Sweet Justice (10 page)

A tiny tap came on the truck window, startling him. He peered out of the condensation already gathering on it to see Mallory standing by the door.

Scooping up his lunch box from the floorboards of the truck, he slid out and slammed the door. It creaked ominously, reminding him that he needed to grease those hinges.

“I didn't thank you properly for taking me home,” she started.

“Don't mention it. It was no bother.”

His words must not have been exactly what she was after—or maybe it was his tone again, because even to his ears, he sounded brusque. Well, excuse him for being tired and out of sorts—he'd had to pull almost an extra half shift today to get in his training. That and his moral tussles over what he should and shouldn't say to Mallory had exhausted him.

Keeping her at arm's length did not, in any way, shape or form, feel natural to him.

Andrew saw the hurt in her face. It made him feel as guilty as seeing Katelyn in that wheelchair. He brushed past her and headed for the house, the gravel crunching underfoot. “Ma's probably got supper warming on the stove for us,” he tossed over his shoulder. “I didn't know you were coming along until late...”

Give him enough rope and he'd hang himself. After he'd nearly slipped up earlier about Ma's invitation, he hadn't planned on telling Mallory that he'd refused Ma's earlier request to invite her out to eat. He'd planned on avoiding Mallory at all costs after Dutch and Daniel had double-teamed him.

“I wouldn't want to...horn in.” Mallory's words drifted through the cold night air. The expression didn't sound right in her city-accent. It was as though she were trying too hard to fit in.

Like LeeAnn, at first.

“Eat if you want, don't if you don't,” he shot back. “I'm hungry. You can dither all you want.”

And with that, he stalked toward the house, figuring that a girl as quick on the uptake as Mallory Blair could find her own way to a meal ticket.

CHAPTER TWELVE

M
ALLORY
GROUND
HER
teeth in frustration. What was with this hot-and-cold routine? True, she'd been the one to back off first after that kiss...

That kiss didn't bear thinking about.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.

She followed in his wake up the graveled path, up the steps to the back porch and to the screen door that he'd let slam in her face.

A moment later a sheepish Andrew pushed the door back open. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “I wasn't thinking.”

“That's right, Andrew Monroe!” Ma scolded him. “You most certainly weren't thinking, or else you wouldn't act like some knuckle-dragging Neanderthal. What would your father say if he were alive? He'd skin you, that's what he'd do!” Ma shook her head and transferred her attention to Mallory. In a gentler voice, she said, “C'mon in, honey. I try to raise these boys with some modicum of manners.”

“Ma!” Andrew protested. “I'm not thirteen anymore!”

“Well, then, act like it.” Ma bustled around the kitchen, retrieving plates and silverware and uncovering delicious-smelling food from big pots on the stove. “Mallory, get your supper. Daniel and Maegan have already eaten, and Katelyn—”

“She shouldn't have invited herself—we have something waiting for us at the apartment,” Mallory insisted.

“Oh, shush! She said you'd fuss at her, but I do like the company. All my girls seem to have something else to do this week, and the house is so quiet,” Ma explained. “I'd already told Maegan to bring that child up here after they got finished. Do you know? She even walked a few steps on her own today?”

A breath caught in Mallory's throat. She'd missed that. She missed such a monumental accomplishment because she was mooning over Andrew, letting him kiss her and charm her with his supposed ignorance of mauve and coral. Her parents would have never put something like that—that trivial—ahead of making sure her or Katelyn had the support they needed. Hadn't her parents been at every football game she'd ever cheered at? Hadn't her mom gone to every honor's day and school play that either of her daughters had been involved in?

“She walked?” Mallory asked. “Really walked?”

Even Andrew seemed to be jolted out of his grumpy mood by the news. He'd stopped what he was doing, his big hands soaped to the elbows at the kitchen sink, his mouth a perfect O of surprise. And then he whooped with delight. He reached over and yanked Mallory up, mindless of his sudsy hands, and whirled her around the kitchen.

“She walked! Did you hear that, Mal? She did it!”

Mallory couldn't tell what made her heart do its double-tap—the good news about Katelyn or the way that Andrew's face lit up when he was truly happy.

“My word, Andrew, the girl's going to get drunk if you keep spinning her around like that. And besides, you'll wake up Katelyn. She's taking a nap on the living room sofa.”

