Flashover (12 page)

Ivy moved Moe close to the door, grabbed a broom handle and spread the materials out to be sure the fire was finished. Tim opened the windows to help air out the smoke.

Moe began to rock back and forth. “It's got to go,” he said. “It's got to go.”

“What does, Moe?” Tim approached slowly, his tone soft and soothing. “Why were you burning these things?”

Ivy picked up a sodden sweater with a patch on the elbow. “I don't think I've ever seen Moe wear this kind of thing before.” A thought occurred to her. “Moe, are these Cyril's things?”

Moe's eyes widened.

Tim exchanged a look with her. “Uh, it's okay, Moe. Really. It's okay, we'll just clean these things up and it will be fine.”

Moe rocked forward on his heels. Before Ivy could stop him, he'd grabbed some foam-covered items from the sodden pile.

“Tim, don't let him…” It was too late. Moe bolted for the open door and vanished down the hallway.

“Wait a minute, Moe,” Tim yelled as he took off in pursuit.

Ivy made sure the fire was completely out before she called Detective Greenly. When he was en route, she looked over the pile on the singed carpet: two journals called
Medical Horizons,
one about birds, and a mangled sweater. There was also a half-eaten box of crackers and what appeared to be an unopened pack of gum.

Was this odd collection really Cyril's? Why had he given it to Moe?

Cyril's words came back to her.
Tell him to take care of what I gave him.

She poked at the mess with her toe, knowing Greenly would not appreciate her disturbing whatever evidence might be present.

Tim returned, panting, twenty minutes later. “He's gone. I couldn't catch him. He runs like an Olympic sprinter. I called Madge and alerted her.” He flopped onto the love seat. “Man. This whole thing gets weirder all the time. Why did he set fire to this stuff?”

“I don't know. It just looks like a bunch of junk to me.”

“Yeah.” Tim surveyed the mess. “I wonder why the guy was reading medical journals, though. He didn't seem like the type.”

She had no answer to give. “Moe looked terrified, poor guy. He doesn't understand what is going on here, either.”

“What did he take from the pile before he ran?”

“I'm not sure. It was something small. I didn't get a good look.” She paced the small room. “I'm worried about Moe. After we talk to Greenly do you want to help me search for him? If you don't mind playing rescue hero with me, that is.”

Tim smiled. “There's nothing I'd rather do. And, Ivy, about what I said before…”

She held up a hand to stop him. “Let's talk about it later. Okay?”

He smiled. “Anytime, Ivy, anywhere.”

She enjoyed the inexplicable hint of comfort that crept into her heart just before Greenly stepped in the door.

H
e could virtually smell the fear that crept through the phone line. Nick listened as his boss talked into the receiver.

“If you've finished, then? Your obligation is clear whether or not your conscience is. Unless you'd like to repay the hundred thousand with interest?”

Silence.

“I didn't think so. We have only a small wrinkle on this end, a delay that has briefly prevented our shipment. It will be resolved quickly. At that time you will supply the other piece of information.”

The forced calm in his boss's voice did not fool Nick.

“Do you understand me, Roger?”

He waited a beat before he continued. “Very good. And Roger? Please do not contact me again. I abhor discussing business on the phone. Goodbye.”

He watched as his boss hung up and made himself a cup of tea.

Nick sighed, feeling again the sting of humility because he had not been able to resolve things. A distant memory rose to the surface. He remembered his father's face when the men lifted their sticks. Heard him cry out for mercy. They didn't know it, but the brutes collecting their protection money at his father's small shop in New York decades ago had made him a man that day. He resolved in that white-hot moment that he would never be weak. What's more, he understood in that same moment that the real power was not in the big men with their clubs, but in the quiet, faceless man who sent them. He worked for just such a man now. A man who expected results.

Cyril's face swam before his. How had he been duped by a nobody? Chances are the stolen item would never be recovered and if it was, it would mean nothing to the finder. But that was a dangling thread in the fine cloth his boss had woven. A dangling thread that needed to be cut.

His boss looked up from his tea. He didn't speak, but Nick understood.

 

They searched everywhere they could think of, from the library to the comic book store and every square inch in between. Tim finally forced Ivy to join him on a bench along the main street as the sun blazed in the late afternoon sky.

Tim stretched his legs in front of him. Frustration piled on top of fatigue. “My feet are killing me.”

Ivy yawned. “Mine, too. Where could Moe have gotten to? He didn't get that much of a head start and he doesn't drive. He must have holed up somewhere for the night.”

