Page 2

“No, I’ll…I’ll…” Morgan’s voice cracked.“I’ll call my sisters.”

As Morgan walked the officers toward the door, she wished their exit meant this nightmare would end, but she knew it was only beginning.

“Your mom’s neighbor Esther has her dog,” Officer Gardner said.“The responding officer found him by your mom’s side.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”Officer O’Reilly asked.

Morgan nodded; she couldn’t make any words come out of her mouth.She closed the door and slid down against it.This doesn’t make any sense.Mom was one of the happiest people I know.

CHAPTER 2

Carla

Carla loved being alive until she wasn’t.

Carla tossed and turned in bed, rolling from her stomach to her left side, then to her right side, then back to her stomach.Her legs became wrapped in satin sheets and her duvet lay crumpled on the carpet.She dreamed that she was lying on her bedroom floor while flying horses danced above her in a Cirque du Soleil ballet sequence.She could smell the hay on their breath as they whinnied and snorted.Carla bicycled her legs toward the ceiling as she tried to grab hold of one of them.It pained her not to be able to ride; she wasn’t fast enough to catch the horses.They rotated around her head like part of a merry-go-round, one that squeaked so loudly it needed oil.

Carla emerged from the dream enough to feel her mattress swaying gently back and forth.Even semi-conscious she assumed they were having a small earthquake.Probably only a 3.5, maybe less, she thought.As a longtime Los Angeles resident, she wasn’t a stranger to the ground moving beneath her, so she barely opened her eyes to see that the day hadn’t even dawned.Carla pulled her sheet over her shoulders, turned from her stomach to her side, and tried to fall back to sleep.But just as she relaxed into it, the shaking started again.

Oh no, it’s the big one!She jumped out of bed, pushing her feet into the ground to steady herself.She raised her hands as if she were about to fight off an attacker instead of Mother Nature.She waited in the dark anticipating what would come next, but the only sound in the room was the whoosh of heat fleeing through the vent.

Albert, part bulldog, part dachshund, part wrinkled loaf of bread, stared at her solemnly.After a moment, he put his paws up on the mattress and pushed on it, causing it to shake again.

“That was you?You scared me, young man,” Carla said to Albert.

She wiped the sleep out of her eyes and glanced at the clock on the dresser.It was only 5:30 a.m.

“It’s Sunday.You have to let me sleep for at least one more hour.”She sighed, kissed him on his furry head, and laid back down.She stretched her legs out, feeling the cool, silken sheets surrounding her body.

As she felt herself drifting off, Albert let out a loud bark.Carla jerked upright, staring at him with raised eyebrows.Albert never barked.

He barked again, even louder and more insistent this time.

“What are you trying to tell me?”She wrinkled her forehead and whispered, “Is someone breaking in?”He put his tail between his legs and ran out of the room.Something inside Carla told her she needed to follow him as he ran ahead to the front door, whining.

She dropped to the floor in the living room and crawled over to the window, where she painstakingly and as surreptitiously as she could, pulled a slat away from the blinds.Her eyes opened wide and she had a hard time believing that what she saw was real.Martha, her eighty-year-old neighbor’s garage was engulfed in flames.

Carla flung open her front door, the stench of burning wood hitting her nose.She waved her hands in front of her face to protect her eyes from the smoke and ash that blew toward her.At any minute the gentle breeze could turn into gusts, carrying the fire through the entire neighborhood.

Carla took off running despite wearing pajamas with holes in the armpits.Being a realtor, she knew the layout of every house in her Studio City neighborhood.She raced across the street, yelling toward the second-floor window where Martha’s bedroom was.Carla prayed she’d see Martha running out the front door any second, but Martha was likely still asleep.

Several neighbors must have heard Carla’s screams because they ran toward Martha’s house.

“Call 911!”Carla hollered.

She opened Martha’s gate and sprinted into the backyard.The fire hadn’t reached the back of the house yet, so she tried the back door.Even with Carla’s admonitions, Martha sometimes forgot to lock it.Of course, today she’d remembered.

Carla was not a tall woman, but she was strong.She picked up a garden gnome and smashed through the window in the back door, turning her head away to avoid flying glass.She reached inside, unlocked the door, and ran up to the second floor, finding Martha asleep, curled around her cat.

Strands of Martha’s alabaster hair crept out of her sleep bonnet, almost covering her eyes.Next to the bed sat eyeglasses the color of red peppers with cat-eye lenses that looked as if they should be on a pop singer, not an elderly woman with a thimble collection.

Carla shook her gently.“Martha, wake up.”

Martha slowly opened her eyes.At first, she stared at Carla as if she didn’t know who she was, then sat up so quickly that she knocked her cat, Fluffy, off the bed.Fluffy ran past Carla and out of the room.

“Why are you in my bedroom?”Martha asked, her voice slightly scratchy.

“Your garage is on fire.”