Trial by Fire (3 page)

Leaving a victim’s side was a big no-no. Went against his grain, too. But as he jogged toward the small group huddled on the lawn, he didn’t have to be a psychic to know the situation was about to get a whole lot worse. Sean squatted beside Tommy, apparently waiting for the kid to collect himself enough to speak. Julian stood next to them, but Eve hadn’t yet emerged from the house. Zack stayed beside the quint, manning the pump and gauges, his hands full at the moment.

Tommy’s hat lay in the grass a few feet away. Blond hair was plastered to his skull, a few strands hanging into his face, dripping with sweat. His hands gripped his thighs and he raised pale blue eyes to Howard’s, wide with horror.

“Lieutenant,” Tommy whispered. His throat convulsed. “Upstairs . . . my God . . .”

Exchanging a quick, worried glance with Sean, Howard laid a hand on Tommy’s shoulder. “Easy, kid. Breathe in and out. Slow.” His presence seemed to have a calming effect on the young firefighter. After giving him a moment, Howard went on. “Now, first things first. Is Eve all right?”

“She’s good. The fire’s out. She told me to go, but I know I shouldn’t have left her, sir. I’m sorry, but it’s just . . .” He closed his eyes, trembling. “I-I’ve never s-seen anything like that before. Oh, Christ.”

Yeah, the kid was in a buttload of trouble for leaving his partner.

“Remember, deep breaths. What did you see?”

“A b-body, in the master bedroom. It’s h-handcuffed to the fucking bed.”

2

Stunned silence. Howard recovered first.

“
It?
Not he or she?”

“Can’t tell what it used to be. There’s just a charred p-person with no hair, all split and bloated like a roasted pig—”

“Son of a bitch,” Sean rasped, flinching. “I’ll radio for the police.” He shot to his feet and strode for the quint as the battalion chief and another engine rolled to a stop on the street.

Julian swore, glaring down at Tommy. Immediately, the younger man caught on.

“Shit.” Tommy moaned, pushing to his feet. “I forgot about the captain’s family. How could I be so stupid? ”

“I don’t know, dickwad.” Julian’s face twisted into a snarl. “How could you? I’m sure that’ll make breaking the ‘Two in, two out’ rule go so much better for your ignorant ass.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll talk to him later.” Tommy stared at his boots, the portrait of misery.

Howard stood. “Knock it off, Jules. Let’s feed your week into the crapometer and see how you come out in the standings, huh?” Romeo shut his trap. Good. “Tommy, don’t worry about upsetting Sean. The fact is, he’s going to be blindsided by scenarios that remind him of how his family died. No way to avoid it in this job, and he knows that’s nobody’s fault, especially yours. Got it?”

With a shaking hand, Tommy pushed the damp hair out of his eyes. “Just the same, I want to apologize. I can’t believe I lost it like that.”

Jeez, I’m everybody’s daddy. I’ll never have kids, so God handed me these guys to make up for it.
Not exactly an even trade. He might be younger than Sean by five years, but he felt ancient as a freaking fossil. Just once, couldn’t everyone wipe their own asses?

“Fine, talk to him. But if he gets nasty, don’t take it personal,” Howard advised. “I’m his best friend and he’ll barely open up to
me.
”

Skyler’s answer was lost on Howard as he glanced toward his mystery woman. Since another engine had arrived, Knight had left the quint and was talking to the girl, helping her sit up, his hand enfolding hers. Zack said something that made her tilt her chin up and grace Boy Wonder with a blinding smile. Zack returned it.

And he hadn’t let go of her hand. Yet.

“Excuse me,” Howard muttered, leaving Tommy and Jules the Pain staring after him.

He bore down on the cozy pair like a heat-seeking missile. His usual paragon-of-patience-and-brotherly-love mojo took a last gasp for air and croaked. Irrational, violent thoughts invaded his tired brain. Like picking up A-shift’s resident genius and squeezing with his bare hands until his eyeballs popped out and went rolling down the driveway.

A year without sex—your palm doesn’t count— topped by twenty-four hours without sleep will do wicked things to a guy.

