Trial by Fire (13 page)

“I downed a handful,” Sean said hoarsely, looking away in misery. “I don’t remember much, but I changed my mind. Went to the bathroom and . . . took care of it.”

God almighty. “Y-you tried to kill yourself.” He knew his friend had been heading down this slope. They both knew. But to be faced with the truth of how far Sean had fallen was devastating. He felt blown apart.

“I didn’t go through with it, Six-Pack.”

“I would’ve found you. Don’t you realize that?” His voice broke. He couldn’t help it.

“I’m sorry.” Sean’s face was etched with sorrow. “Forgive me.”

“You couldn’t save them, old friend. No one could. Forgive
yourself.
” Tears threatened, and dammit, holding them back took all of his willpower.
I would’ve found my best friend dead.

“I don’t know how.” Tanner shook his head, face crumpling. “The witnesses said Mia d-died screaming for D-Daddy to put out the f-fire. They couldn’t get her out, Howard. I was too late. Too fucking late . . .”

He’d heard this before. But never from Sean’s lips.

Unthinkable. Horrific. The killing thrust driven into a man’s heart, stilling it forever.

He pulled Sean into his arms. Didn’t care how the embrace might’ve looked to someone else, someone whose life had never taken a side trip through hell.

Neither spoke. Howard simply held the man who was his brother in every respect save blood. Wished to God he could will a healthy dose of his strength into his lost friend. Were it possible, he’d siphon the life force out of his body, gladly give the last drop to Sean, just to see him smile again.

Howard pulled back first. “Get showered while I put on a pot of coffee.”

Sean nodded and pushed from the bed, swaying unsteadily on his feet.

“Can you make it?”

“I think so.” Sean didn’t sound too sure.

“Good. ’Cause I draw the line at getting naked to hold you up in the shower, dude. I mean, we ain’t even dating.” There. Not quite a smile from his friend, but at least a relaxing of the white lines around his mouth.

Leaving Sean to his privacy for a few minutes, he busied himself putting on the coffee. This done, he returned to the bedroom, picked the remaining sleeping pills off the carpet, flushed them, and threw away the bottle.

Ten minutes later, Sean wobbled into the kitchen, brown hair damp, dressed in clean navy sweats and a Sugarland Fire Department T-shirt. He lowered himself to a chair across from Howard at the breakfast nook table, eyes downcast. Clearly shamed.

Howard fetched Tanner a mug of black coffee and pushed it to him, saying nothing. Waiting him out. What could he say to Sean that he hadn’t a hundred times already?

Promise me you won’t try that again,
he wanted to yell. But he was too afraid of the answer. So they drank in silence, Sean sipping his coffee as though suspicious the stuff might not stay down. Finally, his friend lifted his gaze. Met his silent inquiry squarely.

“What will you do with this?” Sean’s hand tightened on his mug. “Are you going to report me?”

Ah, here we are. The million-dollar question to which there was no good answer. Get the higher-ups involved—and yeah, this would place Bentley in an awkward position—and a situation like this had the potential to take on a life of its own.

Howard set down his mug. Braced his elbows on the table, fisted his hands together. “How do
you
think I should handle this?”

“I can’t ask you to cover for me. You should make a report.” He sat like stone, expression grim, as though bracing himself for a blow.

“How do you
want
me to handle it?”

Misery darkened his eyes. “Give me another chance. A little more time.
Please
.”

“So I can rush out here and find you dead tomorrow? Next week?” Sean jerked as though he’d punched him in the gut, but neither of them could afford to be less than honest.

“God, no. That won’t happen now. I swear—”

“You want to handle this without the department’s interference, you gotta shape up. Take the Zoloft every day and throw out the booze,” he ordered Sean in a tone that brooked no argument.

He sighed, gaze dropping to his hands. “Done.”

“Get outside on your days off, mess around this beautiful place of yours. Mow your own damned front acreage so that poor old fart next door doesn’t have to come over and do it. What is he, like, eighty-five?”

