I picked my way backward, slogging through books and boards and cushions like an Arctic explorer who’d never reach the Pole. I was nearly at the door when I saw a light dance underneath it and dance away. I held my breath. A phantasm of fatigue? It came again, a flashlight poking along the jamb. OEM? FBI? Punks? I had nothing to defend myself with except a kitchen spatula and no strength to use it.

The door opened. A tall figure stood there hesitantly, playing the flashlight around the room, and then turned to look over the shoulder. The movement swept the light upward so that it played on the figure, revealing spiky hair.

“Petra Warshawski!” I said. “What are you doing here?”

28 - AND FIRE IN THE OLD HOMESTEAD

28

AND FIRE IN THE OLD HOMESTEAD

THE FLASHLIGHT CLATTERED TO THE FLOOR, AND MY cousin screamed. As I stooped to pick up the light, I thought I heard retreating footfalls. I pushed past Petra and looked down the hall but didn’t see anyone.

“Who was that?” I demanded.

“Vic … It’s you!” She was breathless and frightened. “I thought you were in the hospital.”

“I am. What are you doing here, and who came with you?”

“No one. I’m on my—”

“You’re not a very convincing liar, Petra. You don’t have the guts or experience to come into a burned-out building on your own. Who was with you?”

“One of the guys who works on the campaign with me,” she muttered. “He took off when I screamed, and I don’t want him to get in trouble, so don’t ask me his name, I won’t tell you. Anyway, you shouldn’t be yelling at me. I came here for you.”

“Did you, now?” I was so weak that I had to lean against the charred wall. “What noble deed were you doing on my behalf?”

“Uncle Sal told me you’d left your wallet and everything here. I thought I could find it. He said neighborhood punks would break in and help themselves to anything that wasn’t nailed down.”

“That has the ring of authenticity,” I said applaudingly. “I can believe Mr. Contreras would use exactly those words. You’re doing better.”

“Why do you have to act like a bully?” Petra demanded. “Why can’t you believe me?”

I retrieved her flashlight and swept its beam around the room. “I believe you. Go look for my handbag. I’m too exhausted to move, but I’ll hold the light for you.”

She glowered at me but moved gingerly into the room. She was wearing her high-heeled boots and wobbled on the uneven surface. I pointed the light toward the place where I thought I’d been sitting.

“If it’s here, that’s where it should be. Try each step before you put your full weight on your leg. You don’t want to go through a burned floorboard.”