The Protector

  His house had been trashed, Ash’s just painted…the arsonist didn’t want to burn a fireman’s home? Cole wondered, and wrote himself a note to think about that some more. “What is the probability he also knows Ash?”

  “Very high.”

  “The e-mail word chicken?”

  “One of those cruel taunts, like a school yard pushing match.”

  Cole hesitated but had to ask. “And Jack?”

  “It has always revolved around Jack and Gold Shift.”

  “Will he be targeted?”

  “When is his next shift?”

  “Today.”

  “Can you take him off the shift?”

  “Rae—”

  “Please.”

  “I can’t.”

  “You have to.”

  “Rae—I can’t.” He had accepted the reality weeks before. He could protect Jack, but not at the price of robbing Jack of his job. “I’ll talk with him,” he struggled to reassure her. “I’ll do everything I can short of taking away his job.”

  “Don’t do this, Cole. Take him off duty before he gets hurt.”

  She would never forgive him if something happened. “I’m sorry.”

  She hung up on him.

  Cassie struggled to follow Ash through the smoke-filled corridors of the nursing home. She’d helped eight nursing home residents get out, and there were more waiting to be rescued. There was no way to hurry now as the heat and smoke built. Over the radio came the terse messages of rescue crews as rooms were cleared throughout the building.

  She swung her light along the room numbers: 1613, 1614, 1615. All rooms they had helped clear. The fire was above them, in corridors to the east. As soon as the last rooms were checked she would be glad to get out of here.

  Ash’s torchlight shot upward, and his hand shoved her hard. She hit the wall, an instant before something struck a glancing blow on her shoulder and she went down, training tucking her toward the wall with hands to protect her neck.

  Something struck her air tanks, and then the world exploded with flames and weight, burying her, pinning her.

  She was burning. She screamed as she realized she couldn’t move. The debris was crushing her. The burns touched nerves and she coiled into her mind against the agonizing pain.

  She was dying. She fought the panic and the pain. She wanted to live. Oh, she wanted so badly to live. She strained to try and move.

  “Cassie!”

  The yell was the most blessed sound she had ever heard. “Ash…” She couldn’t think against the pain. “Get me out.”

  “Hold on. I’m coming, Cassie.” Debris began to move from near her face. Ash strained against the beam pinning her.

  Agonizing time passed. He couldn’t move it. She desperately struck her free hand against anything she could reach. She couldn’t wiggle out of the debris and he couldn’t move it.

  “I’ve got a fulcrum.”

  There was a moment in time when she felt the weight move and then it settled back. She was going to die here. She gasped against her air. Her partner was going to die here too because he wouldn’t leave her, because she didn’t have the strength to get free.

  Her air tank began to chime. She was running out of air.

  Ash started kicking the beam pinning her.

  A good life, and she hadn’t enjoyed it nearly as much as she should have. She’d been too busy trying to get ahead.

  Her air ran out. Her ability to move her hand dropped, consciousness was fading.

  Her mask was pulled off, the smoke and heat hit her face, and Ash desperately pushed his mask against her face. “Breathe, Cassie. Breathe,” he ordered, choking to say the words as he got as low to the floor as he could.

  She breathed, revived. Ash removed the mask and grabbed a breath. Then his mask was tight against her face again.

  They were both going to die here. His air canisters had only a few more minutes of air than hers. She wanted so desperately to at least be able to tell him good-bye. The tears were choking her so hard she couldn’t get the words out. Jesus, don’t let me die.…

  Her partner grabbed her free hand. She used what strength she had to squeeze it.

  The shrill ringing phone woke her up. Cassie leaned her head over the side of the bed and heaved at the remembered tears, struggling to breathe. Lord, the fire… She fought to get away from the remembered panic. The memory was alive, in her memory, in her emotions, the panic so real she could taste the bitterness of the smoke.

  She groped for the phone. “Hello,” she choked out.

  Silence, and then, “Cassie, what’s wrong?”

  “Jack, don’t go to hell. Please don’t go to hell. It’s awful.” She struggled to hold the phone, shivering, closing her eyes against the remembered flames.

  “The fire.”

  She gasped a desperate half laugh. “The fire.”

  “Oh, honey.”

  “Promise me you won’t go to hell.”

  “Cassie—”

  “Come over and take me for a walk. We’ve got to talk.”

  His hesitation was brief. “I’m on my way.”

  Cassie had on her coat and gloves, her keys in her pocket, and was waiting in the downstairs landing when she saw Jack’s car come into the lot. She went out to greet him and leaned into the hug he offered, wrapping her arms around him and resting against the solid comfort of the man.

  His jacket was cold against her cheek and his arms strong around her. “Shh, it’s okay.” He rubbed her back as he whispered the words.

  “I wanted to be a hero that day. I nearly became a victim.”

  “Fire doesn’t respect a person, good or evil; it will grab and kill whomever it can reach.”

  “Satan is just like that, Jack.”

  He went still and she tipped back her head to look at him. “Jesus is alive. And unless you trust Him, someday you are going to be caught in a fire like hell that never ends.”

  He tightened his arm around her shoulders and pointed her to the walkway. “Come on. Let’s walk.”

