Burn for You (28 page)

And then he’d signed it simply,
J
. Which made her smile for some unknown reason. Just
J
.

So, no, the note hadn’t explained why Jason left. But Preston’s story had.

She’d never forget the vulnerability in his voice when he apologized for punching Flaherty in front of her. He’d fully expected her to run from him, to not want anything to do with him.

She thought they’d turned a corner that night. She thought they’d broken past some of his barriers. And maybe they had, but he’d sure been quick to put them right back up.

She’d texted him later that evening, using their running joke of meeting to
not
have meals together. His reply was short.

Can’t. Working overtime on this serial arson case. Feeling the pressure of the 9/27 deadline. Only two weeks to go.

She hadn’t thought much about it the next day. He was busy. Under a deadline. Totally understandable. But…he’d always found ways to stop by the firehouse before. Debris from one of the scenes to test with the equipment they kept at the fire station. Or chemicals to identify. Sometimes the excuse was even more flimsy. A question for the chief about where he could find a place to do some scene reconstruction burns—something he absolutely could’ve asked via e-mail. But instead, he would come to the firehouse, find Victoria if she wasn’t on a call, and do his best to have an innuendo-laden conversation with her.

In three days there had been no such encounters.

“So, what’s your next move?” Camille asked.

“My next move is not to move.”

They sat cross-legged on Victoria’s couch, both wearing their most comfortable worn t-shirts and yoga pants. Victoria wasn’t sure they’d still be having their girls’ nights after Camille and Tony married, so she was beyond thrilled when Camille called to say she was heading over. Her timing could not have been better. Chips, guac, margaritas and a friend were exactly what Victoria needed right now.

“You’re not going to do
anything
?” Camille asked between bites of tortilla chip.

“I can’t force him to engage.” She couldn’t tell Camille what she suspected. Jason’s history was just that.
His story
. And Preston hadn’t trusted her with it so she could broadcast it to her friends.

So, Camille would never understand why Victoria was willing to put up with Jason’s sudden disappearance. Why she was willing to wait patiently for him to come to his senses. Why she would continue to reach out, even if all she got in return was radio silence and the urge to kick his ass.

He thought he could leave her before she left him? Well, he had another thing coming. He had no idea how loyal Victoria could be. No idea how long she could hang on when others would have long ago lost hope.

Hope was her superpower. And the symbol of it was tattooed on her chest.

* * *

Frustrated over yet another work failure, Jason slammed his locker shut, and the steel on steel sound echoed through the locker room.

“Dude,” Nick said, laying a hand on Jason’s shoulder. “You need to chill.”

It was all Jason could do not to forcibly remove Nick’s hand and twist it behind his back. It didn’t matter that Nick was trying to be friendly. Jason’s rage was indiscriminant these days.

“I’m chill,” Jason said through clenched teeth. “I’m fucking chill.”
Now get your hand off me.

Heeding the silent warning, Nick removed his hand, and Jason worked on refastening his duty belt. He’d been forced to change into his spare uniform after getting puked on at the jail. He and Nick had pulled over a possible DUI that turned out to be a definite DUI. Drugs
and
alcohol.

Probably realizing his carefree days were over, the driver—a repeat offender—was extremely uncooperative, demanding both Nick and Jason’s energy to subdue, and while they were dealing with him, the passenger slinked away into the shadows.

The driver coughed up his buddy’s name—James Perry—and a quick check with the dispatcher revealed there was a warrant for Perry’s arrest for failure to appear.

Knowing they’d had Perry but had let him slip away fucking pissed Jason off.

Leaving the locker room, he pulled the door open so hard it hit the concrete wall of the locker room before closing behind him.

“Man, what’s with you lately?” Nick asked, following Jason through the hall. “Everything okay?”

Jason stopped and turned back to Nick, his bad temper still simmering. “Everything’s fine. Why?”

“You’re not acting like yourself.”

“What are you talking about? Of course I am.”

“No you’re not. Two days ago, you yelled at the new rookie—”

“He deserved it. How hard is it to write a report in chronological order? It’s simple. Relate the facts and events in the order they happened. It’s not difficult, and he still had to do three drafts before he got it right. He’d have worn out your patience too.”

