Xo

whispered, “She’s here! She’s downstairs. Alicia!”
    Oh, no. How to handle it?
    Dance, Harutyun and Madigan were in the FMCSO cruiser speeding away from Alicia’s apartment in the Tower District. Dance told the men that Alicia was already at Kayleigh’s house and then said into the phone, “Is Darthur there?”
    “No, he’s gone. We thought it was all over with, with Simesky dead.”
    “Get out. Can you run into the woods?”
    “I … No. I’m upstairs. I don’t think I can jump. And I’d have to go past her if I went downstairs. Can I talk to her? Why does she—”
    “No, you have to hide, stay away. She has a gun. We’ll have troopersthere as soon as we can but it’ll be twenty minutes. Are you in a room with a lock?”
    “My bedroom. Yes. But it’s not much.”
    “What about a weapon?”
    “My gun’s downstairs, locked up.”
    “Just barricade yourself in the room. And stall.”
    “Oh, Jesus, Kathryn. What’s going on?”
    “Barricade yourself as best you can. We’ll be there soon.”
    The siren spread outward on the hot, dry air and the urgent blue and white lights ricocheted off cars and signs and windows as they raced through the evening.
     
    “KAYLEIGH?” ALICIA CALLED again from downstairs.
    Where was she? Kayleigh wondered. Still in the kitchen? The den?
    “Down in a minute.” She stared at the door.
    Close it, girl! What’s the matter with you. Buy time. Lock it, barricade it.
    At the door she called, “Just out of the shower. I’ll be down in five.” She closed and locked the door. But the chair she tried to wedge under the knob was too low. Her dresser was too heavy to move. The vanity table wouldn’t stop Mary-Gordon.
    Find a weapon. Anything.
    A nail file? A lamp?
    Don’t be an idiot, jump!
    She ran to the window. Below her was not only concrete but a wrought-iron fence. If she didn’t break her back she’d be impaled.
    Listening at the door again, ear against the wood.
    “Kayleigh?”
    “Be down soon! Have a beer or make some coffee!”
    Jump out the window. It’s your only chance.
    Then Kayleigh thought suddenly: no fucking way.
    I’m fighting.
    She grabbed the vanity stool and ripped off the Laura Ashley padded covering. The furniture was five pounds of hard wood. Not much but it would have to do. I’ll lure her up here and bash her head in.
    Kayleigh moved to the door, listening. She took a firm stance, gripping the stool like a baseball bat.
    Then her phone rang.
    Squinting at the screen. The number was vaguely familiar. Wait…. It was Edwin Sharp’s! She recalled the number from the label of the redwood tree toy he’d helped Mary-Gordon pick out.
    “Hello, Edwin?”
    He said tentatively, “Hey, Kayleigh, listen. I’m almost there. Alicia asked me not to call you, just to come over. But, I don’t know, what’s this all about? Is it some kind of settlement thing? I don’t want anything from you. It wasn’t your fault what that guy with the congressman did.”
    And with a heart-shaking jolt, Kayleigh understood. For whatever reason Alicia had set up Edwin. She’d asked him here too and was going to make it look like he killed her.
    “Oh, Edwin, there’s a problem.”
    “You sound funny. What’s the matter? I mean—”
    “Stay away! Alicia’s here. She’s going to kill me. She wants to—”
    A pause. “You’re not, like, serious?”
    “She’s setting you up. She’s here now.”
    “I’ll call the police.”
    She said, “I did. They’re on their way.”
    “I’m five minutes away.”
    “No, Edwin, don’t come here! Go to Bradley Road, the minimart. Stay there, stay with people. That way nobody can blame you for whatever happens.”
    It was then that Kayleigh smelled smoke.
    Edwin was saying something. She ignored him and turned her ear toward the door. Yes, the crackle of flames was coming from downstairs.
    No, no! My house, my guitars! She’s burning them! Like Bobby and the file sharer and Sheri, she’s going to burn me too.
    “Kayleigh, Kayleigh?” Edwin’s voice rose from her phone.
    “There’s a fire, Edwin. Call the fire department too. But don’t come here. Whatever you do.”
    “I—”
    She disconnected.
    And the bitter, stinging smoke began to seep under the bedroom door.

 
     

Chapter 64
    THE SMOKE AND flames were growing.
    Love is fire, love is flame….
    My house, my house, Kayleigh thought as tears of sorrow, of pain from the smoke, of fear rolled down her cheeks. My guitars, my pictures…. Oh,