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Van
Many Fires Ago…
“I beg you! Don’t do this!” The respected mayor of Orange Grove, South Carolina, trembles in his designer suit when I step forward.
“Now isn’t the time for begging, Mayor Williams,” I scold. “That part comes later”—I offer him a threatening smile—“when the smoke is thick, and the roar of the flames drowns out your cries for help.”
The ever-present knot lodged in my chest stirs as his frightened gaze flicks to the angry flames behind me, burning brightly within the metal trash can.
My mother felt this fear. She stood at the window, armed with a brave smile and empty assurances, as the fire breached our doorway, atop our painted ceilings.
“As you can see, Mayor, the flames are contained, but if you don’t tell me what I need to know”—I grab the glass of Cognac off the table and take a drink—“I’ll feed the flames with your finest spirits and paint your corrupted town with the ashes of your lounge.”
To emphasize my point, I toss the tumbler of alcohol into the fire and step back, admiring how the flames rise from the ground, begging for more.
“As you know, I have quite the hard-on for the contemporary arts.”
And modern, but I doubt the mayor is in the mood to discuss my artistic preferences.
“I’ve already told you, I don’t know who he is!”
The bitter hatred in his words amuses me. “Now, now, Mayor. Didn’t anyone ever tell you that shouting is rude?”
He lets out a vicious growl. “You don’t know who you’re fucking with, boy!”
And here I was, growing bored with the lack of threats.
Without blinking, I leap forward and grab him around the neck. “I know exactly who I’m fucking with, Mayor—a murderer.”
A tear streaks down his cheek, but any remorse I might’ve possessed died long ago.
“I won’t ask you again. Tell me his name, or you will wear the ashes of your precious lounge like a scarlet letter.”
“Please,” Williams begs through trembling lips. “I only kept him out of the papers. I had nothing to do with the fire.”
Lies. Lies. Lies.
“Come on, Mayor,” I chide. “You did more than keep his secret.” Squeezing harder, I lean in and whisper, “You helped him get away with murder.”
He shakes his head, remaining dedicated to his lies. “He never told me his plans to set the fire. I swear.”
My eyebrows rise mockingly. “You swear?” Who does he think I am? A second grader? “Well, if you swear, then this has all been a terrible misunderstanding.”
He nods densely, sniffing through his congested nose. “I would never protect a murderer.”
I tilt my head, my voice lowering to a deadly whisper. “I don’t believe you.”
Mayor Williams shakes his head from side to side, and my hands tightening around his neck before he can utter another lie.
“By not bringing him to justice, you may as well have lit the match that killed those women—that killed my mother.” He starts to wheeze, but I don’t stop. Instead, I watch his veins turn a nasty shade of blue. “But you can make this right, Williams. You can have absolution by giving me his name.”
Exhaling into the stale stench of cigar smoke, I demand once more. “Tell me his name, Mayor, and this will all be over.”
“I—”
The back door to the employee entrance opens and slams against the wall.
“Oh, sorry. I forgot my purse.”
