But she was on her knees, weapon beside her, gasping for air. “Fire!” Weakly, she pointed toward her mother’s window. “Hannah.”
She wanted to tell him to call the fire department. Would just as soon as she could croak the words out of her smokedamaged throat. But he was already running for the house. Came back much too soon.
In the next moment, comprehension bloomed. The folding step stool he carried was set beneath Hannah’s window. He climbed it with a surprising agility and cocked the bat like a baseball player waiting for a fast pitch. Then swung with all his might and shattered the window. Knocked out the jagged shards surrounding the sash and did the same to the inside window. And then, to her horror, he dropped the bat and hoisted himself up and attempted to squeeze through it.
The fear that he’d get stuck had her staggering to her feet. Stumbling over. She could hear him grunting and swearing. Then he disappeared inside the room.
Time slowed to a stop. An eternity passed. Compelled to move, Risa scrambled up the stepladder, intent on checking on Jerry’s progress. He met her at the window. Holding a limp Hannah Blanchette.
“Help me get her through there!”
Risa grasped her mother’s shoulders and helped thread her through the window’s opening. It was more difficult than it should have been. She was dead weight. Unresponsive. And Risa couldn’t help remembering just a few hours earlier when Adam had been the same.
Panic fueled adrenaline. Powered strength. She hauled her mother out of Jerry’s arms and balanced her awkwardly over her shoulder as she backed down the stepladder. Hannah was nearly as tall as Risa although spare as a rod. Her height meant that her legs tangled with Risa’s as she staggered toward Jerry’s drive. Tripped. They both went sprawling.
On her knees now, Risa rolled her mother over. Checked for a pulse. Sagged in relief when she found it thready and weak. Glancing over her shoulder she noted Jerry was squeezing through the window, his robe agape and showing much too much hair-covered skin.
For the second time that evening she told him, “Call an ambulance.”
Chapter 16
“You should be in bed, too.”
Risa winced at her mother’s smoke-roughened voice. Knew that hers sounded much the same. “Don’t talk,” she admonished her gently, and stroked Hannah’s gray hair away from her face. “That’ll just make your throat hurt worse.”
“What happened?”
Risa shook her head in mock impatience. But she answered honestly, “I don’t know yet. It’ll be a while before the investigators will have answers. Don’t worry about that now, Mom. It could have been anything. Faulty wiring. An appliance that shorted out.” She paused to sip from the water glass on the nearby table. Then made sure her mother took another drink from her own cup before continuing. “We won’t know the extent of the damage until I talk to the firemen.” The fire truck had arrived shortly before the ambulance had, and at the time, the house had been the last thing on Risa’s mind.
Tears filled Hannah’s eyes. The sight squeezed Risa’s heart. “Silly.” The older woman managed. “It’s just a house. Filled with things that can be replaced.”
“And everything will be replaced.” Risa picked up her mother’s hand to squeeze it reassuringly. Although silently she wondered how long a process that would be. There were things she’d have to see to immediately, for her mother and for herself. She could maybe have coworkers Abbie or Ramsey ship her some more clothes from her place near Manassas. But she’d need some things now. And so would her mother.
“Look at the bright side.” She tried for a teasing tone. It still sounded raspy. “You wanted to get rid of those sketches of mine. Chances are, wherever you stashed the drawing pad, it’s destroyed, too.”
But her mother just looked puzzled. “I didn’t have your drawing pad, dear. You keep it on your bedside table. I never understood . . .” A fit of coughing seized her then and Risa helped her sit up straighter until it passed. Then forced more water on her in its aftermath.
“It doesn’t matter.” And it didn’t. It had been a poorly constructed attempt to get her mother’s mind off her troubles. And it had apparently worked too well because Hannah returned to the topic even after she sank back against her pillows.
“The last time I saw it, it was on your table.” A hint of color flushed her cheeks. “I’ll admit I looked through it. We talked about