“MVA?”
“Oh, sorry—stands for ‘motor vehicle accident.’ An old man ran a red light, and a teenager hit him. He’s banged up, but he’ll make it. The girl walked away without a scratch. The ten-year-old boy who touched the power line might not be so lucky. We had to restart his heart.”
“Oh, my God.” She halted in the attempt to shrug off her blouse and sat on the bed. This was a typical day’s work for Howard? How did he deal with the pressure? He’d said the team talked over the rough stuff, but was that always good enough? Kids, he’d told her, were always the hardest.
“I wish you were here.” For a completely different reason than before.
“Me, too,” he said softly.
She wanted to hold him, offer him comfort. Unfortunately, the in-person variety would have to wait. “I’m so sorry.”
“It was a freak accident. I feel bad for his parents.”
“Of course. Will you be able to learn his condition?”
“I know one of the ER docs pretty well. He’ll find out for me.”
He sounded so glum, her heart went out to him— and the boy’s family. “You don’t think he’ll survive, do you?”
“I hope I’m wrong.” His tone said he probably wasn’t. On Howard’s end of the line came another man’s voice, muffled. Howard covered the receiver and replied low enough so Kat couldn’t hear, then came back on. “I have to go. I’m hogging the office and Tanner needs in here.”
“No problem. I’m glad you called.”
“And dumped my day on you? Right.” Before she could protest, he jumped in again. “Listen, I don’t want to end our chat on a downer. Can I take you to dinner and a movie tomorrow night? I promise not to keep you out too late.”
Cheered by the lovely idea, she smiled. “Sounds terrific.”
“Great, um . . . I’ll call you tomorrow?”
“I’m looking forward to it.”
“Bye, Kat.”
“Bye,” she said, and hung up.
Katherine Frances, you’re dead, stinky meat.
She only hoped the lieutenant didn’t guess how far gone she really was.
Howard made one more phone call before relinquishing the office to Sean. He waited for an ER nurse to fetch his doctor acquaintance, tapping a pencil on the desk, every muscle in his body coiled as if to ward off a blow. Why did he do this to himself? Because the myth that the good outweighed the bad might actually, for once, prove true?
Didn’t matter. Where a kid was involved, he had to
know.
“Lieutenant,” the doc said, his tone somber.
Howard didn’t have to ask. The pencil snapped in his fingers as he closed his eyes. The conversation was brief and one-sided. He listened, thanked the doctor, hung up, and buried his face in his hands.
“Six-Pack?”
Lifting his head, Howard stared at Sean. He hadn’t heard his friend enter the office. “Steven Carter is brain-dead.”
Tanner leaned against the closed door, breath leaving his lungs in a rush. “God
dammit
. Skyler’s going to take this hard.”
Howard nodded, grim. At twenty-three, Tommy Skyler had been with them less than a year, had only recently graduated from EMT to full paramedic status. The kid was smart, well liked. The good-looking, all-American son every parent wished for and every guy envied, just a little.
But not too much, because Tommy was such a sunny, free spirit. His irresistible, natural charm made people smile, drew them like bears to a honeypot. Hell, he even got along with Salvatore—no small feat. Skyler’s youth and innocence, his optimism, were assets to the team.
That innocence was about to take its second serious hit in one week. First, discovering the charred murder victim, and now this.
“We should bring him in here for the news before making the announcement to the others,” Howard said. “Losing your first patient is tough enough, but a
child
? Jesus Christ.”
“Bad luck. Could’ve been any of us.” Tanner raked a hand through his brown hair, visibly struggling to contain the backlash of emotion caused by the kid’s death. Nobody knew that particular tragedy better than he did. “I’ll find him.”
Zack happened to be walking by when Sean opened the door. At the captain’s terse inquiry about Skyler’s whereabouts, Zack’s laser-blue gaze flicked from Sean to Howard. Took in their solemn expressions and read the situation in an instant.
