Breaking Protocol (Firehouse Fourteen Book 3) (16 page)

Dave kept shaking his head, not wanting to look, not able to stop himself from looking. He lowered his eyes and stared at the phone, his fingers cold and numb, his eyes seeing the text message on the screen even as his mind screamed in denial.

You shouldn't have left
.

CC leaned against the wall, her arms folded across her chest, a frown on her face. Tension, thick and heated, threatened to suffocate everyone in the small room.

The detective who had come to take the report. Bubby. Dave. Jay. Her.

The room was too damn small for all five of them. Throw in a table and some plastic chairs, and there was barely room for anyone to move.

Her eyes moved around the room, studying the other occupants, watching, assessing. The detective stood on one side of the table, looking frustrated, maybe just a little impatient. His questions had been asked and answered, his notes taken down. His last words rang hollow, empty, less than promising.

Yes, they'd put a trace on the call. No, he didn't expect them to find anything. Yes, there was a possibility the message and the accident were related. No, he didn't expect to be able to prove it, not with the information they had.

Which was damn little.

CC ground her teeth together, fighting the urge to go over and shove the detective in the chest, to push him against the wall, to make him do something. Anything. But she didn't, because she knew that was her own frustration speaking. She was a cop. Granted, a Flight Medic, but still a cop. And while detective work wasn't her specialty, she knew enough to realize that the guy was merely doing his job.

And that he was right. They had damn little to go on.

She looked over to Bubby, saw a similar frown on his own stark face. She had been surprised he had come with them, though she guessed it made sense, since he was the one who had pulled whatever strings he had to pull to get them here so quickly. The true extent of what he really did was still a mystery. After tonight, she didn't think she really wanted to know.

But she was counting on him now. Blind faith in her brother and his ability to find things that didn't exist reassured her. Maybe it wasn't logical. Maybe it wouldn't even help. But she was glad he was here.

He looked up from whatever he was reading on his phone and looked at her, his face now carefully blank, his gaze steady. She couldn't tell what he was thinking, saw no meaningful message in the look he was giving her. And she hoped that meant something.

She moved her gaze to Jay, surprised that the man had accompanied them. Then again, maybe not. His eyes were bloodshot, rimmed in red from worry and no doubt fatigue. His face was pale and drawn, a contrast to the rough stubble on his jaw, a darker blonde than his hair. Someone had told her that he had been on the engine that had responded to the accident, arriving before the medic unit. She could only imagine the emotion and thoughts that had run through his mind, because sometimes not even the best training in the world was enough to provide the emotional buffer you needed to distance yourself. And from the expression on his face, the weary set of his shoulders, it looked like whatever buffer he may have had was long gone.

Which left Dave.

She took a deep breath, readying herself before letting her gaze slide to him. He sat in one of the plastic chairs, his elbows propped on the table, his head hanging in his hands. Regret and guilt poured from him in waves, his dejection a living thing for everyone in the room to see and feel. Her heart squeezed and her throat tightened as she watched him, and she wished there was something she could do, something she could say, to make his pain go away. Wished there was some way she could convince him that this wasn't his fault.

He wasn't ready to hear that, though. She didn't know if he'd ever be ready to hear it.

Dave had said very little after seeing the text message, his last denial ripped from his throat in a voice that still chilled her. Bubby had found this room, she didn't know how, and had led them in here to wait for the detective. Dave had answered the questions, his voice devoid of all emotion, his answers mostly monosyllables. CC had jumped in, adding details when needed, then had to snap her own mouth shut when the detective coolly reminded her that she wasn't the one being questioned. Without saying a word, she reached into her back pocket and pulled out her wallet, flipping it open to show her badge.

The detective hadn't said anything else to her since then.

He pushed off the wall he had been leaning against and closed his notepad. "I'll pull the other reports, get everything together and look them over. But I'll be honest, I don't think there's much we'll be able to find out."

"So that's it? You just walk away and pretend you'll get back to us?" Anger dripped from Jay's voice and CC knew that the tension, the worry, the fear from the last few hours were taking their toll, that the powder keg of emotion filling the room was dangerously close to exploding.

The detective didn't bother to answer Jay as he walked toward the door. He stopped, turned around, his eyes finally settling on Bubby. "I'll be in touch."

"What fucking bullshit. Seriously, that's it?" Jay paced to the far end of the room, his steps short, angry. He stopped, looked down at Dave then over at CC. "They're really not going to do anything, are they?"

"There's nothing they can do." Dave's voice was hollow, lifeless. Like he had fallen into some forsaken pit of despair and lost the will to find his way out. CC's heart clenched again. She wanted to say something, do something. But she couldn't, because what he said was true.

"Don't say that! There has to be something. Some sick bastard damn near killed your sister and that's all you can say? Bullshit! Somebody needs to do something!" Jay's angry voice bounced off the walls, as if sheer volume could make something happen. Dave flew out of the chair, throwing it behind him with such force that it dented the drywall. His face was red, his fists clenched as he stepped closer to Jay. CC moved forward, afraid of what was to come, but Bubby stopped her with one hand.

"Don't you think I know that? Don't you think I'd fucking do something if I could? I want to kill the fucking bastard with my bare hands but I can't because I. Don't. Know. Who. He. Is."

The two men stared off against each other, both of them looking as if they were ready to come to blows. Then just as quickly as his outburst struck, all the fight seemed to drain from Dave. His shoulders slumped in defeat and he turned away from all of them. He ran his hands through his hair then locked his hands behind his neck, staring up at the ceiling. CC couldn't see his face but knew his expression was one of despair, of desperation, because she could feel those emotions flowing from him, as clear and biting as if they were her own.

"I don't know what to do. I don't know who this guy is or what he wants. It feels like I've been facing off against a ghost for almost nine months now, and I don't know what to do."

