Chasing the Fire (Backdraft, Fully Involved, Flashover) (16 page)

“You aren’t. We picked your co-chair.” Parker
turned to Nick. “Captain Nick Evans, this is Stacey Sterling.
Stacey, Nick.”

She approached him with a big smile and held
out her hand. He shook it and forced a paltry smile. “Ms.
Sterling.”

“It’s Mrs., but call me Stacey, Captain.”

“Fine. Nick to you.” Jesus, this was
awkward.

Parker picked up her purse and circled the
desk with a brochure in her hand. “Here’s the menu from the Hidden
Cove Diner. Call my secretary to order the food. It’s on me.”

Nick nodded, Parker and Cal walked out and he
was alone with
Mrs
. Sterling. There was something about
her…

“So,” he said, congenially. “Why do you look
familiar?”

“We’ve met at the bookstore.” She tipped her
chin, sending skeins of hair tumbling down her chest in big fat
curls. “I own The Book Nook.” She gave him a sideways glance. “You
like mysteries and nonfiction.”

“I do. Now I remember. You aren’t there all
the time, though.”

“I work every day, but I focus on the
rare-book section of the business. It’s the lifeblood of the store,
given the popularity of those dreaded ebooks.”

“I hear ya. I can’t get used to the
readers.”

Glancing down at the menu, she said, “I’m
starved. Do you mind if we eat now?”

“Nope. I’ll have lobster, baked potato and
asparagus. With a crisp white wine.”

She laughed. It was deep and from her belly
but had a feminine ring to it. “Maybe after this is over, we can go
out on the town.” She perused the menu. “How about a cheeseburger,
french fries and soda? Unhealthy, but will hit the spot. I’ll have
the same.”

“Go for it.”

As she punched in the secretary’s number, he
studied her. She was tall, at least five feet eight, not really big
boned, but sturdy and well-toned. She wore a simple beige skirt,
which hit her knees, and a striped T-shirt. On her feet were
sneakers.

“I walked over from the store.” She must have
caught him staring when she disconnected.

“Seriously? It’s gotta be six miles
roundtrip.”

“I try to do between four and six every day.
It clears my head.”

They sat at the table, and the scent of
sunshine and some lotion-like smell filled his head. He watched as
she took a small laptop out of the backpack she’d brought with her.
Before she could speak, he asked, “So how did you get roped into
this?”

Her face blanked. Then her eyes narrowed. “I
volunteered. Didn’t you?”

The question was so ingenuous he felt like
Scrooge. “No, sorry. Why’d you?”

She worried the wedding ring on her finger.
“My husband was killed five years ago saving a boxcar full of
immigrants.”

“Sterling? As in Sam Sterling?” He thought
for a minute. “He got the Heroism and Community Service Award from
Firehouse
magazine for that.”

“Yes, posthumously.”

“I only had a passing acquaintance with him.
You should know the department still mourns his loss.”

“As do I. Real hero material there.” She gave
him a generous smile. “Actually, I think all firefighters are
heroes. Super ones, I guess.”

Of all the things she could have said to him,
those words were like a knife to the heart. Nick couldn’t
respond.

Because of the guilt he carried, he knew he
couldn’t be further from a hero than he was. Nope, in some ways, he
was the total opposite of her husband.

oOo

October 1

NICK EVANS HOPPED
off the Rescue
Truck in front of the strip mall. Angry fingers of flame rose at
least ten feet from the roof of each of the four buildings.
Rancid-smelling smoke curled everywhere. “This is a big one,
guys.”

“Callahan’s here. Malvaso, Erikson, and two
other battalion chiefs.” The statement came from Bilton Ames, aka
Bilky, one of the best firefighters on his crew.

“Yep. And it’s a four alarm. Three engines
and us.” The
us
included the Rescue, Quint and Midi
rigs.

“Be back,” Nick said as he jogged to Incident
Command, home base of the operation. Already, the noise of the
scene filled the air…the sound of the trucks, the shouts of men,
the slight hum of the generator, which gave them light. “Hey,
Chief.”

“Evans.” Callahan nodded to the building.
“It’s fully involved, was when we got here.”

“That happened fast.”

“One of the stores is a flooring place. The
carpet and wood inside were tinder when the fire started.”