“Oh, man. He’s mopping the men’s bathroom,” Zack said, blinking behind his wire-rimmed glasses. “I’ll send him this way. You want me to stay?”
Tanner clapped Knight on the shoulder. “Not this time, but thanks.”
“No problem.”
Knight went in search of Skyler. In moments, the youngest team member knocked and pushed open the office door. Ducking his blond head in greeting, he stepped inside, straightened his lean, six-foot frame, and flashed them a tentative smile that carved dimples in his cheeks.
“Hey, Cap, Six-Pack. What’s doing?” Pale blue eyes searched their faces. The truth plunked into the silence between him and his superiors. All color drained from his face as he straightened, fists clenched. “The boy died.”
His hoarse voice was heavy with guilt. Howard stood and rounded the desk, stopping a couple of feet from Skyler. “There was absolutely nothing you—or any of us—could’ve done differently,” Howard emphasized, crossing his arms over his chest. “The child was dead for at least three minutes before we arrived, and we worked on him another seven before his heart restarted. Few beat sorry odds like that, Tommy.”
Skyler shook his head, throat working, eyes glassy and bright. “I should’ve—”
“Done what?” the captain demanded. “Go through the procedures in your head and tell us what you could’ve done that you didn’t.”
“I—I . . .” He trailed off, expression miserable, chest heaving.
But Skyler was working it through, Howard knew. Every emotion warred on his face. The kid’s brows furrowed as he stared at a framed picture on the wall, reliving, assessing his actions. Accepting the inevitable conclusion.
Finally, he nodded. “I know you’re both right, it’s just . . . God, this hurts.”
“You got a raw fucking deal to try and defibrillate your first patient on a freak call like this one,” Tanner said, unyielding as granite. The voice of reason. “No-body could’ve saved the boy, period.”
Howard glanced at Sean, wishing the man knew how to follow his own advice regarding those who can’t be saved. But now wasn’t the time to worry about Tanner’s near-tragic binge. He seemed to be holding up, making an effort like he’d promised.
Howard turned his attention back to the younger man. “We won’t lie to you, Tommy. Losing a kid will stay with you forever, and coming to terms isn’t easy. You’ve got us, though, and the department counselor when you need to talk.”
“A shrink?” Skyler muttered. “I don’t think so.”
Not surprising. Most guys didn’t care to spill their guts to a stranger. Especially one tied to administration and that had at least some power over whether a firefighter was declared fit for duty.
“We’re here for you, whatever you need,” Howard said, and Sean seconded.
Tommy’s mouth trembled, but he held himself together. “Thanks.”
Howard pulled Skyler into a brief, manly hug, slapping him on the back. Sean opted for shaking his hand, keeping a bit of distance. Such was the captain’s way. Few outsiders would guess the straightforward, sometimes harsh man housed a huge heart buried under the facade of a hard-ass. A huge, broken heart.
Tommy left, and Eve stuck her head in, lowering her voice. “Is he okay?”
Sean’s narrow gaze snapped to hers. “Tommy’s not made of glass. The quicker you stop babying him, the better off he’ll be.”
Uh-oh. Eve Marshall wasn’t the type to take crap from anybody, even the captain. Howard opened his mouth, but before he could interject, she stepped inside, hands fisted on her slim hips. Her eyes widened in mock surprise, and the smile on her face was feral.
“My goodness, someone is PMSing today! If you need a tampon, I’ve got one in my purse.”
Howard stifled a grin. The woman was a bundle of dynamite, for sure.
She snapped her fingers. “I would offer you a maxi pad, but Julian filched my last one—”
Sean’s face darkened with anger. “Goddammit, Eve! Don’t you have something productive to do?”
Cocking her head, she pretended to consider it. “Hmm. Nope.”
Snarling something unintelligible, but undoubtedly profane, Tanner stalked from the office. The second the captain cleared the doorway, Eve whirled to stare after him, false bravado withering to dust. Helpless longing flared in her eyes for a split second before she slammed an iron wall over the emotion and stiffened her spine.