“Oh, gosh, Ma, sorry!” This time, no note of churlishness fouled his words. Andrew set Mallory back down so suddenly she wobbled on her heels. His big mitts had left two damp spots on her sweater, but no harm had been done. “Where's Maegan? I want to hear all about it! Did she record it?”

“Maegan's gone down to her office. Said she had to catch up on paperwork. You'll just have to bide your time, but you never were the patient sort, were you?” Ma patted Andrew on the cheek. “Now eat, the both of you, and I'll tell you what Katelyn told me. That girl was plenty excited, let me tell you.”

Mallory allowed Ma to tempt her into a big plate of meatloaf and all the trimmings. She couldn't help but elbow Andrew in the ribs as he made a move to skip the cabbage.

“Aren't you forgetting something?” she teased as she stood by the stove. “You need your leafy greens.”

He groaned. Under Mallory's pointed gaze, he shook his head in mock resignation. “Oh, all right. It won't kill me to eat it.”

Their convivial mood held all through supper as Ma regaled them with tales of Katelyn's triumph. She had walked—even though she'd almost given up before she'd actually taken those three steps without so much as Maegan's hand on her back.

It was all Mallory could do not to wake Katelyn up from her slumber and hug her. She waited as long as she could, trying not to rush through the delicious supper, insisting on washing her dishes, before she tiptoed into the living room.

There was Katelyn, still asleep on the couch. Ma had covered her up with a soft quilt. Katelyn's hair fanned out across a snowy white pillowcase, her mouth slack, her face so much younger in sleep than her seventeen years.

Mallory's heart ached as she watched over her sister. How many nights had she done this very thing? Countless times right after their parents died, after Katelyn had sobbed herself into a fitful sleep. And still more when Katelyn was in the burn unit after the accident.

But...it wasn't an accident. Chad had warned her about thinking of it in that way. An accident, he'd pointed out when they'd first met, was something that happened despite everyone's best efforts, and leaving Katelyn to nearly die—that wasn't anybody's best efforts.

Or it shouldn't have been.

Mallory sighed, her good mood deflating. She had not watched over Katelyn, not then and not today. What if she'd fallen? What if Katelyn had wanted her to be there, to see her triumph?

Mallory sat back, careful not to wake her sister. She took in the room and its cozy furnishings, so unlike their cramped apartment with its wickedly uncomfortable futon that served as a couch. Lit by a single lamp on an end table beside the sofa, this room was anchored by a fireplace with the remnants of a fire still crackling in it. The mantel held a host of photos of the Monroe clan, including a particularly cute gap-toothed grade-school picture of a much-younger Andrew.

The big easy chair looked as though it were Daniel's, what with the table beside it full of trade magazines about firefighting and a big blue binder with the county insignia on it.

In black magic marker, in a neat print, the words
Policy and Procedures Handbook
were scrawled across the front.

Policies and procedures...

Mallory rose from the sofa and crossed to the chair. On her way, a floorboard creaked beneath the big braided rug. She halted, checking over her shoulder to make sure that Katelyn had not awoken, and neither Andrew nor Ma had heard her sneaking across the floor.

Silly. Daniel wouldn't have left it here if it had been confidential. I could probably get a copy of it down at the municipal building.

Still, stealth ruled her actions. She perched on the edge of the easy chair and began flipping through the pages. Yes, there indeed was the policy that Andrew had quoted back to her almost verbatim, about priorities during a rescue. And...

She flipped forward a few more pages, consulted the typed table of contents at the front of the binder and then leafed through until she got to the relevant section.

Priority shall be made to ascertain that no power or gas is flowing to a structure, so as to safeguard residents entrapped in the structure and rescue personnel responding at the scene.

It was followed with detailed directions for how to obtain that knowledge, from a meter check to a call to the utility providers, and a special proviso for residents with solar panels or generators.

Yes. There it was, in black-and-white, captured in plain, no-nonsense Courier font. The fire department should have made certain no electricity was going to that house.

The memory of that ugly starburst scar on Katelyn's hand burned into Mallory's brain. It was the only scar that her sister couldn't hide with long sleeves and long pants, and her doctors were certain it had been caused by contact with a live electric wire.

Katelyn had wept over that scar. For some reason, whenever she saw it, it bothered her almost as much or more than the scars she could hide.

