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Flashover
Dana Mentink


Why is a kind-hearted savant setting fire to an ordinary book?Recuperating firefighter Ivy Beria is determined to find out. But then the young man, Moe, goes missing–and his only friend turns up dead. Ivy is sure the double mystery is linked to the string of numbers Moe chanted before he vanished.She asks her best friend, computer expert Tim Carnelli, to uncover a pattern. They make two shocking discoveries: they have unexpected romantic feelings for one another and Moe is in serious danger. They'd better find him fast. Or the truth–and their dreams–will go up in smoke.









Her own screams echoed in her ears.


Help me, somebody help me get my sister. The flames rose around them in angry tongues, unforgiving, unrelenting.

Jerking back to the present, Ivy tried again to roll over. A collage of dark smoke and gray shadows danced in her vision. She had to reach the radio in her pocket, but she couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. The space grew hotter with every passing second. She knew it, she could feel it, the junk all around her inching closer and closer to ignition.

It would be simultaneous.

And deadly.

Flashover.

Again, Ivy struggled to wriggle loose, to free herself from the enormous weight that smothered her. Pain coursed through her head and shoulder. Somewhere from the vicinity of her pocket, she heard a shrill alarm sound on her radio. Then there was nothing but heat as the blackness enveloped her.




DANA MENTINK


Dana Mentink lives in California with her family. Dana and her husband met doing a dinner theater production of The Velveteen Rabbit. In college, she competed in national speech and debate tournaments. Besides writing novels, Dana taste tests for the National Food Lab and freelances for a local newspaper. Dana loves feedback from her readers. Contact her at www.danamentink.com.




Flashover

Dana Mentink








Therefore as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity.

—Colossians 3:12–14


To the everyday heroes who silently strive to lift

others up, not for their own glory, but for His.




CONTENTS


CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION




ONE


Black smoke swelled in graceful scallops as it climbed in a thick column against the midday sun, mirroring the excitement that rose in her gut. Two-story structure fire, flames showing. Perfect.

Ivy could see the thrill in Jeff’s face, too, accentuated by the strobing lights of the fire truck. “Finally, some action. My wife says I’ve been moping around because things have been so quiet. She offered to go out and set something on fire for me.”

She laughed, tucking her razor-cut bob of sandy hair behind her ears as they both hopped down from the truck and jogged with their captain to meet Battalion Chief Adrienne Strong, who was already barking orders to the guys on the first engine. She looked small under her helmet and turnouts, but her brown eyes shone fiercely beneath a fringe of hair.

“Got a report of a victim trapped inside.” She stabbed a finger at a member of the crowd that was massing on the sidewalk. “A witness says he saw the owner enter the building an hour ago. He’s short, a little nuts, goes by the name of Cyril. Nobody saw him come out.”

Why did the name Cyril ring a bell? Ivy looked closely at the structure, which now had flames flickering through the upstairs windows. She could see outlines of boxes and furniture, stacked floor to ceiling. If the view was any indication, there would be only a small trail of usable space weaving throughout all the garbage. She sighed. “Oh, man. It looks like a Habitrail. He’s got enough junk to start his own flea market.”

She buckled on the ax belt, waiting for the captain to turn off the utilities. Her muscles tensed in anticipation, fingers itching to put on the mask and get inside. Instinctively she looked around for Antonio, larger than life in his turnouts. Then she remembered. Antonio moved on, Ivy. You better do the same.

When the captain gave the thumbs-up, Ivy started toward the structure.

“Wait, Beria.” Strong talked again into the radio. “This is going to be ugly with all that garbage in there. Let’s get it ventilated first. Help them work the front door. Jeff, see if you can get any of those witnesses to confirm we have a victim in there.”

Ivy joined the two firefighters who were attacking the front door with a pry tool. The door was heavy oak, and though they heaved with all their strength, the wood gave up only reluctantly. They alternately pushed the bar and kicked at the wood with their booted feet until the wood gave with a final groan. Clouds of blackness surged out, forcing them back.

She returned to the chief in time to hear Jeff’s report.

“No one can corroborate the story. The owner is apparently some kind of eccentric.”

“No kidding,” Ivy muttered.

Jeff raised his voice to be heard over the hum of the pumper and the whoosh of water thundering through the hose. “His schedule is erratic. No one saw him come out, but they weren’t looking, either.”

They watched as a firefighter, barely visible except for the flash of the fluorescent tape on his turnouts, moved past them at the nozzle end of the two-hundred-foot hose, his captain behind, sweat already coating their faces under the breathing apparatus. Ducking as low as they could manage, the two made entry.

Ivy looked past them as she and Jeff pulled on their own masks and picked their way to the door to peer inside. As she did so, she thought she saw movement from the trees next to the house. It was a glimpse really, a split-second look, but she could have sworn she saw Moe, her neighbor at the apartment complex. But what would he be doing here?

She jogged over. It was Moe, and he was shivering. “What’s wrong?”

“Cyril,” he said, pointing to the house then bounding away. Who was Cyril?

She refocused her attention on the house. The place was indeed a maze of junk, piled against all the walls and in towering columns in the foyer and front rooms. She strained her eyes to get a glimpse of a human form but blackness obscured everything.

Strong’s radio crackled to life and she called to them. “Engine Twenty-Five is en route from a spill in Pine Grove. Their ETA is five minutes. Beria and Jones, you wait. I’m going to pull the other crew in another minute.”

Ivy huffed as they trotted back. Wait? What if this Cyril guy was inside? What if he was trapped, shouting for help, and she was out here, useless? A horrifying memory fought through her control. She swallowed hard and shoved it down. “Let us go in, Chief. The victim could be in there.” Ivy looked at the flames licking at the windows and her stomach clenched. “We can do a quick assessment and get out.”

She shook her head. “Wait until we can get it ventilated. Twenty-Five is less than four minutes out.” Frustration was painted on the chief’s face, probably the consequence of being a small fire department with older equipment and only two stations to provide personnel. Her struggle was clear in the lines on her forehead and around her mouth. Potential victim versus potential injury to her people.

Antonio would have made his case by now. Ivy pressed her advantage. “In four more minutes he could be dead.” She couldn’t let that happen, especially if the man inside was possibly a friend of Moe.

The chief clenched her jaw muscles. “No, Beria.”

Ivy knew Strong had seen many fatalities in her career from traffic accidents to drownings, but being unable to save a victim from burning to death was unthinkable, for both of them. “It would just be a quick sweep, then we’re out of there.”

Strong looked from Ivy to Jeff and exhaled. “Okay. One sweep and you’re out.” She grabbed the sleeve of Jeff’s turnout coat as he pulled on his breathing apparatus. “If anything feels bad, you pull the plug. You got it?”

He nodded. They ran toward the acrid swirl of black.

Ivy could feel the chief’s anxious eyes following them. Strong would be confirming the crew outside who would stand ready to pull them out if they’d need it. The thought comforted her as they pushed their way onto the ground floor. The carpet was spongy underfoot, already saturated with water. They both instinctively bent over, staying closer to the clean air. Heat pushed through their heavy protective layers.

It took only a moment to weave their way around the junk piles on the ground floor. No victims. Jeff jerked a thumb upward. Ivy nodded. The upper floor was where they were most likely to find anyone, alive or dead.

They followed the hose line up the stairs and found the two firefighters struggling to keep up with the flames. Cardboard boxes and rolls of carpet provided an ample supply of fuel for the hungry fire. The man at the nozzle end was trying to aim for the base of the fire, which thundered from an open bedroom doorway.

She prayed for the boom of a ladder hitting the side of the house that would announce the guys on Engine Twenty-Five had made it to the roof to ventilate. The hole they cut would suck all the black smoke out like a vacuum and restore visibility in minutes. But there wasn’t time to sit around hoping. She and Jeff headed through a maze of debris toward the back bedrooms.

The heat was intense. Sweat poured down her face under the mask and soaked through the Nomex hood. She could feel the molten temperature through the thick gloves as she pushed her way by stacks of piled furniture.

Jeff was a few yards ahead. He’d found a locked door, and though the handle turned, it wouldn’t open. He tried to force it with the pry bar.

“It’s unlocked,” he yelled above the noise. “But I can’t budge it.”

Both of them threw their combined weight at the door and it finally opened.

Flames erupted through the opening, driving them back. The room was fully engulfed.

Jeff did a cutting motion across his throat. “We’re out of here, Ivy. It’s gonna go up any minute.” He grabbed the radio from his pocket and the battalion chief officially ordered them all to pull out. Ahead in the hallway she could see the two hosemen inching back down the stairs.

Jeff turned and followed them, his sturdy form disappearing after a few steps in the dark haze.

Ivy made to follow him when she noticed the door at the end of the hall. It had to open onto a bedroom. After a moment’s hesitation she got on her hands and knees and crawled toward it. The man might be inside, calling out, his voice too weak to be heard over the cacophony. The heat intensified with each foot of floor she crossed. Her helmet felt like a vise, pressing in around her face, squeezing the breath out of her. She should follow Jeff, get out before the place went up.