At his approach, Zack looked up and grinned. “Hey, Six-Pack. Your patient is ready to run laps. I was just telling Miss McKenna—”

“I need you at the house to help supervise the clean up. Now.”

Zack’s smile withered at his curt tone, and he blinked behind his wired-rimmed glasses. “But that’s not—”

“Your job. I know.” He sighed, sorry to have snapped. Knight was a superior team member, highly respected, not to mention gifted with an IQ of 150. A man everyone expected would make captain one day. Zack and Miss McKenna were staring at him uncertainly.

“When I’m finished with the patient, I’ll help you. The captain will see to the engine for you while he waits for the police.”

Zack’s dark brows furrowed. “Why? What’s going on?”

“We’ve got a body inside, possible homicide. It’s badly burned.”

His eyes met Zack’s startled blue ones, and they silently acknowledged the gravity of the effect that must be having on Sean.

“Ah, shit.” The younger man shook his head. “I saw Tommy run out. I was on my way, but I had to stop and check on the patient first. Yeah, I’ll take over the scene, make sure the fire is out and nothing else is touched. The captain doesn’t need to go inside.”

“Thanks, man. I owe you.”

“Forget it.”

With that, Zack rose and strode toward the smoldering house.
Doing my job because I had to see the girl.
An uncharacteristic breach of etiquette for a rules-oriented guy like himself. Howard tamped down a wave of guilt.

“Body?” the woman squeaked, finding her voice at last. “A
dead body
? In Joan and Greg’s
house
?”

Aw, man. He was a clueless idiot for mentioning a victim in front of her.

He gazed into her heart-shaped face. Pretty, he decided, rather than a classic beauty. Not one of those Amazon hardbodies who hung out at his fitness club, sweating off what God blessed them with. Not Miss McKenna.

Her lovely face was as soft and rounded as the rest of her. Full, kissable lips. Like a ripe, juicy strawberry, begging to be plucked. Ooh, a man-eating bachelor killer. She stared back at him, waiting for an answer.

“I’m afraid so.” He scrambled for an intelligent response. “You know the people who live here?”

She nodded, causing the cute hair thingie to bob. “Joan and Greg Hargrave. They’re on a cruise with my parents, who live right across the street.” She jabbed a thumb toward the mini mansion hunkered behind her car.

“I’ve been coming by to check on things. Bring in the mail, water the plants. When I pulled into my parent’s drive, I got out, saw the fire through the windows, and called 911.”

Talking must’ve irritated her parched throat. She paused and covered her mouth, coughing a couple of times. He leaned forward in concern, instinctively curling his fingers around hers.

“We’ve got some bottled water on the quint. Can I get you one, Miss McKenna?”

Swallowing, she sent him a shaky smile. “That would be nice.”

Faster than he’d ever moved, he grabbed a bottle and returned to her side. Twisting off the top, he handed it over, watching as she sent him a crooked grin.

“Thanks, you’re a doll.”

He stared in fascination at the column of her throat as she tilted her head back and took a long draw of water. A doll? Him—a brute who stood six-six and topped two sixty on the scales?

Doll.
A meaningless endearment. She probably used that phrase all the time, on everyone. But the way she said it, warm and breathless, as if she really
meant
it, made his insides turn funny flips. Stupid.

She lowered the bottle, recapped it, and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Kat.”

Cat? He looked around. “I’m sorry?”

“My name. Katherine with a K, but my friends call me Kat. Miss McKenna is what my students call me.”

“Oh! Sure. Kat,” he murmured, trying the name. Yeah, Kat. All soft and green-eyed, perfect to pet and make her purr. “It suits you. I’m Lieutenant Howard Paxton. Please, call me Howard.”

Call me anything you want, while I’ve got you flat on your back, sinking my co
—

“Not
Howie
?” Her cheek dimpled.

He snorted. “God, no. The last guy who called me that wound up with a busted lip.”

Julian walked by, rolling up a hose. “Sure did. Asshole. ” He kept going, disappearing around the side of the quint.

“Hey, it was an accident! And eighty-six the language around the lady!” Howard called out. Jerk.

