"Don't say that. You don't know that."

"And yours."

"How do you-?"

"This was never about saving me. You wanted to alleviate all that guilt you felt for not being part of your sister's life. This has been about you from the beginning."

"That's not true. That's-"

"Taking me to bed was about you, too. If we slept together, you could off-load some of that guilt you felt for all the c.r.a.p you threw at me when we first met. I veg out and you're guilt-free."

"That's an awful thing to say."

"You f.u.c.ked me in every way possible."

"I'm sorry if you see it that way, but I was-"

"Keeping me from saving the lives of the only two people on this planet I ever loved."

You had to give her points for sticking. I would have flown out of there like a broken promise. But then you already know I'm a stone-cold b.a.s.t.a.r.d. More and more I was realizing it, too.

A moment later we heard a disturbance in the dark field behind us, a volunteer from Snoqualmie's department trying to turn back someone who was traipsing toward us across the gra.s.s from the paved road several hundred yards away. The interloper, a small, slender figure, went around the volunteer and proceeded directly toward our gathering.

It took me several moments to recognize her.

It was Morgan. My baby-sitter.

Morgan was alive.

Some yahoo blinded her with a spotlight from his pickup truck, causing her to stumble the last thirty yards. For the first time in almost an hour, I got up off the stump. When she got close, I hugged her. Out of grat.i.tude, I guess, grat.i.tude that she was alive. She hugged back with an uncertainty that was clear to all of us.

"Why weren't you with my girls?"

"I . . . had to . . . What happened?" She was as confused as a b.u.t.terfly at a c.o.c.kfight. The fire investigators and the homicide detective approached, and all five of us began shooting questions at her simultaneously.

"Morgan," Stephanie said, taking charge of the interrogation by virtue of her gender. "We thought you were in the house."

"I was." Morgan stepped out of my embrace and stared at the hulk that had been my home, her lower lip quivering. I knew what she was thinking, because I'd been thinking the same thing. She was thinking she'd just made the worst mistake of her life.

"Why did you leave my girls? And who did you leave them with?"

Turning to me in tears, Morgan said, "I didn't leave them with anybody. We thought you were going to be home pretty soon. I didn't mean to do anything-"

"If this is your baby-sitter, who the h.e.l.l is in the backyard?" Stevenson asked.

"You have anything to do with setting this fire, young lady?" Shad glared at her.

"No. Of course not."

Obviously Morgan had left my children with a friend while she'd gone off to be with a boyfriend or to a beer party or some such teenage nonsense. My girls were dead. I'd dragged the subst.i.tute baby-sitter out of the fire.

"Who was baby-sitting?" I asked.

"I was."

"Who else?"

"n.o.body else."

"You didn't leave my girls alone. I know that. We found her."

"You found who? I didn't leave them. I would never leave them."

"Then where were you?"

"I was-"

"Daddy! Daddy!"

I turned around so fast I almost twisted an ankle.

Like broken-field runners, the two of them raced through the line of vehicles in the long driveway leading to our house, Britney barely able to keep pace with Allyson, Allyson sprinting in and out of the various groups of firefighters, who were drinking Gatorade and chucking down cookies. I wasn't sure if I was hallucinating or not.

When I started to run toward them, Shad must have thought I was trying to flee the scene, because he leaped in front of me waving both arms. I knocked him down so fast I didn't get to see the look of surprise on his face. Later, they told me he went down like a mousetrapped stop sign under a truck.

And then they were in my arms, Allyson and Britney.

And I was swinging them around and hugging them, and we were all alive again. The three of us.

We were a family again. I couldn't believe it.

51. RECONSt.i.tUTED PIZZA AND c.o.kE.

"Where were you?" I asked, setting them on the ground and kneeling between them, holding them. I was afraid this was another hallucination. During the last hour, had I renounced my atheism and prayed to G.o.d, I would have given anything in exchange for my daughters. Instead, here they were free of charge. Maybe there was a G.o.d.

"Daddy, what happened to our house?" Allyson couldn't tear her eyes away from the smoldering ruins.

"I don't know."

Wide-eyed and mute, Britney refused to let go of me. I held her close, Allyson alone in front, her eyes vaguely accusatory, as if I or someone else on scene were responsible.

"It's all burned up," Allyson said.

"Yes, it is. And you know what? I thought you were in there."

"Daddy, that's silly. We were at a movie."

"Why did it burn up?" Britney asked.

"You were at a movie until . . ." I glanced at my watch. "Almost one in the morning?"

"We had a flat on the freeway," Morgan said. "We had to wait for the patrol. We waited, like, forever."