But what if there was a life on the other side of that door?

A life that she was meant to save?

She moved as fast as she could toward the threshold, following the narrow strip of space that wound through the junk. Inches away, she reached out a hand to push the door open. The fingers of her gloves barely grazed the painted wood when the towering pile shuddered crazily and collapsed on top of her.

Metal pipes and crates filled with something heavy crashed down. Mountains of boxes and furniture continued to rain on top of her. The crash was deafening as she was buried in the avalanche. Something struck her head, and a knifing pain shot through her temple.

She lay on her back struggling to turn over, but the heavy debris and the weight of her air tanks immobilized her. Her face shield was fogged with moisture and soot. A collage of dark smoke and gray shadows danced in her vision. She had to reach the radio in her pocket, but she couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe.

The room closed in around her as she fought against the panic. Her mind spun into the past. Glimmers of memory shot through her and she could see, painted in perfect detail, her sister’s face, trapped behind the glass.

She strained every muscle, every sinew to reach out and free her. Sadie, Sadie. Her own screams from long ago echoed in her ears. Help me, somebody help me get my sister. The flames rose around them in angry tongues, unforgiving, unrelenting.

Jerked back into the present, Ivy tried again to roll over. The space grew hotter with every passing second. She knew it, she could feel it, the junk all around her inching closer and closer to ignition.

It would be simultaneous.

And deadly.

Flashover.

Again she struggled to wriggle loose, to free herself from the enormous weight that smothered her. Pain coursed through her head and shoulder. Every minuscule movement caused the pile to shudder and close in around her, filling in the spaces like sand poured into a jar. It was no use. She didn’t have the strength. The burden was too much to bear.

Somewhere from the vicinity of her pocket, she heard a shrill alarm sound. The shriek cut through everything else, filling the space, making her ears pulse with pain. Then there was nothing but heat as she gave herself up to the blackness that enveloped her body and soul.



Nick nestled himself into the crowd. All eyes were turned to the brilliant orange flames. He didn’t mind the acrid tang of smoke. It reminded him of back home, burning leaves in the fall. A photographer jostled his way to the front, camera pointed at the blaze. Nick was careful to step out of the way, admiring the camera as he did so. The irony was not lost on him. The paper would feature the fire in glorious detail while the artist would remain invisible just behind the photographer’s left elbow.

He itched to take a picture, too, with the elite camera he’d seen in a magazine. A Horseman, two lenses sharing a single shutter at lightning speed. It was not digital, of course, but he preferred it that way, relishing the anticipation that came as he waited for the film to develop. Waiting was a skill, a talent so many people lacked.

Nick pondered the conversation he’d observed between the woman firefighter and the strange guy he knew to be Cyril’s friend. He’d heard that the fellow’s name was Moe. Did Moe know anything incriminating? Anything he might have passed along to the firefighter? It bore consideration, but for now, Nick allowed himself to enjoy the fiery spectacle unfolding before him.

“Did you hear that?” a cadaverous old woman next to him hissed. “They said there’s a firefighter trapped inside.”

She clutched his arm as a pane of glass shattered on the upper floor. He patted her bony fingers. “It’s incredible, all right.”

He watched a spark, brilliant as a comet, explode from the roof and paint a luminous arc across the smoky sky. Definitely front-page material, he thought with satisfaction.




TWO


Tim Carnelli fought to keep the truck’s speed under control.

Ivy.

Her name echoed in his mind and danced circles around his brain.

He knew before he heard the name. He knew when the battalion chief’s voice came over the radio, pitched high against adrenaline and the sound of a working fire. Firefighter down.

“God help her,” he whispered as he tore down the main road through a thickening haze of smoke. “Help her to hang on.”

If he had more time to process, the irony would be palpable. Was it just last night he’d decided to move on? Even looking up Marcie’s number to give her a call? Forget about Ivy, he’d told himself. You were a fool to think she’d open her heart to you after Antonio. She might never trust anyone again, especially God.

He clenched the steering wheel so hard his fingers cramped up. Not now. It wasn’t time to dredge up past history.

Even so, an image rose in his mind. Ivy’s short hair blowing in the breeze, green eyes alight with laughter as they rode mountain bikes together in the pre-Antonio days.

Ivy.

His heart thundered in his chest as the radio crackled to life again.

Life flight.

The dispatcher calmly repeated the message and confirmed.

They were calling for the helicopter.

He wasn’t a firefighter, but everyone connected to the business knew what it meant when they called for a helicopter.

And it wasn’t good.



Strange sensations flooded Ivy’s senses. She felt the bump of the gurney as she was rolled along, the shouted commands of firefighters amped on adrenaline, and then inexplicably, Tim was there. When had he arrived at the fire scene? He must have heard the call go out on the radio.

She wanted to tell him she was okay, to ease the terror written on his usually smiling face, but her mouth would not cooperate. He squeezed her arm with his strong fingers.

“It’s okay, Ivy. You’re going to make it through this.”

She felt her own fear ease slightly. She tried to hold his hand, but he was abruptly pulled away. He mouthed something she couldn’t hear as she was loaded onto a helicopter. The chopper blades cut through the air with rhythmic whopping sounds.

A familiar voice spoke up over the noise. Ivy’s eyes were closed, but she knew it was her cousin, Mitch. She could smell his cologne through the oxygen mask, over the odor of antiseptic and bandages the medics had applied. She was comforted knowing Mitch was the on-duty flight nurse. He was the best.

“Come on, V. Open up those green eyes. You can do it. Imagine we’re back in the country and I’m about to whip you at hide-and-seek. You never won once in our entire childhood, remember? And then there’s pinball. I can beat you with one hand tied behind my back. What do you say to that?”

Mitch Luzan’s face swam into view. Curly black hair, thick eyebrows, sardonic smile on his chubby face. Even though she was immobilized except for her arms, strapped from head to toe to a backboard, the sight of him brought her comfort.

“That’s ’cuz you cheat.” Her voice came out as a croak, muffled by the mask.

“Well, that’s better.” He used a small light to check her pupils. “Imagine getting a call to come and transport a victim and finding out it’s you. And to think I tried to get out of this shift.” He shook his head and checked her IV. “That was pretty dumb, letting yourself get buried. I thought they trained you hotshots how to prevent stuff like that. What happened to the big bad invincible Beria?”

She tried to answer but succumbed instead to a coughing fit. Pulling off the mask, she waved away his hands. “What’s broken?” she finally managed.

“Well, if I had to make a diagnosis right now I’d say we’re looking at collarbone and shoulder damage, a concussion, possible internal stuff and a burn or two.”

She grimaced at the list. “I’m fine. Just banged up.”

He leaned over to put on his helmet for the landing and zipped the jumpsuit, which strained to cover his stomach. “Tell you what, V. How about you let me be the flight nurse, because I am an excellent one after all, and you just work on doing the patient thing for a while? That will be a challenge for you, I know, Miss I Gotta Be in Charge of Everything.” He began to radio information to the hospital.

There was an edge to his voice. She looked closer and noticed dark shadows under his eyes. She hadn’t seen him for months even though they lived only two towns apart. He was closer to her than her brother, in some ways, until recently.

Ivy closed her eyes and sighed. She was too tired to ask where he’d been the past few months, in too much pain to wonder about the haggard cast to his face.

She tried to replay the accident but could only get to the point when her personal distress indicator went off. The guys must have pulled her out before the place went up. Or maybe they’d gotten the roof ventilated and knocked down the fire. Not knowing the details was killing her.

She strained her eyes to find Mitch and pump him for info, but he was busy prepping the equipment that would follow her into the hospital. As the helicopter roared in for a landing, she let herself sink back into darkness.



People moved in and out of her consciousness. Dressed in white or green scrubs, they checked every detail, cleaned every abrasion and treated her with tender care in spite of her exclamations of pain. Vaguely she was aware of a doctor peeling off his gloves and announcing that he would brief her colleagues waiting in the hallway. That brought her around.

She opened her eyes to find her shoulder strapped firmly to her body. When she tried to sit up, a lancing pain drove her back to the pillow. A shower of sparks danced across her vision. Gingerly she felt the bandage stuck to her forehead and another taped over the burn on her neck.

Battalion Chief Strong appeared, Jeff next to her. They were both sooty, tired, their faces lined with worry, turnouts streaked with black.

Jeff’s smile was huge as he grabbed her hand. “Man, Ivy. You scared me. I thought you were done for. That place was cooking.”

She tried to return the smile. “Did you pull me out?”

He nodded. “Eventually. I didn’t know you were gone until your alarm sounded as I headed out the front door. I went back in and the rescue crew followed me. We found you under a pile of junk. Took all three of us to get the stuff off you, and I was nearly out of air by that time.” His expression changed. “What happened anyway? I thought you were right behind me. I told you we were leaving. Didn’t you hear me?”

