When the Wind Blows - James Patterson [90]
“If you recognize any more hospital personnel, old friends and acquaintances and such, be sure to let me know,” he said.
We curled around the last familiar bend approaching the Inn-Patient. Kit almost stopped—then he sped up. He stepped on the gas hard and the Jeep lurched forward. We barreled right past the Inn-Patient, past my home.
“Kit, stop. We have to stop!” I yelled. “Kit, stop this Jeep! Now!” I repeated.
“Frannie, no! It’s not good. We can’t stop,” he said and kept speeding down the road. The rear of the Jeep was fishtailing badly.
I knew Kit was right, but I couldn’t believe what I saw. I thought my heart was finally going to break.
They had burned down my house, my hospital, my everything. They had torched the Inn-Patient. All of my poor animals were inside.
Book Five
WHEN THE WIND BLOWS
Chapter 95
WE STREAKED PAST the Inn-Patient at better than sixty miles an hour. I felt hollow and sick inside. I knew Kit was right to speed by my place without stopping, but that didn’t make it any easier.
Max leaned in close from the backseat. “Oh, Frannie, I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault.”
“We’re sorry, Frannie,” the other kids joined in.
In the back of the Jeep, little Pip was in a highly agitated state. Pip was barking and whining as we passed our old house, or what was left of it.
Damn them. Damn them to hell. Who had done this? Who was responsible? I wanted to do terrible things to them. I felt I had the right. I’d never felt anything close to this kind of anger and disgust.
“I know where we can go.” I finally managed to speak after we got a mile or so up the road where I used to live. “I know where we’ll be safe, for a little while at least. Until we can figure something out.”
I gave Kit directions to my sister Carole’s. She lived in the town of Radcliff, which is about twenty miles southwest of Bear Bluff. We’d be okay there, for the rest of the day, anyway.
Carole had moved out to Colorado from Milwaukee, after she split with her husband, Charlie. She lived on a small working farm with her two daughters, Meredith and Brigid, and their dogs, two geese—Graham and Crackers—and a house-trained rabbit named Thumper. People can tell right away that we’re sisters.
I would have gone to Carole’s earlier, at least to talk to her, but she and the kids had been on their two-week camping trip to Gunnison National Forest. I wasn’t even sure if they were back now, which might be even better.
But I spotted C-Bird working in her vegetable garden as we approached the house. She was nearly lost among the droopy-headed sunflowers. Bumblebees danced around her.
“Kit, would you stop here? Let me walk to the house. I have to sort of prepare Carole for this.”
“Doesn’t she like kids?” Max cracked from the back.
“Yes, she does, and animals, too,” I said.
I climbed out of the Jeep and walked toward my sister. I wasn’t sure I was doing the right thing now. I wasn’t sure about anything anymore. In the last few hours I’d learned there were a lot of folks in the area whom I couldn’t trust. I also had a better appreciation for what Kit had been going through with this case.
My sister Carole is five years older than I am and a great, great person in every way. Her husband, Charlie, a radiologist, was such a jerk to lose her and his kids. Carole summed it up. “You snooze, you lose.”
“Instant family?” she said, looking toward the Jeep. She had on muddy gardening boots, plaid shorts, an old denim shirt, and a floppy straw hat. Sunblock was smeared unevenly on her forehead and cheeks. Behind her, a clothesline was heavy with towels and bathing suits from their trip.
“Of course you can bring them for a little unexpected visit, Frances. Who are they, though? Is that a man in the driver’s seat?”
I nodded. “His name is Kit—I mean it’s Tom.”
Carole’s eyebrows raised several inches.
“Uh-huh. He’s Kit, Tom, whatever. And? The others?”
Man, oh man, oh man. The others?
“Carole, this is very strange. I’m your sister. You trust me, right?”
“Up to a point. You didn’t get married to someone with a huge