Burn for You (4 page)

He cleared his throat and she glanced up, large brown eyes lifting to his face.

“I’m sorry to trouble you, but I’m looking for Bob Kearney. Or…” What was the other guy’s name again? Vince Russo? No, that wasn’t it. “Vic?”

“Toria,” she said, sliding from her stool.

“Uh, no. Russo, I think.”

A laugh came from low in her throat, surprising him with the relief it brought. He hadn’t liked the sad look he’d seen on her face when he’d first come in.

“No. I meant, it’s Vic
toria
,” she said, holding out her hand. “Victoria Russo.”

This Victoria Russo had a voice made for radio. The kind of husky timbre that kept listeners glued to the speakers, sitting in the parking lot when they should be going into work, just to listen a little longer.

“Victoria,” he repeated, shaking her hand and appreciating her firm, confident grip. “Jason Meadows. The new arson investigator.”

“Nice to meet you. You working on the warehouse fire?”

“Yes, and I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions.” He pulled a pen from the breast pocket of his navy blue police polo.

“Sure.”

He reached for the small notepad he kept in his cargo pant pocket. “Are you sure this is a good time to talk?”

“Yeah, it’s fine. Why?”

He glanced at the uneaten sandwich on the table. “You seemed…lost in thought when I arrived.”

She sighed and sat back down on her stool. “I’m fine. It’s just the post fatality funk.”

She couldn’t be older than mid-twenties, but she spoke with the nonchalance of a veteran paramedic. One who’d seen her fair share of dead bodies.

“The guy from the warehouse fire? He didn’t make it?”

“Unfortunately, no.” She slid her plate toward him. “Want a sandwich?”

“No, thanks. Can’t eat in the middle of the night.”

“Really? Why not?”

“Never sits well.”

“That’s too bad. I hate to see this go to waste. I make the best roast beef and cheese on rye. Not quite as good as Al’s Deli, but almost.” She hopped off her stool and pulled some plastic wrap from a nearby drawer.

“Um…” Jason searched for a segue back to his questions. “So, back to the fire tonight. When you pulled the victim from the warehouse, did he say anything?”

“Yeah, he said a lot of things. Bit out of his mind, I’m guessing.” She paused in her measurement of the plastic wrap, glancing up at him. “You know, it’s never as good the next day. You sure you don’t want to eat it?”

“I’m sure, but thank you.”

She shrugged and went back to her task, her mind clearly not on his question.

He bit back the urge to say,
Pay attention, woman. The homeless guy—what did the homeless guy say?
Instead, he asked, “Did he say anything about how the fire started?”

“He did, yes.” She folded the plastic wrap around the sandwich and then looked up, her expression puzzled. “Do you think it will keep better if I take the tomatoes off? You know, because they make it all soggy.”

Oh, for the love of God, woman. Stick with me here!
She was easily the most likeable, annoying person he’d ever met. “I don’t know, but it sounds like a good idea.”

She unwrapped the sandwich and started picking out the tomato slices.

He dropped onto a stool across the island from her. Obviously, he was going to be here a while. “So, what did he say? About how it started.”

“He said the devil had come to get him. He said he always knew he’d have to pay for his sins.” She looked up, her brown eyes reflecting the trauma she’d just dealt with and making his impatience with her melt away.

The sandwich was a big deal, because if she didn’t have something to obsess over, she’d have to think about the man who’d just died.

He got it. He’d been there.

“He talked about demons and God’s righteous fury. He said I should repent for my sins before the devil came for me too.” She sighed. “It was the smoke inhalation that killed him. Cardiac arrest in the rig. DOA by the time we got to the hospital. Didn’t have a single burn on his body.”

“I’m sorry.” He didn’t know what else to say.

“Me too.” Slowly, she rewrapped the beef and cheese on rye. “Can still smell the smoke on my uniform,” she said, murmuring under her breath.

“Did you see or hear anything that gave you any idea how the fire might’ve started?”

She shook her head. “No, I’m sorry.” Her gaze met his, her big brown eyes drawing him in. “I don’t think he did it though. He thought it was the work of demons. Doesn’t seem like the kind of thing someone would say if they’d started the blaze.”

“I agree,” Jason said.

