Hero's Journey (3 page)

As the fire brigade volunteers began to break up into their hose teams, Stella saw Sweet Pepper police officer John Trump pull into the parking lot. He quickly left his truck and went inside to change.

John was a good-looking man she'd hoped would be the one to take over the fire brigade when she left. He was well trained, knowledgeable, and knew how to take command in an emergency situation.

They'd also had a brief romantic fling when she'd first arrived. There was still some unresolved tension between them when they were together.

She'd been disappointed in that regard too.

John wanted to be police chief someday. He wasn't interested in becoming the fire chief. He saw it as a less important post. There had been some talk in town that he might not have much choice in the matter. That might only be a rumor. Sweet Pepper was full of new rumors and gossip every day.

As to any softer feelings he might have had for Stella, John had never denied that he enjoyed her company. The problems had come when Stella had learned she wasn't exactly a stranger to this town. Her mother had been born in Sweet Pepper. Her grandfather still lived here.

John hated Ben Carson, her grandfather. He blamed his father's death on the older man. From what Stella understood of his thoughts on the matter, John could never trust her because of her ties to the Carson family.

It seemed to be a Hatfield and McCoy situation that there was no way around. Not that she had time for romance really. But it might have been nice.

“What's with the smoky smell in the firehouse?” John had changed and come out to join the group. “Was someone trying to start a campfire in the bay?”

“Something like that.” Stella had found that she was still attracted to John, with his steady brown eyes, square jaw, and the single dimple in his cheek. Her emotions didn't seem to be as easy to turn on and off as his were.

“Okay. Tagger, right?”

“Yes.” She smiled at the older man who'd brought out his lawn chair, as he always did, to watch practice. “Nothing happened. All smoke, no fire.”

“Good to hear. Where do you want me?”

Stella's wayward brain had a few thoughts on that subject. They weren't expressible. At least not in the current climate of their relationship.

Instead she nodded to the team on the right with the two-inch hose. “See if you can help them out.”

“You got it, Chief.”

Petey chose to have one of the newer members of the fire brigade on her team. Dean Jones was a new accountant in town. The first thing he'd done when he joined was give out his business cards to everyone.

Stella hadn't been sure when he joined that he would be an asset to the group. He'd seemed to be too busy trying to drum up business for himself. But he'd turned out to be a valuable team member who listened intently and acted carefully.

That left the other new member, Phil Esposito, on Ricky's team. Phil was a middle-aged bartender from Beau's, a bar and grill just a few miles from the firehouse. He'd told Stella he'd been so impressed by the stories he'd heard from them that he'd wanted to join.

He was more than a little out of shape and his attitude toward practice bordered on the offensive. Still, Stella couldn't be picky. She needed every spare hand she could get.

There had been other members who had dropped out very quickly after finding that being a volunteer firefighter wasn't equivalent to joining a social club. She'd worked with them as long as she could. Usually it was their choice to leave, not hers.

Practice went well—no one dropped the hoses. Passing them to the other volunteers hadn't produced cold showers for them all. Even Phil had managed to do his part without grumbling. Maybe he was starting to catch on.

Stella cut practice short because the engine and pumper/ladder truck needed cleaning after the fire. The smoke had created a thin film of soot over everything.

Her own chief, Fred Henry, had instilled the need for cleanliness in her and the other recruits at her station back in Chicago. No one went home until the equipment was clean and put away where it belonged. That way the team was always ready for the next call.

Tagger had insisted he would take care of it all, but Stella wouldn't let him take that responsibility by himself. She worked alongside him, and the other members of the fire brigade, until the firehouse passed muster.

While others were showering and putting on clean clothes, Stella was in her office doing paperwork. Every practice, every call required documentation for the fire brigade to keep its standing with the state of Tennessee. It was the one part about being chief that she didn't like.

John came to see her before he left the firehouse. His dark hair was wet from the shower and combed back from his handsome face. He waited until she looked up from her report.

For a brief moment, they simply stared at each other. Neither said anything. Their eyes were unfocused as they searched for something in the other's face.

The moment was broken when Ricky started up the engines on both trucks, as he did every day, to make sure they was ready for the road in case of an emergency.

“Sorry to bother you.” John's voice was a little deeper and huskier than normal.