“Asshole,” she spat, and strode from the room.
“Whoa.” Howard sighed. So that’s the way it was for Eve. Looked like he
had
been under a rock. He wondered if Sean had a freaking clue, but doubted it. Jesus H., what a bomb waiting to explode. For the whole team.
The shift couldn’t get much worse, he thought idly.
He was dead wrong.
11
Three loud tones over the call system shattered Howard’s hard-won, albeit fitful, sleep. His nightmarish flight through his mother’s garden dissipated like a wisp of smoke, leaving him disoriented and struggling to determine reality.
Confusion lasted only a second or two. Working on autopilot honed by years on the job, he’d nearly finished bunking out in his gear by the time the computerized voice plunged him headlong into another nightmare.
A residence fire. In their sector. Again.
What were the odds? Slim to none.
On the heels of that thought, a second realization slammed him wide awake.
Thank God it’s not Kat’s address. Thank you, sweet Jesus.
His blood chilled. His churning brain barely registered Julian’s vicious curse as they jogged out of their dorm-style room. The team poured into the bay with no sound save the pounding of booted feet, the opening and slamming of truck doors, the whir of the big garage doors sliding upward.
“Another house fire? This is freaking unreal.” Julian rubbed the sleep from his eyes.
You have no idea.
God almighty. If this was another murder orchestrated by his mysterious tormentor, he’d have to come clean with the guys and the chief. Tonight. With Kat, too, as soon as possible. In his defense, only two days had passed since he received the terrible photo, and he’d hoped no one would have reason to know and worry over it.
But he’d waited too damned long. His silence could’ve cost Kat her life. The knowledge sickened him.
Shaking his head, he forced thoughts of brutal murder and the aftermath from his mind. He had a job to do. Firefighters who let emotions or personal problems distract them at a scene risked going home in a body bag. And, Jesus, he had too many good things on his horizon to allow some sicko to take him out.
All the same, his focus didn’t stop the strange prickle creeping up the back of his neck. Like before, an eerie sense that someone had just danced across his grave.
As he followed Zack into the night, he clamped down hard on the fear unfurling in his chest. This went beyond his scope of reality. He couldn’t battle an enemy he didn’t understand.
Worse, by the time he shoved the puzzle pieces together, the why could be revealed far too late.
Frank rolled underneath the big door to the bay just before it shut. A close shave. Shit, his timing had nearly been off. He’d used his stolen cell phone to call in the fire himself and had to haul ass in order to get inside the station, even with the house he’d used located only two miles away.
The house. He almost laughed, thinking how gullible the two sluts were to believe the pads belonged to him. Sure, it would’ve be easier just to use their places, but Sherri Pearce hadn’t lived near Sugarland, much less within Station Five’s sector. Lorna Miller had a clueless hubby at home. No good.
Didn’t matter. Casing an empty house as a backup plan was child’s play. All he’d had to do was break in beforehand, then pretend to unlock the door when he and the bitch arrived—this time in Lorna’s car. He’d driven the Maxima from the fire and left it parked a mile or so away from the station for his latest move.
After he finished here, he’d drive the vehicle back to the downtown area, ditch it, and fetch his own piece of crap, the whole thing a done deal before the limp-dick cops figured out what the fuck was going on, or nailed the whore’s identity.
He stood and listened intently as the sirens faded into the distance. With the team focused on rushing to their destination, he doubted anyone could’ve spotted him, even without the cover of darkness working to his advantage.
They’d be gone for a while, longer than normal, considering the hellacious mess they’d discover. He had plenty of time to leave the lieutenant a little gift. Not that he wanted to hang around any longer than necessary.
The bastard’s bunk was the perfect target. More personal to have your space violated. Sinister. Finding the right one presented the real problem. He’d search quickly and if all else failed, he’d leave his surprise in the station’s office.
Stepping through the door separating the bay from the hallway leading to the inner sanctum, he glanced back at the lettering on the window and smirked in dark amusement. EVERYBODY GOES HOME.