“But then, there’s a good chance he was mentally ill, so who knows? Maybe he did start it.”

“Another good point.” He made a few notes in his notebook while she put the sandwich in the refrigerator. When she sat back down at the island, he said, “Did you find any ID on him? Maybe I could find his family, see what they know about his mental health status.”

“You could check with the hospital to see if they were able to ID him, but he didn’t have anything on him that we could find.”

“And any possessions he might’ve had in the warehouse—”

“Went up in flames.”

“Exactly.” Jason scratched a few more notes on his pad—things he wanted to be sure to ask the hospital staff. He studied the questions, trying to think of anything else he should ask. When he looked up from his work, Victoria had returned to her silent brooding.

“Thanks for taking the time to talk with me,” he said. “I’m sure you’re wiped.”

She glanced up, smiling politely. “It was no trouble.”

He stood, pocketed his pen and notepad, and tipped his head. “Well, it was nice to meet you…Toria.”

She laughed and he realized he’d done that on purpose. Teased her, hoping to shake her out of her somber mood.

“Toria. That’s a new one.” She cocked her head to one side. “I think I kind of like it.” She nodded her head, a wide smile spreading across her face. “Yeah, it fits.”

Jason stumbled back a step on his way out. He hadn’t been prepared for that. Hadn’t been prepared for what a genuine smile could do.

It transformed a generally unremarkable face into something utterly…

Extraordinary.

* * *

“I ah…” Jason backed away from Victoria, a strange expression on his face.

Graham strolled into the kitchen from the TV room—looking like he’d just woken up—and did a double take when he noticed Jason.

He smiled, his eyes widening. “Hey. Is this the guy?”

Jason turned toward Graham, and Victoria gave Graham a cease-and-desist signal by slicing a finger across her throat. She did not need Graham embarrassing her in front of this man.

Misinterpreting Graham’s question—thank God—Jason held out a hand. “Jason Meadows. The new arson investigator.”

Graham shook Jason’s hand. “Graham McAndrew. I’m sure we’ve crossed paths before, but it’s good to meet you.”

“Yeah, you too.”

Police and fire were frequently on the same calls. Victoria was fairly certain she’d seen Jason around too, although they’d never formally introduced themselves until tonight. Evanston was a large Chicago suburb with probably about a hundred fifty police officers and about a hundred firefighters. She knew several cops by name, but with the varied shifts and assigned areas worked by cops, she was sometimes lucky just to recognize the faces of the officers on scene.

“What’s the news on tonight’s structure fire?” Graham asked, looking back and forth between Jason and Victoria. “I heard over the radio that there was a least one fatality.”

“Yes,” Victoria answered. “He appears to be the only victim. After we left for the hospital, the backup ambulances stayed on scene. Haven’t heard any radio traffic that anyone else was found.”

“Well, that’s good.”

“I just came from the scene,” Jason said. “The warehouse is a total loss.”

“Figures there’d be a big fire like that when I’m on-call backup instead of on shift.” Graham shook his head sadly. “I never get the big ones.”

Victoria chuckled. “That’s what she said.”

Jason let out a surprised half-laugh while Graham eyed her with all the amusement of a nun. And not a funny nun like the one with the hilarious Broadway show. More like an old-fashion, rap-your-hand-with-a-ruler-if-you-get-out-of-line nun. “Ha. Ha. Very funny.”

“Ouch,” Victoria said. “Did she say that too? I’m sorry, Graham. Some women are just cruel.”

Jason laughed outright this time.

“Don’t encourage her,” Graham said, crossing his arms over his chest. “She’ll keep the that’s-what-she-said jokes going all day if you let her think she’s funny.”

“Aw, lighten up, man.” Jason glanced at Victoria, his blue eyes sympathetic. “She’s had a shitty night, and sometimes you just need to laugh. Right, Toria?”

She smiled—couldn’t help herself. “Right.”

“Toria?” Graham looked back and forth between Victoria and Jason, as if trying to figure something out. “How long have you known—”

“Graham, let’s not keep Jason any longer. I’m sure he’d also like to talk to Bob before the sun comes up.”

“Bob?” Jason asked.

“Yes, Bob Kearney. The other paramedic.”