They turned at the sound of a familiar voice. Mitch joined them on the bench.

Ivy stared at him. “Where did you come from?”

“I was doing some shopping.” He picked at a spot of lint on his jeans. “So, um, well, I wanted to apologize. You know, for throwing you out of my place and all that. It was…”

“Terrible of you?” Tim helped.

“Yeah. Anyway, how about I make it up to you and buy dinner?”

Eyeing Ivy's reluctant expression, Tim shook his head. “Thanks anyway, but we've been on our feet for the past few hours. We're too tired to go out to eat.”

“Did you find him?”

“Who?”

“The kid. That nutty kid who lives in your complex. Isn't that who you're looking for?”

“Yeah,” Ivy said. “How did you know that?”

He shrugged. “We got a bulletin at work to keep our eyes peeled for him. I knew it had to be the kid you're always talking about. Come on, let's go get some food.”

Tim struggled to his feet and held out a hand to Ivy.

She stood, shaking her head. “No, Mitch. The only thing I want now is a long bath.”

“Okay. How about a coffee then?”

“Thanks, but I'll take a rain check.”

Tim found his keys. “I'm going to drive her home. Maybe another time.”

“Suit yourself.” Mitch shuffled away.

Tim waited while Ivy buckled the seat belt carefully over her shoulder. He watched Mitch pull out his cell phone as he walked away. He wondered again who the faceless friend was supplying him with supposedly string-free money. He resolved to try keep an eye on Mitch if he could.

“Thinking about Mitch?”

Tim started. “Oh, yeah. Just wondering where he got that money.”

“Me, too. I think I've got an idea. Can we make a stop on the way back?”

“Sure. Where to?”

“I think it's time to see Charlie.”

Charlie? Tim's mind raced. Maybe to help out he'd loaned Mitch the money. He was the type who would do it, but something didn't feel right about the idea. He didn't comment as they drove toward Charlie's well-kept Victorian on the outskirts of town, stopping only long enough to grab a couple of sodas on the way.

Tim knocked on the heavy oak door.

Charlie answered their knock and invited them in.

They settled into leather chairs in a beautifully appointed parlor. Neatly stacked file folders lay on a polished cherry desk. A pair of glasses sat on top of the pile.

“So what brings you here?”

Ivy cut in before Tim could answer.

“I want to talk to you about Mitch.”

“Sure. What about him?”

“You two are pretty close. You hang out together all the time.”

“Yeah. We're good friends. We've worked together for more than five years now. He's an excellent flight nurse.”

“So you'll understand why I'm asking. Did you know about his gambling?”

He blinked. “Gambling?”

Ivy nodded without looking away from Charlie's tanned face.

Groaning inwardly, Tim cleared his throat loudly. “What she meant to say is—”

Ivy cut in. “Yes, I said gambling.”

“We play a few rounds of online poker sometimes, and blackjack.”

“Still?”

“Still?” He raised one eyebrow, the faint white line of a scar cutting through it.

“You know what I mean. I can see in your face that you know Mitch has a gambling problem. Did you loan him money to pay off someone who was muscling him?”

“No.” He put his cup down. “I wasn't aware he was in that kind of trouble. Mitch and I do things together for fun but I'm not married to him. His life is his own.”

“And you're not helping his life by gambling with him. Is that how you afford this nice place, Charlie?”

“Ivy…” Tim started, but it was too late.

The easy smile vanished from Charlie's face. “I've been pleasant up to this point because you are Mitch's cousin, but I do not appreciate your accusations. Gambling is like a gun, Ivy. It's only bad when people misuse it.” He stood up. “I think it would be a good idea if you left now.”

Ivy stood and Tim followed her to the door. The door slammed as they went to the truck.

Tim stared at her, trying to keep his exasperation in check. A couple of deep breaths didn't help.

“What?”

“I wouldn't say that was brimming over with tact.”

“Well, hasn't it occurred to you that Charlie might be the one who got Mitch into this mess?”

“Mitch got Mitch into this mess.”

“You know what I mean.”

Tim sighed. “It did make me wonder if he was the one who bailed Mitch out with the mob guys, but, Ivy, if we're wrong, would Mitch want the people he works with to know about his problem?”

“I'm sure Charlie already knew.”

“Well, what if he didn't?” Tim gripped the steering wheel. “You're messing around with people's reputations here. In particular, a person who didn't want us involved in the first place.”