She coughed. “I stopped to check the last door.”

He frowned. “Ivy…”

Chief Strong touched his arm. “Jeff, go get me some water, will you? I feel like I swallowed a sock.”

Jeff gave Ivy a nervous look and squeezed her hand before he left. “I’ll tell the rest of the guys you’re okay.”

Strong waited until he was gone before she sat heavily in a chair. Her hair was plastered against her head where her helmet had weighted it down. She smelled of smoke. “I’m glad you’re going to be okay.”

Ivy saw the warring emotions on the woman’s face and knew there was more coming. “Thanks, Chief. Was anybody else hurt?”

She pursed her lips. “No, and that’s a lucky thing, isn’t it?”

Ivy swallowed. “Sure.”

“Did it occur to you when you disobeyed my orders to evacuate that you were being reckless and stupid?”

Ivy bridled. “I was doing my job. I didn’t hang out in there to have a party or anything.”

The brown eyes flashed. “You were doing what you decided your job was at that moment. I gave you a direct order, and last I checked, I outrank you. You risked the lives of the people who dragged your behind out of there and you had absolutely no right to do that.”

Her cheeks felt hot. “There could have been someone inside. Did you find anyone?”

“No. The house was empty.”

Ivy’s stomach clenched at the thought. It had all been for nothing. They’d gone back in for her. What would she have done if one of them hadn’t made it out? Because of her, all because of her.

They both sat in silence for a minute. Strong sighed deeply. “This isn’t the time to get into it. We’ll talk when you’ve recovered. Doc says you’re out at least eight weeks before he’ll reevaluate you.”

“Eight weeks? Uh-uh. I’ll be back before then. There’s no way I’m staying out two months.”

Strong got to her feet. Her tone masked a current of fury. “Ivy, you will stay out until that doctor gives me a written note telling me you are one hundred percent mended. Then you and I will have a long debriefing session about this fire before I let you back on my crew.” She walked to the door and turned. “Thank goodness you’re okay, Ivy. I would sure hate to be the one who had to tell your mother that you weren’t. She’s outside. I’ll send her in.”

Her mother.

The thought hit her like a slap. It wasn’t the first time she wondered how her mother felt about her chosen profession, especially after what happened to Sadie. She’d never said a word to discourage Ivy’s career choice, as much as it pained her. It must have been awful for her mother to get a call that her surviving daughter was caught in a fire.

Guilt gave way to another emotion. An anger swelled up inside her and spilled out.

Two months away from the station? Maybe more than that if things didn’t heal right. She punched her good hand into the blankets. “Well, God? What are you doing up there? You are supposed to take care of your children,” she hissed at the ceiling. “Look what happened to me. And what about Sadie? Haven’t we had enough in this family? You’re nothing like a father.”

She quickly wiped the tears away at the sight of her mother barreling through the door. Juana Beria took one look at her and burst into hysterical sobs, tears running down her plump brown cheeks.

“Oh, Mama. Please don’t cry. Anything but that.”

Her mother’s tears continued, unchecked. “When I think…When I imagine…”

Ivy closed her eyes. “Please, Mama. Don’t.”

It was messy, emotional, and the whole situation left Ivy completely exhausted.

“I brought you some clothes. The doctor says you’ll be here for a few days. I’ll go to your apartment and get you some more things, a nightgown and some books to read. I’ll bring them first thing in the morning after you’ve rested,” Juana Beria said, her round face still damp with tears. She looked to her son, who had joined them. “Roddy, you’ll take me, won’t you?” Though she had a license, Juana refused to drive anywhere since her husband had passed away five years prior.

Rodrigo, Ivy’s brother, patted his mother’s hand. “Sure, Mama, sure. I’ll pick you up in the morning. We can bring her stuff over and then I’ll take you home. Let’s go.” He shot Ivy a look of aggravation that made her smile. Anything that upset Mama was something to be avoided at all costs, and Ivy had done her share. With Ivy laid up, Roddy would shoulder the emotional burden of the latest family drama for sure.

She’d owe him, and he’d definitely collect on the debt. When the room was empty, she tried to sleep. The pain in her shoulder wouldn’t let her. She wished she could take a shower and wash away the acrid smell that clung to her hair and skin.

A small tap sounded on the door. The tall, brown-haired man stood hesitantly, his wide shoulders filling the doorway. Tim poked his head in. “Hey, Ivy? Are you awake?”

She sighed, feeling like smiling for the first time since she’d entered that burning building. “Hi, Tim. Come on in. Has the Beria family train departed yet?”

He laughed softly. “Yes, I think so. It’s just me at the moment.”

“Good, someone rational to talk to. Come sit down. I think I remember seeing you at the fire scene, or did I dream that?”

“No dream, it really was me. I heard the call on the scanner so I broke some land-speed records and hightailed it over. Got there just as they were pulling you out. I don’t mind telling you I never want to see that again.”

He settled his long frame into a chair and she held out a hand for his. They’d been friends for years, since before she went into the academy. Maybe that’s why we get along so well, she thought. He wasn’t part of that intense firefighter brotherhood; he had his own perspective on things. He wasn’t your typical hero type, either. No, that was Antonio all the way. Thinking about Antonio made her cringe with humiliation.

Tim squeezed her fingers. “Are you okay? In much pain?”

The floodgates opened. She began to cry rivers of hot tears. “My shoulder hurts and I’m going to be out two months. Strong is really mad at me, too.”

His brow crinkled. “Why?”

She took the tissue he offered. “I disobeyed orders and stayed in the house.”

He was silent for a moment. “Oh, I see.”

“You’re not surprised, are you?”

“You do have a tendency to throw caution to the wind, Ivy.” Then he said what she most needed to hear. “It will be okay. You’ll heal and you’ll go back to doing what you love.”

She turned her tearstained face to his. The sunlight framed him, the asymmetrical smile and messy thatch of hair, outlining his strong chin. “Promise?”

He stroked her hand. “I promise. And I’ll even help you work on throwing ladders to get back in shape.”

She laughed. He was the most dismal failure at throwing ladders she’d ever seen. Stronger than she was, but not very coordinated. Ironic, since he was a gifted athlete. She often told him it was a good thing for public safety that he’d avoided fire suppression, instead becoming the fire district’s computer guru. He was a willing helper, though. As long as he didn’t start up his God talk, they got along great.

“Did you see Mitch? He brought me in.”

Tim nodded. “Yeah. I was supposed to help him with some software stuff tonight but he said he’s coming back here when he’s off to check on you.”

“He looked kinda funny in the chopper.”

Tim looked away. “Funny? In what way?”

They were interrupted when the nurse came in to check her bandages and inform them it was time to take her for a CAT scan.

Tim stood and bumped into a rolling cart in the process. “Well, I’ll just get moving then. Call me if you need anything, Ivy. I’m really glad you’re okay. I’ll pray for you.”

She almost told him not to bother, but he’d already gone.



She watched the clock and dozed on and off until almost eight, when Mitch arrived with a huge bouquet of daisies in hand. “Hey, V. How is the patient?”

“I’m okay.” She eyed his silk shirt and black jeans. “You didn’t have to get all dressed up for me.”

He dropped a kiss on her forehead. “I didn’t. Actually I’ve got another thing tonight.”

“A girl?” She was hopeful. He’d been so lonely since his long-term girlfriend left him for an anesthesiologist. He could use someone to talk to and share his need for adventure.

He handed her the flowers and settled into the chair. “Nothing too wild. A college friend of mine is passing through and we’re getting a bite to eat. Charlie’s coming along.”

Charlie Gregor was the chopper pilot who flew the helicopter for Mitch’s crew. She fingered the white petals. “That’s good. Thanks for the flowers.”

“You’re welcome. Doc says he expects a full recovery.”

“In two months. What am I supposed to do for two months?”

He smiled. “Here’s an idea. Take a vacation, like normal people do. Relax, learn to knit or something.”

“I’m not a good relaxer.”

“Don’t I know it. Give it a try, it might grow on you.”

“I’d rather follow your book of rules. You’re always up to something fun.”

“Not all of us eat, sleep and breathe our jobs, V.” A beep sounded from his PDA. He checked the screen. “That’s my wake-up call. Time for me to split. I’ll come back and see you soon. Try not to drive your nurses crazy.”

“I might not be here when you come back. Maybe I’ll check out tonight.”

“Not for a few days, I think.”

“Couldn’t you talk to the doctor? Tell him…”

“No way, cousin. Lie there and take your healing like a grownup.” He stood and stretched his stocky arms. “Oh, I talked to Doug. He says it’s going to be hard to prove.”

Doug was the department’s fire marshal. “What is?”

His eyes widened. “Didn’t they tell you? I figured the chief would have let you know.”

“She isn’t even speaking to me right now.” She frowned. “Tell me what?”

