Nothing Left to Burn

  All three were unconscious.

  “Reece, I need a hand.” He waved me over. I ran to my car to fetch a bottle of water while Chuck opened a panel on Engine 21 and took out the pet resuscitators. I stripped down, tugged off my T-shirt, soaked it in water, and wrapped it around the kittens. Their fur was a little black from soot, but I didn’t see any burns. I felt for pulses along their hind legs and found a beat that was slow but steady. A good sign.

  “Got a pulse in both.”

  “No pulse here. Mom’s gone.” Chuck covered the cat’s body with a towel, then handed me a tank, and we squeezed oxygen into the unconscious kittens wrapped in my wet shirt. Across the street, the crowd expressed its collective sympathy.

  “He moved, Chuck. This one’s coming around.”

  Chuck glanced at the black-and-white kitten twitching under my hand and gave it a few aggressive rubs that quickly had the tiny animal wriggling in protest. “Good, good, he’s getting pink again. Nice job, Reece.”

  I grinned but quickly grew serious when the striped kitten didn’t move.

  “This one’s gone,” he said.

  “No. No, Chuck. I felt a pulse. Give him a few more minutes.”

  Chuck swiped a hand over bloodshot blue eyes and sighed. “Reece, I got a fire to put out. Can you take over?”

  I nodded, took the bag valve, and squeezed it rhythmically. The tuxedo kitten started licking its sibling, letting out a few tiny mews. It didn’t take long, another minute, and the tabby twitched. A minute after that, he was blinking yellow eyes at his brother in a “What the hell happened to us?” exchange that had me grinning from ear to ear.

  I tried to keep the mask over both tiny faces. Tux kept fighting the mask, but Tabs was still kind of out of it. I poured some water into the bottle cap and held it steady while the alert kitten lapped it up.

  “Reece, you need help?”

  I looked up to find Bear actually striding toward me, his shuffle gone. “I got this. Control the crowd, and keep an eye on that kid.” I pointed out the suspicious one. “He keeps texting and looking at everything except the fire.”

  “Copy.” He strode toward the onlookers gawking from across the street just as Tabs swatted at the mask over his face.

  “Hey, little guy. Welcome back.”

  I unwrapped them from my wet shirt, let them totter around on their own feet for a few seconds, and stood up. A cheer went up from across the street. I scooped up both kittens. “Anybody have a box we can borrow?”

  “Yeah, I do!” a woman wearing a jogging suit called out. She disappeared inside a house, then returned a few minutes later with a pet carrier and a soft blanket. I put Tux and Tabs inside.

  It took the crews about an hour to knock the fire down, and the chief called the all-clear. A cheer went up from the crowd, and I grinned.

  “Pretty cool,” Bear whispered, and I nodded. It was. Then he slapped my arm. “Look! That kid’s taking off.” He jerked his chin toward the suspicious boy.

  “Come on. Let’s follow him—shit!” My mother’s car was blocked by Engine 21 and Truck 3. I started running. “Hey! Don’t move!” I hollered.

  The boy froze and stared at Bear with huge frightened eyes, then at me. “I didn’t do nothin’!”

  “Then why are you running?”

  “I gotta get home.”

  “In a minute.” I put out my hands. “I saw you as soon as we got out of the car. You have a phone. Did you call 911?”

  The boy’s eyes bounced from me to Bear and back. He shook his head. “No, I, uh—”

  “Who were you texting?”

  “Nobody! I was just—”

  “Just happened to be at the scene of a fire but didn’t call the fire department.”

  “I was walking by and—”

  “Did you see anybody leave that house?”

  “No.” The boy’s eyes shifted, a sure sign he was lying.

  “Bear, get the chief.”

  “Copy that.” Bear took off at a jog.

  “No, wait! I told you, I didn’t do nothing. I didn’t see anything either.”

  “Cadet Logan,” Dad barked. “What the hell is going on here?”

  I whipped around and found my dad standing there with his helmet in his hands. “Lieutenant, this kid’s acting suspicious. He was one of the first spectators on-scene. He has a phone but never called 911. I think he set this fire.”

