Trial By Fire

That response evidently wasn’t good enough. Do

“The people who work here won’t tell me anything, not a word,” she whined into the phone when someone answered.

A few of James’s relatives had decamped for the evening, leaving behind a couple of unoccupied chairs. Do

“One of the other visitors told me that Hal is here right now. He’s in one of the rooms, but they won’t tell me which one. I’m guessing that means it’s bad news. Yes,” she added after a pause. “You’d probably better head home. I’m at Saint Gregory’s. On the eighth floor, in the burn unit. Do you want me to call your brother? Okay. It’s probably better if you do that, and if I happen to see Cooper, I’ll let him know you’re on your way.”

Just then the door to room 814 opened and Sister Anselm emerged, leading a sobbing Hal Cooper. Dave left Ali behind and hurried to meet them. “It’s her?” he asked.

Hal nodded wordlessly.

“Perhaps you’d be so good as to come with me, Mr. Cooper,” Dave said, taking Hal by the arm and leading him toward the elevator. “We need to put you in touch with investigators from the ATF, and from the marshal’s office in Fountain Hills. We’re all going to need to ask you some questions.”

Do

Hal shook his head numbly. “I don’t know,” he managed. “It’s too soon to tell.”

“Are you saying she’s going to die?” Do

Before Hal could say anything more, the elevator door closed.

Dave and Hal disappeared. Once the door shut, Do

“It is your mother,” she confirmed when someone answered. “She’s here in the burn unit at Saint Gregory’s in Phoenix. Yes, the one on Camelback. You’d better get here as soon as you can.” There was a pause. “How bad is it?” Do

Across the room Ali opened her phone and sent a text message to Sheriff Maxwell.

Victim IDed. Mimi Cooper. Dave is taking the husband to meet with ATF and Fountain Hills marshals.

Sheriff Maxwell’s response came back in less than a minute.

Good work. Richard Do

Ali looked up. Down the hall, Sister Anselm was standing at her favorite window, looking out at the nighttime city. Without responding to the sheriff’s message, Ali sent a text message to her.

Can we talk?

Sister Anselm glanced at her phone. Then, smiling, she beckoned for Ali to join her at the window.

“Sheriff Maxwell was just asking me if I thought you still needed me.”

“Oh, yes,” Sister Anselm said. “I certainly need you here tomorrow.”

Ali nodded. “All right. I’ll be here. But did she recognize her husband?”

“Absolutely,” Sister Anselm said. “Her response to him was a wonder to behold. She’s resting more peacefully now than she has all day.”

“She still doesn’t know who’s responsible for setting her on fire?” Ali asked.

“No, and just because Mimi was glad to see Mr. Cooper doesn’t mean he had nothing to do with all this. I intend to keep a close eye on him.”

Which meant, Ali concluded, that Sister Anselm didn’t trust the man and was unprepared to leave Hal Cooper alone with his injured wife.

Ali was about to text a response to Sheriff Maxwell when her phone rang. A glance at caller ID told her that this wasn’t the sheriff calling back. It was Athena.

“My daughter-in-law,” Ali explained to Sister Anselm. “She’s in town and was hoping we could get together.”

“Of course,” Sister Anselm said. “I think things are under control for tonight.”

“You’ll call if you need me?”

“Absolutely.”

By then Ali’s phone had stopped ringing, so she punched Redial. “Sorry I couldn’t answer before. I’m leaving the hospital right now. Where are you?”

“At the apartment,” Athena said. “Just off Apache in Tempe.”

It sounded like Athena was sniffling. June in Phoenix was hardly the time to come down with a cold or sinus infection. Ali wondered if she had been crying.

“What about grabbing something to eat? I’m starving,” Ali said. “Do you want to meet me somewhere?”

“Not really,” Athena said. “I’d rather you came here.”

Ali’s gut gave an ominous twist. Athena Reynolds was boundlessly enthusiastic, and always ready for whatever. This didn’t sound like her.

“Tell you what,” Ali said. “I’ll pick up something on the way. Give me your address so I can program it into the GPS.”

On her way down to the hospital lobby, Ali called her hotel, spoke to room service, and asked them to box up some food-fries and two burgers-that she could take with her. At the hotel, she left the car in the driveway and hurried upstairs to shed the red wig.

Ali knew instinctively that whatever was going on between Athena and Chris needed to be handled by Ali Reynolds rather than Cecelia McCa

The Desert Dunes apartment complex had little to recommend it other than its proximity to the ASU campus. It was a grim-looking three-story place built around a courtyard with a few scraggly palm trees for landscaping. It looked as though the courtyard might once have included a pool. That was gone, filled in and covered over by a tiny basketball court where no one was shooting hoops through baskets missing their nets.

Ali followed Athena’s directions up two flights of stairs and down a long breezeway-a breezeway with no breeze on this hot summer night. The doorbell outside apartment 310 was covered with a three-by-five card reading Out of Order, so Ali knocked on the metal hollow-core door. Seconds later, Athena flung the door open.

Ali could tell at a glance that her earlier assumption was correct. Athena had been crying.

“I come bearing food,” Ali said, presenting Athena with the room-service burgers.

“Come in,” Athena said. With a notable lack of enthusiasm she took the bag and ushered Ali into the room. “It’s not much, but it’s cheap, and we’re only here for summer session.”

Surprisingly enough, the apartment was nicer inside than Ali would have expected. Someone-maybe an assistant professor rather than a grad student-had gone to the trouble of assembling a collection of good-quality secondhand furniture. Nothing matched, but the chairs covered with faded chintz were comfortable, and the end tables and bookshelves were sturdy if old-fashioned. The artwork on the walls was anything but old-fashioned. The unframed canvases provided explosions of splashy color on the otherwise landlord-bland taupe interior.

“Art student?” Ali asked.

Athena nodded on her way toward the galley kitchen. While Athena busied herself with setting out plates and glassware on the fifties-era Formica tabletop, Ali forced herself to take a seat and keep her mouth shut. She was dying to ask what the problem was, but she knew she needed to let Athena tell her at her own speed.

“I’m pregnant,” Athena said bluntly, once they were seated.

I’m pregnant, Ali noted. Not we’re pregnant.

Still, of all the news Athena might have given her, news of an expected grandchild was something Ali welcomed wholeheartedly.

“That’s wonderful,” she said. “I’m thrilled. What does Chris think?”

“I haven’t exactly told him,” Athena admitted.

“Why not?” Ali asked. “It’s his baby, too.”

“We didn’t plan on getting pregnant,” Athena said. “At least not so soon. Actually, I didn’t expect to get pregnant at all, but I got careless. I forgot a couple of pills. Now this has happened, and I don’t know what to do.”