As they talked, Nick watched the streams of
three trucks—two in front, one in back—pour gallons of water on the
blaze. “Where do you want my crew?”

“Malvaso said the right, back corner of the
last building is close to houses. Take your rig over to the street
and evacuate the first three.”

“Yes, sir.”

Heading back to group, he gave them their
orders. His Quint made it over to the neighborhood in minutes.
“Huh,” Nick said as he hopped off the truck again. “None of the
houses have their lights on. How can they not have heard the
sirens?”

Amidst comments, some funny, they started
down the sidewalk. “I’ll take the first. Cordaro and Ames the
second. Thorne and Maloney the last.”

Though firefighters never went into a
building alone—and he wouldn’t—Nick climbed the steps to the
green-sided structure. Hopefully, all he’d have to do is call out.
As he reached the porch, he saw that some of the shingles on the
front were melting. Hell. It was hotter than anybody realized over
here. Hand fisted, he banged on the front door. “Fire Department.
Open up.” No answer. He pounded harder. “Your neighborhood is on
fire! Open up.”

Something caught Nick’s attention and he
looked up. Flames from the nearest building in the strip mall leapt
from its roof to the top of this structure, almost as though he was
watching an animated movie. The roof had to be as hot as the
shingles and he wasn’t surprised to see the fire catch. Glancing to
the side, he noted that his crew had escorted out people from the
other houses. Into his radio he said, “Lead them away from the
building and get back here. My house is on fire.”

He changed the frequency. “Chief, the house
closest to the mall just caught. We need a pumper back here.”

“I’ll send Truck Four back. Anybody
inside?”

“Nobody answered. We’ll go in and check.”

When his crew hustled up the steps, he saw
Ames had brought a halligan. “Pop the door.”

Ames wedged the angled-head ax into the seam
of the door frame and cracked it. Thrusting his foot forward, he
pushed the door inward. The five of them donned their masks and
stepped inside.

The house was filling fast with smoke. Nick
directed his men to the left, back and right of the two-story. In a
few minutes he heard, “I got a guy in the downstairs bedroom, naked
as a jaybird.”

“Get him outside.” He asked through the
radio, “Ames? What do you have?”

“Nothing.”

“Then you and Cordaro follow me
upstairs.”

By the time they reached the top level, the
smoke had thickened but Nick could still see three doors. “Ames,
take the far one. Cordaro, the second. I’ll go in here.”

Nick went through the nearest open door and
knew immediately something was wrong. He could see the outline of a
man standing by the window, staring out. Coughing. “Sir, what are
you doing? The house is on fire.” He yelled the question through
his facemask.

The man didn’t speak. And the heat was
shooting up. Nick strode across the room. The guy kept coughing and
kept staring out the window. “Hey, Mister, you gotta get out of
here.”

The guy turned around and pulled back his
arm. He was about to punch Nick when a bad fit of coughing hit him.
Nick pushed him away and into the wall, where he hit his head and
slumped to the ground. “Hell. I got a victim,” he said into the
mic. “Who tried to deck me.” People did crazy things in a fire, out
of panic. “I’m gonna drag him out.”

“We’re at the door.” He turned to see Cordaro
and Ames.

Coming inside, Ames took the guy’s feet and
Nick lifted him under the arms. Cordaro led the way to the steps.
There, Nick said, “I’ll carry him.”

They pulled the guy up to his feet and Nick
hefted the none-too-light, now deadweight over his shoulder.

Holy shit. He weighed a ton. It was rare to
have to carry somebody out of a building and he stumbled a bit.
Finally, he got his bearings and started down. One step, two…
Gingerly he descended the stairs. He could hear water slapping on
fire. The engine crew had come to put out the blaze.

At the bottom, he eased the victim onto the
floor and stood. Cordaro and Ames carried the man out by the arms
and legs and Nick let them. His muscles were saturated. Blessedly
cool air greeted them as they crossed the street and set the guy on
the ground well away from the burn site.

He roused. “What…what happened?”

“You…”

Suddenly, the guy sat up. “Gotta get out of
here. They can’t know.”

Nick grabbed for his arm. “Know what?”

“Cap, look at his clothes.”

