Chapter 3
Liam and Meghan lived in a two-bedroom apartment on the second floor of a complex, with an outdoor landing Meghan had covered in Christmas lights. The building was dated, but the grounds were well maintained and the living space generous.
Liam stepped into the kitchen and kissed his wife on the cheek. “Have a great day, Meggie. I love you.”
He smelled like aftershave and soap, and she licked her lips. “You too, baby,” she answered him, as she buttered Fiona’s toast. “Good luck with Flanders.”
“Luck’s got nothing to do with it,” he said with a wink. He was an outstanding salesman, and she was proud of him.
He picked up little Fiona from her coloring at the table and hugged her tightly, her red curls peeking out from beneath a big red Santa hat. “Goodbye, little mouse.”
“Can you stay and make Christmas cookies with us, Daddy?”
“I can’t, sweetheart. Daddy has to go to work.” He rubbed his nose against hers. “I'm going to be late tonight.”
“Again?” Meghan asked, handing Fiona her breakfast. Several nights in the last few weeks, he’d gotten home after she’d gone to bed.
Liam shrugged. “It just so happens, I’m working on a very special Christmas gift.”
“Oh, really?” she asked, digging in the cupboard, trying to remember what she'd been looking for. “How hard is it to find a jewelry store?”
“Oh, no, no, no. Not for my wife. I’m getting her something from the heart.”
“Cheapskate,” she said, laughing.
“Materialistic Scrooge.” He poked her with his finger. “I’m getting you the greatest gift you’ve ever gotten in your whole entire life.”
“Wow, that’s a lot of hype. What if I don’t like it?”
“Sorry, all items are sold as-is, no refunds or exchanges.”
She smiled at him. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” He checked his watch. “I’ve got to run. Have a great day!”
Meghan watched the door close behind him, thinking she was the luckiest woman on earth. Christmas was the hardest time of year for her, and Liam was always trying to make it better.
No matter how hard she tried to stop it, she could feel herself retreating into her shell, so sad over missing her family during the holidays. Every year it was a little more difficult, lasting longer into the new year before she was able to find some relief.
She didn't regret choosing Liam when she had to make the choice, but the price that she paid only compounded over time, increasing the burden on her conscience and her wellbeing. For the last two weeks, she couldn't seem to stop crying.
She bustled around the kitchen, grabbing her own breakfast dishes and putting them in the dishwasher, keeping her face averted from her daughter to hide her tears. She didn’t want Fiona’s memories of Christmas to be affected by her own depression.
The doorbell rang.
“I'll get it!” Fiona yelled, bouncing out of her seat. Meghan followed her, taking time to wipe her face and eyes. She walked into the living room just as Fiona opened the door—to Ricky Powell, standing on the threshold.
“No!” Meghan yelled, running to pull the girl back as if from the edge of a cliff. She put herself between Fiona and Ricky.
He held up his hands. “I just want to talk to you.”
Adrenaline surging, she snapped at him. “No. You get the hell away from me, Ricky. You stay away from my home.” Her arm flung the wooden door with all of her strength, only to watch Ricky easily stop it with his hand.
“It’s important, Meghan. Look, I’ll stand right here. I won’t even come in.”
She looked down at her daughter, who clung to her waist.
“I won’t hurt you,” he said.
Despite her anxiety, she believed that was true. Ricky had never threatened her.
Meghan pried the girl's arms from around her waist and talked in a calm voice. “Fiona, I need to talk to this man.”
The girl shook her head.
“It's okay, he's an old friend of mine. I was just surprised to see him. Can you please go to your room and play for a little while?”
Fiona glared at her mother, then at the stranger, shaking her head no.
“Yes. Go to your room, please.”
“I want Mommy.”
“It's okay, Fiona. Go now.”
The girl begrudgingly left the room, and Meghan crossed her arms over her chest, facing Ricky. “How did you find us?”
“I followed Liam here from Largo yesterday.”