  Dad’s face went red—well, redder than it was from exertion. He put his hands on his hips, his eyes going to slits when he saw the tattoo over my heart. “And you just what, strode up to him and accused him?”

  “No! I was trying—”

  “Logan!”

  Dad and I both spun at the sound of the chief’s bark.

  “Lieutenant, supervise salvage.”

  I could hear my dad’s teeth grind. “Copy.” He walked away, gear jingling.

  The chief turned to me.“Cadet, what were my instructions to you when I found you on-scene?”

  I swallowed hard. “Crowd control, Chief.”

  “And why are you halfway down the block antagonizing a little boy?”

  Antagonizing? Whoa, wait. “I think he set the fire.”

  Chief Duffy’s eyebrows shot into his hairline. “Based on your minutes of experience, you decided, by yourself, to confront someone who may be entirely innocent of any crime?”

  “Yes. I mean, no! He was acting suspicious, and I didn’t want him to get away until I found out more—”

  “Cadet, you don’t get to decide what you want without clearing it with your lieutenant and with me. I told you to stay put.” He punctuated that word with a sweeping gesture toward the crowd line. “You didn’t follow that order.” He turned and found Bear. “Acosta!”

  Bear froze. “Sir.”

  “Your orders were traffic control. I don’t see any traffic on this lawn.”

  Bear’s face turned a sick shade of gray. “No. No, sir.”

  “Why are you way down this end of the street?”

  “Cats, Chief.”

  “What?”

  “Cats. Three of them. One didn’t make it. A neighbor has the two survivors. Logan resuscitated them.”

  Chief Duffy took off his helmet, scrubbed a hand over his hair, and sighed. “You are dismissed. Leave the scene—”

  “But Chief, what about salvage?” I asked.

  He stepped closer to me. I was a little over six feet tall, and he still looked down on me. “I said you are dismissed. Go home. Expect a phone call from me later when I decide what to do about you two going freelance.”

  Fuck. I opened my mouth, but Bear’s hand came down heavy on my shoulder and squeezed.

  Hard.

  “Copy, Chief.” Bear nodded. He turned me around and practically towed me back to my mother’s car, still blocked by Engine 21 and Truck 3.

  “Bear, I—”

  “Get in.”

  Jesus. I got behind the wheel, and he folded himself into the passenger seat and shut the door. He sat there, panting, for a moment. “Deus.” He let his head fall back on the seat and covered his face.

  My stomach clenched and flipped. My fault. All my fault. I didn’t follow orders, and now Bear’s in trouble.

  A tap on my window made me jerk. It was the woman who provided the cat carrier. I opened it, and she handed me a blue cloth.

  “Thought you could use a shirt.” I took the cloth and unfolded it. It had a Superman S. She patted my hand. “You both did a good job here today. I hope you don’t get yelled at.” She smiled, and my eyes burned. Damn smoke was really irritating them. Chuck Avers tapped on my hood, indicated he’d move Engine 21 so we could leave.

  “Thank you, ma’am,” I said and started the car. I pulled away and drove down the street. Chief Duffy and my dad were having what looked like a
tense conversation. Both glared at me as I rolled by. I rolled my shoulders, straightened my spine, and looked ahead.

  Time to face the firing squad.

  Chapter 20

  Amanda

  Late Sunday morning, after I’d done the chores Mrs. Beckett assigned me, I opened the front door to head out for my run, when Larry nearly bowled me over.

  “Whoa, where’s the fire?” I asked with a grin.

  He skidded to a stop, sweat running down his face like tears, and stared at me, jaw dangling. Without a word, he bolted up the stairs to his room.

  Weird.

  I shook my head and started out. The weather was perfect. Excellent running weather, really.

  But…

  I couldn’t even fool myself with this fake happy routine. No sense trying. I stepped into the street and started a brisk walk. I’d read every word printed on the literature Mr. Serrano gave me. With each word, the rock in my belly grew a little bigger.

