The Mill River Recluse Read online

  “Okay, Ms. Delaine. I’ll swing by and check things out. If you think of anything else, give us a call back.”

  “Thank you, Officer, I will.” Daisy hung up the phone and went back to make sure that the door to her trailer was locked. She also lowered the window blinds and pulled the curtains closed. If the strange man in black had followed her home, she would see to it that he couldn’t get inside to hurt her or Smudgie.

  ~~~

  Claudia opened her eyes.

  As Kyle shifted beside her, she raised her head to look at his alarm clock. They’d been sleeping for only a few hours, but she felt wide awake.

  Is this what being in love does to people’s sleep schedules? she thought, sliding her arm around Kyle’s waist. She snuggled up against his side, breathed in the delicious scent of him, kissed him lightly on the mouth.

  In the dim bedroom, he opened his eyes slowly before he turned to face her.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. I just woke up.”

  “What time is it?”

  “Some wee hour of the morning.”

  “And you just woke up?” Kyle flipped onto his side and pulled her closer.

  “Uh-huh. But it’s too early to get out of bed.” Claudia heard his quick intake of breath as she slipped her hand down his boxer shorts.

  “You’re right,” Kyle said, nuzzling her cheek. “Much too early.”

  ~~~

  Having that witch find him sitting in the woods was the last thing he needed. At least, it had looked like Crazy Daisy. With the damned floodlight shining in his eyes, he wasn’t positive whom he had seen.

  At least no one else had come by.

  Warily, Leroy waited in the thicket for a good half-hour after Daisy had stumbled upon him. He had expected her to tattle on him, but no one had driven through the town the entire time he’d been waiting. Wykowski was a pretty serious guy, but if Daisy had called the police station, even he would’ve dismissed her story.

  Reassured by the silence, Leroy looked at his watch and saw that it was after two in the morning. His random doodles and choice phrases had thoroughly defaced the back of the bakery. He was feeling better now that he’d had another beer and was no longer breathing paint fumes. It was time to take care of the next part of his plan.

  Leroy took his cell phone from his coat pocket and cleared his throat. He smiled as he pressed *6-7 and then 9-1-1.

  “Rutland County 911, what is your emergency?”

  “Yeah, I’m at 744 Mitchell Road in Mill River,” he said in an artificially low, panicked whisper. “We need the police out here quick. Someone’s in my house, maybe more than one. I heard glass breaking and woke up. I think whoever it is is still downstairs.”

  “744 Mitchell Road in Mill River?” the operator repeated. Leroy detected some confusion in her voice. “That address isn’t coming up…are you on a cell phone?”

  “Yeah, the landline’s not working,” Leroy said, thinking quickly. Maybe whoever’s downstairs cut the wires. Can you tell the cops to hurry?”

  “Yes, sir, I have officers enroute. Would you like me to stay on the line with--”

  Leroy hit the “end call” button and slid the phone back into his pocket.

  ~~~

  Ron was wondering whether it was really worth going out into the frigid night to investigate Daisy’s call when the dispatch radio crackled to life.

  “Officer Wykowski, this is Rutland County. We have a report of a burglary in progress at 744 Mitchell Road with the possibility of multiple intruders. Do you copy?”

  Ron sat up in his chair. Fred Richardson, a longtime resident of Mill River and the town’s only doctor, lived at 744 Mitchell Road.

  “That’s an affirmative. I’m on the way.” Ron stood, grabbed his coat and gloves, and bent back toward the radio’s microphone. “RC, could you contact Chief Fitzgerald at his home and apprise him of the situation? He’ll need to arrange for another officer to assist on this, and he might want to be there himself.”

  “No problem, Officer Wykowski. We’ll divert other units from Shrewsbury and Proctor if you need additional backup.”

  “Thanks, RC, I’ll let you know. Wykowski out.” Ron locked the station door and ran to the Jeep.

  ~~~

  “Who’d be knocking at this hour?” Claudia said, pulling the covers up around herself. A loud pounding at Kyle’s front door continued.

  “Oh, crap,” Kyle groaned. He got out of bed and put on a pair of jeans as quickly as he could. “It’s Fitz, I’m sure. Which means that something serious is going down.”