“Yeah, but calling him a ‘fucking space-wasting, mouth-breathing, ignoramus’ wasn’t really necessary.”

“It was. It was very necessary.”

“Okay, he’s a little slower than most, but that’s not your style. Rookies like you because you offer criticism with humor. There was no humor the other day.”

“Well, it can’t be fun and games every day.”

“Okay. True. But what about yesterday?”

“What about yesterday?”

“You almost punched a hole through the vending machine.”

“I was thirsty.”

“You were thirsty? So you punched the vending machine?”

“I put my money in. It took my money. It kept my water. This is not how the world works. I give you my money, you give me your water.”

“So, the vending machine needed a lesson?”

Jason didn’t answer. He was tired of defending himself. Not that his attitude in the last few days had been defensible, but nonetheless, he was tired of it.

He was tired of a lot of things. Tired of not being able to sleep at night because he was thinking about Victoria. Tired of not getting anywhere on his arson case. Tired of worrying about what would happen on September twenty-seventh and where Victoria would be when it happened.

He’d never been one to have stomach issues, but he’d been popping the little pink chewables like candy, and much as he’d like to think it was some sort of bug, he knew it was because a certain brown-eyed blonde had him tied in knots. He vacillated between worrying that his incommunicado status was hurting her feelings and worrying about a far worse outcome—that she didn’t give a damn that he’d disappeared from her life for three days.

He couldn’t handle dealing with people in this state. His ability to maintain that easy-going attitude his co-workers expected from him was long gone. Without time with Victoria to look forward to at the end of his workday, he was one surly motherfucker.

He and Nick stepped out of the PD and into the muggy evening air. Taking a deep breath, Jason attempted to release some of his negative energy.

God, he missed Victoria. Missed the sound of her deep, rich laughter. Missed the feel of her citrus-scented skin against his. Missed the way she skimmed her fingernails gently over his scalp as they lay quietly in her bed, recovering from the amazing sex they always had.

He missed every damn thing about her. So much so, he was finding it hard to remember why the hell he’d thought it was so necessary to stay away.

Interrupting his brooding, his radio squawked in his ear. “Officer 9-6-2.”

Nick pressed his earpiece into his ear, and Jason tilted his head toward his mic. “Yeah, this is 9-6-2, go ahead.”

“Got a possible location on James Perry. Caller reported a man matching his description, harassing people at a bus stop.”

“Got it.” Jason and Nick were already jogging to their squad cars. The dispatcher gave the location—a bus stop not far from the police station.

Jason peeled out of the parking lot, thankful for the distraction of a pursuit. He drove aggressively, much more aggressively than Nick, whose squad car got smaller and smaller in Jason’s rearview as he was forced to stop for a red light—stuck behind drivers who hadn’t pulled off to the side of the road in time.

Several blocks away, Jason pulled over near the bus stop and got out of his squad. “Excuse me, miss?” He approached a young mother sitting in the bus vestibule. “Have you seen a man, about my height, jeans, neon green t-shirt?”

“Oh, that crazy guy?” She rocked her baby’s stroller back and forth. “The one babbling and carrying on?”

“Did you see where he went? Did he get on a bus?”

“No, he didn’t get on the bus. He couldn’t pay. Bus driver wouldn’t let him on, and I thought there was going to be a fight. That guy was high as a kite.”

“Where’d he go after the bus driver didn’t let him on the bus?”

“He went that way.” She pointed to the alley between two brick buildings, shops housed on the ground levels and apartments up above.

Hand resting on his holster, Jason looked down the street. Nick was nowhere to be seen, probably still fighting traffic, and time was a wastin’. Deciding not to wait for backup, Jason started toward the alley.

It didn’t take long to spot the neon green shirt, even in the cloud-covered, fading light of day. Perry was standing on a dumpster, reaching for the bottom rung of the fire escape’s ladder.

“Police. Stop right there.”

Not surprisingly, Perry didn’t stop. With absolutely no regard for his own safety—another clue he was higher than a skyscraper—Perry spider-manned it up the ladder.