  I lengthened my stride and poured on the speed, running full-out until my lungs wanted to explode. I jogged around a corner and jerked to a stop. Trucks from both LVFD and the next town were just pulling away from a foreclosed house, or what was left of it. I pulled out my phone and texted Gage to see if he knew what happened. He replied immediately.

  2 alarms! And guess who was first on-scene? Reece and Bear.

  Holy crap.

  I texted back and asked him to meet me at the firehouse. I wanted to hear everything that happened at this fire and how the hell Reece and Bear managed to be anywhere near the scene. I jogged back home, showered and changed as fast as I could, and started for the stairs, but Larry was huddled on the top step, blocking my way.

  “Oh. Hey, Larry.”

  He opened his mouth but then shut it.

  “You okay?”

  He lifted one shoulder, let it fall.

  “Come on. You can tell me. I won’t get mad, no matter what’s wrong.”

  The muscles in his throat worked, but he still didn’t say anything.

  With a sigh, I squished myself onto the step beside him. “Larry, you know I’d never narc on you, right?”

  “Yeah, I guess.” He squeezed his eyes shut. It didn’t sound like he believed me. I tried not to take that personally. Larry’s been bouncing around the system for a long time and knew the rules better than I did. We were friends. More than that, we were solid—well, as solid as foster kids can let themselves get. It was hard to talk. And a lot of people think that was because we don’t trust them, but that’s not the problem. The problem is remembering not to trust. You kind of settle into the routine and get used to the people around you. If you’re lucky, you can fool yourself into believing they like you, maybe even love you. But stay in the system long enough, and you know every time there’s a knock on the door, it could be your social worker there to pull you out.

  So you weigh the pros and cons.

  You know if you say something, just one thing out of line, the social workers and judges are gonna get involved, and before you can protest, you’re huddled in a tiny ball in the back of a county vehicle on your way to the next home, the next group center, wondering what loser they’ll assign you to next.

  Because for every couple like the Becketts, there are fifty who do it only for the monthly checks.

  That’s what happened to me at Mrs. Merodie’s place. I had my own room. Toys. Clothes. I was supposed to start school. And then, the knock on the door came, and I got buckled into the backseat of that county car and driven to someplace new.

  Someplace else.

  You never see those people again. You’re not allowed to call them or visit them.

  So I tried to cut Larry a little slack. Whatever was on his mind, he wanted to tell me but was afraid one of us might be gone in the morning. I knew exactly how he felt.

  “Hey, can you show me how to text?”

  “Um, sure.” The Becketts had given us both cell phones, so they could contact us when they needed to. But they weren’t exactly state of the art. I took out my ancient flip phone, showed him how to double or triple-tap keys to get the rest of the letters, and clicked send.

  “I kept messing up.”

  I cursed silently. He must have tried to text me and couldn’t. “It’s okay.”

  The look he gave me said it wasn’t okay, not by a long shot.

  “Larry, you’re not in any kind of trouble, are you?”

  Another shake of his head. “I didn’t do anything!” He swiped a knuckle under his nose.

  “Okay. okay. Good.” That was some comfort at least. But I didn’t want to leave him alone. “I have to go to the fire station. Why don’t you come?”

  His eyes snapped open and shot to mine. “No!” He leaped up, hurried to his room, and shut the door.

  I stared after him for a moment, a heavy guilt squeezing my heart. Mr. Beckett had gotten me involved with the squad but not Larry, even though he was old enough. Did that mean Larry wouldn’t be here long?

  Oh God!

  The front door opened and closed. “Amanda? Larry? Come down and help me unpack the car.”

  Mr. Beckett was home. On Sunday mornings, he usually got up early and headed out to run a bunch of errands, including a run to a warehouse store for supplies to stock his man cave, which was really the garage in the back of the house.

  Larry came out of his room, muttering curses. “I got this. You’d better get to the firehouse before he notices you’re home.”

  I nodded. “Okay. I’ll find you later and we’ll talk.”

