Hold Your Breath (Search and Rescue) (18 page)

The firefighter ripped off his SCBA mask, revealing Ian’s furious face. “Put her down, Cook, so I can check her.”

Callum’s arms tightened for a second before he started to lower her. Before her socked feet could touch the snow, however, he lifted her again and walked over to sit her on the back bumper of one of the fire rescue trucks.

Another firefighter, Steve, hurried over to them with a med bag and a stack of blankets. Ian opened the kit, but when Steve moved to wrap the blanket around Lou, Callum grabbed it.

Instead of looking offended, Steve dropped his now-empty hand on Cal’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Get her covered then. Anyone else in there?”

It took a moment to register that the question was directed at her. Lou shook her head as Callum tucked the blanket around her without his usual precision. When she looked at his hands, she was startled to see that they were shaking. Ian fit an oxygen mask over her face and then fished her hand out of the blanket so he could clip something over the end of her finger. A muscle worked along his jaw the whole time. Lou watched it, a little confused.

“Why are you so mad?” she asked in a croak of a voice.

His narrowed eyes met hers as he dug through the med kit with more force than necessary. “Because Cook acted like a reckless asshole.”

Her glance flicked to Callum, whose own jaw was clenched tight. Steve was urging him to sit down next to her.

“Cal?” she repeated doubtfully.

“
Reckless.
Like fucking jumping in a fucking frozen reservoir without any fucking gear.” Ian emphasized each swearword with a hard yank on the unrolling blood pressure cuff. He reached for her arm, which she offered a little tentatively. As pissed as Ian was, though, he was still gentle as he wrapped the cuff around her bicep.

Callum adjusted his cap, leaving additional black streaks on the bill. “I know. But
Lou
was in there.”

“And I was going to get her out. I was putting on my
gear
. So I could go in the burning cabin and not
die
.” Ian pulled a pen out of his pocket and wrote something on his hand before taking her pulse. Snowflakes landed on her cheeks, making Lou realize how cold she was, despite the blanket. She leaned against Callum, who immediately wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. His hands were still shaking, she noticed.

“That was pretty dumb, Cal,” she rasped. Air scraped at her raw throat, making her wince.

“Don’t talk,” he ordered, and kissed the top of her head. “And it wasn’t a thought-out decision. You were in the cabin. The cabin was on fire. I had to get you out.”

Ian just grunted, but he put a truckload of irritation in the sound. “You’ll be fine, but you need to get checked out at the hospital. Medics are on their way, but they got caught on the wrong side of an accident on the highway, so they’re still twenty minutes out.”

“I’ll take her. We’ll be halfway to Connor Springs by the time the ambulance gets here.” Callum stood. Raising a skeptical eyebrow, Ian looked at Steve.

“BP is a little high, but he seems fine to drive.” Steve smirked. “Doubt you could stop him if he wasn’t, anyway.”

Ian met Callum’s gaze, both men coolly appraising the other. “Oh, I think I could manage.”

“Guys?” Lou cleared her throat, which brought on another spate of coughing. Callum rubbed her back until she could speak again. “Instead of having a pissing contest, don’t you think you should go dump some water on my house? You know, the one that’s burning?” Although she tried to make her tone joking, her stomach felt like it was collapsing in on itself. The rescue truck blocked her view of the fire, but she could see the orange glow lighting the area and hear the muted roar of the flames even over the rumble of the pump truck.

Ian patted her blanket-covered knee. “We’re on it.”

Knocking Ian’s hand off of her leg, Callum lifted her into his arms for the second time that night. As he carried her around the rescue truck to his pickup, she buried her face in his neck. It was weak of her, she knew, but she didn’t want to see the flames eating what remained of her cabin. Instead of facing reality, she squeezed her eyes shut and breathed in the smell of smoke and Callum.

She was safe.

For now.

The lights from the oncoming pickup seemed abnormally bright through the driving snow, making him squint and tilt his face. His fingers yanked at the steering wheel, and then he pounded on it. The car began to slide on the icy road, and he grabbed the wheel again, regaining traction. What had just happened?