"The State State Patrol," corrected Britney. I gave her another little squeeze. She squeezed back, as if I were the one in need of comfort. What a paradise I'd fallen into, embracing her skinny little body, feeling her bony ribs expand and contract as she breathed. Life was such a G.o.dd.a.m.n miracle. I gazed into Allyson's eyes. Her mother had been able to read my feelings, too, often before I knew them myself. Allyson stepped forward and kissed my sooty cheek. Patrol," corrected Britney. I gave her another little squeeze. She squeezed back, as if I were the one in need of comfort. What a paradise I'd fallen into, embracing her skinny little body, feeling her bony ribs expand and contract as she breathed. Life was such a G.o.dd.a.m.n miracle. I gazed into Allyson's eyes. Her mother had been able to read my feelings, too, often before I knew them myself. Allyson stepped forward and kissed my sooty cheek.

"You must have been worried." With those words of comfort from a nine-year-old, life began to flow back into me.

"Yeah, and they never came," said Britney. "The State Patrol never came."

"Why didn't you guys take my truck? I left the keys with Morgan."

"We started to. We drove all the way into town, but Brit threw up in it," Allyson said.

"She what?"

"I think she had too much pizza and c.o.ke."

Britney made a face. "It was the c.o.ke. I can eat any amount of pizza without throwing up. At Lindy's party I ate three and a half slices. I held the record."

"You threw up there, too," Allyson said.

"Yeah. From the c.o.ke."

"You all right now, pumpkin?" I asked.

"I'm fine. We didn't want to take the truck after I threw up in it."

"You guys must have been off in the truck when Stephanie and I came by the first time. You get the flat fixed?"

"Morgan didn't know how," Allyson said. "Finally one of the boys on Morgan's tennis team saw us, and him and his mom gave us a ride. Then we saw all these fire trucks." Britney put her cheek against mine.

"Where's my stuff?" Allyson said. Always ready to stick up for herself, Allyson wasn't inclined to let this affront to her perfect summer slide.

"I'm afraid it's all inside, sweetheart. Everything's still in there."

"Not Miss Squiggly?" Britney said. She'd been dragging Miss Squiggly around since she was two. The doll was a mess. No hair. One eye. One leg.

"Even Miss Squiggly. We're going to have to start from scratch."

"I don't want to start from scratch," Allyson said defiantly.

"I need Miss Squiggly." Britney burst into tears.

When I hugged them both again, Allyson started crying, too. "Look, you guys. We're all together and n.o.body got hurt. Right now that's the important thing. n.o.body got hurt."

Even as I said it, in my mind's eye I saw the corpse in the backyard. If it wasn't Morgan, who was it? Could it have been one of my old girlfriends, someone who'd come carrying a grudge and a can of gasoline? Maybe one of the Suzannes?

Or Lorie? For the corpse to have been Lorie's, she would have had to lose some weight, but then, I hadn't seen her in three years. She could have lost plenty of weight in that time. I wanted to go around the building and look at the corpse again, but I wasn't about to let go of my daughters.

"What about my new sandals?" Allyson asked.

"We'll get you some more."

"I was going to wear those tomorrow."

"I want my Miss Squiggly," said Britney, slipping her thumb into her mouth. She hadn't sucked her thumb since just after her mother left.

"Allyson," I said. "Did you guys have anybody over at the house?"

Measuring the question, Allyson stopped crying and arched a look up at me. "No."

"You sure?"

"n.o.body."

"Morgan, you didn't have any friends visit?"

Morgan said, "No. We got pizza and headed out for the movie. Then Brit threw up. We came back and took my mom's car, and then on the way home we got that flat and waited for the patrol."

"State Patrol," corrected Britney. Patrol," corrected Britney.

A shadow fell across us as Stephanie approached, eyes moist. She hugged the girls. I said, "Stephanie, I'm so sorry for what I said. Can you forgive me?"

"Forgive what?"

Clasping her to me, I said, "I'd give anything to erase what I said."

"Forget it."

"At least let me plead temporary insanity?"

"Stop apologizing. Your daughters are safe. That's what counts."

"Okay, okay, okay," Stevenson said, stepping forward. "This is all peachy keen. Hi, girls. Glad you could make it." He fixed his dark eyes on me. "Mind if we ask some questions without this circus breathing down our necks?"

I stepped off a few paces into the field with Shad, Stevenson, and Holgate. It was so dark, I could barely see their eyes. Holgate said, "I'm glad your daughters showed up."

"Thanks."

"The question now is, who's the prizefighter in the backyard? You originally thought it was that young lady over there, right?"

"My baby-sitter, yes."

"I can see they're about the same size. Easy mistake to make. But who's in your backyard, really?"

"I don't know."