But that scar was definite proof that the Levi County Fire Department had not followed proper procedure. They had almost cost Katelyn her life.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

A
NDREW
CAME
DOWN
the darkened hall toward the dim yellow glow of the living room lamp. The fire must still be going, he decided, because it was warmer the closer he got. He and Daniel and Rob needed to talk Ma into adding more insulation into the old drafty place. Their dad would have insisted on it.

His dad. Not for the first time since Ma had invoked Dad's name earlier that evening had Andrew questioned his gruff manner with Mallory. His father was big on respect for women. More than once, Andrew had been grounded for even a hint of rolling his eyes at Ma.

“You respect Ma and your sisters—everybody, regardless of who they are,” his dad had told him. “They got their own troubles, just like you. Last thing they need is you piling your baggage on.”

That was what he'd been doing, he figured, tossing onto Mallory's load a suitcase or two of his own guilt about the fire. Never mind that he'd done his best. Never mind that he'd followed procedure.

You got her out
, he reassured himself.
Katelyn is here today and walking—walking—because you found her.

The walking part was a big deal for him. Maegan had been so pessimistic about Katelyn's chances to walk. She'd pointed out that Katelyn had already gone through arduous therapy already. Maegan's focus was to give Katelyn the confidence she needed to tackle life, even if it was in a wheelchair.

Andrew paused for a moment in the hall and took in a large framed photo of the last group shot with his dad, just before Daniel had headed off to chase his dream of becoming a major-league baseball pitcher. All the kids surrounded Ma and Dad, like points on a clock. Daniel was at the twelve position, and everybody else fell into place from there.

And there Andrew was, the youngest, trying to appear older and tougher than his twelve years. He still remembered that day, cooped up in the photographer's studio, itching to get out to the ball fields with his buddies. He could still feel the bite of the dress shirt's collar that Ma had starched to a fare-thee-well, hear the crackle of the new pants Ma had bought for the occasion, the pinch of the dress shoes he'd had to shine to a high gleam.

And...yes. He could still feel the weight of his dad's hand on his shoulder. It wasn't a scolding. It was a gentle reminder: patience.

No, Andrew decided. Dad wouldn't have cared one whit for the way Andrew had treated Mallory. He'd probably have advised him to be polite and keep his distance and certainly, certainly not pull Maegan into any professional risk.

Andrew squared his shoulders and vowed to be more like the man his dad would have wanted him to be. He moved toward the living room, intent on apologizing to Mallory for his earlier behavior.

He found her in Dad's—now Daniel's—chair, her head bent over something. A glance at the sofa told him that Katelyn was still asleep.

“Do you think we need another log on the fire?” he asked, just above a whisper.

Mallory jerked up in surprise. Her face paled, and she slammed the covers of whatever she was reading shut, sliding it in the crevice of the seat. “Uh—not for me,” she got out.

Something about the way she was looking directly at him while busily ditching the book—a binder, actually—aroused his suspicions. He closed the gap between them, posing in as casual a tone as he could muster, “You're sure? It can be drafty, especially when you're reading. What are you reading anyway?”

A splash of embarrassed color lit Mallory's cheeks, and her hand on the binder instantly stilled. She shrugged. “Uh—actually—” She pulled it out and looked at it as if she needed to read the marker-scrawled title. “Policy and Procedures Handbook”... Katelyn always says I'd read the back of a milk carton.”

Her chuckle wasn't as carefree as she'd meant it to be, Andrew thought. Still, he tried to give her the benefit of the doubt. Maybe she had been bored, waiting for Katelyn to wake up. Maybe it had been in the chair and she'd had to move it.

Yeah, right, maybe she really, really wants to be a firefighter when she grows up, especially if she can do it in designer turnout gear.

Cynical sarcasm bubbled up in him before he could tamp it down. Aloud, he responded with, “Yeah, you will read anything. That stuff will put me out like a light, even when I've got to study it for tests. Works better for insomnia than any sleeping pill they could ever come up with.”

“Oh, yeah,” Mallory said, forcing a laugh. Her hand smoothed over the cover. “Dry stuff.”

“Yeah? Don't tell Daniel. He and Rob were the ones who drafted most of that.” Andrew's own laugh sounded as forced as Mallory's had. He ignored it and pushed on. “Here's a pop quiz—what do you remember reading?”

