Black Widow
Page 41
So, as the water continued to spew down, I wearily got to my feet to see what remained of the Pork Pit.
* * *
As I staggered away from the wall, the depth of the destruction fully hit me.
Everything was a scorched, blackened, and now soggy mess. All the dish towels, foodstuffs, aprons, and napkins had been reduced to piles of flaky gray ash, while most of the silverware had melted to the floor and was now stuck there, as if someone had glued down all the forks, knives, and spoons as part of some weird abstract-art project.
I was so exhausted that I dragged my feet along the floor, sending up clouds of ash and soot that tickled my nose and made me cough. I clamped my hand over my mouth, muffling the sound as best I could, and moved over to where the double doors had once stood. They’d been completely burned away, and I slowly shuffled through the opening, dreading what I knew I was going to find in the storefront.
Utter destruction.
That was the only way to describe it.
The tables, chairs, and booths were all long gone, incinerated by the fire. All that remained of them were a few spindly metal legs sticking up out of the mounds of soot like crosses marking fresh graves. The patches of floor that I could see beneath the chunky, ashy debris resembled jagged pieces of black molten glass. Most of the appliances had actually survived, although the flames had burned so hot and fast that their edges were smushed and droopy, as though they were candy bars that had melted in the sun. The long counter had caved in on itself, while the ceiling tiles had all been burned away, letting me see the twisted shapes that the flames had scorched onto the brick above. Despite the water still spewing from the sprinklers, a few small fires continued to burn here and there, while exposed wires jutted out from the walls, sparking and cracking with bright blue and white flashes of electricity, just like they had in that warehouse so long ago. Even the bulletproof windows had melted, with thin, brittle-looking bubbles now bulging out of the once-clear panes.
I’d known that the damage would be bad, but to see the Pork Pit, Fletcher’s place, my gin joint, reduced to . . . to . . . to . . . nothing . . .
My heart seized in my chest, aching, twisting, and sputtering with loss. A strangled sob escaped my cracked, blistered lips, and I bent over double, my hands fisting in the folds of my T-shirt, right over my heart, as if I could ease my terrible hurt. Tears scalded my eyes, even hotter and harsher than the fire had been. I had thought that nothing could be more horrific than seeing the ruined rubble of my family’s mansion after it had been destroyed.
But this—this was worse.
“Well,” a low, male voice drifted inside to me. “That should finally shut off the sprinkler system.”
I blinked and looked up. Sure enough, the sprinklers were no longer spouting water. For the first time, I realized that I could see odd, distorted shapes moving outside through the warped bubbles and melted glass of the storefront windows. I didn’t know how long the fire had raged, but it was still dark out, except for the steady swirl of blue and white lights on the street. The cops were still outside, and no doubt so were Madeline, Emery, and Jonah.
I wasn’t safe. Not here. Not yet.
I ducked down behind what was left of the counter, straining to hear what was going on outside.
“We can’t go in just yet,” that same male voice rumbled again. “It’s still too hot in places, and the structural soundness has probably been compromised.”
He laughed at the bad joke he’d made, and his sly chuckles told me he didn’t want to come inside and actually hose down what was left of the blaze. Not really. Like the police, the fire department had its share of corruption and took bribes to put out fires . . . or not.
“Of course not, Chief,” Madeline answered him. “I trust your judgment. It’s already such a terrible tragedy. There’s no need to add to it by putting your firefighters in danger.”
“I’m glad that you agree,” the fire chief replied, the relief apparent in his voice. He knew that Madeline was the one in charge, not him. “Dawn is only a few hours away. I should be able to send my guys in there then. In the meantime, we’ll set a watch over the building. No one will go near it, much less get inside.”
Silence.
“Oh, I’m not worried about anyone going inside,” Madeline said. “Just someone who might come out.”
This time the fire chief was the one who paused before answering. “I don’t think there’s any . . . worry of that. If that gunwoman was in there like you said, there’s no way she could have survived. It was one of the worst blazes I’ve ever seen. You saw how long it took us to put it out. I still can’t believe that she set fire to her own restaurant, but you just never know about people, do you?”
“Unfortunately not,” Madeline replied in a smug voice.
They must have moved away from the storefront because I didn’t hear them say anything else. But one thing was for sure—I couldn’t go out the front doors, and the fire chief was probably on his way to set a watch on the back alley right now.
I needed to get out of here before that happened or I was dead.
Still keeping low, I moved away from the remains of the counter and hurried into the back of the restaurant. I must have inhaled more smoke than I’d thought because I felt slow, stupid, awkward, and clumsy, with a dull, languid fog that wouldn’t leave my mind no matter how hard I tried to push it away. I kept banging into the scorched walls, knocking free giant chunks of brittle ash, and I tripped over something lying just beyond the obliterated double doors.
I did a face-plant onto the floor. The fall stunned me, as did the charred, ashy thing below me. I slowly lifted my head and realized that I was staring at a charred, blackened skull. It took me a few more seconds to realize that I’d tripped over and was now lying on top of the dead woman I’d dragged out of the freezer earlier. Her body had been burned to a crisp, just like I’d wanted, but that didn’t mean I enjoyed the up-close view of what I’d been forced to do to her corpse.
I swallowed down the hot bile in my mouth, rolled off the body, and staggered back up onto my feet. I managed to stumble over to the back corner of the restaurant, where my frozen-food fort had been, and realized that I had another problem. This was the only part of the restaurant that wasn’t singed and scorched, as though something had been sitting on the floor that had been removed, showing the smooth, unmarred surface below.