  “Aren’t you off duty?” Claudia said, but Kyle had already left the bedroom.

  “I’m awful sorry about this,” Fitz said when Kyle opened the front door. The police chief had baggy eyes and was fumbling with the zipper on his coat. “We’ve got a burglary in progress out at Doc Richardson’s. Maybe two or three of ‘em in the house, Doc said. Ron’s on his way now, but he needs backup, and there’s nobody from any other department who can get there faster than we can. I radioed him to let him know we’d meet him at Doc’s place. We can take my truck, and Ruth offered to come stay with Rowen until we get back.”

  “No need for that, she’s at a slumber party,” Kyle said. “Just let me grab my gear. I’ll meet you downstairs.”

  Fitz nodded and started downstairs as Kyle ran back into the apartment.

  “What’s going on?” Claudia asked. She had switched on a bedside lamp.

  “Burglary,” Kyle said, removing his service revolver from the nightstand drawer. “I’ve got to go help, but it shouldn’t take too long.” He finished dressing, buckled on his duty belt, and slid the revolver into its holder. “Maybe you can keep the bed warm for me?”

  Claudia smiled. “Okay, but be careful.”

  “Don’t worry,” Kyle said. He leaned over to kiss her. “Everything will be fine.”

  Fitz’s truck was just beginning to warm up inside when Kyle climbed into the front seat. “I hope Doc’s okay,” Fitz said as they pulled out of the parking lot. “Stuff like this doesn’t usually happen out here.”

  “How long have you known him?”

  “Old Doc? Years and years. Ever since Ruthie and I moved to Mill River. He was one of the first people we met and he’s been a good friend ever since. His wife and Ruthie are real close.”

  “Is Leroy meeting us there, too?”

  “Nope,” Fitz said. “He went off shift a few hours ago, but he isn’t home and he didn’t answer his cell. Who knows where he is.”

  “I can think of a few places,” Kyle said, and then added cautiously, “You know, maybe it would be better if you just let him go. It seems like he’s getting to be more trouble than he’s worth.”

  Fitz snorted. “I’ve come really close, let me tell you. But it’s hard to find anybody willing to work here. We can’t pay what people deserve. We’ve barely got the staff and resources to scrape by, which is why you and I are doing what we’re doing right now.”

  Kyle nodded but decided not to prolong the convsersation. Fitz was driving fast, focusing on the curving road ahead of them. The police chief didn’t need any distractions.

  ~~~

  Leroy crouched against the large spruce in back of the bakery until Fitz’s truck had disappeared.

  Department policy required at least two, and preferably three, officers to respond to a burglary in progress. As always, Fitz had followed that policy to the letter. The old man was so predictable.

  Mitchell Road was a winding mountain trail, and the address he’d given the emergency dispatcher was a good five miles from the center of town. With the snow reducing visibility and making the roads slick, it would take the officers at least ten minutes to reach the right house. They’d probably take several more minutes to realize there was nothing wrong and another ten minutes to get back to the station. By his best estimate, he had at least twenty-five minutes to execute the rest of his plan.

  Plenty of time.

 
Leroy reached for the two nearest empty beer bottles and stood them upright in the snow. Next, he lurched to his feet and grabbed the container of gasoline. After the beers, a good dose of paint fumes, and almost an hour in the bitter cold, he was wobbly and seeing double. His hands trembled as he positioned the nozzle of the gas container above the empty bottles. Filling them with fuel was even more difficult. He had forgotten to bring a funnel, and he struggled to hold the container steady as he poured the gasoline. Once the bottles were almost full, Leroy reached into his sack for the old rag.

  He ripped the cloth down the middle, twisted one side of each piece into a cylinder, and stuffed the cloths into the mouths of the beer bottles, making sure to leave some of the material hanging outside each glass neck as a fuse. Just enough, he thought as he shook the nearly empty gasoline container. He turned it upside-down and watched the last of the gas drip out onto the protruding fabric.

  He was ready to show Claudia just how much he loved her.

  Giddy with pride and an exuberant sense of anticipation, he felt like doing a dance under the big spruce tree. Grasping the loaded beer bottles, he almost bolted out of the thicket toward the bakery, but he remembered the supplies and other bottles strewn around his resting place. He would need to return them to his car so that no one would suspect him of starting the fire.

  Somewhat grudgingly, Leroy set the Molotov cocktails in the snow and began to gather up his mess.

