter mask the EMT gave her.

  He gave another to Wes. "Use these 'til you're out of the range of the smoke."

  Carly put the mask on and gave Wes her hand so he could help her down from the back of the ambulance. She walked with him to the truck, trying to get a glimpse of what the firefighters were accomplishing with the steady stream of water shooting from the hose attached to the nearby pumper truck.

  Wes hailed one of the firefighters moving toward them on his way to the truck. The fireman paused briefly and answered Wes's terse question about the fire. "We have it contained to the stock room and the back offices. There may be a little smoke damage at the front of the store, but I think all the merchandise out there will be safe."

  Carly nearly wilted with relief.

  "Any idea how it started?" Wes asked.

  The fireman's gaze settled darkly on Carly. "Not yet. But we're investigating. Tolliver will want to talk to both of you."

  Carly glanced at Wes. His lips thinned to a tight line. He'd caught the man's unspoken accusation, too. "He knows where to find me. And I know where to find her."

  The firefighter's eyes narrowed, but he finally looked away and moved past them to the pumper truck.

  Hardly a surprise she'd be the prime suspect, Carly conceded as Wes helped her into the cab of the truck. A stranger in town, alone at the hardware store long after closing time when it happened to catch on fire. Her file rescue mission wasn't likely to ease suspicions any, unless she could use the files to prove Sherry or someone else had been stealing money from the store.

  Right now, however, she just wanted to take a long, hot bath and soak away the soot and grime seeping into every exposed pore of her body.

  "We're going to have to have a long talk about personal safety," Wes muttered through the filter mask as he pulled the truck in a U-turn and headed back toward
the Stricklands' house.

  "I know it was stupid, okay? But what's done is done." As they cleared the worst of the smoke zone, she pulled the mask from her face, rubbing at her sweat-damp chin. Her fingers came back grimy. "I must look like a coal miner."

  He pulled off his mask and glanced at her, one corner of his mouth twitching upward. "Pretty much."

  "Still mad at me?"

  "Yes." He looked back at the road. "Did you find anything in the files?"

  She wished she could say yes. "Not yet. But I think there's something there."

  "Because of the fire?"

  "I don't think the phone and power lines cut themselves." She shuddered, remembering her first, sharp burst of fear when the lights went out, the rising terror building like bile in her throat at the thought that Manning had finally found her.

  "I suppose it could have been an electrical glitch," Wes suggested.

  "If everything else wasn't going on, maybe I'd buy that."

  Wes pulled up at a stop sign and lingered a moment, though there was no traffic this late at night. He turned to look at her, his slow gaze moving over her, taking in her soot-stained face and grimy clothes.

  Dread slithered through her, cold and heavy.

  Did he suspect her of setting the fire, too, like the fireman they'd met?

  "The fire chief will call in arson investigators if he needs them." Wes looked away finally, putting his truck in gear and crossing the intersection. "We'll know soon enough."

  Maybe too soon, Carly thought, if they couldn't provide another arson suspect before suspicion started to fall on the Stricklands.

  Or on Carly herself.

  Chapter Eleven

  "Do you think Carly set the fire?" Shannon startled Wes by voicing the fear that had swirled through his mind for the last hour, since Craig Levitt had put the thought in his head outside the burning store. The fireman hadn't tried to hide his own suspicions. Carly was an outsider. New in town. And the only person in the store at the time the fire started.

  "Oh, God, you do," Shannon murmured, her eyes wide and scared. "It can't be true."

  Wes shook his head quickly. "I don't think it is."

  He couldn't figure out a motive for Carly to set fire to his uncle's store. If she was trying to cover up something she'd done to the books, she'd have let them burn. She hadn't stolen any money; he'd watched her double check the cash against receipts just a few minutes ago before she handed it over to him for safekeeping. She'd insisted on doing it in front of him, to have a witness to verify that the totals matched.

  Those weren't the actions of a thief.

  Shannon put her head in her hands, her elbows propped on the kitchen table. They'd been waiting for Carly to finish her bath for almost half an hour. "I feel horrible for even saying it aloud. She's been so good to me."

  Wes patted her shoulder. "I can't figure any reason she'd want to set a fire at the store. I don't think she did it."

  "Glad to hear it." Carly's voice came from the kitchen doorway, low and tight.

  He turned to look at her. She was wrapped in a terrycloth robe, her hair tousled and wet. Her expression was a mixture of pride and pain, sending guilt flooding through him.

  He stood to face her. "I wish you hadn't heard that."

  Her chin angled higher. "I'm glad I did." She looked at Shannon. "Did you wonder if I set the store on fire, too?"

  "Don't do this." Wes moved between them, blocking Shannon from Carly's view. "The question had to be asked. It was answered in your favor. That's all you need to know."

  She lowered her head. "You're right. I'd have wondered myself, if I were in your place."

  He moved aside, letting her cross to the table and drop into the chair across from Shannon.

  "Are you still feeling okay?" Shannon asked, her voice a little quavery.

  Carly reached out and touched Shannon's hand. "I'm feeling fine, now that I've washed off all the grime."

  Shannon turned her hand to clasp Carly's. "You should get some sleep. You've had a hard night."

  Carly shook her head. "I'm too wired to sleep."

