The Protector (10 page)
“And I’ll go grab more eyedrops and another ice pack.”
“Cole’s office?”
Jack was surprised to realize she hadn’t been here before. “Next door in the district offices. Hang a left when you enter the equipment bay and go through the connecting corridor. His office is on the left past the conference room.”
Jack watched her turn that way, her steps slow and measured. The only thing he could do was ease the hurt as best he could and hope she didn’t end up with nightmares because of tonight.
The station was quiet, a radio was on somewhere as well as the muted sounds of the TV left on in the lounge. Before he headed to the medical cabinet, Jack paused to nudge the magnet by his name on the status board over to show he was in the offices. He got eyedrops, burn cream, and broke out another ice pack for her hand.
Cassie had turned on lights on her way through the dark office building.
There wasn’t room to shove another desk into the packed open office area. There had been an attempt last month to squeeze in a desk for the police liaison by angling it in by the emergency exit, sparking a heated debate over whether the fire department should comply with the letter of the law regarding fire safety or the spirit of the law which was to make sure the exits weren’t blocked.
The pragmatic people working on the arson squad suggested if fire crews twenty feet away couldn’t deal with the fire, having an exit with clearance of more than eighteen inches was irrelevant. The desk had been put in.
Jack found Cassie in Cole’s office. She had settled into his desk chair, slouched to be comfortable. It was cool in this building. Jack wished he had thought to grab a sweatshirt from his locker for her.
“I see he’s been decorating,” Cassie noted.
Children’s hand-drawn pictures of a fireman and engine were taped in a rather haphazard montage on the wall.
“He’s been doing a series of presentations at the local schools.” Jack pulled out a chair at the small table, swiveling it around and setting down the supplies he carried. The pictures clashed with the pile of books on the table. Two of them—
Investigating the Fireground
and
Fire Investigation
—Jack recognized as course books that Cole was using in his current academy training class.
“What are the latest numbers? Eleven percent of fires are juvenile arsons?”
“Closer to 15 percent.”
“Ouch.”
Jack reached over for the Kleenex box and set it in her lap. “Eye-drops.”
She reluctantly slid off her glasses. “Don’t drown me.”
Jack chuckled at the warning. “Can’t swim?”
“Not funny.”
“Bad pun. Tilt your head back.”
She leaned her head back but did so by slouching in the chair and looking up. He smiled at her but had his doubts about her ability to see his expression without her glasses. “Don’t trust me?”
“What do you think?” She reluctantly leaned farther back.
He missed with the first drop, then got the next four drops sort of in as her blinking messed up his aim. He didn’t have the heart to hold her eyes open anymore. “Done.”
She didn’t comment, just pulled a tissue from the box…and another one and another.
He wisely didn’t say anything either as she dried her eyes and slipped on her glasses. He was relieved to see the redness was beginning to clear. “What can you tolerate to drink? More ice water? Juice?”
“Something with sugar. See if Cole has any of his favorite pineappleorange left.”
Jack opened the small refrigerator Cole kept tucked under the side table. He found two bottles of the juice and opened one of them for her.
Cassie accepted it with a quiet thanks, then used the toe of one tennis shoe against the heel of the other to pry off her shoes. “Does Cole like the arson job?” she asked as she looked around the office, sipping the cold juice.
Jack had the odd feeling that Cassie did not want to talk about the fire yet. He set his juice bottle on the table and laced his fingers across his chest. “He’s good at it.”
“He would be. He’s thorough. How are the latest station consolidations working out?”
She was definitely stalling. “There are challenges with learning the new streets and buildings within the expanded district. The station is busier. We’re rolling out on probably 20 percent more calls, and it’s putting some strain on the paid oncall guys. We’ll probably need to move a couple up to salaried positions and put them into the full-time rotation. On the other hand, it is nice having another engine in the rotation for call outs.”
“The Company 65 guys are fitting in?”
“Friendly competition,” Jack replied, smiling slightly. The drills over the last months were killing them as one engine crew tried to outdo the other, but it was making them all better firefighters. “They seem to be making the transition just fine.”
He wished he could read her body language, her expression, better to understand what was going on. He could sort of figure out what his sisters were thinking, but Cassie was a mystery. “What’s wrong?”
“What?”
“You’re chattering. This place is making you nervous.”
She looked away. He waited.
She checked the turned up cuff on her shirtsleeve. It was an interesting tell. He tipped his head to one side and considered why it might be happening. She hadn’t been to Cole’s office before. She was stalling, and he couldn’t figure out why. Curiosity overtook the concern. “Did you ever read the nursing home report?”
“It was offered. I passed.”
“I wondered.” She had never wanted to talk about the fire when he stopped by the hospital to visit. With Ash it had been the opposite; the fire was the only thing her partner had wanted to talk about.
The nursing home fire had been an unfortunate fire in how it spread. Two of the automatic fire alarms were not working so the fire took hold and spread before other alarms triggered. Two patients died, six had been critically injured from the smoke, and Cassie paid a permanent price. It had been arson. The man suspected of setting it and three other fires had been killed in a car accident in New Jersey two months ago with an outstanding warrant pending for his arrest.
Cassie shifted in her chair. “What do you need to know for your report?” There was grimness under her words, a reluctance to look at him, a tenseness that extended to her body language. She didn’t want to think about the fire tonight. He couldn’t blame her, not when he just had to think about that hallway and he saw her trying to crawl out clutching a teddy bear.
“What did you see?”
“Not much.”
“Do you want to do this tomorrow?”