"Why didn't you say something? Why didn't you tell us?" Jay stepped closer to Dave, leaned up against the wall so he could see him. "Everybody figured something was up. You should have let us know, maybe we could have helped."

"What was I supposed to say? 'Hey guys, I've been getting these really weird texts that have been vaguely threatening from someone somewhere but I don't know who because whenever I send a text back, it never goes through.' What the hell good would that have done?"

"I don't know. Nothing. Everything."

CC glanced over at Jay and heard his unfinished thought: that if he had known, maybe Angie wouldn't be in the hospital right now. She wasn't sure why he didn't say it, but was thankful he didn't—even though she was pretty sure Dave had already thought the same thing himself.

"So keep replying to him." Rob finally spoke, his voice calm, reasoning. Dave turned around and faced her brother, his dark eyes nothing but hollows in his face, his shoulders slumped in resignation.

"Why? They bounce back. Every time."

"He's escalating. Maybe he wants a reply now, an acknowledgement."

"What good would that do? Will it help find him?"

"Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe it'll push him into doing something else, maybe you can convince him to meet you."

"Bubby, is that even a good idea?"

He looked over at her and shrugged. "It's the only one I have for now." But there was something in his eyes, something lurking in their depths that said he wasn't telling her everything. And she had never placed so much faith in her brother as she did at that moment.

She walked over to Dave and held out her hand. "Let me see your phone."

He pulled it from his pocket and gave it to her without saying a word. She took it and tapped the text message icon, bringing up the single line from the unknown sender.

You shouldn't have left.

She stared at it a few seconds, trying to put herself in Dave's mind, trying to phrase a response that would come from him. Her thumb tapped against the screen but she paused before hitting send, looked back at Bubby. He nodded, and she pressed the button.

I'm here now. Come get me.

Silence filled the room as they waited and CC wondered what would happen if they actually received a message back. Would it be that easy? Was Bubby right, thinking this guy would want some acknowledgement of what he'd done?

If
he had done it. They still had to accept the possibility that it was just coincidence. But CC shook her head. No, maybe the police had to accept that, but there was no doubt in her mind that everything was connected. No doubt in any of their minds.

The phone beeped, startling her enough that she almost dropped it. Dave's face paled and he leaned against the wall, as if he no longer had the strength to stand. Bubby moved closer, looking over her shoulder as she tapped the screen.

Message Failed.

"Fuck." Her fingers tightened around the phone when all she wanted to do was throw it against the wall.

"Now what?" The question came from Jay, who looked nearly as desperate as Dave. CC didn't have an answer and turned to her brother once more.

He reached around her and took the phone, dropping it into his own pocket. The move surprised her and she was ready to ask him what he was doing, but he shook his head. "We wait."

"What about Angie?" Dave looked up, his gaze moving between Bubby and her. "I don't want anything happening to her, she can't be left alone."

"She's not going to be alone. I'll be with her." Jay's voice was hard, his expression carved from stone.

"And what about when we're working? Who's going to be with her then?"

"I've got vacation built up. I'll use it all if I have to."

"Jay, that's not good enough! He knows where I live, he knows where Angie works. And we don't even know how long this could go on for. It's already been going on for almost nine months!"

"Two weeks." Bubby looked between the two men, his face calm, thoughtful. "Give it two weeks, and I'll find a place for Angie and Jay to stay."

"A safe place?" CC tried to keep the skepticism from her voice, wondering how even her brother could guarantee that.

"Yeah, I'm thinking they'll be pretty safe at Mom and Dad's. Especially if Tim's there."

"Rob, no. That's—"

"Actually a pretty good idea." CC cut Dave's complaint short.

"It's too much. I can't ask you to do that."

"You're not asking, are you? So unless you have a better idea, it's set. I'll make the arrangements." Rob watched Dave, waiting for an objection that wouldn't come, then turned to Jay. "You'll both be fine there. And it'll give Angie time to rest, recuperate."

Bubby was worse than a steamroller in action, making decisions and issuing orders, completely in charge. CC reached out and closed her hand around his wrist, stopping him when he would have walked past her. Yes, she had complete faith in her brother, but he wasn't infallible.

"And what if nothing happens in two weeks? What then?"

He looked down at her, his eyes briefly warming before changing back to their cool, professional detachment. "Then we figure it out then. CC, I'm working on the fly here. You have to give me some time, okay? I'll make sure things work out." He leaned down and brushed a kiss against the top of her head, like he used to do when they were kids. "I need to go do a few things. I'll meet you back at your place."

"Wait. You don't have a car, remember?"

"It's already taken care of." He stepped past her, closing the door with a soft click behind him. She blew out a breath and tucked the hair behind her ears, wondering—not for the first time—the true extent of what Bubby did for a living.

"I'm going back to Angie's room, see how she's doing." Jay started past Dave then stopped and placed a hand on his shoulder. "We'll get this figured out, okay?"

Dave didn't respond, did nothing more than briefly nod his head. CC figured it was nothing more than an empty gesture, that he wasn't really agreeing, wasn't believing. Jay walked past, giving her a nod of acknowledgement as he left.

And then it was just the two of them. Alone.

Dave leaned his head against the wall and closed his eyes, tension echoing in every tight line of his body. And CC knew that, for the moment at least, Dave felt as if he was the only person in the room. His loneliness, his guilt and desperation, surrounded her, filling her with sadness, filling her with her own desperation.

She closed the few feet separating them and wrapped her arms around his waist, stepping close, holding him tightly as if she could take his pain and turmoil away by simply touching him, simply by sheer force of her will. She rested her head against his chest, the sound of his heart solid and steady beneath her ear. She didn't speak, because there was nothing she could say. No words she could utter that would make any of this better.