  ~~~

  Doc Richardson’s rustic log home was set back off the highway. The department’s Jeep was parked in front with its lights and sirens turned off. Ron got out to meet Fitz and Kyle as they pulled up.

  “It’s been dark and quiet since I got here,” Ron said. “No telling what’s going on inside, though.”

  “It’s been at least fifteen minutes since the call came in,” Fitz said. “We’d better hurry. Ron, you go around the left side. We’ll go around the other way and meet you in back.”

  The officers branched off, examining the windows and doors of the house for signs of forced entry. They reconverged in the dark backyard.

  “I don’t see anything unusual,” Ron whispered.

  “Me neither,” Fitz said, “but dispatch told me the phone lines were cut. I think we’d better announce ourselves and see what’s going on. Ron, you stay back here. Kyle and I will cover the front.”

  Kyle and Fitz went back to the front porch and took up positions on each side of the door. They drew their service revolvers, and Fitz nodded and pounded on the door.

  “This is the police! Open the door and come out with your hands in the air.”

  A minute passed, and they heard footsteps inside the house. The porchlight flickered on.

  Kyle and Fitz stepped backward, crouching with guns raised as the front door opened. An older man wearing thick glasses and pajamas stood in the entryway with his hands held up near each side of his head.

  “Don’t shoot, don’t shoot! What’s going on? Fitz?”

  “Doc, you all right? We got a report of a burglary in progress out here,” Fitz said. He lowered his weapon, and Kyle did the same. “Did you hear anyone break in?”

  “What? No, no one’s here but me.”

  “You’re sure about that?” Fitz said. “You didn’t call 911 about twenty minutes ago?”

  “No, I’ve been asleep since around ten o’clock. I didn’t even hear you drive up.” The doctor looked drowsy and perplexed. “You can come in and look around, if you want.”

  “Looks like a crank call, Chief,” Kyle said. He placed his service revolver back in his duty belt as Fitz sighed and shook his head.

  “Goddamn punks. Ron, false alarm. Come on back around,” Fitz called. “Doc, I’m sorry to bother you. There’s gonna be hell to pay for this, I promise.”

  “No, no problem,” Doc said. “I’m sorry you boys drove all the way out here for nothing, though. Would you like to come in for a bit? I could make some coffee.”

  “That’s nice of you, but I think we’ll pass. I’ve got to get back to Ruthie, let her know everything’s okay, and then get hold of dispatch and see if we can’t find out who called us out here.” Fitz started back toward the Jeep. “But stop by the bakery if you’re in town tomorrow...er, today,” he said, over his shoulder. “You’ve got some coffee and pie on the house.”

  “Will do.” Doc Richardson smiled and raised a hand in thanks before closing his door.

  ~~~

  Leroy stood beneath the big spruce tree with the loaded beer bottles at his feet. He adjusted his ski mask and looked up at the windows of the apartments above the bakery. His heart was beating hard.

  She’ll love me for this, he thought as he forced himself to ignore a seed of indecision in his gut. Leroy flicked the cigarette lighter and smiled at the tiny, perfect flame.

  Two things he knew for sure: he was meant to be with Claudia, and he wouldn’t get another opportunity like this one.

  He held the lighter to the tip of the rag extending from the first Molotov cocktail. The rag ignited. Leroy dropped the lighter, picked up the bottle-bomb, and heaved it through the window in the bakery’s door.

  The sound of the glass shattering made him flinch. For a moment, he stood without moving, transfixed at the sight of the puddles of fire on the floor of the bakery.

  One more, he thought, snapping himself back into action. Then he would run to his car, drive around the block and onto Main Street, and arrive at the bakery just in time to come to Claudia’s rescue.

  Leroy lit the second Molotov cocktail and lifted it into the air.

  ~~~

  Startled awake, Claudia rolled over in Kyle’s bed.