“Oh, right. Right.” Jason rubbed his hands over his face, and then through his hair. “I do not function well without sleep.” He pulled the notepad and pen back out. “Where would I find this Bob?”

Graham pointed to the couch in the common room, where a bald head was just visible over the top of the sofa back. “Last I saw him, he was just about to fall asleep.”

Jason nodded and turned toward the common room, letting out a cough that barely disguised his next words. “That’s what she said.”

Victoria laughed, and without turning back Jason raised his arm and gave a triumphant fist pump on his way out, making her laugh even harder.

She watched his retreating form, enjoying the way his navy cargo pants hugged his waist. He was a bulky guy. Not very tall, but broad-shouldered and unmistakably powerful. She watched from a distance as he sat on the coffee table in front of Bob and nudged the guy awake. The hairline of Jason’s light brown hair was already beginning to recede but in a way that totally worked for him. If he went bald, he’d be Bruce Willis bald for sure.

“You about done?” Graham asked, taking a seat at the stool Jason had recently vacated.

“About done what?”

“Ogling Officer Meadows over there.”

“Oh, stop,” she whispered. Not that they’d be overheard. Jason was already deep in conversation with Bob. “I wasn’t ogling.”

“He’s the guy, isn’t he? He’s the guy you’re taking to the wedding.” It was almost insulting—the excitement in Graham’s eyes. He was genuinely happy to think of her with someone else. Did he know that she’d loved him since before forever? Was he relieved to think he was free of her attentions?

“I don’t know why you won’t let this wedding thing drop.”

He’d asked her about it almost every day this week. What was his name? Where had they met? What did he do for a living? So far, she’d managed to evade. Mostly thanks to a lot of well-timed calls at work.

“And
I
don’t know why you won’t talk to me about it,” he said.

Because there was nothing to talk about. She had no idea who she’d be taking to the wedding. She couldn’t
give
him a name because she didn’t
have
a name.

“Why do you think it’s Meadows?”

“Because I saw the way he was looking at you when I walked in.”

“And how was that?” Victoria asked, more than a little curious to hear Graham’s answer.

He grinned. “Like he was terrified.”

“Terrified? Why on earth would he be terrified?”

“Because all men are when they finally meet the right woman.”

Victoria rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. Are you reading those romance novels Tabitha left at your place again?”

In all the years she’d known him, he’d never blushed, but color bloomed on his cheeks, and she almost felt bad for teasing him.

“If you really want to understand someone, you should read the books they love.”

And what had Graham learned about Tabitha? Whatever it was, it evidently made him sad. He flicked at invisible crumbs on the countertop, looking as forlorn as she’d ever seen him.

Hoping to cheer him up, she said, “And what does it say about me that the last book I read was titled
Beer in America
?”

Graham smiled. “That you like beer?”

Victoria grinned back. “And America apparently.”

And it was true enough. But surely there was more to her story than that.

At least she sure as hell hoped so.

Chapter 4

Victoria pulled herself up into the ambulance next to a stone-faced Mike Flaherty. Thanks to Bob calling in sick, she was stuck riding with Flaherty—the grumpiest man alive. It took everything she had to work up the energy to make the best of it and be friendly. “That address—that’s a daycare center, isn’t it?”

“Think so.” Two words. That’s all she got. That’s all she ever got from Flaherty. Not that he was much more chatty with other people. But other people sometimes got complete sentences. Victoria? Victoria got one and two word answers.

Flaherty couldn’t stand her.

Which proved the adage that every rule had an exception. The rule was that there was an unmistakable bond between veterans. And the exception was Mike and Victoria. No bond there.

She could understand if she’d been Air Force and he’d been Army. But no. They were both Army, and he still barely tolerated her.

She’d once hoped he was just your run of the mill chauvinist. The thought had actually been comforting. If that had been true, then at least his disdain wouldn’t have been personal. But no. She’d seen him treat other female paramedics and cops with a respect he never showed her. Which made her think perhaps he’d heard the rumors about her.

And believed them.

She pushed that worry aside. She had other things to be concerned about. Like what they might find when they arrived at the daycare center. Dispatch said the caller reported a small explosion in the kitchen.

The sirens blared and Flaherty drove with precision, expertly navigating the line between speed and safety.