“The fire wasn’t an accident. Looks like you’ve got an arsonist on the loose.”



Nick hesitated only a moment before he knocked on the door. “There is a complication.”

His boss frowned slightly. “Tell me.”

“He got out.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I made it look like an accident as you suggested. He refused to tell me where he’d put it. After he was unconscious, I used a candle and waited until it lit the place. If it was anywhere in there, it’s ashes now. The problem is fixed.” He stood his ground, flinching slightly at the frown that grew on the other man’s face.

“But there is the matter of Cyril’s friend. It’s possible Cyril passed on my merchandise to the man and he told the firefighter, isn’t it?”

Nick nodded. “It crossed my mind. Should I take care of them?”

His boss rolled his eyes in thought. “For now, concentrate on finding Cyril and do what is necessary to find out if the girl knows anything. Don’t kill her yet. It will draw too much attention.”

Nick frowned. Finesse was not his strong suit. “What should I do if I find out the girl really does know? Or Moe?”

A slight smile crossed the boss’s face. “If necessary, I’m sure you will prove resourceful enough to handle it.”

Nick returned the smile and closed the door behind him as he left.




THREE


Ivy endured the remainder of the evening with bad TV, worse food and people trailing in and out feeling sorry for her. What’s more, she began to feel sorry for herself.

“I went into that building, risked my life and my career for nothing. No victim, no rescue, and come to find out it’s arson.” Probably some guy trying to collect on the insurance, though what a junk hole like that could be worth was beyond her. The futility of the whole thing pained her.

When the doctor came in to see her in the early morning, she pounced. “I want to go home.”

He looked over the top of his glasses. “A few more tests, I think. A day or two to rest.”

“No. I want to get out of here now.”

He sighed. “I’m not going to tie you up and keep you here, Ms. Beria. It’s your health. If you want to go, go, but it’s against my advice. Come back on Tuesday for a recheck of those burns. Keep your shoulder immobilized and stay out of trouble.”

“Right.” She grabbed the hospital phone and dialed Tim’s number.

“I’m going home today. Can you give me a ride?” After a quick call to her mother to fill her in, Ivy pulled on her clothes.



Tim watched with an amused grin as a nurse pushed a mortified Ivy in a wheelchair out to the curb. He opened the passenger-side door for her.

She dove out of the wheelchair before it stopped rolling and hopped into the truck, buckling up gingerly around her injured shoulder. “Thanks for taking me home.”

“You’re welcome, but I’m still not sure it’s a good idea. Your mother has another plan.” He was careful to keep his eyes on the road as they continued on.

She stared. “What are you talking about?”

“Your mom called and told me when you got out to bring you to her place so she can take care of you.”

“You have got to be kidding me. Did she think I would go for that?”

“No, but she made me promise to ask.”

Ivy laughed. “You can’t say no to my mother, can you?”

“She reminds me of my mother. Every time I go over there she tries to feed me.”

“That’s a good sign that she likes you.”

“Nah, I know she does that to everyone from the mailman to the pest-control guy.” He waited a beat. “Antonio called, too.”

She blinked. “I’ll bet he’s having a ball in his new department. Heard through the grapevine he and Denise Williams are an item now.”

Tim was uncertain how to respond. He knew how much Antonio hurt Ivy by leaving her, but God forgive him, he couldn’t be happier that the man was out of the picture. “He asked me to tell you he called.”

“I’ll bet.”

He was wrong for you, anyway, Tim wanted to say. Charming, macho, great to look at, but did he know you like I know you? Did he take the time to learn everything, Ivy? He doubted it. Anybody who knew Ivy wouldn’t throw her away like Antonio had.

Ivy remained silent until he guided the truck into the apartment parking lot. Tim opened the door for her and she eased out of the passenger seat. The complex featured an old brick facade, covered by a vigorous scalp of climbing clematis.

They entered the lobby just as a slender young man with dark hair was trying to exit. He screamed and scrabbled past them and down the steps.

Ivy jumped back at his sudden movement, crashing into Tim. She stumbled, but he caught her, holding her against his front for a moment.

Ivy cried out in pain.

The skinny man ran into the yard and folded himself under a picnic table, covering his eyes.

“It’s okay, Moe,” Ivy said. “I’m sorry we surprised you.”

Tim still held her gently, her head tucked under his chin, enjoying the soft feel of her hair on his face. “Is that Moe? I’ve heard you talk about him. He has a bit of trouble talking to people?”

“Yes. His mother said he has something called Savant Syndrome. People that have it have delays in social reaction and communication, but they can be geniuses in other areas.” She rubbed her shoulder. “He’s a genius in his own way, even though his communication skills are poor and he’s afraid of people. One time I was trying to find a number and he recited the whole C section of the phone book. From memory.”

“Wow. I can’t even remember my own cell number half the time.” Tim peered at the figure curled up under the table. “Are you okay, Moe? Do you need some help?” When he received no answer, Tim straightened. “Should we do something?”

“I’ll try to talk to him. Moe, this is Tim. He’s a friend of mine.”

Moe shot them a terrified look and retreated farther under the table. He mumbled something.

“What did he say?”

Tim shrugged. “Numbers, I think. What did you say, Moe?”

The man’s mouth worked for a second until he muttered again in a louder voice. “M4e2d7s9c3i6z5t5r472cla0n7noe6r5y9r9o7w2.”

Ivy stared. “That’s really, er, interesting, Moe. Do you want to come out from under there? I wanted to ask you something. I thought I saw you at a fire. Was that you, Moe? Were you near a house on Alder Street yesterday?”

He scuttled out the back end of the table, dropping a soda can in the process. With another look in their direction, he snatched up the can and ran.

Ivy sighed. “I check on him once in a while to make sure he’s okay and bring him my cans so he can recycle them. He’ll come home later, I’m sure, because he’s completely addicted to The Song and the Sorrow.”

Tim blinked. “That soap opera?”

“Yeah. It comes on every weekday at two o’clock. He’ll be in his apartment watching it at that time, come rain or shine. I usually just poke my head in and make sure he’s all right.”

“What does he do on the weekends when it’s not on?”

“His mother, Madge, put all the old episodes on tape for him. Fortunately, there are plenty of them. He watches the repeats on Saturdays and Sundays. She checks in pretty frequently. She’ll probably call tonight, as a matter of fact. I’ll talk to her about seeing him at the fire. Maybe I was mistaken.” They stepped into the elevator and pushed the sixth-floor button.

“Oh, wait a minute.” Tim poked around in his pocket. “When I came to feed your fish last night, I wrote down a message for you from Madge. I forgot all about it until you mentioned her name.” He pulled out a slip of paper. “She said to tell Moe his friend canceled their meeting. Madge asked if you’d seen him around. He’s a hippie, a little on the odd side, she said.”

The elevator doors opened and let them out into a cream-colored corridor.

“I don’t think I’ve seen anyone like that hanging around with Moe, but I’ve been working overtime a lot lately.”

“I know.” Tim gave her a smile. “If I want to see you, I have to go to the station. Anyway, Madge says Moe’s friend is an okay guy.”

“You and Madge think everyone is okay.”

He laughed. “I think you’re more than okay.”

“Flatterer.”

Seeing the flush rise in her cheeks, he knew he’d said too much. He took the keys from her hand and unlocked the door.

Ivy stepped into her cozy apartment and sighed. “It’s good to be home.”

“Your mom sent over food. I piled it all in the fridge on my way to pick you up at the hospital. She must have been cooking all night.” He handed her the keys. “Call me if you need anything at all. I’ll come by tomorrow to check on you.” Don’t get ahead of yourself, Carnelli. You’ll push her further away. You’ve got a chance, that’s all. A chance. “If that’s all right with you, I mean.”

“Sure. It’s not like I’m going to work or anything.”

Tim wanted to fold her into his arms and kiss the sad look off her face. Instead he ventured back into the hallway. She had almost closed the door when a thought popped into his head and he stopped her. “Hey, Ivy. I remembered.”

“Remembered what?”

“The name of the guy who canceled the meeting with Moe. It’s Cyril.”




FOUR


Ivy endured a sleepless night. It was more the mental acrobatics that kept her awake than her injury, although her throbbing shoulder did not help. She could have taken the painkillers prescribed by the doctor, but she figured that mental toughness was a better way to deal with it.

She couldn’t get Cyril out of her mind. And Moe. What was he doing at that fire? What was the canceled meeting about? She had the oddest feeling Moe knew something about what happened, something he didn’t want to tell. The thoughts finally drove her out of bed.

Before the sun came up, she sat drinking coffee, listening to the fire department traffic on her radio, long before the hallways became busy with the sound of Saturday-morning comings and goings. Someone, her mother most likely, had arranged for a stack of magazines to be left for her with such uplifting content as gardening tips and the top-ten fashion trends of the year. Sandwiched in between the issues was a photocopied article titled, “Dating and the Christian Woman.” Her mother’s scrawl in the margin said it all.

