The floor creaked as Drew came closer. Another step. She still felt in control.
And then suddenly there was a crashing sound. Louder than the music. It was coming from below. At first she didn't know what it was, but then realized it was someone hammering against the barn doors. She forced herself to block out the sound so she wouldn't be distracted as she listened for Drew's footsteps.
The second story was silent. The banging from below continued. She wondered if Drew was diverted by it. Maybe he'd gone back in the other direction, away from her. Desperately she wanted to look, to move forward just an inch so she could see. She dared not.
"YAH!" he screamed and jumped in front of her, the knife held in one upraised hand. His sudden movement sent her back a step, but she didn't lose her balance as she squeezed the lever, the nozzle pointed at Drew's face.
The foam shot out, hitting him in the eyes. He dropped the knife and reeled backwards, screaming. Annie advanced and squirted more at his face, his eyes. He kept on screaming, twisting, turning, and then he was at the open place in the railing where the ladder had been. She watched him teeter for an instant, and then he fell, screaming.
Annie dropped the extinguisher and ran to the edge just as he landed on top of the iron unicorn, its horn running through him from back to front. He hung there like a speared fish, blood staining his shirt, his eyes open wide as though he couldn't believe his rotten luck.
Dizzy, Annie grabbed the railing. She knew he was dead, knew she had killed him, but she felt no guilt. Perhaps later. The banging and yelling continued and she thought she heard her name being called, thought it sounded like Colin. Swaying for a moment, she rested her hand on the railing; then, feeling stronger, she began to limp in the direction Drew had come from. She would find the way down. The way back to life.
LOOKING BACK-25 YEARS AGO
A memorial was held last Friday morning in the Seaville High School auditorium for the victims of the Razzamatazz fire on June 10th. Twelve people died in the blaze. The Mayor read a eulogy and various friends and family of the deceased contributed reminiscences. Grace Gildersleeve sang "Nearer, My God To Thee." It was a very moving occasion for the next of kin as well as saddened villagers. Repercussions of the fire will be with citizens of Seaville for a long time to come.
FORTY
Colin held Annie in his arms. She had begun to cry and so had he. He cried for Alicia and Todd and Nancy because they were dead. And he cried for Annie, thankful she was alive.
Across the room Hallock stared down at the body of Jim Drew Perkins, still astonished by the man's elaborate scheme to avenge the deaths of his parents. He wondered what the boy would have become had there never been a fire at the Razzamatazz Club. He shook his head. There'd never be a way of measuring, toting up cause and effect. And in the end, Hallock wondered, how important was that anyway? The only thing that really mattered was that the reign of terror on the North Fork was over.
He walked across the barn to where the phone rested on a roll top desk, picked up the receiver, and punched out a number. This first call was to the M.E., and the second would be to Gildersleeve. And then he would call Schufeldt. He grinned. Oh, how sweet it is, he thought. When all those calls were made he would phone Fran, ask her if he could come home. He realized what a fool he'd been, taking out his hurt pride, his bruised male ego, on the one person who loved him unconditionally-the one person he loved more than anyone or anything. And as for her involvement in her causes, he realized that a part of him was proud of her, glad that she had principles. He wouldn't want her any other way. Somehow he would make it up to her, take her away on a vacation, make love with her four times a day. Well, two, maybe.
Colin stroked Annie's hair, kissed her cheek. "It's okay, Annie, it's okay now."
She looked up into his brown eyes, wiped a tear from his cheek. "It's so awful," she said. "The whole thing's so ugly and awful."
"I know."
"And I feel so bad about Mark."
He nodded. "Me, too." Colin knew it would never be the same between Mark and him again. Each of them had suspected the other. How would there ever be room for trust after that? Besides, after what Waldo had told him about Mark and Julia Dorman, he'd lost all respect for the man. He would have to leave the paper, move somewhere else.
As if Annie had read his mind she said, "I think I'll have to find another parish. Too much has happened here. Too many wounds." Instinctively she looked across the room at Jim Drew, shuddered, and turned away.
"Yes," Colin agreed, "we'll have to find another place."
She seemed startled, then smiled. He kissed her lips gently.
Hallock cleared his throat. They broke apart.
"Listen," he said, "no reason for you kids to hang around here anymore. Tomorrow's soon enough for statements. I'll take care of the rest of it."
"Are you sure?" Colin asked.
"I'm sure. Fact is, I think you should get the hell out of here before the place starts jumping."
"What about you, Waldo? What are you going to do later?"
"I'm going home where I belong. Fran said she'd wait up for me."
"You're a lucky guy," Colin said.
"Don't I know it."
"Well, Chief," Colin put out his hand.
"Might be a little premature on that one, Maguire."
"Not a chance. I wish I could see Schufeldt's face when you're reinstated."
Hallock grinned. "I hope to have that pleasure myself. Go home now. I'll talk to you tomorrow."
Colin and Annie said goodnight, then walked to the sliding barn doors. He pushed them open. The rain had abated slightly but it was still coming down.
"Your car's in the garage underneath here," Colin informed her.
"And yours?"
"My what?"
"Your car? Where is it?"
"I came with Waldo."
She looked surprised.
"Omigod!" he said. "I didn't notice. Driving here from the paper I didn't even realize I was riding with another person. Well, what d'you think of that?"
"I think it's wonderful."
He drew her to him. "How would you like to drive a guy home?" he asked.
"I'd like to very much," she said. "Very much indeed."
Sandra Scoppettone