She opened her mouth—that pretty mouth he had kissed not even two hours before—and closed it. “Gracious! It was, you know...” Mallory waved a hand over her head. “How you guys keep everything straight, I don't know. And you, er, you get tested on it?”

“Sure.” Andrew glanced down at the binder, realized the corners of some pages had been folded over in an unintentional dog-ear when she'd slammed the book shut. Now he reached across, again with the most casual air he could manage, and took the book from her. He slid a finger between the dog-eared pages, and then opened the book.

Was it his imagination, or did her entire body seem to relax? No, she was definitely less tense. Andrew didn't remark on it. Instead, he read aloud, “Vehicles shall be refueled when the gauge shows three-quarters or less on the dash of the truck. All power tools shall be refueled after each use. Portable fuel cans shall be maintained in a full... Oh, yeah. Riveting stuff here. You'll be out like a light, just like Katelyn is.”

Uttering Katelyn's name served as some sort of signal for Mallory. She leaped up and said, “Gosh, is it that late? I guess I'd better wake Katelyn—”

A twinge of remorse pulsed through Andrew. Here he was, letting his suspicions take hold, and he was probably driving Mallory away with his thinly veiled interrogation. And causing trouble and pain for Katelyn.

Katelyn, who'd already gone through enough torment for three lifetimes.

“You don't have to—”

Even as he began his protest, Mallory bumped past him, causing the notebook to spill out of his hands. He reached down to scoop it up, realized Mallory's hands were reaching for it, too.

She laughed again, that shy awkwardness that he'd cast in such a sinister light a moment ago. “Here,” she said. “Before I catch trouble from Daniel for abusing his masterpiece. And no, I have to work tomorrow, and I think it's past time for us to get going.”

“I'll help you—”

“No!” The word was sharp and cut through the cozy living room air. It served to rouse Katelyn, who fluttered her eyes open in confusion.

“Wh-what time is it? Is it—morning?” Katelyn mumbled.

Mallory knelt down beside the couch. “No, sweetie. It's just after eight o'clock. C'mon, sleepyhead. We've got to get you in the car and get you home. I hear you had a huge day today.”

“Yeah!” Now Katelyn seemed more awake. She pushed up on one elbow and shoved aside the quilt. “I walked, Mal! I walked!”

“I wish I could have been there,” Mallory told her, and in those words, Andrew could hear something else: the same aching protective pride that Ma's voice held whenever she'd learned of some new accomplishment one of them had achieved.

Katelyn scrunched up her features in a clear expression of never-you-mind. “Oh, you would have told me I might fall or to take it easy, or stop at the first step—I did it, though! I did it.”

“You did. And you'll do it again. Right now I think we'd better head home.”

Andrew stepped forward to help transfer Katelyn into the chair. He stopped, though, when Mallory seemed to guess what he was about to do and halted him with a discreet but definite hand signal.

Puzzled, and more than a little miffed, he watched as Mallory allowed Katelyn to struggle into the wheelchair on her own. Andrew noticed the older sister's hands clench nervously, her knuckles white, as Katelyn bumped her way into the chair.

She's letting her do it for herself
, Andrew realized.
She's following Maegan's advice about allowing Katelyn to be more independent.

Finally, after a full five minutes that seemed like an eternity, their patience was rewarded with Katelyn self-confidently wheeling up the hall and toward the kitchen. She was chattering a mile a minute, telling Mallory all about the steps she'd taken that day.

Mallory loves her. She wants what's best for her. She trusts Maegan. Maybe there won't be a lawsuit after all.

Andrew dropped his gaze from Mallory and Katelyn's departing backs to the binder in his hand. Along the top edge, he could still see one of the folds among the pages.

He flipped the binder open, let his eyes take in the text. At first, he saw nothing but dry-as-dust procedures he knew by heart about chain of command on a scene.

And then his eye hit upon a paragraph in the middle of the page.

Priority shall be made to ascertain that no power or gas is flowing to a structure, so as to safeguard residents entrapped in the structure and rescue personnel responding at the scene.

His heart sank. In an instant he knew that this was what had so captured Mallory's attention that she hadn't even heard him coming down the hall.

She and Chad the ambulance chaser still had their eyes on the coffers of Levi County—and whoever else might be blocking the way to their money tree.