  "You're the one who should be in bed," Wes said, holding out his hand to Shannon. "Go ahead, I'll take care of Carly."

  Shannon's pale lips curved as she took his hand and let him help her to her feet. "I bet you will," she murmured close to his ear as she passed him on her way out of the kitchen.

  Wes sat in the chair Shannon had vacated. He licked his lips, trying to find something to say that would snap the tension coiling like a snake between them.

  But Carly spoke first. "Where'd you put the files?"

  He blinked, surprised by the question. "In your bedroom."

  She stood up, moving toward the door.

  "What are you doing?" he asked.

  "Getting the files," she answered over her shoulder.

  He caught up with her in the doorway of her bedroom. He put his hand across the entrance, blocking the way. "This can wait 'til Floyd gets back, can't it?"

  She gazed up at him, her eyes shiny with determination. "No, it can't. Someone tried to burn down the hardware store because of whatever's in those files."

  "You don't know that."

  "Yes. I do." She ducked under his arm and went into the bedroom, heading for the duffel bag lying on her bed.

  Wes caught her hand as she reached for the bag, pulling her around to face him. He tried to keep his focus as the sweet, shower-fresh smell of her enveloped him, knocking the world off kilter. "How can you know that?"

  "Because the phone line was cut."

  He let go of her arm, not following the logic.

  She sank onto her bed and looked up at him. "I couldn't figure out why someone bothered to cut the phone line. Nobody knew I was still at the store. I don't have a car, and I cut off all the lights except the one in Floyd's office. I even kept the door shut, in case someone could see the light from the front of the store."

  "So?"

  She threaded her fingers through her damp hair, pushing it back from her face. His own fingers itched to follow, tangling in those dark waves. "So if nobody knew I was there, why cut the phone line? The power I could see; it would silence the fire alarm."

  Wes sat next to her on the bed, finally starting to follow her logic. "Right. There's a battery back-up for the system, but it doesn't sound the alarm. It only keeps the system going long enough to put in—"

  "—a call to the fire department," they finished in unison.

  "Which would go through the phone line," Wes added.

  She nodded. "Whoever set the fire knew that. They cut both lines so that nobody'd get there in time to stop the fire."

  Wes ran his hands across his face, a sick feeling churning in his gut. "An inside job."

  "Had to be."

  "Why tonight, of all nights?"

  She shook her head. "Dumb luck? Bad karma?"

  Could that be the answer? Wes's instincts told him no. Too much of a coincidence. "Who knew you were closing tonight?"

  "Josh Scarborough. Probably Janey Logan—she worked the afternoon shift."

  "Did Sherry know?"

  Carly turned her gaze to him. "Yes."

  Wes closed his eyes, the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach growing, changing into something dark and bitter. The clues came together like slides in a projector, clicking across the screen in stark black and white images, one after the other.

  Sherry, coming to his office with her suspicions about Carly on the basis of nothing more than a slip of notepaper.

  Sherry, catching Carly and him at the store after hours on Saturday night, eyes full of suspicion.

  Sherry, the only person with easy, daily access to the files and ledgers.

  Right up to this very moment, he hadn't wanted to believe it. He'd wanted to think Carly's suspicions were unfounded, that she'd work her way through the books and realize that something besides fraud was behind his uncle's failing business.

  But Carly wasn't wrong. Wes knew it
gut deep.

  It was the only explanation for the fire. Someone wanted to destroy the files and ledger books because they were proof of whatever fraud had been perpetrated. Someone who was almost certainly his old friend Sherry Mayfield Clayton.

  As Carly reached for the duffel bag again, he stopped her, twining his fingers with hers. "We don't have to go through those files tonight."

  "I don't think I'll be getting much sleep anyway."

  Wes squeezed her hand. "I'm going to call Floyd at the bed and breakfast first thing in the morning so he and Bonnie can come on back and start dealing with the mess at the store. We can talk to him about what we do next with the files. I think it's time he's in on the investigation, don't you?"

  "He's going to be so disappointed in me." She nibbled her bottom lip. "He'll probably fire me."

  "Well, you won't take the fall alone, Jersey." Wes tucked a damp strand of dark hair behind her ear. "Thanks to the fire, probably nobody's going to be working at the store for a while."

  She looked up at him, her brow furrowed. "Oh no. Josh has a new baby. He needs that money. And Janey's been saving up so she could buy a car to replace the pile of rust she's been driving. There's got to be some way to keep them working."

  He wondered if she was listening to what she was saying. The woman who didn't like to put down roots seemed to have them sprouting out all over. "Well, there's plenty of clean-up to be done, and someone's going to have to rebuild the stockroom and the offices. Floyd will probably do everything he can to keep everybody working."

  Carly pulled her hand from his and tucked her knees up to her chest. "Floyd's insurance is never going to cover the loss. Since it's arson. Enough people know the business has been having trouble. It's going to look suspicious, especially since he was conveniently out of town at the time."

  She was right, Wes realized, his heart sinking. "I can explain away the overnight trip to Savannah, but we're definitely going to have to prove that there was some sort of fraud going on."

  "We also have to prove who committed the fraud."

  A new thought crossed Wes's mind. One that apparently had yet to occur to Carly.