* * *
As I staggered away from the wall, the depth of the destruction fully hit me.
Everything was a scorched, blackened, and now soggy mess. All the dish towels, foodstuffs, aprons, and napkins had been reduced to piles of flaky gray ash, while most of the silverware had melted to the floor and was now stuck there, as if someone had glued down all the forks, knives, and spoons as part of some weird abstract-art project.
I was so exhausted that I dragged my feet along the floor, sending up clouds of ash and soot that tickled my nose and made me cough. I clamped my hand over my mouth, muffling the sound as best I could, and moved over to where the double doors had once stood. They’d been completely burned away, and I slowly shuffled through the opening, dreading what I knew I was going to find in the storefront.
Utter destruction.
That was the only way to describe it.
The tables, chairs, and booths were all long gone, incinerated by the fire. All that remained of them were a few spindly metal legs sticking up out of the mounds of soot like crosses marking fresh graves. The patches of floor that I could see beneath the chunky, ashy debris resembled jagged pieces of black molten glass. Most of the appliances had actually survived, although the flames had burned so hot and fast that their edges were smushed and droopy, as though they were candy bars that had melted in the sun. The long counter had caved in on itself, while the ceiling tiles had all been burned away, letting me see the twisted shapes that the flames had scorched onto the brick above. Despite the water still spewing from the sprinklers, a few small fires continued to burn here and there, while exposed wires jutted out from the walls, sparking and cracking with bright blue and white flashes of electricity, just like they had in that warehouse so long ago. Even the bulletproof windows had melted, with thin, brittle-looking bubbles now bulging out of the once-clear panes.
I’d known that the damage would be bad, but to see the Pork Pit, Fletcher’s place, my gin joint, reduced to . . . to . . . to . . . nothing . . .
My heart seized in my chest, aching, twisting, and sputtering with loss. A strangled sob escaped my cracked, blistered lips, and I bent over double, my hands fisting in the folds of my T-shirt, right over my heart, as if I could ease my terrible hurt. Tears scalded my eyes, even hotter and harsher than the fire had been. I had thought that nothing could be more horrific than seeing the ruined rubble of my family’s mansion after it had been destroyed.
But this—this was worse.
“Well,” a low, male voice drifted inside to me. “That should finally shut off the sprinkler system.”
I blinked and looked up. Sure enough, the sprinklers were no longer spouting water. For the first time, I realized that I could see odd, distorted shapes moving outside through the warped bubbles and melted glass of the storefront windows. I didn’t know how long the fire had raged, but it was still dark out, except for the steady swirl of blue and white lights on the street. The cops were still outside, and no doubt so were Madeline, Emery, and Jonah.
I wasn’t safe. Not here. Not yet.
I ducked down behind what was left of the counter, straining to hear what was going on outside.
“We can’t go in just yet,” that same male voice rumbled again. “It’s still too hot in places, and the structural soundness has probably been compromised.”
He laughed at the bad joke he’d made, and his sly chuckles told me he didn’t want to come inside and actually hose down what was left of the blaze. Not really. Like the police, the fire department had its share of corruption and took bribes to put out fires . . . or not.
“Of course not, Chief,” Madeline answered him. “I trust your judgment. It’s already such a terrible tragedy. There’s no need to add to it by putting your firefighters in danger.”
“I’m glad that you agree,” the fire chief replied, the relief apparent in his voice. He knew that Madeline was the one in charge, not him. “Dawn is only a few hours away. I should be able to send my guys in there then. In the meantime, we’ll set a watch over the building. No one will go near it, much less get inside.”
Silence.
“Oh, I’m not worried about anyone going inside,” Madeline said. “Just someone who might come out.”
This time the fire chief was the one who paused before answering. “I don’t think there’s any . . . worry of that. If that gunwoman was in there like you said, there’s no way she could have survived. It was one of the worst blazes I’ve ever seen. You saw how long it took us to put it out. I still can’t believe that she set fire to her own restaurant, but you just never know about people, do you?”
“Unfortunately not,” Madeline replied in a smug voice.
They must have moved away from the storefront because I didn’t hear them say anything else. But one thing was for sure—I couldn’t go out the front doors, and the fire chief was probably on his way to set a watch on the back alley right now.
I needed to get out of here before that happened or I was dead.
Still keeping low, I moved away from the remains of the counter and hurried into the back of the restaurant. I must have inhaled more smoke than I’d thought because I felt slow, stupid, awkward, and clumsy, with a dull, languid fog that wouldn’t leave my mind no matter how hard I tried to push it away. I kept banging into the scorched walls, knocking free giant chunks of brittle ash, and I tripped over something lying just beyond the obliterated double doors.
I did a face-plant onto the floor. The fall stunned me, as did the charred, ashy thing below me. I slowly lifted my head and realized that I was staring at a charred, blackened skull. It took me a few more seconds to realize that I’d tripped over and was now lying on top of the dead woman I’d dragged out of the freezer earlier. Her body had been burned to a crisp, just like I’d wanted, but that didn’t mean I enjoyed the up-close view of what I’d been forced to do to her corpse.
I swallowed down the hot bile in my mouth, rolled off the body, and staggered back up onto my feet. I managed to stumble over to the back corner of the restaurant, where my frozen-food fort had been, and realized that I had another problem. This was the only part of the restaurant that wasn’t singed and scorched, as though something had been sitting on the floor that had been removed, showing the smooth, unmarred surface below.