He’d lost control before, but never like this. Never where he couldn’t remember anything. Had he actually tried to kill her? The rage that had been burning inside him for months had been chilled by the realization that he’d actually attempted to burn her—his soul mate— to death.

Air hissed between his teeth. Why had he done that? Why? He needed her.

Things were spinning out of control—
he
was spinning out of control. It was time to take her, whether she was ready to go or not.

* * *

Although she’d braced herself for the worst during the hair-raising drive back from the hospital, the reality was even uglier than she could’ve imagined. Floodlights mounted on a rescue truck illuminated the scene, and Lou almost wished for darkness so she didn’t have to see the pathetic remains of her little cabin. She wrapped her arms around her middle, hugging herself through Callum’s heavy coat as she surveyed the destruction of everything she owned. Even her truck was only a blackened skeleton.

The site was a mess of churned-up mud, half hidden by a fresh layer of still-falling snow. The tender truck was linked by hoses to the pump truck, supplying water to the firemen who were still mopping up, soaking the charred remains of her home to make sure no smoldering embers remained. Icicles had formed where water leaked out of the hose connections, and vapor from the firefighters’ breath merged with the lingering smoke.

The smell was horrible, and Lou wondered if part of that was from her truck. It was a good thing she hadn’t wasted money on those ten-ply tires. She choked back a laugh that threatened to turn into a sob. Standing silently next to her, wearing an extra coat he kept in his truck, Callum rested the heavy and comforting weight of his arm across her shoulders. She sighed, leaning into him as tiredness sank deep into her bones and her feet went numb in the boots one of the nurses had grabbed from the hospital’s lost and found for her.

“Lou.” The gravelly voice of the fire chief brought her head around.

She attempted a smile of greeting but failed miserably. “Hey, Chief.” Talking didn’t hurt as much as it had earlier, although she sounded like a three-pack-a-day smoker.

Pushing up the face shield to the top of his helmet, the chief sighed. In the harsh artificial lights, the lines on his face were more pronounced, and his nose and cheeks were blotchy red with cold. Normally, Winston Early was a cheerful guy, quick to smile, but tonight he looked almost as weary as she was. “I’m so sorry, Lou. By the time we got here and Cal got you out, it was pretty much already gone. Even with this snow, the wood-frame construction, especially as old as your place was, went up in minutes.”

Trying to control her wobbling chin, she nodded. “I figured not much would be left.”

“Lou.” Rob joined their small group. “You okay?”

With a small shrug, she bit her cheek to keep from crying as she shifted her weight. “We both checked out okay. Except for some smoke inhalation, I’m fine. It’s just things that burned.
All
my things, but still.”

Callum rubbed her upper arm in silent support.

“Did you find the guy I told you about? The one who kicked me back into the house?” she asked, looking back and forth between the fire chief and the sheriff. She’d called the sheriff on the way to the hospital to tell him about the would-be killer.

“Not yet,” Rob said, exchanging a glance with Early.

“Did anyone see him leaving?” she pushed, not liking the look passing between the two men. “Were there any footprints or witnesses or…I don’t know, any evidence to tell us who he is? Ruining my tires is one thing, but he tried to kill me tonight!”

Cal’s fingers tightened around her upper arm, his body vibrating with tension next to hers.

“Lou,” Rob said in a calm voice. “We’ll find him. Did you remember anything else besides the SCBA mask and his black clothing? Height? Build?”

“He looked really tall, but my vantage point was off, since I was on my knees,” she said, feeling guilty for not noticing any details. Pressing the heels of her hands into her still-stinging eyes, she tried to bring up the mental picture. “An average build, maybe on the thin side? Sorry I’m not being more help. My eyes were watering from the smoke and the heat, plus that whisky messed me up.”

“Whisky? You’d been drinking?” Rob exchanged another look with Early, and Lou mentally cursed herself for bringing up the alcohol.

“One drink. There was something wrong with that whisky, though. I told them about it at the hospital, so they drew some of my blood to test.”

Rob’s gaze sharpened. “You think it was drugged?”

“Yes.”

