Death on a Deadline

grumbled as he padded down the hall to go back to bed.
    Twenty minutes later, I’d showered and dressed. Carly, still dead to the world in Animal Kingdom, burrowed deeper into her pillow. I knew she’d be mad at me for not waking her, but if I let her go with me, Brendan might clam up. Not a chance I could afford to take. I scrawled a quick message explaining and ended with—

    If you don’t hear from me by seven, come after me. And bring the cavalry.
    Love, Jenna

    I quietly set the alarm clock for 7 a.m. and put the note on my pillow.
    In the garage, reality hit me. My wonderful old Volvo, my faithful friend since I bought it my first year of teaching, was now a totaled heap in a junkyard somewhere. I glanced at Carly’s van. She wouldn’t mind me borrowing it, once she got over being mad at me for going without her. But then she’d be stuck without a ride if she needed to come get me. The bicycle on the wall rack caught my eye. My body, still bruised from the car accident, flinched at the idea. C’mon, Jenna, you can do it. Brendan’s house was less than two miles, especially if I cut through the park.
    Visions of Hank lying motionless behind a bush flashed through my mind. On second thought, maybe going through the park before daylight was a bad idea. It wouldn’t save me over five minutes.
    I stretched my sore muscles for a minute, then climbed gingerly onto the bike and pedaled down the dark road. The street lamps lent an eerie glow to the neighborhood street. Not a soul in sight.
    When I turned on to Liberty Road, I paused with my feet still on the pedals for a second. If Brendan turned out to be the murderer, I’d have no neighbor to yell for. Instead of next door to each other, houses were half a mile apart out here. Some, like the mayor’s, were mansions, while others, like the up-and-coming pharmacist’s, were more modest. I put all my energy into pedaling. An early riser had been burning leaves or something, and the acrid smell of smoke wafted to me.
    Carly would wake up in less than an hour and come right over with the cavalry if I didn’t call her first. If Brendan was the killer, which I’d stake my life he wasn’t. . . Wait. . .I actually was staking my life that he wasn’t. But if he was, I’d have to stall him until help came. And pray.
    Almost there. I pumped hard to get up the last big hill. When I crested it, I tapped my brakes instinctively and gaped at Brendan’s house. Or what was left of it, which wasn’t much. Two fire trucks on each side of the driveway flanked John’s police car. My mind spun as fast as my tires as I coasted down the hill and into the driveway.
    John had his back to me, talking to a fireman, but the man motioned to me and John spun around. “Jenna! What are you doing here?” His florid face was streaked with black and his eyes looked like he’d been up all night.
    I braked to a skidding stop. “Brendan asked me to come. I needed to talk to him.” I stared over his shoulder at the tiny tendrils of smoke curling up from the ashy remains of the house. “Where is he?”
    His tired eyes filled with compassion as he put his hand on my shoulder. Oh, no. Had the killer gotten to Brendan before I could?
    “I’m sorry,” John murmured. “He’s dead.”
    My legs buckled. John lowered me to a sitting position on the cold driveway and squatted down beside me.
    Hot tears splashed down my cheeks.
    “I didn’t know you were that close.”
    I shook my head. “He knew who the murderer was,” I croaked, the smell of smoke suddenly choking me. “He wanted to tell me.”
    “No, Jenna, honey. . .” John smoothed my hair down with his beefy hand as I sobbed against his jacket. “He was the murderer. And he wanted to kill you.”

Eighteen

    The sky lightened gradually as I sat with my back against a tree, praying about Brendan, praying for Marge, praying for practically the whole town, while I watched the crime-scene crew gingerly pick through the coolest part of the ruins. John had gone to greet them and give them instructions, leaving me denying his accusations of Brendan.
    “I’ll prove it to you in a minute. Stay put!” he’d ordered.
    “Jenna! Are you okay?” Carly collapsed beside me, her brightly colored Tweety Bird pajamas morbidly incongruous with the scene, her face blotchy and red. Tears streaked down her cheeks.
    “Oh, Carly!” I fell against her. “I’m so sorry.” I motioned toward the ruins. “I forgot to call you.”
    “I tried