A is For Arson: A Langley & Porter Mystery (FIRST FIVE CHAPTERS)

1 Ablaze

The desperation in my father's voice brought tears to my eyes but I refused to allow them to fall. I would not give these men the satisfaction in knowing that they had pained me and I had far too much pride to show them fear.

The man holding my father looked from him to me and back again, eyebrows creased in concentration. His companion removed his eyes from me to watch the man holding my father who seemed to be the leader of the two. A small sliver of light caught my attention and I turned my head slightly to see that the door I had entered through was now cracked slightly. I saw my sister's terrified eyes peering into my own through the slit. Unable to shake my head with the knife at my throat, I carefully reached out a foot and, while the men were distracted with their wordless communication, nudged the door closed on her, praying that she would stay hidden beyond or, better yet, flee from the back door and retrieve help.

"You have four days, old man," the thug growled so low that I almost couldn't hear him. Then he released my father's shirt and sent his companion a quick jerk of the head.

The lanky man released me and the two of them exited the shop. The moment they were gone, I ran to my father. He was slumped against the counter, elbows on the top, face in his hands. He was shaking. I placed my arms carefully around him and said nothing for a moment as my mind raced for an understanding of what had just occurred.

We hadn't been robbed as I had first suspected was the case. Burglars did not make a promise to return in a set amount of time. Finally, I opened my mouth to speak but, before I could say a word, the door burst open once more and Liza rushed in with a constable trailing not far behind her. The overweight policeman was red faced and out of breath and he took a moment to double over, hands on his knees, and suck in a few breaths before he looked up to us.

"Wh—where are the thugs?" the constable gasped out.

Liza wasn't listening. She saw the state our father was in and ran to him, throwing her arms around him in an embrace when she reached him. He placed his arms around her as well but I saw the sorrow in his eyes as he did and I knew she must feel those arms shaking around her. I cleared my throat and took a step toward the constable.

"They just left," I told him. "But I don't think you're going to catch them."

I allowed my eyes to cast over him, out of shape and out of breath as he was. He bristled.

"I would like to file a report with your station," I said and he nodded, clearing his throat as he glanced about the room to see that nothing was in disarray. He would not have much of a crime scene to investigate.

"I will need statements from anyone present," he told me, eying my father and my sister huddled together behind me. I gave a curt nod of understanding.

"You may question them here and then I will come with you for the official filing."

He narrowed his eyes as me, clearly perturbed by a woman giving him permission to do anything but this was my home and I was feeling rather protective of it at the moment. I remained unfazed as I sidestepped so that he could move beyond me to my petrified family.

"Mr. Porter," the constable said to my father, not a trace of empathy in his official tone. My father released Liza and straightened to look the policeman in the eye. The warmth he held for my youngest sister vanished in an icy glare at the constable. I was taken aback by it. I knew that my father had never placed much trust in the local constabulary but to show such evident hatred, especially now that we had a need for law enforcement, was a surprise to me. The constable continued as though he hadn't detected my father's piercing gaze. "I will need for you to tell me precisely what happened here tonight."