“With a crowd around here…no thanks.” Jack saw her measure the open floor space with her eyes and shift forward in her chair as she thought about getting up to pace. Then she changed her mind and settled back. “I’m tired, Jack. Really tired. But I know how this guy has been hassling you. This is what, his third fire?”
“Sixth,” Jack replied softly. He caught her startled gaze.
“You’re serious.”
“This makes his second house.” Jack found a blank pad of paper. “I need to know everything you saw, from the beginning.”
She was distinctly subdued as she answered. “I smelled the smoke when I left the bookstore.”
“Who were the spectators at the fire when you arrived?”
Jack didn’t hurry as he took her through the evening up to the point when they found her in the house. Part of that pace was not to hit her with a question before she was ready for it. The more serious reason was the fact her answers made it hard for him to breathe.
The fire had a powerful hold before she entered the house. Her description of the bedroom with the door blocked was frightening. A beam could have so easily come down behind her, trapping her in the hallway.
“Tell me again about the man you saw.”
“He was standing by the oak tree near the turn in the drive.”
Cole had found popcorn near that oak tree. Jack didn’t mention that fact. That signature was going to remain a very closely held fact even from someone like Cassie.
“Did you notice anything about him beyond the impression—” Jack checked his notes to get her exact words—“tall, brown jacket with pockets, jeans, black tennis shoes, not teens or early twenties, maybe in his late thirties or early forties?”
“How he stood, watching the fire. It wasn’t like he had gone still from surprise or shock. I got the impression he was reflecting on it, like he was watching and thinking.”
“Would you recognize him if you saw him?”
She scowled at him. “Maybe. I was hoping you weren’t going to ask.”
“Would you prefer to try to give a description to a sketch artist?”
“I didn’t see him well enough to put it into words. I got an impression.”
“You could look at the photos tomorrow.” They’d have to work around the delay, but if she wasn’t up to it Cole would understand.
“No.” She rocked the chair back and forth. “Get the arson photo books and raid a candy bar stash somewhere.”
Jack closed the pad of paper, understanding the reluctance, his smile one of sympathy. At this time of night he wouldn’t be looking forward to studying the photo books either. “I’ll see what I can find.”
He left and went to find the keys to unlock the cabinet where the books were kept. He had to raid the receptionist’s desk to come up with the bite-sized candy bars. She kept a candy dish on the counter; it was a popular place to stop during the course of the day.
He carried the two thick albums and the bag of candy with him back to Cole’s office. “Snickers or Milky Way?”
Cassie opened the first photo album and propped her elbows on the table. “Leave the bag.”
Jack did so and tugged a lock of her hair. “Thanks.”
“Go away.”
With a soft laugh, he left her to it.
Jack placed a phone call as he paced through the quiet firehouse back to the dorm, past ready to change into a clean shirt. “Cole?”
“Hold on a minute, Jack.” He heard a muffled conversation between Cole and Bruce. “Okay. What was Cassie able to give you?”
“I’ve got the notes faxing to the captain’s car now. You’d best read them. I flagged page four. This fire sounds different—hotter, faster, probably a different accelerant.”
“Hold on, let me get them.”
Jack stripped off the smoky shirt and tossed it toward his duffel bag.
“She noticed his shoes,” Cole said.
“I wish she noticed his face. She’s looking at the books but it sounds iffy.”
“Jack—we’ve got a problem. She saw him.”
Jack heard Cole’s words, knew the man had just made a leap forward connecting information, and felt totally lost. How did he ask Cole what he was talking about without sounding like a fool? Jack sighed. There were days he felt like he was not playing on the same field. “You lost me.”
“She noticed his shoes.”
“Okay…” Saying she seemed to have a thing about shoes tonight probably would seal the impression that he was a fool.
“She doesn’t notice shoes and not notice a face.”
“You know what you’re saying—” Jack sat down on the side of the bunk, overwhelmed by the idea.
“Even money she could tell you if the guy had a ring on that hand he pushed in his pocket,” Cole replied. “She noticed him. Learn something fast: Cassie does what she thinks is right, not necessarily what is right.”
Jack was resigning the title lieutenant and going back to caring about how much water pressure was dialed in so he didn’t get knocked flat when they put water on the fire. The people stuff of leadership was never going to make sense. “Cole—”
“I’m here for at least another hour. Where is she?”
“Your office, looking through the arson books.”
“She’ll give you what she can without crossing her own line.”
Jack thrust his hands through his hair. “I think you’d better handle this one.”
“I’d just get mad at her. Sit down and tug the information out of her. She’s got an acute conscience, so nag and you’ll get her to spill it.”
“Cole.”
“You don’t have to like it; you just have to do it. It’s one of the joys of being a leader. And Jack—if you make her cry I’m going to be annoyed. So choose your words with care.”
Jack rubbed the back of his neck and kicked the metal footlocker. “Let me go talk to her. I’ll call you back.”
T
he moon was full and it was shining in her eyes. Rachel shifted her arm under the pillow and turned her head away from the window. She was thirty-five and she was awake in the middle of the night, morose over the fact she was alone. It was a reflection on the choices she had made in her life.
With a groan she buried her head in the pillow. Every time she saw Gage she told herself she was not going to wish for what she didn’t have. And every time she did exactly that.
Next year she was going to scale back the amount of energy she put into others and start putting some attention into her own long-term dreams. She had been denying it for a long time. She wanted kids. She wanted to be married. The psychologist in her was amused at the order of those dreams.
