Flashover (5 page)

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.

A
ntonio 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?”