Ivy, honey, since you’re off work for a while, you’ve got time to have some fun. Kisses, Mama.

Her mother had thrown her matchmaking efforts into overdrive since Ivy’s relationship with Antonio went south. She had the sneaking feeling that Mama hadn’t approved of her former boyfriend for some reason. Thinking about Antonio set off a memory.

Structure fire. Three alarms before they’d made it on scene. Her crew was providing manpower, she was new, a probie. The old house was a wreck by the time they got the fire out. The overhaul was nasty, heat trapped in the walls and floors sucking the life out of the on-duty personnel. The call came for them to relieve the attic crew. She found piles of insulation and heavy smoke, blurry figures wielding tools.

Then came Antonio’s voice, loud against the din. “Watch out. Holes cut all over this floor, probie.”

“Right, Cap,” she’d said before she promptly fell up to her waist in a hole. Trapped, unable to raise her arms, she slowly slipped down through to the next floor. Panic, darkness, fear. And then suddenly he was there, catching her by the straps of her airpack and hauling her back up through the hole.

Weeks later, she thanked him again. “I was so scared. Being trapped like that reminded me…well…”

“Don’t get all angsty on me, Ivy. I don’t deal with worry well. You’re much more fun when you’re happy.”

They’d had fun all right. Until he’d found more fun somewhere else.

She threw the article into the wastebasket. First, she had no desire to date after Antonio took off with another woman. It had taken all her strength to commit to him in the first place and look where that had gotten her. But had she really loved him or merely been drawn to his macho, fun-loving, larger-than-life persona? She wasn’t sure, and her uncertainty was another good reason to keep to herself. Her sole concern should be getting her job back.

Second, she wasn’t sure she could trust God anymore. She could not stomach giving her faith to such a cruel and indifferent God after what He’d done to Sadie.

She flipped on the TV and settled down to watch something, anything that would take her mind off her troubles. The cheerful lady chatting about how to put some zing into the summer with a snappy new method of faux-finish painting did not engage her. Nor did the old Western or Oregon’s newest morning-news duo. Her mind wandered again to the fire.

She could feel the panic at being buried under the piles of debris, the fear just as tangible as it had been that night. Did Cyril set fire to his own place? Wouldn’t be the first time someone had done such a thing to claim the insurance money. The thought sat in her gut like a live grenade. “When I get my hands on that guy, he’s going to answer for the damage he’s caused.”

The ring of the phone startled her.

Tim’s voice was cheerful. “Hi, Ivy. I hope I’m not calling too early.”

“No, sadly, I’ve pretty much been up all night.”

“Uh-oh. Shoulder hurting?”

“Not much. Mostly I was thinking about Cyril.”

“Who?”

“Moe’s friend. He’s the owner of the house that I nearly died in.”

Tim gasped. “Really? I didn’t put that together.”

“Well, I did, and I’m going to talk to Moe to find out if he knows where his friend might be holed up.”

“Okay, but you’re going to turn that info over to the police when you find out, right? No taking things into your own hands, John Wayne style?”

“Sure, sure. I’ll be good.” She looked at the time. It was only nine o’clock. Still five more hours until she could count on finding Moe in his apartment, ready to watch his favorite soap opera. She tuned back into Tim’s conversation.

“So do you want to come with me to the game?”

“What game?”

He laughed. “Sometimes I have the strange feeling you don’t listen to me. I’m coaching this afternoon. We’re two games away from the play-offs. Why don’t you come?”

She knew what he was trying to do and it warmed her heart, but the last thing she needed was to be around a bunch of happy parents at a Christian high school, cheering for the kids Tim coached three nights a week. “I think I’m going to take it easy today. I’ve got to get my shoulder back in shape.”

“Oh. Okay.”

She felt bad for disappointing him. “Call me after and tell me how it goes.”

“Sure. Take care, Ivy.”

She tried again to pay attention to the TV with no success. Thoughts of Cyril and Moe kept preying on her mind. She had to know what was going on with the investigation. All at once an idea electrified her. The phone was in her hand almost before she realized it.

There was someone who knew exactly what was going on and he was going to tell her.



In spite of the August heat, Fire Marshal Doug Chee was running fast when Ivy found him later that day. Since her phone calls were routed to his voice mail, she decided on the direct approach. The slender, dark-eyed man would run the track every day whether it was a workday or not. Today he pushed a jogging stroller in front of him with his baby son asleep inside. A little umbrella sheltered the infant, and Ivy noticed that Doug kept to the shaded periphery of the track.

Ivy put herself where he’d see her around the next turn and waited.

He puffed up, stride perfect, a gleam of sweat on his brow. When he saw her, he faltered slightly before he waved and called out. “Hey, Ivy. How’s the shoulder?”

“Okay. I need to talk to you, Doug. I tried to call your house, but you weren’t in.”

“Sorry. It’s been crazy busy. I’ve got two more laps before I’ve got to go. I’m taking the baby home to Mary in a bit.” He passed her and continued on.

Ivy stared at him. She knew Doug was driven and the man had a work ethic second only to her own, but she had a feeling he was only too happy to run away. When he came around the second time, she tried again. “Come on, Doug. This will only take a minute.”

He shook his head and sailed on without comment.

By the time he came back the third time she’d decided to play hardball. “You said if there was ever anything I needed, I just had to ask. Remember? I’m asking, Doug.”

He slowed to a stop several yards ahead of her and then turned around. “You got me there.”

“How is John John?” She peered at the little baby, with his cap of dark hair and the nose so like his father’s.

“John John is fine, fine, as we are fond of saying. Thanks to you.”

She smiled, remembering the day when they’d arrived to find him barely breathing due to a respiratory infection, mother hysterical, dad trying to remember his infant CPR, hands shaking so badly he could hardly hang on to the baby. She stabilized the child and transported him to the hospital, where he fully recovered. Ivy figured the parents might never do so after a scare like that. “He looks like the strong, silent type.”

“As the guy who hands over the 4:00 a.m. bottle, I would have to disagree about the silent part. Anyway, I really do need to get him home, Ivy. So what can I do for you?”

“I want to know what’s going on with the investigation. The house on Alder Street?”

“It’s pending.”

“That’s not enough.”

He sighed. “Ivy, I like you. You’re a ferociously determined person with a heart of gold, but Chief Strong isn’t too happy with you right now. She ordered me to keep you out of the whole thing. You understand, don’t you?”

Ivy’s gut clenched. “I got hurt in that fire. I have a right to know. And a friend of mine is involved. I’m afraid he’s headed for trouble.”

He rubbed a hand over his chin. “Look, I can tell you it was arson. Does that help?”

“I already knew that. What was the ignition source?”

He laughed. “Nice try. You know I couldn’t tell you that even if you weren’t in the doghouse with Strong.”

“Come on, Doug. Don’t I get anything at all? We’ve worked together for a long time.”

“Yes.” He sighed. “And you saved my son’s life so I’ll throw you a bone here, but if this info gets out anywhere, we’re both toast. You got me?”

She nodded.

“I’m pretty sure that whoever torched that place was trying to make sure someone died in that fire.”

Her mouth fell open. “What? How do you know that?”

“Did you have a hard time opening the bedroom door?”

She recalled it had taken both Jeff and her to pry it open and they’d still had to batter the door across the threshold. “Yeah, as a matter of fact.”

“That’s because someone jammed something in the frame so tight no one could have gotten it out.”

The enormity of it hit her. “So the arsonist was hoping to prevent someone from escaping, probably Cyril, but there was no body recovered. How did he get out?”

“Not sure. It’s conceivable they both climbed down the oak tree that’s outside his window. It’s not an easy climb, but when you’re faced with burning to death it might have its appeal. This is all theoretical, of course.”

Ivy could picture it. Cyril, in a panic with smoke filling his room, shimmied down the tree and ran. She would make the same risky choice in the face of burning to death, especially with the door wedged shut. “I wonder who wanted Cyril dead.”

He pulled the shade more fully over the baby’s head. “I don’t know, Ivy, but you need to leave that up to the police and on-duty people to find out. You should focus on recovery. And remember, you never heard any of this from me.” He jogged away.

Leave it up to the police? Sure, she would, but it wouldn’t hurt to look into things since she unfortunately had the time and she had the uneasy feeling Moe was involved. She felt sort of like a big sister to the guy. It pained her to think he might be involved in something he didn’t understand.

The lights of the gym were on and she could see movement. She checked her watch. One fifteen. Of course. It was Tim’s team prepping for the big game. She had to talk to him about what she’d discovered. He was the best listener she’d ever met and she knew he wouldn’t brush her off. Besides, his smile always cheered her up.

Wishing her shoulder would permit her to jog, she headed toward the school. There were a few early birds there but the bleachers were still largely unoccupied. She saw Charlie Gregor, and waved.

“Hey, Charlie. What brings you out for a high-school game?”