“No bother.” She put away her report with unsteady hands. “What's up?”

“I wanted to let you know about a situation around town. We've had a series of break-ins from Sweet Pepper all the way out to Frog Pond. No one has been hurt—yet. It's odd this time of year. Usually this would be happening over the summer with some tourist getting bad ideas about small-town law enforcement.”

“Any clues about the people involved?”

“Not yet. Nothing substantial anyway.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “There is one thing that's been bothering me about the incidents.”

She smiled. “Something you think I should know that Chief Rogers doesn't think I should know.”

“You know me too well already.” He grinned at her. “That's exactly it.”

“You've come this far. You might as well tell me the rest.”

“The thief seems to also be a little bit of a firebug. Nothing major as yet—nothing the owners of the properties haven't been able to put out with a fire extinguisher.”

“That's why we haven't had any calls about it yet.”

“Exactly. I think he's using the fires as a smokescreen, so to speak. People come home, find a little fire going on in the house. They panic, of course, put the fire out, and don't even realize for a day or so that they've been robbed.”

“Sounds dangerous.” She doodled on a pad of paper as she listened. “What kind of stuff is he taking?”

“Jewelry, small antiques, coins. Nothing large. We're working on a theory that he's had access to the house before he robs it. He knows what he wants to take. He doesn't take big-screen TVs, no laptops, or any other electronics. He has a definite pattern going.”

“You're worried about the time when the small fire becomes a big one.” She nodded. “Me too. That kind of thing can get out of hand really quickly.”

“We're also worried about when he thinks no one is home and someone is. We're working as hard as we can. They even sent a few people down from the county to help us. I thought you should know, being the fire chief and a citizen.”

Stella agreed. “Chief Rogers doesn't think I should know. I get it. Thanks for telling me.”

“I know you have old Eric Gamlyn protecting the cabin up there. It's kind of remote, though. Someplace our thief might want to hit. Keep a sharp eye, and make sure you lock up when you leave.”

“I will. Thanks for thinking about me.”

“I
always
think about you, Stella.”

It was her turn to sound a little husky. “I appreciate that, John.”

He left, and Stella finished her paperwork. It wasn't a surprise that Sweet Pepper police chief Don Rogers wanted to keep her out of the loop. They couldn't seem to find a middle ground where they could get along and work together for the good of the community.

Don thought of her as the enemy. He'd been adversarial since she'd arrived. She was both a woman and an outsider. He didn't think a woman was the right person for the job of fire chief. Being an outsider was simply another slap in the face for him.

He never bothered to hide his eagerness to see the last of her. She felt the same about himStella went to post a heads-up in the communication station. Everyone needed to be aware of what could be coming. She was glad John was a volunteer firefighter as well as a police officer. His loyalty to both groups created conflicts for him sometimes, but it probably helped the town run more smoothly too.

After saying good-bye to Ricky and a few others still at the firehouse, Stella put on her helmet and got on her Harley.

She was facing a conflict of her own. She knew she needed to go shopping, but she was also curious about how things had gone with the chimney sweep. Because she liked going shopping for food even less than she liked writing reports, she was soon on her way back up Firehouse Road, returning to the cabin.

Patrick's truck was gone. Stella crossed her fingers and hoped that meant the job had gone well. She wished she'd told him to stop in at the firehouse on his way out.

As usual, the porch light was on. The front door opened as she approached.

“I hope you don't plan to pay that moron for what he did.” Eric began ranting before she was completely in the cabin.

“Why? Did he do something wrong? Is there soot all over the cabin?” She looked around as she spoke. Everything appeared normal.

“It only took him five minutes to get on the roof and put that broom up and down the chimney a few times. How much did he charge you?”

“Fifty dollars.” She bent over to look into the hearth and up into the chimney. “It looks like he did a good job to me. I guess we'll know next time you start a fire.”

“That's not the point.” He paced through the furniture. “How can someone charge that much money for that little time?”

She laughed. “He's a specialist. Besides, he risks his life climbing on people's roofs. And it's a dirty job. I think it was well worth the price to be warmer this winter.”

“As long as
you
think so.”

“Have you seen Hero since I left this morning? He wasn't at practice.”

Eric stopped pacing. “No. I completely forgot about him. He must still be outside.”