“Then…” Ivy's voice trailed off. She groaned. “Oh, man. I shot my mouth off again, didn't I?”

“I wasn't going to put it like that, but, yes, you did.” He reached out and took her hand, keeping his tone light. “Sometimes you batter down the door before you check to see if it's locked.”

She gave him a wan smile. “You are very sweet to put it so gently. I'm an idiot.”

“No, not an idiot. You just want to protect Mitch.” He loved her for her unflinching desire to protect her family. He felt the same way about his own, only he included her on the list.

Her cell phone buzzed, startling them both. “It's a text message.” He watched her face change as she read it. “It's from the chief. She wants to talk to me about my return date. She's going to let me come back.”

Tim made himself smile, though he couldn't avoid the truth. When she returned to the line, he'd be lucky to see her ever. He forced a cheerful tone. “There, you see? I told you it would work out. When does she want to talk to you?”

“Right now.”

“This late in the day?”

“We work twenty-four-hour shifts, remember? The fire department is never closed.”

“Ah, yes. I forgot we aren't talking about mere mortals here.” He put on his blinker and signaled a turn. “I assume your calendar is free to meet with her now?”

Ivy laughed. “I'd walk through fire to get there.”

He felt a mixture of love and regret. “Somehow I can believe that.”

 

They pulled up at the station a scant half hour later. Ivy inhaled deeply, the smell of chili on the stove mingled with the pungent scent of the floor cleaner. She wanted to wrap herself up in the joy of being back.

Jeff looked up from a binder he was studying. His face brightened and he hugged her. “Hi, Ivy. Great to see you. How's the shoulder?”

She wiggled her fingers and shrugged gently. “Better all the time.”

Jeff shook Tim's hand. “Hey, man. Sorry the team lost.”

“It happens. We'll get 'em next year.”

Ivy peered down the hall. “Is Strong in her office?”

He nodded.

“I'll catch up with Jeff for a minute.” Tim sat next to him at the table while Ivy went down the corridor to find the chief.

Strong sat in her office, going through reports, a pencil stuck behind her ear. She was so lost in concentration, Ivy had to knock twice on the open door.

“Oh, Ivy.” She got up and gave her a soft hug. “How are you doing?”

“The doctor says I can start therapy after a few more weeks.”

“Excellent. Glad to hear it.”

Ivy fidgeted, drawing a deep breath before she started in. “I've been thinking about everything. I know that, um, sometimes I don't take the time to see the big picture before I charge in. I realize that's something I need to work on.”

Strong's expression was slightly bemused. “Wow. Well, I'd have to agree with you there. I think it's something we can take a look at when we're ready to talk about your future with the department.”

“Ready? I'm ready now. Isn't that why you asked me to come by?”

She frowned. “I didn't ask you to come by. Where did you get that idea?”

“The message. I got a text message from you asking me to stop by the station.”

Strong shook her head. “I'm sorry, Ivy. I didn't send it. I know you're eager to come back, but there's really nothing to talk about until your doctor gives the all clear.”

She felt as though she'd been socked in the gut. “You—you didn't leave the message?”

There was pity in the chief's eyes. “Sorry, must be some sort of mix-up.”

Ivy tried to collect herself, her cheeks hot with embarrassment. “No, I'm sorry. I must have gotten my wires crossed.” She stumbled to the door.

“It's good to see you, Beria.”

Ivy could feel Strong's eyes on her as she escaped into the hallway.

Hardly registering what had happened, she walked slowly back out to the kitchen area. On her way she passed the workout room. Denise Williams waved as she worked the elliptical machine. Her face glistened with sweat. “Hello, Ivy. Great to see you up and around.”

“Thanks.” No wonder the woman looked happy. She was making steady progress toward taking Ivy's job away. Ivy gritted her teeth to keep from saying anything further. She continued on, leaving the able-bodied Denise to her vigorous workout. The injustice of it all almost choked her.

Tim and Jeff stopped talking when they saw Ivy.

Jeff's eyebrows shot up. “That was fast.”

Feeling tears just below the surface, she couldn't face telling them what had happened. “Yeah. Quick and easy. I'm beat. Can you take me home now, Tim?”

His look was puzzled. “Sure.”

“Don't you want to stay for some chili? It's Spinelli's day to cook. He promised his apple caramel nut pie later. You can't say no to that.”

“Save me a slice.” She hugged him and they escaped into the street.

She resisted Tim's gentle questions all the way back to the apartment. When he parked the truck, they sat in silence for a moment before they stepped out into the still evening.