Charlie’s glasses shone in the overhead lighting. He looked cool in his silk shirt, in spite of the warmth. “Thought I’d check out the local talent. Someday my sister’s kids will need to pick a high school.”

“You really plan ahead, don’t you?”

He laughed. “Nah, it’s just an excuse. I will go anywhere to watch a little basketball, pro or otherwise. Want to sit?”

“Sure.” She didn’t feel like engaging in the usual cheerful banter; her mind was whirling with Doug Chee’s revelation. Fortunately, Charlie was uncharacteristically silent.

She didn’t recognize Tim at first as she scanned the court. He was barking out commands to the kids working on basketball drills. He joked with them in between, face alight with excitement.

She waited until Tim was alone for a minute.

“Hi, Tim.”

His head whipped up from his notes, face breaking into a wide grin. “Hi, Ivy. I didn’t think you were going to make it. I’m glad you decided to come watch.”

“Oh, well, actually I…” Her words were cut off with the noisy arrival of the opposing team.

He nodded to her. “I’ve gotta go. I’ll talk to you after the game, okay?”

She didn’t want to stay in that sweltering gym. She wanted to find Moe and ask him about Cyril, but Tim was already talking with the other coach. With a sigh she returned to the rapidly filling bleachers. A big man wearing a hat and jacket eased his bulk onto the space beside her. Tinted glasses obscured his eyes.

His voice was gravelly. “Going to be a good game, I hear.”

“I guess,” Ivy said. Her mind returned to the arson fire. She made a note to track down her crew, too, and find out if they knew anything. Saturday night was party night, and a group of firefighters would gather later at a local restaurant for eating and loud music. She’d attended some of the social nights herself, enjoying the camaraderie and the stories, especially if Antonio was there. Now the thought of meeting up with him made her stomach clench. She was glad that he’d transferred departments.

The referee’s whistle blew and the court broke into spirited competition. Ivy was sucked into the game in spite of herself. Tim’s team played with practiced skill. At the half, they were behind fifteen points, but they rallied to win the game by a scant two baskets.

Tim beamed as he shook the other coach’s hand. Bleachers emptied until the court was a mass of happy parents and sweating teenagers. Ivy was surprised when Tim found her in the melee.

“Was that a great game or what?” His face was boyish, flushed with enthusiasm.

Ivy couldn’t help but smile. “It certainly was. Congratulations, coach.”

He caught up her hand. “Thanks. Hey, we’re going out to pizza to celebrate. Come with us.”

She squeezed his long fingers for a moment before she let go. “Ah, no, thanks, Tim. I’ve got something I need to do.”

His smile dimmed. “Oh, I forgot. It’s party night, huh?”

She nodded. “Do you want to come by after your pizza party? You know the guys all like you.” They were polite, certainly, but there was always a feeling that anyone who wasn’t in suppression was an outsider. She felt it, maybe even projected it, and she knew that Tim had certainly felt it, too. He doesn’t deserve to play second fiddle to anyone. The thought startled her.

“No, thanks. I’m going to take Mark to the hospital to see his mom after we eat. She’s struggling with breast cancer. I’ll catch up with you tomorrow.”

She watched him go, his broad shoulders cutting a path through the happy throngs, wondering for a moment if she should have chosen the basketball party.

Ivy stopped to get a drink of water at the fountain before she exited the gym. The parking lot was nearly empty as she made her way along, purse slung over her good shoulder. She let her mind drift as she walked past the lot and onto the grass.

Out of nowhere came the sound of running feet. As she tensed and turned to look behind her, a heavy body plowed into her, knocking her to the ground. Her purse fell underneath her, and she felt hands prodding, scrambling to get a handhold on her bag. She tried to scream, but the man’s weight pinned her face to the ground.

Pulse pounding, she tried with all her strength to push him away, but she couldn’t budge him. The best she could do was keep curled around her purse as tightly as she could.

No way, creep. You’re not going to make a victim of me.

With his fingers wrapped around her hair, her attacker yanked so hard her eyes teared.

It was all she could do to keep fighting.

Just when she thought she would have to give in, she heard a shout.

The weight was lifted off her and she could breathe again. Vaguely she saw a man’s figure running away.

Another face peered into hers. “Ivy? Are you okay? It’s me.”

Through her tears she looked into Antonio’s handsome face.




FIVE


Antonio sat with Ivy while she caught her breath. “I came to see the game, but I was too late so I stopped to talk to some friends in the parking lot. Then I saw that guy on top of you. Are you sure you’re okay?”

She nodded, wiping the moisture from her face. “Just winded, and my shoulder is throbbing. I thought we were safe from purse snatchings in this small town.”

“Guess there’s nowhere safe from crime anymore.” He hauled her up in his muscular arms and kept her there for a moment. His low whisper tickled her ear. “I was worried when I saw you lying there.”

She pulled away. “I thought worry was a feeling you didn’t indulge in. Too angsty, or something.” Immediately she wished she hadn’t said it.

He laughed, his teeth white in the darkness. “Oh, I give worry a few minutes out of my life sometimes. Come on, I’ll drive you home. Do you want to call the police first?”

“No. I just want to get out of here. Now.”

He led her to his SUV.

She tried to steady her body and emotions as they drove. She could feel a scrape on her knee and various bruises beginning to form.

Antonio eyed her. “Actually, I didn’t come just to see the game. I came to check on you.”

“Really?” She tried to hide the satisfaction in her voice. “That was nice of you.”

“Sure. I’m planning a hiking trip with some of the crew next week. Thought I’d invite you along.”

She didn’t dare look at him. “How does Denise feel about that?”

He waved a dismissive hand. “We aren’t exclusive. She knows that.”

She wondered if that’s what he told people when they were dating. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m taking it easy on the shoulder for a while.”

“Okay.”

He chatted away as they drove. Ivy could see why women found him irresistible. She’d thought he was everything she’d wanted in a man, a partner. Was he looking for reconciliation? Was she?

Ivy felt a surge of relief when they pulled into her parking lot and Antonio walked her to the door. Happy as she was to know he missed her, wanted her, she couldn’t forget how things had changed.

“If you change your mind about hiking, let me know,” he said, giving her a hug.

As quickly as she could, she went inside and closed the door before she said something she might possibly regret.



Ivy felt plenty old the next morning as she eased her arm into the sling after her shower. The sky was a steel gray, indicating a summer storm was on the way. It would be good for the guys, if it brought enough rain to dampen the parched vegetation on the surrounding hillsides.

The phone rang. She figured it was Tim. He made it a point to call every so often on Sundays and invite her to church. She told him in as patient a way as she could that she was not interested. He could go worship God until he ran out of breath. For her part, Ivy was still busy hating Him. Then again, it could be Antonio, she mused.

As she picked up the phone she straightened Sadie’s picture, marveling again at how lovely her sister had been, a dark-haired beauty with an easy smile. “Hello?”

A loud breathy voice filled up the phone line. “Hello, Ivy. It’s Madge.”

Ivy sighed in relief and exchanged pleasant small talk with Moe’s mother. “I’m glad you called. I had a question for you. What can you tell me about Cyril?”

“Moe’s friend?” Madge paused. “He ran the recycle shack for a while, that’s how Moe met him. He worked at the local bookstore, too, I think. But he quit early on. From what I gather he’s not above skirting the law a bit, but he’s always been sweet to my Moe and that’s what matters to me.”

“What do you mean, skirting the law?”

“Oh, I’ve just heard things. I don’t want to gossip.”

“I understand, but his house burned down, Madge. It would be good if we could locate him.”

“My goodness, burned down? He’s had a bad string of luck, poor guy. And after getting fired and all.”

“Fired? From where? Why?”

“No, now I’ve said too much. I called to ask you to check on Moe for the next few days. I’ve got to go visit my sister. She’s had surgery you see, for her appendix. I filled Moe’s refrigerator and made sure his stock of soap operas is okay. He will call me every night to check in, but I would feel better knowing you’ll look out for him.”

“Of course I will.”

“Good. Do you still have my cell number?”

“Yes. I’ll make sure he’s okay.”

Her relieved sigh was loud. “Thank goodness for you, Ivy. You’re a blessing from God. I’ll be back in a few days. Bye now.”

A blessing from God? Yeah, right.

Ivy spent the next few hours searching the Internet for any information about Cyril. It didn’t help that his last name was an unknown. “There are way too many Cyrils in the world,” she finally grumped at one thirty as she left her apartment, empty soda can in hand. The hallway was warm and stuffy compared to her air-conditioned unit. She could smell the tang of garlic and ginger from Mrs. Wang’s pork dumplings. Her mouth watered at the thought of the succulent pillows and she remembered she hadn’t eaten.

She tapped lightly on door 6H. “Moe? It’s Ivy. Are you home?”

There was no sound, but that was not unusual. Sometimes it took the man a few minutes to decide to open the door. She knocked again. “Hey, Moe. Your mom asked me to check on you. I wanted to talk before your shows. I know you watch them at two o’clock. I promise I’ll make it quick.”