  There was no finesse to her approach tonight, only a heartfelt passion. If she offended him, she’d accept that. The hesitation to force the conversation had disappeared under the weight of her fear. If something happened to Jack during this arson investigation, she’d never be able to live with herself.

  “When we found you and Ash in the nursing home, you were barely conscious. Do you remember what you were saying?”

  She shook her head, puzzled. She’d avoided talking about that day, not wanting to relive the details any more than she had to.

  “I was cushioning your head while we moved you to a backboard. You were whispering from a psalm the phrase ‘The Lord is my shepherd’ over and over again.”

  “I reached for Him that night and He was there.”

  “Jennifer said essentially the same thing, when she described the night she met Jesus.”

  She tightened her hand around his. “Don’t wait for tragedy to strike like I did, Jack.”

  “Did you ever hate God over what happened, when you saw the burns?”

  “A man I knew kissed them better,” she whispered.

  He dashed a glove across his eyes. “I’ve got so much on my mind it’s hard to sort it out, Cassie. Heaven and hell, the Resurrection—it’s a huge step to accept it all.”

  “Trust Jesus. Trust what you do understand. The rest will come. I’m scared for you, Jack.”

  He rubbed his gloved thumb across the back of her hand. “I appreciate that, Cassie. And I promise, I am thinking about it.”

  She searched his face, longing to find he meant it. She saw a reassurance there. She squeezed his hand. “Thank you.”

  “I’m so sorry you dream about the nursing home fire. I dream about the fires too, and it’s hard to wake to those memories.”

  “The fear. And the sound of the fire…”

  “The awareness that it’s going to happen and there is no way to stop it,” he finished for her.

&n
bsp; “Yeah.”

  “They’ll go away with time.”

  “Oh, I hope so.”

  He slowed her as they walked up the sidewalk. The apartment building lobby door had been propped open.

  She tightened her hand on his. “Jack.”

  “Stay here.”

  She didn’t listen but followed him instead.

  Popcorn littered the hall.

  “He was watching us, watching her,” Jack said to Cole, feeling the fury and the helplessness. This was becoming so personal it was like living a real nightmare. He didn’t know what to do with the fear. If he hadn’t come back tonight, would it be a fire here matching the popcorn? He watched Cassie sitting in his car to keep warm, and he was terrified for her.

  Police officers were sweeping the grounds, but they had found nothing so far.

  “Go in for shift early, take her with you, sleep at the firehouse, and let me sort this place out.”

  “Cole…” Jack did not want to say the words but he had to. “If I go in to work, he’ll strike. The man is escalating. Maybe it’s better if I don’t report in, if we change our plans.”

  His friend squeezed his shoulder. “I don’t think it’s going to matter to him anymore whether you’re there or not.”

  “I can’t live with someone getting hurt.”

  “The best thing to do is accept it’s a foregone conclusion and be ready to respond when he next strikes. In case you didn’t notice, he just acted close to the firehouse rather than at the edge of the fire district. Odds are good we’re not going to have a long time to wait before he acts again. Get Cassie to the station. I’ll join you once the canvass is done here.”

  Forty

  Gage, couldn’t you have at least tempered the article a bit?” Rachel scowled at her friend as her headache throbbed. She tossed the folded paper down on the table. “You waved a red flag in front of the guy.” Gage had reported the mural, the words, the popcorn, and the sequence of eight fires in his Weekend Focus article. There was more information in the article than she had known.

  She’d joined him for breakfast in order to talk about plans for New Year’s Eve. She’d borrowed his newspaper. Now she wished she hadn’t.

  “Rachel, you can’t have it both ways. You asked me to help you out. He’s a serial arsonist, and that mural painting is a signature someone who knows him will recognize. This article is a public service. Someone knows the man and this will generate the leads Cole needs.”

  “Couldn’t you have at least warned Cole?”

  “I asked him for a quote. He knows. Quit scowling at me. I’m doing my job.”

  “You should have told me.”

  “Rae—”

  She shoved back her chair “I’m going home.”

  “You just got here.”

  “And now I’m leaving.”

  “Sit down.”

  His quiet order caught her off guard. She looked back at him. “Sit down.”

  She sat.

  “Jack knew this was running. Cole. Ash.”

  She sank back as what he said registered. “Jack is planning to use his presence on the shift to draw the arsonist out,” she whispered.

  Gage just looked at her.

  She underestimated Jack so many times in the past; she’d done it again. “If he isn’t on shift, the arsonist just goes underground to strike out another way.”

  “Jack’s not going to take unnecessary chances. Cole won’t let him. But they’ve got to do something.”

  She didn’t want a noble brother; she wanted one who was selfish and thought of himself first. She rubbed at the headache. It was going to be a very long day and night until he came off shift.

  “Finish breakfast. Stay for the day. I’d like the company.”

  “You just don’t want to come to my place in order to hold my hand.”

  Gage smiled at her and nudged her orange juice toward her. “You can help me dust.”

  “Can I now tell you I told you so? You shouldn’t have fired the housekeeper.”

