Incandescent (15-Chapter Excerpt)

Incandescent: Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Saturday-morning cartoons flashed on the small television screen mounted under the kitchen cabinet while Anna, sitting cross-legged on a stool, sipped an orange juice-and-champagne mimosa. Her father scrambled eggs at the stove, turning off the gas flame before sprinkling the eggs with parmesan cheese. The toaster popped and Anna pulled out two bagels, then dropped them onto her plate. She blew on her fingers. "Dang, that's hot."

James slid a platter of steaming eggs, crowned with fresh-ground black pepper, sea salt and sprigs of flat-leaf parsley, onto the counter. He opened the microwave and pulled out a plate of hissing bacon.

"This pre-cooked turkey bacon is great," he said. "It's ready in two minutes and has much less grease."

After a diagnosis of high cholesterol two years before, James launched a health regime, which included more fiber in his diet. He also walked on a treadmill each morning while watching the news. 

"All things in moderation," he said gravely, slathering a multigrain bagel with light cream cheese.

Anna grinned at her father. "I'm sure the pulp counts as roughage in your mimosa," she teased.

Weight wasn't the problem. James Braddock Johnson towered a good four inches over six feet and weighed less than two hundred pounds. He was lean and fit for a man nearing sixty. 

The problem was stress combined with high blood pressure, a deadly mix to which his wife had succumbed.

He met and married his wife while they studied law at the University of Virginia. While her interests took her into corporate law, James became a trial attorney and then a judge, winning every election for the past twenty-two years. 

The rigors of the job, however, had taken their toll on Angela Johnson and she died of a massive coronary at the age of fifty-three. James turned to Anna, for comfort. A sophomore at Cornell University, Anna moved back home and transferred to Marshall College to complete her degree in fine arts. When she graduated, magna cum laude, it was a hollow victory. She commuted to Penn State University for her master's degree, graduating at the age of 24. 

For two years, she taught high school art and served as adviser of the yearbook. Soon, she tired of the constraints, the disciplinary role of teaching, the demanding schedule of rising at dawn and not getting home until time for dinner. She enjoyed working with young people, however, when the school board cut back on teacher's salaries, the art department was the first to feel its effects. She lost her job.

She regretted the students' loss, yet appreciated the liberty to start anew.

She freelanced, specializing in graphic arts and photography. When Lacey invited her to share the old Victorian house she'd inherited from her grandmother, Anna left home. She was twenty-six.

She knew her father would cope fine. He had a housekeeper, he had his weekly golf outings, he had his judicial work at the courthouse, and he started dating. Still handsome, his dark hair beginning to silver, the tall, lean judge was a popular escort. He and his numerous "lady friends" attended the symphony, watched plays at the local community theater and often dined out.

A knock on the front door brought a deep, rumbling growl from Fred. The dog seldom barked. Whoever was at the door was unwelcome, a stranger or both.

Anna stood aside while James opened the door. An Eaton City police officer perched on the steps. He turned towards his patrol car and spoke low into a hand-held radio.

"Hello Rand," James said, recognizing the officer from previous appearances in court.

"Good morning Judge Johnson. I'm looking for your daughter. Do you know where Anna is?"

"Certainly," James replied, opening the door all the way, allowing Rand to see her standing behind him. "She's right here. Would you like to come in?"

Anna whooped and ran up the stairs heading for her room.

"Oh, sorry. She probably doesn't want you to see her in pajamas," James said. 

She heard his candid remark. "Dad! Excuse me, I'll be right there."

Anna knew Randall Murphy from high school. She had a crush on him when she was in the ninth grade and he was a popular senior on the football team. Now passing acquaintances, the last thing she wanted was for him to catch her in a pair of baggy sweatpants and a skimpy T-shirt. 

Frantic, she pulled open her empty closet then realized the alternative was to drag on the mini skirt and blouse from last night, which still smelled of cigarette smoke and vodka. She went into her father's bedroom and opened his closet, chose an old hooded sweat jacket and pulled it on. Then she walked down the stairs, her fists plunged into the jacket pockets, trying to act normal.

She followed the voices until she found her father and Rand in the den. Her father was sitting in his recliner, Fred leaning against his knee. Rand stood next to the fireplace, a notebook in one hand. He looked from his notes with an expression of sorrow.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"Anna, your father says you spent the night here last night. Is that right?"

"Of course it is. Now tell me what's wrong."

"This morning, before dawn, Mr. Bernard was walking his dog on Short Street and he saw smoke coming from your place. He knocked on the front door but no one answered. Then he ran home and called 911. By the time the fire department responded, fire had engulfed the first floor."

"Oh my God! What about Lacey? Is she okay? Where is she?"

Rand replied stoically, "An emergency medical team life flighted her to the hospital in Harrisburg."

"Is she ... I mean, how is she?"

"According to the paramedics, she wasn't responding at the scene. I don't know how she is now."

Tears coursing down her cheeks, Anna grabbed her father's hands and pulled him out of the chair. "Dad. We have to get to the hospital right away."

"Rand, is there anything else?" James asked.

"We need to ask Anna a few questions. We're not sure how the fire started and we're still sorting through the rubble to make sure there wasn't anyone else in the house."

"Gretchen Engel! Oh no, Gretchen and Lacey went home last night to watch a movie after my birthday party. What if she's still there?"

Anna ran to the telephone and punched in Gretchen's cell phone number. After four rings, the phone switched to voice mail. Anna disconnected and dialed the number again. Again, she heard the automatic voice mail message. The third time, Gretchen answered, growling "What the hell?"

"Gretchen! Thank God, you're alright. Where are you?"

"Anna? Hold on. Wait a minute."

Anna heard Gretchen mumble then heard a man's sleepy reply. Seconds later, Gretchen was back on the line. "Sorry about that. I, um, met Mark last night when he got off work."

"There's been a fire. Lacey is in the hospital," Anna said, sniffling. "We have to get to Harrisburg."

"What? Is this some kind of joke?"

"No. The police are here right now," Anna said, looking sideways at Rand. "They want to ask me some questions but we have to get to Lacey. I need you to pull yourself together and get over here now."

"I'm on my way. Oh, wait. Damn, I don't have my car. Mark, can you give me a ride? Thanks, handsome. Anna, I'll be right there. Wait for me. Where are you?"

"I'm at Dad's house."

Rand interjected. "Anna, when can you come to headquarters? We need to take care of this quickly. We need to talk to Gretchen, too."

She raised a hand, halting him. "First we need to go to the hospital. Then we'll come to the police station." She turned her attention back to the telephone. "Gretchen, Rand says he needs to see you, too."

"Later. Right now we need to get to Lacey."