Liam would sooner drive through hell. “That’s a lie.” She reached for the door.
“Call his work,” said Ricky. “They'll tell you he wasn't there. He was stopped next to me at the intersection of Washington and Church. He didn't see me, but I got a good look at him. It seemed fishy that he’d be back in town just two days after someone tried to burn down the Super Duper, so I followed him.”
“Someone tried to burn down the grocery store?”
He nodded. “Fortunately, they had a sprinkler system. But the damages are in the tens of thousands.”
“I don’t see what that has to do with us.”
He reached in his pocket, pulling out a cell phone with a large display and tapping buttons while he spoke.
“Let’s see if you understand after you watch this.” He held up the screen to face her, a black and white video beginning to roll. “This is the surveillance tape from the parking lot of the Super Duper. I just got it late last night.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, suddenly nervous. The grainy image was difficult to see, particularly on the tiny screen. A figure emerged from the shadows with what appeared to be a gas can, and began dousing the walls and foundation of the building.
“Ricky, I don’t know what you’re hoping to prove…” her voice trailed off as the figure came close to the camera, his baseball hat and 49ers jacket clearly visible in the frame.
“Liam’s a 49ers fan, isn’t he, Meghan?”
She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. She was watching the figure on the screen, with a coat and hat just like her husband’s, move in a hauntingly familiar way.
“Is that his jacket? His hat?”
She should know. She had bought the matching set for his birthday last fall. She was constantly kidding him that they would be threadbare in no time if he wore them as often as he did.
Ricky was watching her. “That fire was on Friday. There was another one yesterday.”
Oh, God. “Where?” She felt sick.
“Liam’s parents’ house. It was burned to the ground.”
“Oh my, God. Was anyone hurt?”
He shook his head. “No, thank goodness. Chip and Lindsay weren't home.”
“What about the kids?”
He smiled without humor. “The kids are all grown up now, Meghan. You've been gone a long time.” He stared at her. “And I’ve missed you.”
“Don’t.” She held up her hand. “There was never anything between us, Ricky.”
He looked down at the phone in his hands. “I know you think I set Liam up, but I didn't.”
“You lied about seeing him on Main Street with a gas can.”
“You're right. I did. He wasn’t walking down Main Street with it, he was at the old mill with it.”
“Oh, bullshit, Ricky.”
He was quiet for a moment, just staring at her. “I followed you to the old mill that night.”
A wave of violation rolled through her abdomen. “You bastard.”
“I hid in the woods by the water. You were wearing a white shirt and a long pink skirt. Not what you'd worn to school that day.”
“How dare you?”
“I tried for years to get your attention, Meghan, but you only had eyes for Wheaton. It burned me up inside, to see you with him, to know what you were doing in there.”
He said it like it was dirty, and Meghan could feel her cheeks flaming hot. Her arms itched to scratch his face, hit him with her fists for invading her cherished memories. “You had no right.”
“After you left, I just sat there in the woods. I was devastated.” He swallowed, shaking his head. “Then Liam comes out of the mill, and I thought about hurting him. I remember I hated him for putting his hands on you. I hated him so much.”
Ricky took a deep breath. “He walked to his car and opened the trunk. He took out a red and gold gas can.”
The world tilted on its axis. Liam kept a red and gold gas can in the trunk of his truck to this day, a leftover from that first car with the broken gas gauge.
“And he goes back to the mill and starts pouring the gas all around it. I knew I should stop him, but I was scared of what he was doing, scared of what he would do to me if he knew I had seen him. So I ran,” he continued.
“I ran as fast as I could back home. I didn’t even make it out of the park before I smelled the smoke. ”
Meghan felt her faith in her husband wavering like a leaf on a tree, caught up in a storm she hadn't even seen coming.
Liam started those fires.
“The next morning, I told Sheriff McDonald I had seen Liam with the gas can.” He met her eyes. “But I didn't want to tell him about the old mill, or that you were there, too.”