Nick glanced down. Stuffed in his shirt
pockets and peeking out of his sleeves were big fat rags. The kind
that…

Bolting up, the man started to run. He weaved
like a drunk, and Nick easily caught up to him and tackled him to
the ground.

“What are you doing, Evans?” Chief Malvaso
had jogged over to them.

Nick looked up, still holding on to the guy.
“I think I caught an arsonist. I’m pretty sure he’s got
gasoline-soaked rags in his sleeves and pockets.”

“Jesus, Evans, you had a close call in there.
Those things could have caught fire…”

That was the thing about fires. At any time a
building could explode in flames.

“You’re one lucky bastard, buddy.”

Nick didn’t respond.
Lucky
was about
the last word he’d apply to himself. Still, he was grateful to be
alive.

oOo

A HALF HOUR
before The Book Nook
opened, Stacey dropped down onto one of the chairs set up for
people to relax and read. First, she turned on the morning news.
She liked to catch it each day in case any books she carried were
relevant to current events and she should put them on display.

The local station came on screen. “And in
another development with public workers, an unusual rescue happened
this morning at four a.m. on Vickers Street. Our news crew covering
the fire call got video of it…”

The screen switched to that of a burning
house. Out of it stumbled three firefighters, two of them carrying
a man by his arms and legs. When they set him down on the ground,
the camera zeroed in and she caught the dirty face and weary
expression of Nick Evans. The loud rumbling of fire trucks and the
hiss of water obscured any talk, but suddenly the victim got up and
a second later Nick did the same. How odd; he started to chase the
guy.

The voice-over narrated. “The firefighter
shown here is Captain Nick Evans of the HCFD as he discovers the
man whose life he saved is the alleged arsonist who set the fire at
the strip mall, which spread to a neighboring house. Sources say
the firefighters recognized gasoline-soaked rags carried by the
alleged.”

The pretty woman came back on screen. “So not
only is Nick Evans a hero of a firefighter, but he’s done the
police force’s work, too. Congratulations from the WHCD news
station, Captain.”

A still shot came on-screen of Nick in his
firefighter gear. Stacey froze it and cocked her head as she
thought of the meeting she’d had a month ago with him. She could
tell he wasn’t happy to be working on the kids’ Christmas party.
He’d been friendly enough, but she’d felt his reserve. With all
people? Or just her? She’d spent two hours with him but still
didn’t know much about him.

As she stared at his photo, there was
something about that jaw that drew her attention. So classic, so
sculpted, so masculine. His eyes were green, with blond brows
lighter than his wheat-colored hair.

They’d set a date to plan the party,
discussed possible themes, and agreed to meet today, the beginning
of October, to get to work on the nitty-gritty. She wondered after
fighting a fire, which had apparently raged out of control, and
tackling an arsonist if he’d show at the store.

The bell at the back tinkled and she could
hear Cora Carlyle enter. The woman had been a lifesaver when she’d
come in looking for a full-time job—Stacey had only had two
part-time employees then—exactly when the rare-book section of the
business had taken off.

Stacey smiled when the five-ten, willowy
woman made her way out to the main store. “Morning, Stacey,” she
said cheerfully.

“Get some coffee and come join me.”

Soon, Cora seated herself. “Thank you again
for coming in to open while my husband’s away so I don’t have to
worry about being late.”

“Get the kids on the bus okay?”

“Yeah, but Bobby’s a slowpoke.” She smiled at
the thought of her seven year old. “I’m glad Jay takes care of that
normally.”

Stacey hid a sudden pang of sadness. The only
thing she regretted about her ten-year relationship with Jess was
not having children. Who knew their life together would be so
short? They were having fun when they first wed, then she’d
inherited the bookstore when her beloved parents had died, then
Jess had gotten a promotion…the time had never seemed right. After
he’d been killed in that fire, she’d vowed never to let something
important slip away from her again.

And damn, why did she keep having these
moments of nostalgia and time flying by?

Cora caught a glimpse of the frozen screen.
“Oh, yummy. Who’s the guy?”

“One of America’s Bravest. He caught an
arsonist last night. Tackled him right to the ground.”

“Mmm. We’ll have to check the
female-firefighter blog online. One of my neighbors contributes to
it. It’s called Fire Belles, and the women tout the men in the
department, too.”