Flashover (3 page)

“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.

I
vy 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.”