Sean flushed with embarrassment. “I get it. Shit.”

He leaned forward. “Do you? Because I can’t leave here without your promise to start making a real effort. My heart can’t take another scare like when I busted in here, thinking you were dead.”

“I’ll try, but—”

Frustrated, he slapped the table so hard their coffee sloshed. “Your word, Sean.”

“All right. I give you my word I’ll do all of those things you mentioned. I’ll do my best, I promise.” He pinned Howard with a look of determination. “And there won’t be a repeat of last night.”

He meant every word, but they both knew the score. “You’ll have more bad days, some as bad as yesterday or worse. And when you do, you’ll call me, understand? ”

“Yeah. And Six-Pack . . . thanks.”

“That’s what I’m here for, buddy.” Digging in his front shirt pocket, he offered his roll of Pez.

Taking a handful, his friend popped a couple into his mouth, gratitude flickering across his face. Crunching the candy, he cocked his head thoughtfully. “So, what’s up with you?”

“Not much. Why?”

“You’re lying.”

“What? How do you know?”

“You’re scratching your chest. You always do that when you’re lying your ass off.”

Howard stopped scratching and scowled. “Do not.”

“Do, too.” Sean’s lips quirked. “Come on, throw me a bone. Give me something to think about besides myself for a change.”

He hesitated. Telling his friend about the creepy photo and the guy in the Buick would mean telling him about Kat as well. On the other hand, if he didn’t spill, Sean would eventually find out from one of the guys. And he’d be hurt at being left out of the loop.

“I’ve started seeing someone.”

Sean’s brows lifted. “Since when?”

“Yesterday. Her name’s Kat McKenna.”

“The cute blond from the fire Saturday night?”

“One and the same.”

Sean whistled in admiration. “Damn, boy, you work fast.”

“I’m making dinner for her at my place tonight.” He shrugged, downplaying the intensity of his combustible feelings for the woman for Sean’s benefit. “Keeping things casual, seeing how it goes.”

“Well, good luck. One of us deserves to be happy.” Sean smiled, not quite covering the shadows lurking behind his expression.

He wasn’t going there. His friend wasn’t ready to hear that he deserved to be happy again, too. “There’s more. When I got home from seeing Kat last night, I found a nasty-gram stuck in my front door.”

“What kind? Jealous ex-lover?”

“Nope. Deranged killer.”

That
got Sean’s undivided attention. “What the hell?”

When he finished explaining, Sean was gaping like a landed trout. “Basically, Detective Ford doesn’t have a clue why the killer would leave me the victim’s photo, and neither do I.”

“Holy fuck. They’re going to provide protection, right?”

“Based on what? Kat and I haven’t actually been threatened.”

“What? If leaving you a picture of a woman taken before he killed her isn’t a threat, I don’t know what is!”

“You and me both.” He met Sean’s worried gaze. “Hey, this might be a sick prank. Or a fluke. Maybe it’s not the same lady at all. I’m not gonna bust my nuts unless it happens again.”

“Have you told Kat?”

“No, and I’m not planning to just yet. No need to freak her out if it’s nothing.”

Sean didn’t look convinced. Hell, he wasn’t, either. At least his buddy got what he wanted. He had something else to think about now, in spades.

Howard stood. “You gonna be okay after I leave?”

“I’ll be fine.”

Sean sounded stronger, steadier than he had in months. Howard wasn’t certain whether leaving him was safe, but to hover too much risked undermining his miniscule progress.

“All right,” he said. “See you on shift in the morning. ”

Sean walked him to the front door, grimacing when he saw the damage. “Jeez, you ripped a solid oak door right out of the frame.”

“I’ll call someone to come fix it this afternoon.”

“No. This is my fault. Besides, now I’ve got something productive to do.” He flashed a rare sincere smile that died just as quickly. “Thanks for keeping my screwup in the family.”

Howard pulled him into a bear hug, slapped his back. “You bet, my friend. I’m here, anytime you need me.”

Only time would tell whether he’d made the right decision.