Stella went to the door and called the puppy. There was no response. “Call him, Eric. He always answers you.”

“I did. Let me check the perimeter.”

He vanished only to reappear a moment later. “He's not there. I don't know how he got out. I know I didn't release him. Are you sure he's not at the firehouse?”

“Believe me, Sylvia would've let me know if he'd been there. I'll call down and have Ricky look around for him anyway.”

Stella used her radio—cell phones didn't work on the mountain. Internet and cable were sketchy at times but normally held up.

“I can't feel him either,” Eric said. “I can usually sense him. I don't understand how he could vanish this way.”

“Don't worry. He'll turn up. He knows this area fairly well by now. He'll find his way back.”

She wasn't so sure a few hours later when there was still no sign of the puppy. Kimmie and David had brought Sylvia up to the cabin and walked the dog through the woods, hoping Hero's mother would pick up his scent and lead them to him.

Everyone who could help out had returned to the firehouse and initiated a search for the missing puppy. They'd scoured the woods around the firehouse, and even gone out to the areas on either side of the mountain road leading up to the cabin.

“There's no sign of him, Chief.” Dean took off his Sweet Pepper High School Cougars ball cap and wiped the sweat from his forehead. “No one has seen him. It's like he disappeared.”

“We know that didn't happen,” Stella said. “He's out here somewhere.”

“Have you checked with the chimney sweep you had up here today?” Kent asked. “Maybe he saw Hero.”

Stella had to admit that was a good idea. She went to the firehouse to use her cell phone, and picked up the Cherokee. There was no response at Patrick's number, so she left a message on his voicemail.

“I think we should make up some flyers and hang them around the area,” JC said. “My sister lost her dog last year and it helped. Hero's a cute puppy. If people see him running around by himself, they're bound to pick him up. We have to let them know he already has a home.”

“We could get the Dalmatian Rescue League involved too,” Kimmie said. “Since we're members and Sylvia is a rescue dog, I'm sure they'd help out.”

“All good ideas,” Stella said. “Let's get moving on them. The longer Hero is missing, the less of a chance we have of finding him.”

There was a copy machine at the firehouse. Kimmie had a picture of Hero that they placed on the flyer above his name and a brief description. Almost everyone in the fire brigade had wanted their phone numbers on the flyer too. When the flyers were ready, everyone took a handful and went out to distribute them.

Since Stella still needed to go to Sevierville for supplies, she stopped and stapled flyers along the main road. Every other power pole had a picture of Hero on it. There were a few abandoned buildings along the way and she papered those too.

On the way back home, she left flyers at the convenience store in Frog Pond and at the gas station in Big Bear Springs.

She didn't know what else they could do. She'd called John but there wasn't much the police were willing to do in the case of a missing dog—even if that dog was a member of the fire brigade.

Someone had to have seen the puppy. As soon as that person was aware that Hero belonged to the fire brigade, he'd call. She felt sure of that, and yet, she was worried about Hero.

He was very young and had only known a few people in his life. Though he ran through the woods frequently between the cabin and the firehouse, he didn't know much about traffic. He could be hurt and in a ditch somewhere. Stella refused to think that way. She drove the Cherokee back from Sevierville and up Firehouse Road slowly, looking along the sides of the road for the puppy. She was disappointed that she didn't see anything, and that there hadn't been any reports about him all afternoon.

She backed the Cherokee close to the front porch stairs. She'd found that she could hand the grocery bags to Eric and he could put them in the kitchen.

Sometimes he floated the bags into the kitchen without even moving from the stairs. A few people, including Walt Fenway and some ladies from the pepper festival committee, had witnessed this phenomenon. It added to the mystique that the cabin was indeed haunted.

“Any word about Hero?” Eric asked Stella.

“Not yet. There are flyers up from Sevierville to Sweet Pepper. I'm sure we'll hear something soon.” She handed him two bags of groceries. “I'm trying not to think about it.”

“I'm sorry. This is my fault for getting so carried away about the chimney sweep. I forgot all about Hero.”

“He should've been fine. He never leaves the perimeter without you knowing about it. I can't imagine what happened.”

“Were you able to get in touch with the chimney sweep? He was the only person up here all day, until you brought the fire brigade. I would've noticed strangers in the woods, even with the chimney sweep here.”