  There was ice in the rain. Cassie leaned against the engine bay door watching the pellets bounce when they hit the pavement. She was scared. And the longer the day went, the more scared she got. The arsonist had been at the apartment building last night. Why? Following her, or worse, following Jack? Jack had just given her a hug this morning when she tried to raise the concerns and she understood why. He couldn’t offer anything more definite but that silent reassurance. He’d protect her. That was what worried her the most. Lord, protect Jack. With night would come the odds of another fire. On top of that, there was this incoming weather disaster.

  The weather station was on in the lounge. They had spent the day watching the ice storm come their direction. The front edge had arrived. The day before New Year’s Eve, one of the busiest travel days of the year, and they had an ice storm coming through. Somehow Cassie didn’t think people were going to be wise enough to stay off the roads. Mandatory callbacks of all shifts had begun forty minutes ago.

  “Cassie, you’re riding tonight on Engine 81. Check your gear.”

  She turned to look at Cole as he strode by, stunned. “Who, me?”

  “You’re drafted. And if I can get the blasted fax machine to work so I can get a waiver issued for Ash, he’s drafted too. As soon as he gets here find him gear.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Has Ben reported in yet?”

  “I haven’t seen him.”

  “Holler when you do.”

  She nodded.

  She was on active duty on Engine 81. It took her a moment for that to sink in. There was no question they would be rolling out nearly continuously during the next hours. If Cole was drafting her and Ash, he considered this to be an emergency shift requiring all manpower available. She hurried to her locker and started checking out her gear. She knew it was ready, but it wouldn’t hurt to check it again.

  “Cassie.”

  “Jack, don’t protest to me. Cole said I was rolling out with you. Take it up with him.”

  His hand came down on her shoulder and she paused long enough to look around. “A face mask. You’re going to need it to avoid frostbite,” he said, handing her the blue cap. “And I asked for you.”

  “Oh, thanks.”

  “Thank me after you spend a few hours trying to walk on a skating rink. Ash was going through some gear a couple days ago. Do you know where he stored it?”

  “The unassigned locker next to Frank’s. Ash had checked out everything but the boots. I think some came from the warehouse earlier today.”

  “Your partner is riding with us in Engine 81 as well. Stay beside Ash throughout the night, understood?”

  “Not a problem.” She was willing to accept any conditions he set just so she wouldn’t have to sit here at the station while they went out.

  “Medical runs; I want you on the cardiac kit. If we hit a wreck and have to do an extraction, you’re my mouse. Be prepared with the blankets to go under or into the wreck if necessary. Any signs you’ve acquired a taste of being claustrophobic?”

  “Not a bit.”

  “Good. Where’s Cole? We need a plow assigned full time to work with us tonight.”

  “Heading back to his office. He was working that problem earlier,” she offered.

  “Toss extra gloves and socks into the Engine 81 cabinet. You’ll need them.”

  “Yes, lieutenant,” she said, and meant it with absolute respect.

  He grinned at her and tossed her a bright orange packet. “For your coat pocket.” It was an instant hot pack; break the seal and it heated to 105 degrees. Jack glanced around the bay. “Bruce, find us at least one extra thermos of coffee. Ash takes it sweet like Cassie.”

  Forty-one

  Can you get in there?” Jack leaned in near Cassie to be heard above traffic.

  She shone her light on the crumpled metal of the van tailgate. She had to squint as stinging pieces of ice were striking her face. “I can get in there.” The van had been bro
adsided by a sedan and then hit from behind by a taxi. It was the third accident of the night she had worked.

  “In the passenger side door of Engine 81, there’s a canvas bag with a Velcro tab on top. You’ll find a handheld tape player, a pair of child sized earphones, and a bunch of Sesame Street tapes. Get them and a thermal blanket. Try to hold the boy still. He’s going to react when we take the Jaws of Life to the roof, and I don’t want him moving that leg. I’m certain it’s fractured.”

  Cassie nodded.

  She struggled the ten feet back to the engine, the scene lit by its flashing lights and halogen strobe. Walking on ice was impossible and more than one firefighter had fallen. As tough as the job was, she loved being back on the job. It was good to be useful again. She was getting proficient at how Jack liked to work.

  Even with gloves her fingers were frozen. She struggled to get the door open. Sesame Street tapes: It shouldn’t have surprised her knowing what she did about Jack and his habit of being prepared, but it did.

  She was grateful he had them available.

  With the blanket and the cassette tapes, Cassie worked her way to the boy, her world closing down to the size of the air pocket inside the crumpled vehicle. She was able to use Ash’s help to get leverage.

  “Hi, Peter.” The boy was screaming and for once she was glad she was partially deaf. “I’m Cassie.” She shoved aside the coloring books that had tumbled out of a child’s backpack and winced when her knee landed on a metal Matchbox car.

  The boy was buckled into a car seat, but when the impact had happened the entire bench seat had been thrown off its tracks and had crunched into the driver’s seat. The boy’s left foot had been caught. The paramedic had been able to work an air splint around his lower leg and inflate it. Now they just had to get a way to move the boy out. If they tried to bring him out the way she had wrestled her way in, his leg would have to turn. Cassie strained to get the blanket across him.