If he hadn’t, he’d never forgive himself.

8

Kat’s Monday was par for the course. Run, run, with not one second to spare. Too much to accomplish and not enough hours to get the tasks completed. With a parent conference scheduled during her normal planning time, lunch was her only break all day.

Or would’ve been, if Detective Shane Ford hadn’t dropped by and used every one of her precious twenty-five minutes to ask questions about what she’d witnessed Saturday night. The cop was charming and polite, and the conversation pretty painless. She didn’t have much to reveal, although he seemed pleased by her description of the dark truck.

All told, an exhausting start to a new week. But she couldn’t complain. In fact, the closer the big hand crept toward three thirty, the more her spirits lifted. Soon she’d see her big, sexy firefighter again.

At home, she freshened up, shedding her sedate khaki pants and rust-colored sweater. Quickly, she ran the razor over her legs and underarms. Not that she
planned
on allowing the sexiest man in the state to have his wicked way with her. Rule number one in the Girl Code:
hairless legs and pits at all times, ladies. You never know when you might land in the hospital.

Or be swept into the strong arms of a six-foot-six hunk of smoldering, sexy man.

Refreshed after a brief shower, she toweled off, slipped on a matching silk bra and bikini panties of emerald green, and padded to the closet. Selecting a pair of black pants, black leather ankle boots, and a green blouse, she dressed and reapplied her small amount of makeup in record time. Last, she swept her hair into a twist and secured the mass with a large gold clip.

Turning around, she eyed herself critically in the mirror. Too dressy for eating in, but she wanted to look good for the lieutenant. She wasn’t used to pleasing anyone except herself with her appearance these days, and she hoped Howard would be pleased.

So what if he wasn’t? She wouldn’t compare herself to her older sister, like Rod had been fond of doing. She was happy in her own skin. Unlike Grace, Kat was short, curvy, and stacked. Nothing would ever change that fact. Yesterday, Howard certainly hadn’t seemed to mind.

Flushing, she thought of their interlude on the scenic overlook. Good God, she’d nearly made love with the man in broad daylight! Anyone could’ve stumbled upon them doing the horizontal bop, and the naughty idea sent a shiver of forbidden delight to her toes.

“Girl, you’ve got it bad.”

On the drive to Howard’s, her nerves jumped in anticipation of having the yummy man all to herself. No park filled with people, barking dogs, and kids to rescue. Just the two of them. Food for thought that had her body tingling all over, excitement building like steam in a pressure cooker.

She turned onto his street, pleasantly surprised by his neighborhood. The homes were older, small, but well maintained. Neat lawns boasted trim shrubs, and flowers burst everywhere to contrast with the fall colors.

Howard’s home was red brick, with pansies edging the sidewalk and encircling the large oak in his yard. She pulled her Beamer into the drive in front of his garage and shut off the engine, staring. The mental image of a behemoth of a man on his knees, holding the delicate stems and roots in his huge hands, planting them in the soil with loving care, did something strange and wonderful to her insides.

She rang the doorbell and waited on the porch, seized by the weird notion that her life was about to change forever. The powerful feeling was almost enough to make her turn and run—then she heard heavy steps approaching.

Howard opened the door, smiling broadly. “Hey, come in!” He stepped aside to let her in, raking her with an appreciative gaze. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you.” She eyed him from his spiky two-toned hair to his bare feet. He’d dressed nicely in tan Dockers and a crisp navy and beige-striped button-down shirt, open at his tanned throat. The shirt stretched across his massive chest and the pants hugged muscled thighs to mouth-watering perfection. “So do you, handsome.”

Delicious enough to eat with a spoon.

Shying away from the compliment, he waved a hand in the general direction of the living room. “Set your purse down anywhere. I’ll show you around— not that there’s much to see.”

“You’ve got to be kidding. Your place is super, and a lot bigger than my dinky apartment.” She walked over to place her purse on the coffee table. Right next to a wooden bowl full of Pez. Dozens of rolls of them. She smiled.