“Goddammit.” Jason hopped up and grabbed the bottom rung of the fire escape that Spider-man had just lowered. “Look, buddy, you need to stop right now. You’re only making this worse.”

“I can’t. I can’t fucking go back to jail.”

With just his upper body on the first landing, Jason grabbed for Perry’s leg. The guy fell to his knees inches from the next ladder, and Jason tightened his hold, trying to pull Perry away from the ladder and another possible escape. Perry kicked hard, attempting to detangle himself from Jason’s grip.

“Do you know what they do to guys like me in prison?” Perry was practically hyperventilating now, eyes dilated from cocaine or meth or whatever drug he was on. He scooted himself back into the corner.

He should let this guy go. Where did Perry think he was going anyway? He’d make it to the roof, and then what? Jason could call his location out on the radio, tell Nick to sneak up to the roof from inside the building, and trap Perry from above and below. He didn’t need to fight this guy right now.

But he wanted to.

“There’s only two types of criminals afraid to go to prison. Snitches and pedophiles. So, which one are you?”

“I don’t care what they say. That girl wanted it. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“You sick motherfucker.” Jason flew up the remaining steps of the ladder and launched himself toward Perry. He grabbed his cuffs and snapped one on Perry’s wrist, but Perry fought hard, his fear of going to prison and his drug-induced energy boost making him a formidable opponent. “Hands behind your back!”

“I’m not going back!”

Jason reached for Perry’s other arm, fighting to get the second cuff secured, but Perry was wild, twisting and turning and dragging Jason across the balcony.

When the rain came, he seriously regretted his decision not to wait for Nick. The sky let loose a torrential downpour, one of those late summer storms that came out of nowhere, and made the metal fire escape instantly slick.

“Hands behind your back.”

Perry didn’t comply, but Jason took advantage of the balcony’s slick surface and swept his leg beneath Perry’s. Unable to keep his footing on the wet metal, Perry went down, and Jason snapped the second cuff into place. With his knee pressed firmly into Perry’s lower back, he kept him pinned while he called his location out on the radio.

The rain soaked through his uniform, and the spray of drops rebounding off the balcony made it difficult to see. Perry continued to wriggle and inch-worm around the balcony, not giving up in his struggle to get free. He wouldn’t be going anywhere though. Facedown on the balcony with his hands cuffed behind his back, he’d never get any leverage.

Jason’s overconfidence proved to be a huge error in judgment when Perry flipped onto his back and kicked Jason in the chest with both feet. Jason flew back, his feet slipping off the edge of the fire escape. He grabbed wildly for the railing, the only thing that kept him from falling down the ladder. Hanging off the edge of the escape, he kicked his feet, trying to find a ladder rung, but before he could gain his footing on the ladder, Perry—still flat on his back—kicked the rail Jason held and crushed his fingers.

Groaning, Jason tried to keep his grip tight, but his fingers were already becoming numb and the metal was slick. He stretched out his other arm, but couldn’t reach much beyond the floor of the balcony and there was nothing he could grab hold of there.

One foot finally found a ladder rung, but slid off the wet metal at the same moment that Perry kicked again.

Gritting his teeth, Jason stared at a hand he could no longer feel and mentally commanded his fingers to hold tight.

But Perry kicked again. And again.

One by one, Jason’s mangled fingers slipped from the iron rail until he was gripping nothing but air.

Chapter 22

Victoria left the ambulance bay and followed the buzz of voices coming from the common room. She and Bob had just returned from a run to the hospital after a three-car accident, and she’d caught something on the radio about a police officer injured in a foot chase.

“What’s going on?” she asked, prompting six heads to turn her way, all chatter instantly stopping.

Graham stood up from the sofa. “We just heard over the radio that the guys at Station Two just took Meadows to the hospital.”

“Jason?” It was exactly what she’d feared, exactly why she demanded Bob gun it back to the station. “Are you sure?”

Graham nodded.

“Is it…is it serious?”

“He…uh…” Graham shifted from one foot to the other. “He fell from a fire escape. He wasn’t conscious when they transported him.”

The blood left Victoria’s head and her knees felt a little unstable. She gripped the back of the sofa for support.