  Larry edged by me, and my nose wrinkled. I grabbed his shoulder. “Dude, have you been smoking?” I asked, horrified.

  He wrestled free. “No!” He ran down the stairs before I could argue.

  Jesus, he really had me worried now. Maybe I’d talk to Lieutenant Logan about Larry and grab the forms for him to start J squad too. Even if the Becketts sent him away, his next foster parents might let him keep up, especially if John and Chief Duffy put in good words. I knew Gage and the rest of the juniors would rally around Larry just the way everybody was doing for Reece. We’d get him trained in no time. And after we aged out of foster care, we’d still get to work together and hang out and be sort of siblings and—

  Damn it.

  See how easy it was to plan? I forced myself to stop. I hurried downstairs and out the back door to begin the long walk to the firehouse. When I reached the fire station, I found all our vehicles back in their bays and the crews checking and rechecking equipment, inspecting gear. I walked in just in time to overhear Ken Tully and Chuck Avers talking about the fire.

  “…saw trailers on the top floor. What was left of it.”

  Ken whistled quietly. “Explains the separate fires. Conner’s on his way to the scene.”

  Trailers were like kindling, strips of paper or other stuff arranged in paths to make the fire spread faster. Steve Conner was our fire marshal. If he was on his way to the scene, they suspected another arson.

  I headed for the conference room, where Gage, Ty, and Kevin were already sitting.

  Word travels fast.

  I grabbed Gage and led him to a quiet corner. “What did you hear?” I asked.

  “Okay, so near as I can tell, Bear and Reece called in the fire, and the chief said they could stay on-scene to help.”

  My eyebrows shot up. “Holy crap! That’s insane.”

  Gage rocked his head side to side. “I guess. Bear was on traffic duty, and Reece got crowd control. They left those posts to help Chuck resuscitate a few cats.”

  I frowned. Okay, they did a good thing, but they should have cleared it first.

  “And then they started chasing somebody down the block. Logan’s convinced the fire was arson and thinks some kid is the firebug.”

  Holy crap, this was bad. Really bad. “Whoa. Are they
…are they out?”

  Gage shrugged. “I don’t know. Lieutenant Logan is upstairs with the chief now. From what I heard, there was some backtalk, but that was between the Logans.”

  Oh God. That wasn’t good. Failing to obey orders was grounds for getting cut from the squad.

  Reece and Bear could both be kicked out.

  Chapter 21

  Reece

  He taught me everything—how to tie my shoes, how to piss standing up. He taught me everything you never did.

  “Oh man, oh man. They’re gonna kick us out.” Bear kept rocking in the passenger seat of my mom’s car.

  “No, they won’t. You heard the chief, Bear. He said to stay. He said to direct traffic and control the crowd, and we did. We obeyed orders.”

  “We didn’t. We never should have chased down that kid. Your dad, oh jeez, he was pissed.”

  Pissed? Please. That wasn’t pissed; that was his low setting. I pulled the car into my driveway, parked, and cut the engine. “Bear, just relax. Let’s go fix the wall and wait for them to call us, okay?” We carted the tub of drywall compound and the furring strips upstairs to the bathroom. I fetched all the other tools we needed. When I got back, he was sitting on the edge of the tub, still rocking.

  “I got this, Bear. Why don’t you take off? I’m sorry I got you into trouble. It’s me he’s pissed at, not you. I’m sure you’ll be just fine.”

  He waved a hand and grabbed for the drywall saw. “No. No way, bro. You helped me, I help you. That was the deal.” He stuck the saw into the hole I’d made with my fist and made a vertical cut down, then across and all the way around, widening the hole into an even square.

  “What’s next?”

  “Measure the hole and cut a piece of drywall to fit it.”

  I grabbed the tape measure, transferred those measurements to a scrap piece, and drew pencil lines to mark them. Bear told me what to do and when to do it. I just followed the directions. We cut a piece of the furring strip, stuck it through the hole, and then screwed it to the existing wall. Then we put the patch over the hole and screwed it to the strip.