Charged

He came to a jerky stop and put his hand out in front of me, forcing me to stop as well. “Avett.” His drawl was extra thick as he said my name quietly. “I didn’t pay for Quaid. He called me right after he met with you, before the arraignment, and told me your dad was picking up the tab. I told Brite I would cover it, that I got the money from the farm when it sold, but you know what arguing with your old man is like.” He shook his head. “You don’t owe me anything, doll.”

I felt like a ton of bricks had landed on me. I knew Dad had borrowed the money for my bail from his retirement fund, but if he had also paid Quaid’s retainer, it meant he must have depleted the entire thing. My dad wasn’t going to have anything left to live on; he was going to be flat-ass broke and it was all my fault. I put a hand to my chest as the reality of the fact that even though I had been on a mission to destroy my own life for years, the one that constantly kept taking the hits and kept getting damaged was my dad.

I must have zoned out and gotten lost in my own guilt and sucked into my own vortex of blame, as usual, because the next thing I knew, Asa had my quivering hand in his and was pulling me from my stupor into a flat-out sprint. He had long-ass legs and I did not, so I stumbled after while demanding to know what kind of bug he had gotten up his very fine southern ass.

“Hey, Opie … what the fuck?!” I barked out the words as he sped up even more once we hit the block my dad’s house was on.

“Don’t you smell the smoke? It’s so close.” He sounded legitimately concerned and as we rounded the corner the acrid and pungent smell of something burning hit me full in the face. I’d been too worried about the role I was playing in running my father’s life to notice the sirens were practically on top of us, or that there was a thick cloud of black smoke floating over our heads.

I was short, but I managed to pick up the pace and keep up with him, even as dread settled like a lead weight in my gut. It was pretty clear the closer we got that there was a small army of police and fire trucks parked in front of my dad’s house. It was also pretty clear that the cloud of smoke was coming from the beautiful brick building being entirely engulfed in flames that seemed like they were reaching up towards the sky.

The heat was air stealing and intense. So was the spectacle of neighbors and passersby that had gathered to watch everything I owned, everything my father had collected over his life, turn into ash and memory. I was shaking so hard that my legs couldn’t hold me up and I fell to my knees on the sidewalk, clutching my chest. I couldn’t see anything beyond the blur of tears in my eyes and I felt like the fire was hot enough that it was scalding me all the way to where I had crumpled to the ground. It was going to melt me on the spot, turn me into nothing more than a boiling puddle of guilt and remorse. A police officer came by and told us to back away, that it wasn’t safe, and when Asa told him I lived in the home, I saw the pity and an apology on his face.

He helped Asa pull me to my feet and ushered us over to where the fire trucks were parked in front of the house. Waterfalls of water streamed out of high-powered hoses as men outfitted to battle the blaze rushed to and fro. A man that had on navy pants and a crisp button-up shirt with a badge that looked a lot like a police badge pulled me away from the other two men and started peppering me with questions I struggled to answer.

Was anyone home?

No. My dad was at the bar since I was with Asa, and Rome was out for the day.

Did I remember leaving anything on or candles burning when I left for the afternoon?

No. My dad was a certified badass … we didn’t even have candles in the house.

Was anything unusual when I left the property?

No.

Was it possible I left something on like a curling iron?

No. I always double-checked everything when I left.

Did we have a gas or electric stove?

Gas, and no, I hadn’t smelled propane or anything else that would indicate a leak.

Was the electrical in the home up to date?

Yes. Dad had had Zeb redo all the electrical a few years ago, after the toaster shocked him enough to knock him on his ass.

My head was spinning and there were a couple times I thought I was going to throw up on the man, because no matter how much water hit the house, the flames seemed to keep climbing and climbing. The house was being devoured by furious streaks of orange and red and I realized Asa was right. I’d thought being arrested and sitting in jail was as low as I would ever go, but watching everything I had, everything that mattered to my father, disintegrate in front of my eyes, I knew that jail was a false bottom and I was still falling … lower and lower. I couldn’t even see the top anymore.

The guy continued to drill me, more questions that I didn’t have the answers to, and eventually Asa came over and put his arm around me and pulled me to his wide chest.

“Called your old man. Both he and Darcy are on the way.” He pressed his cheek to the top of my head and I squeezed him for all I was worth.

“How did he sound?” Heartbroken? Angry? Terrified? That’s how I sounded when I asked the question.

Asa muttered something over my head and let me go. He set me away from him but kept both his hands on my shoulders and gave me a hard shake. It made my head snap back and had my teeth clicking together.

“He sounded scared out of his ever loving mind that his daughter might be injured. He sounded pissed as hell that he wasn’t here to console you as you lose everything you own right before your eyes. He’s worried, like any good parent would be, that this is tied directly to those creeps that were watching the house.” He shook me again. “How did you think he would sound, Avett?”