SECRETS & LIES 7 (Secrets & Lies #7) - H.M. Ward Page 0,22
When it doesn’t move beyond the initial pool, I grab the broom and smack the bottle. It goes flying and crashes into the wall where Nate pinned me. Oil streaks across the wallpaper as the bottle hits and then skitters across the linoleum, spilling the rest of the contents across the floor.
I’m not this person. I’m not. I can’t do this, but I already have. The grease on the stove catches fire, and an orange flame flickers in the pan, engulfing the entire thing. Tongues of fire dance, tall and thin, spreading, becoming thicker every second. The flames jump from the pan to the stovetop, licking the walls. I have no choice now. The room is filled with smoke and I can barely breathe. I strike a second match and drop it to the floor in front of the stove. It ignites, racing rapidly across the room, burning away the green liquid in a flash. Before I can blink, flames are consuming everything. The fire on the stove spits, hissing as it grows. The fluid on the floor meets up with the spilled grease, and the room fills with thick black smoke.
I back out of the kitchen and move toward the front of the house. I need to wait a few minutes to make sure it doesn’t go out. This house has to burn to the ground, or Ferro will come back. I cover my face with a hand towel from the bathroom and back away from the spreading flames. When I press my back to the front door, I try to wait, but I’m terrified. The flames don’t stay contained to the kitchen. They spread down the hallway, to Nate’s room, and now they’re coming for me. Wallpaper melts off the walls as the intense heat rolls toward me. The fire pops and crackles as it inches forward, consuming everything in its path. I toss the towel into the fire down the hall.
With my back to the door, I twist the knob and rush outside, coughing up a lung. I leave the door open, feeding the flames, and stumble onto the porch with my phone in my hand. I don’t dial. Instead, I press it to my ear and say loudly to no one, “There’s a fire!” I give the address and cough relentlessly, lingering too close to the house.
As I end my fake call and slip my phone back into my pocket, the moving guy from across the street rushes over and pulls me away from the house. He’s a thick man, all muscle, and the type of guy who would run inside. He asks me, “Is there anyone else inside?”
“No.” I cough so hard I double over and clutch my stomach.
He stands with me as more people gather. The flames at the back of the house reach up to the roof now. There’s a loud explosion and the sound of glass shattering as black smoke begins to billow up from kitchen windows. “I’ll call for help.”
“I already did.” I start crying and tell him I was cooking, and the grease caught fire. I lie through my teeth while praying it looks like stupidity and not arson. Maybe I should have trusted Ferro, did things his way, and left. But I couldn’t risk it. If Ferro lied about anything, it could mean jail for Nate and me. At least if things go to hell, I know I tried everything I could.
Explaining to the moving guy, I manage between coughs, “I couldn’t put it out. Throwing water on it didn’t work. It’s almost like it made it worse.”
The man blanches and looks back up at the house. “You threw water on a grease fire? Are you burned?” He doesn’t scold me for something so stupid. He just looks me over.
“No, I just inhaled too much smoke. I tried to put it out, but I couldn’t.”
People gather, and everyone starts telling everyone else that the police were already called, that a fire truck should be here any second, but there are no sirens. No cops. No firefighters. No ambulance. By the time a truck does arrive, the house is consumed in a wall of flames. Someone must have called and scolded them for taking so long. They keep the fire from spreading, but it’s too late for Nate’s house.
After I’m examined, I’m sent away in an ambulance, even after protesting. I swallowed too much smoke, and I can barely breathe. They want to keep me for observation. I want to