Amy's Secrets (eBook)

Chapter One

“I hate working Sunday nights. It’s always slow and boring,” Paul Sanford said to himself as he got into his Jeep Cherokee. Paul had clocked out at his job as second-shift manager at Anytime Market, a convenience store at the north end of the business section of town. He looked at his watch. It was now 12:17 a.m. He headed north on Reynolds Avenue.

There was little to no traffic this time of night on this June 3. The temperature was in the sixties and cloudy. There was no one behind Paul as he looked in his rearview mirror. He noticed a car with a “for sale” sign on it parked on the side of a driveway at a home to his left. After again checking his rearview mirror, he slowed down for a moment to glance at it. I’ll have to come back to check this out. Cindy might like it. Paul was thinking about his wife’s need for a better car.

Paul sped up and looked forward. Out of nowhere, a pickup truck raced out of the driveway of a home he was about to pass. “Damn, what the hell?” Paul yelled as he swerved out of the way to avoid broadsiding the vehicle. He landed his Jeep Cherokee over a bush that was in a line separating the yards. The front part of his car was on the bush, and the back wheels were in the muddy ditch.

“911, what’s your emergency?” a mild voice answered, seemingly that of a young woman.

“Some son of a bitch ran me off the road!” Paul yelled loudly.

“Calm down and please refrain from foul language. Are you hurt?” the dispatcher asked.

A little calmer, Paul answered, “I’m okay, but I’m not sure about my car.” Paul too realized it partly might have been his fault for taking his eyes off the road while looking at the parked car for sale.

“Will you need a tow truck?” she asked.

“No, ma’am,” Paul addressed her politely.

“I’ll have an officer on the way.”

“No need for that, ma’am. I called so that you people can go find the driver before they hurt or kill someone. I’d bet they’re still speeding somewhere down the road headed south,” Paul anxiously replied.

“Did you catch a tag number?” the dispatcher asked.

“With the angle, the vehicle came out, I could not see it. Plus, I was too busy trying to avoid a crash,” Paul answered a bit anxiously.

“What kind of vehicle?” the dispatcher responded, still cool and calm.

“I can say for sure a pickup truck and it had a canopy on it,” Paul answered.

“Could you tell the color?” the dispatcher asked.

“I’m not sure because the lighting was poor. I think bluish or silver color perhaps.” The lighting was an amber streetlight on a pole. “That’s all I can tell you.”

“Could you see if it was a male or female and how many were in the truck?” the dispatcher asked.

“I can only say just a driver, but I can’t swear if the driver was alone or not, or male or female. I think maybe a big person. The person in the driver’s seat did seem big. I’m not sure. “As I said, things happened so fast” Paul said.

“Sir, that’s not a lot to go on, but we’ll put an alert out for a speeder in a pickup.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be of better help. What I told you I hope is better than nothing.” Paul was now calmer. “I think maybe there was a hole in the window on the side of the canopy on the driver’s side.”

“You say you think, but not sure?” she asked and added, “About how sure are you?”

“Not a lot. As I said, it happened so fast.”

“What is the number of the home the vehicle came from?”

“Ah, let me look for a number. I’m at the north end of Reynolds in Pinewood Lakes.” Paul was already out of his Jeep, assessing the damage he had gotten as he spoke to 911. “I see a number now. It’s 1749 Reynolds Avenue.”

“Hold on a moment. I’m going to put the BOLO out on it immediately. A good chance it might have been the homeowner since it came from out of the driveway.” The dispatcher was able to immediately pull up the homeowner’s data, which included the owner’s name and tag number with the description.

“Okay. Will you need a tow truck?”

“I don’t think so now that I’m looking at it. If I do, I’ll call AAA.” Paul assumed she included the broken window on the canopy in her BOLO and didn’t ask if she did.

“That’s good of you. Let me have your full name and address if you don’t mind.”

“You don’t have to send a thank-you letter,” Paul said.

The dispatcher chuckled. “No, we don’t send out any thank-you letters. It’s just for our records.”

Paul gave the dispatcher his info, and they both clicked off.

Paul sniffed a strange smell in the air. Smells like smoke, Paul figured, but he was more concerned with his situation at the moment.

Paul assessed his situation and figured that, having a four-wheel-drive Jeep, all he needed to do was pull back over the bush and out of the shallow ditch and he’d be okay. I feel bad about messing that bush up, he thought. I think I’ll leave a note about what happened. I don’t know if it belongs to this property or the other. I’ll leave a note anyway.

Paul had more trouble getting out of the ditch than he thought he would. He had underestimated part of his problem. Rain earlier in the day had made the drainage ditch very muddy. He was digging himself deeper despite his four-wheel drive. He sat there for a moment idling.

With having his windows down, he continued to smell the smoke. This doesn’t smell like leaves or brush burning. Who’d be using a fireplace this time of year? It’s June, Paul asked himself.

Paul now remembered how his father had taught him to get out of a ditch, which he then accomplished quickly. He still wanted to leave the note, so he got the pad he had in his glove box to write a quick note. Paul got back out of his Jeep and left the note in the mailbox about thirty feet away. The smell of smoke got stronger. I think I need to check this out more.

Paul walked back to his Jeep and backed out into the street. Paul went back and forth a little to track down the source. He was about to give up looking, thinking perhaps the nighttime breeze had pushed the smell of smoke from far off. Suddenly he spotted a reddish glare in the side window of the home where the pickup came from. He sat looking a moment at what he was seeing, not quite sure what it was. Then it became vividly apparent. First, it was a red glare, but the curtain in the window now was on fire. It was now obvious.

“Did you remember something, Mr. Sanford?” The dispatcher remembered his number.

“No, it’s something else. The home at that address I gave you is on fire. I see fire inside a window on the side of the home, and I can smell it, too.”

“I’m sending—”

“I need to see if I can wake anyone inside,” Paul said, interrupting the dispatcher.

“I’m sending fire apparatus now,” the dispatcher said. “Stay on the line.”

“I will, but I’ll be putting the phone in my back pocket because I’ll need both hands to make a lot of rackets.” The dispatcher could hear Paul panting as he ran, but the sound faded as he put his phone in his pocket.

He reached the porch on the left side of the home. He took the four wooden steps by twos and ran across the wide porch in an instant. He started banging on the storm door and then opened it to get to the main wooden door.

“Hey! Fire! Get out! Get out! Fire! Fire! Get out now!” Paul yelled repeatedly many times. He repeatedly rang the doorbell with his thumb from his right hand as he yelled and hammered the door with his left fist.

“I don’t hear anyone responding or moving around, and I don’t see lights being turned on,” Paul said to the dispatcher after removing his phone from his pocket. “I’m going to look in the windows.”

“Okay, good,” the dispatcher said.

Paul looked into the large front picture window. “I can’t see anything. Besides lights being out, I think it’s getting pretty smoked up inside.”

Paul was trying to see anything he could through the window, to see if anyone was moving around. “I just heard a pop, like a small explosion or something, from the side of the home. I’m going to go see.”

Paul raced across the wraparound porch of the Queen Anne home. He saw flames shooting out from a side window as well as flames entering into the front corner room. “The fire broke through a side window. The fire is spreading fast. Hey, I’m looking up and down the driveway and into an open two-car garage, and I don’t see any vehicles. Sure hope no one’s home. I’m hearing sirens now. I need to get out of here, so I’m not trapped in by fire trucks and hoses. I have...