The door opened and Moe peered at her, blinking behind his thick glasses. “Ivy? Is that you?”

“Yes, Moe. Are you doing okay?”

He nodded.

“Can I come in?”

“Okay.” He moved to the side so she could get by. His apartment was tidy, Spartan almost, with a couch and padded chair the only furniture in the front room, along with a TV. The tiny kitchen opened up onto the space, and she could see he’d already removed the plastic from his microwave-popcorn package and laid the bundle neatly on the counter, ready for popping. His bottle of water sat next to it, carefully wrapped in a paper towel.

“Here’s another can for you.”

He nodded and added it to a bag near the door. “Thank you.”

“How have you been, Moe?”

“Okay.” He sat on the sofa, hands folded in his lap.

“Good. Your mom said if you need anything to let me know. Do you remember where my apartment is?”

“Apartment A, floor six, northwest corner of Ash and Finley streets.”

“Ah, yeah. Wow. That’s it all right.” The last time she’d talked to him he’d rattled off a string of bus schedule information. “I wanted to know about your friend Cyril.”

Moe stiffened and began to rock slightly back and forth.

Ivy watched his brown eyes as he stared at a spot on the far wall. “Moe, why were you at his house the night of the fire?”

Moe shook his head but did not answer.

Ivy sat down next to him. “I know that he’s been missing, Moe. Was he into some trouble? Did he tell you anything about a problem he was having?”

The man began to rock more violently.

“It’s kind of important.”

“Apartment A, floor six, northwest corner of Ash and Finley streets.” He stared into space and repeated the phrase three more times.

Though she felt a surge of frustration, Ivy put a hand gently on his arm, which trembled slightly under her touch. “Okay, Moe. We don’t need to talk anymore right now. Why don’t you pop your popcorn and watch your show? I’ll come back later.”

She waited until he had prepared his snack and settled himself into the chair with the remote. He did not turn his head as she said goodbye.

Back in her own apartment there was a message from her mother inviting her to come over. Ivy shuddered. She could not face the idea of sitting at the kitchen table hearing her mother try to encourage her to change careers or find a nice man to settle down with. She had probably already been busy scanning the church directory to look for any eligible men she could find to coerce into taking Ivy on a date.

“I’m a firefighter, Mom,” she’d said many times, more frequently since the Antonio debacle. “That’s who I am and all I want to be.”

She tried to flex her shoulder until the pain stopped her. What was she now? What if she couldn’t go back to her beloved calling? The thought froze her insides.

Well, I’m not just going to sit here until I get my job back. She grabbed her keys and headed for the elevator, determined to solve the mystery about Cyril before it got Moe’s friend into deeper trouble.

In the car, she turned on her radio pager, listening hungrily to the chatter. The guys were en route to a fire at an office building. Probably nothing major, but listening to the captain radio their ETA made her feel like crying. She could almost feel the quiver in their stomachs as they climbed onto the rig, the rush that came with the chance to knock down a fire. She fought back tears as she turned the key.



Tim saw Ivy standing on the sidewalk near the burned house, body tense and rigid. It filled him with a desperate desire to lift away her fear, some way, any way. When she didn’t hear him speak, he put a hand on her shoulder.

Whirling, she lost her balance and he caught her.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. What brings you here? What’s wrong?”

She leaned her head against his chest for a moment. Then she straightened. “Nothing. I’m fine. I was just…I don’t know.”

“Remembering?”

“Oh, never mind. How did you find me?”

“I figured it wouldn’t take too long before you defied the doctor’s orders and drove somewhere. I kind of guessed you’d be back here.”

She filled him in on Doug Chee’s revelation.

He whistled. “So the door was wedged closed? Kinda shoots down the notion that Cyril torched the place for the insurance money. Somebody went to a lot of trouble to try to kill the guy.”

“Or Cyril tried to kill someone and make it look like something else.”

“Either way, something didn’t go right for somebody.” He gave her a sideways look. “I take it you’re not going to leave this up to Chee and the police?”

“No. I did talk to the police this morning, though, because some jerk tried to steal my purse last night.”

His mouth dropped open. “After the game? What happened? Are you hurt?”

She related the whole story, except the part when Antonio asked her to go hiking with him. At the mention of Antonio’s name, Tim’s brow furrowed and a dark expression crossed his face.

“Good thing Antonio was there,” he said in clipped tones.

“Yeah. Anyway, I figured I’d look into a few things, that’s all. While I’m off, I mean.”

He smiled. “Well, how about I take you out for some ice cream and we can talk some more?”

“You don’t have to entertain me.”

“Believe it or not, I like hanging out with you. Usually you’re surrounded by people wearing Nomex, and I can’t get close unless I happen to be on fire or something.” The bitter thought rose before he could stop it. Even with Antonio gone, you’re still out of reach. He squelched the thought and opened the passenger-side door. “I’ll drive.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but he propelled her into the seat.

On the way to the ice-cream shop, Ivy asked Tim to stop at Corner Street Bookstore. “I’ve got to ask Mr. Evans about Cyril. Madge said Cyril worked at the bookstore.”

The bookstore owner, Sergei Evans, greeted them with a smile. “Good afternoon.”

The shop featured wooden shelves crammed full of books of every description and a long ladder that rolled between them. There was a small section with new bestsellers, but most of the volumes were older, with an occasional antique sprinkled in.

“Hello, Mr. Evans,” Tim said.

The man piled his papers in a tidy stack next to the cash register and came around the counter. “Hello. Can I help you find a book?” He looked at Ivy closely as he slipped on wire-rimmed glasses. “I would say you are not the kind who would like to read about needlework or floral arranging.”

“You got that right on the money,” Tim said as he thumbed through a sports magazine. “The only needles she uses are the kind to administer an IV.”

Tim smiled at the look Ivy shot him as they followed Mr. Evans around the small shop.

He pulled a book off a high shelf and handed it to Ivy. “Perhaps a memoir by a blind man who climbed Mt. Everest?”

She took the book and read the back. “That’s interesting, but…”

He handed down another. “And maybe a story of Peary’s expedition to the North Pole?”

“That sounds great, Mr. Evans, but that’s not why we’re here,” Tim repeated. “Do you happen to know a man named Cyril?”

“Cyril?” He frowned. “A short man, rather fragile-looking?”

Tim nodded, his pulse quickening. The image matched the description Madge had given them.

“He asked me for a job several months back, but I couldn’t accommodate him. Why?”

“He’s a friend of a friend. We were told he worked here.”

“No, I didn’t hire him. I had no contact with him after that one encounter.”

Tim hid his disappointment. “Okay. Thanks anyway.”

Ivy paid for her purchases and they left the cool of the bookstore, practically running into Mitch. He jerked backward.

“Oh, hi, guys.”

“Hey, Mitch.” Tim noted the weary lines painted on his wide face and felt a tingle of alarm. “Did you have a rough shift? You look beat.”

“Shift? No. I’m off for a few days.”

Ivy clicked her tongue. “Taking time off isn’t going to get you closer to that boat you’re after. You need all the overtime you can get.”

His brow furrowed. “Who made you my mother?”

Tim blinked at Mitch’s tone. “Easy, man. She was just teasing.”

He gave a half laugh. “Yeah, okay. Sorry.”

“How about we all three go get some ice cream?” Tim gestured to Ivy. “We’ve gotta keep this girl out of trouble.”

“No, I can’t.” Mitch said. “I’ve gotta run.”

Tim tried to read his expression, to see if he was telling the truth, hating the suspicion that clouded his mind. He wished he wasn’t burdened by knowing Mitch’s secret. “Where are you headed?”

“Me?” He looked momentarily disoriented. “Oh, just out for a jog. Catch you later.”

Tim and Ivy walked the rest of the block and ordered ice-cream sundaes, settling at a table by the window to enjoy their treat.

He watched her dive into the sundae, her face as eager as a little girl’s. The image tugged at his insides.

Ivy took a spoonful of whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles. “Do you think Mitch is acting funny?”

“Maybe.” Tim tried to focus on his black-and-tan sundae, willing her not to ask him anything else. Above all things, he did not want to lie to Ivy.

“Maybe?” She looked closer at him. “Tim? Do you have some idea of what’s bothering my cousin?”

“Oh, me? It’s not—” He broke off as her attention was riveted to a spot on the sidewalk outside. “What’s wrong, Ivy?”

The untouched cream dripped from the spoon suspended in her fingers. “That man. I’ve seen him before.”

Tim looked in the direction of her stare. A big man with blond hair ambled along the sidewalk. He paused for a moment, long enough to sweep his gaze across the window of the ice-cream shop. His eyes rested on the two as they stared back at him. Something in the way he looked at Ivy pricked at Tim. “Who is he?”

Ivy slowly put her spoon down. “I don’t know, but he sat next to me at your basketball game last night. I’ve got a funny feeling.”