Kat giggled. “You always let your men talk to you like that, Howie?”

He arched a brow and frowned, secretly pleased she felt comfortable enough in his looming presence to nettle him in fun. “Hmm. A woman with a dangerous streak. Kind of like running into a burning house with a frigging water hose.”

“Guilty as charged. I couldn’t just stand there like a dork, for all the good I accomplished.”

He laughed, unable to help himself. “Dork? I haven’t heard that word since I was a kid. What grade do you teach?”

She bristled a bit. “First. And no smart-ass comments about how I don’t look or act like a teacher, whatever that means. I get that a lot.”

“I think it means you’re not the stereotypical old, dried prune wearing an apple jumper and a sour expression because your life has passed you by,” he pointed out. “I’d take it as a huge compliment.”

“Holy cow. Let me guess, you described your first-grade teacher.” An amused smile played on her lips.

“Yep. Mean old biddy, rest her black soul. She used to smack the backs of our hands with a ruler to make us pay attention.”

“Well, when you put it like that . . .” Kat sighed. “I just get tired of being judged by my appearance. People take one look at me and assume I couldn’t possibly hold a master’s degree in education.”

If anyone could relate to being judged on appearance, he could, but his experience in that area wasn’t all negative. Particularly with the female persuasion. A typical bachelor point of view he suspected this lady wouldn’t appreciate.

Switching back to a safe topic, he asked, “Why come by so late on a Saturday night? Or Sunday morning, I should say, since it’s nearly two.”

“I was out with friends tonight. I didn’t get to come over earlier today, and the stop was on my way home.” She shuddered. “After calling 911, I thought I heard a scream. Very creepy. Which is why I ran to the house, but when the sirens sounded in the distance, I thought I was mistaken.”

“Any idea whose body is inside? Do the Hargraves have children, anyone who might’ve let themselves in for a rendezvous?”

“No. Their kids are grown and scattered. Greg always talks about how the house is much too big for the two of them with everyone gone, but Joan doesn’t want to sell. She loves this place,” Kat said sadly. “But who’d want to stay after someone was murdered in their home?”

Cold fingers brushed the back of Howard’s neck for the second time this evening. Something evil had taken place here tonight, and Kat knew the family who owned the house. And if she’d been a minute or two earlier in arriving . . .

“Oh, Christ.” He glanced around, searching beyond the flashing lights of the emergency vehicles.

“What?”

“Think. Did you see anyone on the way into the neighborhood, either walking or driving?”

“Just a man in a dark truck—wait a minute! You don’t believe I passed the
killer,
do you?” She paled, pressing a trembling hand to her mouth.

“I don’t know. I’m not a cop. It’s possible, though, so I want you to tell them everything you can remember. And be extra cautious for a while. Be sure and leave when the cops finish questioning you. Don’t stick around, and when you come back to check your parents’ house, bring a friend along, okay?”

She nodded, eyes round. “All right.”

He’d scared her. Hell, he’d scared himself. But better paranoid than dead.

“Speaking of cops, here they are. Guess I’d better go talk to them.”

“Sure.” He glanced to where a black-and-white had pulled up on the street, next to the curb. His heart squeezed at the thought of letting her go without knowing whether she’d be safe. “Are you feeling better? Should I transport you to the hospital, maybe have them take a good look at your lungs?”

“Oh, no. I’m peachy, really. Help me up?”

Pushing to his feet, he offered his hand, which she took with a smile. Her small palm completely vanished into his as he hauled her up. Staring into her pretty face, he searched for one excuse, no matter how lame, to see her again. Before he could form one, Kat stood on tiptoe, leaned into his chest, and planted a kiss on his cheek.

“Thanks for rescuing me, big guy.” She reached for him, touched his face thoughtfully, as though weighing an important decision. “Bye, Howard.”

She turned and started across the lawn, toward the potbellied policeman emerging from his patrol car. And like an idiot, he stared after her, speechless, the soldier below his belt primed for a twenty-one-gun salute. His skin tingled from her kiss and blood rushed in his ears.
Stop her!