  She held her breath, listening for whatever it was that woke her. There was another loud pop, and then silence.

  Fitz’s truck backfiring? she wondered. Maybe Kyle’s back. She snuggled down beneath the blankets, listening for footsteps coming up the stairs to the apartment, but the building remained quiet.

  Claudia had almost dozed off again when she smelled smoke. She sat up, sniffed to make sure, and scrambled out of bed. She jumped as an alarm begin to screech, two alarms, smoke detectors in Kyle’s apartment and the bakery downstairs. She grasped around for her clothes, a robe, something to put on, but the air inside the apartment was growing more and more uncomfortable to breathe. She threw open a window. Frozen air spilled inside, cutting through the fumes, and she took several deep breaths.

  Kyle’s bathrobe was draped over a chair near the bed. She took one more breath and put on the robe before dropping to her hands and knees.

  Stay low to the floor, she thought as her lesson plan for fire safety ran through her head. Crawl to the door and feel it to see whether it’s hot or cool. She was crawling down the hallway now, heading toward the living room and front door. Once there, she pressed a hand against it.

  The door was warm.

  It’s not hot, Claudia decided, and opened the door a crack. More smoke poured in through the opening, but she didn’t see any flames. Go, go, go, she told herself, and she crawled out of the apartment. The smoke was still thickening. She began to cough. Her eyes were burning and watering, but she could see the door to the apartment across the landing.

  Ruth!

  Claudia crawled to the Fitzgeralds’ door and began to knock. “Ruth, are you there?” Gasping for breath, she twisted the doorknob. It was locked, so she banged on the door again. “There’s a fire and we have to get out of here. Ruth?” Even kneeling in front of the door, she felt dizzy. The smoke was suffocating, pressing itself down her throat and into her eyes.

  “Ruth,” she called, before she coughed again. She couldn’t catch her breath. Her field of vision darkened from gray to black as she collapsed against the door.

  ~~~

  Following Ron in the department’s Jeep, Fitz and Kyle rounded the final curve in the highway as they came back into Mill River. Sirens blared in the distance.

  “Wonder what’s going on,” Fitz muttered. They turned onto Main
Street. Even several blocks away, they could see the flames shooting from the bakery.

  “Oh, God, Ruthie,” Fitz said. The lights and sirens on the department’s Jeep came to life as it shot forward ahead of them. Fitz stomped on the accelerator.

  “Claudia’s in my apartment,” Kyle said. He grabbed the CB radio in Fitz’s truck, but Ron’s voice came through the speakers before he could say anything more.

  “Dispatch, this is Officer Wykowski in Mill River. We’ve got a building on fire at 130 Main Street. Requesting fire personnel and paramedics, over.”

  “Officer Wykowski, this is Rutland County dispatch. We already have fire and medical enroute…”

  “We can’t wait,” Kyle said as Fitz slammed on the brakes outside the bakery. A few people were beginning to gather on the street. Fitz and Kyle jumped from the truck and pushed them aside as they sprinted to the building’s entrance. Fitz unlocked and opened it, releasing a stream of smoke into the cold.

  The stairwell to the apartments was fully walled off from the rest of the first floor, but it was still full of dense smoke. Grasping the handrail for guidance, Fitz and Kyle climbed toward the apartments with their gloved hands over their noses and mouths.

  Kyle was about to turn toward the door to his own apartment when they nearly tripped over Claudia slumped against Fitz’s door.

  “Ruthie!” the police chief yelled. He unlocked the apartment door as Kyle bent to lift Claudia. “Take her! I’ve got to get Ruthie!” Fitz rushed past him into the apartment.

  Struggling to breathe, Kyle carried Claudia down the stairwell to the outside exit. Two fire trucks and an ambulance had just stopped in front of the bakery.

  “I need help! Get some oxygen!” Kyle said, his voice raspy and hoarse. He coughed as two of the firefighters took Claudia from his arms. A third guided him closer to one of the trucks and put an oxygen mask up to his face. Several members of the fire and rescue unit began pulling out long lines of white hose while another group, wearing protective gear, raced past him up into the stairwell.