“What kind of funny feeling?”

“I wonder…Oh, I don’t know.”

“What?” he prodded.

“I wondered for a second if he was the guy who tried to take my purse.”

Tim got up and headed for the door.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to talk to him. No harm in that.”

“No, Tim. Don’t.”

Tim ignored her and headed out of the shop. By the time he made it to the sidewalk, the man had already hurried away. He tried not to let his concern show as he returned to the table.

Ivy toyed with her spoon. “Maybe I was mistaken. It was dark and I never saw the purse snatcher’s face.”

“Maybe.” An uneasy sensation took root in Tim’s gut. Maybe not.




SIX


The clock crept its way to early evening. Ivy tried to keep busy by doing everything from dusting all of her books to reorganizing the spice cupboard.

She was twitchy as a caffeinated cat. She had made no progress on anything, including her healing. Flexing her shoulder brought only a lancing pain that seemed as intense as it had right after the injury.

She was sick of her own company to the point where she actually accepted her mother’s invitation to dinner. Granted, it was more an order than an invitation, and since Ivy had no work excuse this time, she made her way on foot over to her mother’s house. It was still hot, but a cooling wind whispered through the hemlock trees as she strolled to her mother’s block, a strip of tiny, well-kept houses set among massive conifers that seemed to dwarf the whole neighborhood. Many times she’d urged her mother to cut down the branched monster that towered above her roofline with no result.

“At least cut it back, then.” She’d seen too many fires jump from canopy to canopy, fueled by hot conditions and Oregon’s unpredictable winds.

“Ivy, honey, that can’t be done. It’s Papa’s tree, remember? He used to love to sit and read in the shade or push you girls on the swing. Roddy made a fort up there. I’m not going to touch that tree, and neither is anyone else.” Then her mother would smile and politely ignore any further recommendations.

Ivy was so lost in her memories, she stumbled over an uneven spot in the pavement. Recovering her balance, she glanced into the heavily wooded acreage behind the road. Something caught her eye—a flash, a brief glint from the deepest clump of green.

It was almost like…Ivy shook her head to clear it. No way—it couldn’t be. Why would someone be out there with a pair of binoculars aimed in her direction? Still, the quick flash bothered her enough that she increased her pace until she was breathless when she arrived at her mother’s house.

Juana Beria met her daughter at the door, her round face wreathed in a smile, black hair pulled back in the ever-present knot on the back of her head. Ivy had seen her mother’s hair down only twice, once when she was deathly sick with the flu and the other the night of her sister’s accident. Even the morning Ivy’s dad passed away, her mother met her at the hospital with hair firmly secured.

Squeezed in her mother’s well-padded hug, Ivy inhaled the scent of garlic and roasted potatoes from the kitchen behind them. Conversation floated out from the sitting room.

“Who’s here, Mama?”

Her mother batted innocent eyelashes. “Just your brother and Mitch.”

Ivy heard a familiar deep laugh. “And?”

“And Tim. I haven’t seen him in ages. I’ve got to go check the pie.” She padded off, ever the matchmaker.

Ivy couldn’t help but smile. When would Mama understand that Tim was just a good friend? Antonio was more her type—charismatic, brash and, most of all, a firefighter. She reminded herself of the sting when she’d shared her feelings with Antonio about their future and he’d run, not walked, to get away from her ideas about commitment. After that kind of humiliation, she didn’t want to love anybody.

Still, the sight of Tim’s tousled hair and warm grin infused her with happiness.

He hugged her gently, his cheek leaving a warm impression on hers. “How’s the shoulder?”

“Rotten. The doctor says I can’t even start physical therapy until she gives me the thumbs-up. Who knows when that will be?”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” Roddy said from his spot by the window. “You’re stuck down here with the mere mortals until you rise again as überhero.”

“Funny, brother. I just want my shoulder to mend so I can beat you at basketball again.”

Mitch grinned as he reached for a chip loaded with salsa. “You did a pretty good job breaking it. Can’t expect it to mend overnight.”

Ivy was glad to see Mitch’s cheerful demeanor. It reminded her that she hadn’t fully interrogated Tim about her cousin’s strange behavior. “I know, I know, patience and all that. What’s the word on the investigation?”

Mitch chewed for a moment. “Why do you ask me? I’m just a flight nurse, not a hose jockey.”

She put a hand on her hip and continued to stare.

“You’d better tell her if you know anything,” Roddy said. “I’ve seen that look before.”

He sighed. “I haven’t heard anything other than the police are involved. Probably just about as much info as you’ve weaseled out of people.” He looked at his watch.

“Got plans?” she couldn’t help asking.

“Charlie and I are going fishing tomorrow if the weather holds. I told him I’d get some supplies before the store closes up.”

“Since when do you like fishing?”

He smiled. “Since I’ve matured and appreciate the value of quiet and relaxation.”

Ivy sat heavily on a worn recliner. Tim handed her a glass of ice water. They chatted until her mother called Mitch and Roddy into the kitchen.

Ivy got to her feet. “I’ll help, Mama.”

Juana waved her back. “No, no. You rest your shoulder, baby. Mitch and your brother can help.”

Mitch gave her a wink and snatched another chip before he left.

Ivy rose and prowled the room. She often felt restless at her mother’s house, afraid the old, familiar surroundings would bring back too many memories. Today she could not fend them off as she wandered along the braided rug, burned on an edge where her father dropped a Christmas candle. Even though she was only five at the time, Ivy remembered the mixture of terror and fascination she felt as the rug caught and a flame erupted before her father stamped it out.

Unwillingly, her eyes were drawn to the photo of Sadie, beautiful Sadie. Unlike Ivy, Sadie’s hair was a dark black curtain that fell in a smooth wave. She remembered helping her sister wrap giant pink rollers in her hair only to have her hair fall back into stubborn straightness the next morning. Tim joined Ivy, looking closely at the picture.

“Sadie was a beautiful girl. I wish I could have known her.”

Ivy nodded. “You would have liked her. She was fun-loving, a real spark plug.” And a strong Christian, like you are, she almost added.

“You miss her, don’t you?”

Without warning her eyes filled. “The accident happened just before we moved here, fifteen years ago. I still can’t believe that much time has passed. Everyone seems to have gotten over it but me. Roddy doesn’t even talk about Sadie.”

He put his arms around her. “People deal with things in their own way.”

She let her cheek rest on his strong shoulder, tears trickling onto his T-shirt.

“She was so young, only eighteen.”

“And you were barely twelve.” His voice was soft in her ear, soothing like a lullaby. “I can see how a terrible thing like that could change your life.”

The anguish she felt suddenly changed to anger. She jerked away from him. “It did change my life, and I know what you’re thinking.”

He looked puzzled. “What’s that?”

“You know. You want to say something about it being God’s will and all that.”

He blinked. “No, I wouldn’t presume to speak for God, Ivy. I just know He loves you and feels your heartbreak.”

“Well, I don’t want Him to love me. I won’t love Him back, do you hear? You can sing His praise until the cows come home, Tim, but I won’t love a God who tortures people like that.” She rubbed a hand over her wet eyes, shocked at her emotional outpouring.

Tim sighed. “I know you’re angry, Ivy, and hurt. I would give anything to help take some of your pain away, I really would.”

The look he gave her was so tender, so honest, that she felt a stab of regret for her outburst. She wanted suddenly to snuggle in his arms and return to the comfort she found there.

Her mother poked her head into the room. “Come to dinner.”

Grateful for the interruption, Ivy led them into the kitchen.

They squeezed in next to Mitch and Roddy at the table.

Ivy was happy to focus on the food and conversation after her unsettling connection with Tim. She could still feel his arms around her and part of her felt quivery inside. She tried to savor her mother’s golden-brown potatoes and succulent roast.

Tim passed around a bowl of peas. “How’s the writing coming, Mrs. Beria?”

“Just fine, thank you, Tim. I’m so pleased when kids e-mail to tell me they enjoy the stories or send in questions and things.”

Ivy swallowed hard. Her mother began writing a serial story called Penny Pocket for the local paper several years ago, modeling the little girl protagonist after Sadie. She’d explained it was therapeutic, God’s way of helping her help other children. Ivy had read only one installment, recognizing instantly her sister’s bubbly personality shining through the lines. Ivy faithfully clipped every one out of the paper, putting them unread into a box under her bed.

Roddy’s gaze was drawn to the window. “Are you expecting someone else, Mama?”

“No, honey. Why?”

“I thought I saw that car pass by a couple of times. I figured you’d invited someone and they’re looking for your house.”

Ivy’s instincts prickled. She walked to the window and peered out. A dark sedan was just disappearing around the corner. It was too far away to make out any details. Could it be the man who’d mysteriously appeared at the basketball game and the ice-cream parlor?

Tim exchanged a glance with her, and she knew he was wondering the same thing.

She was startled to find Mitch right behind her, staring out the window, his face painted with fear.




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