After scribbling something in his small notebook, Rob flipped it shut and dropped it in his pocket. “We’ll be able to tell you more after we take a look tomorrow during daylight.” The sheriff’s tone had a ring of finality to it. “I’m the fire marshal for Field County, so I’ll be heading up the investigation. I promise you that we will find whoever did this. Now go get some rest.”

Although Lou set her chin stubbornly, she knew she wouldn’t get any answers until the following day. She held back her multitude of questions and just said, “Thank you, Rob.”

“Of course, Lou. I’m just sorry you have to go through this.” He shot a quick glance at Callum and then looked at Lou again. “Do you have a place to stay tonight?”

Lou opened her mouth to answer, but Callum beat her to it with a short but definite “Yes.”

“Good. Go home and get some sleep, if you can. Nothing more you can do here except get cold. Colder,” the sheriff amended, his sharp eyes on her huddled posture.

With a final glance around at the destruction of her hard-won but cozy life, she gave a defeated nod and let Callum steer her down her driveway. They’d parked the truck almost at the road, since emergency vehicles lined her driveway. As they passed one of Fire’s rescue trucks, Lou saw a familiar face and stopped.

“Ian,” she called, and the firefighter turned from where he was reloading equipment.

“Hey, Lou, Callum,” he said, walking over to them. “You two okay?”

“Yes.” She had a feeling she was going to be getting that question a lot over the next few days and weeks. “Thank you for your help.”

With a shrug, he said, “Least I could do for two of ours. I’m still pissed at Cook for running into a burning building in his fucking baseball cap and BDUs, but he got you out of there, and you’re both okay. I’m just sorry we couldn’t save your place.”

“Nothing you could’ve done,” Callum said, and Lou nodded.

Ian rubbed the back of his neck. “Still sucks.”

With a choked laugh, Lou said, “That it does. Thanks again, though.”

He gave another nod and headed back to the truck.

Leaning against Callum as she watched him walk away, Lou said, “I really think we should tell him the sheriff’s office thinks his club was involved in HDG’s murder.”

He gave the back of her neck a gentle squeeze before urging her to start walking again. “Tonight’s not the best time to make decisions.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” She sighed as she trundled through the snow toward Callum’s pickup. The drifts looked almost blue in the moonlight. Tipping her head back, she stared at the clearing sky, letting Callum guide her steps.

“One good thing,” she said.

“What’s that?”

“It stopped snowing.”

“Yeah.” He tucked her closer against his side. “That is good.”

By the time Callum helped her out of her coat—his coat, really—and she kicked off her lost-and-found boots, Lou was swaying with weariness. While Cal hung the coat with a precision that even a sleepless night couldn’t mar, she leaned against the mudroom wall.

“Callum,” she said softly.

“Hmm?”

“My house burned down.” She started to cry.

“Oh, Lou.” Callum dropped the coat on the floor and pulled her unresisting body into his arms.

“Someone tried to kill me.” The idea seemed so foreign, so abhorrent. “I almost
died
.”

His grip tightened until it was almost painful, but she welcomed the security of his hold.

“And my truck,” she wailed, the loss of it hollowing out her chest. “I loved that truck so much.”

“I know.” He rubbed her back as she sobbed against his collarbone.

“All my stuff.” After pausing to take a shuddering breath, she continued, “I know they’re just replaceable objects, but they were important to me. They were the only things I brought with me from my old life. Now I have nothing.”

After a long pause, he said, “You still have these pajama pants. They’re very nice. I especially like the…dogs?”

With a laugh that was more sob than anything, she corrected shakily, “Hippos. They’re hippos.”

“They’re very nice hippos.”

“Thank you.” She hiccuped.

“And you don’t have nothing,” he soothed her, running a hand up and down her spine. “Whatever I have, you can use. Like my pickup. You can share my truck.”

“Thanks. I like your truck.”

“And you can stay in my house as long as you like.”

“I like your house, too.”

“You can eat whatever’s in the Crock-Pot.”

This time, her laugh was more solid. “Score. I love the contents of your Crock-Pot.”

He paused so long she started to doze standing up, startling awake when he finally spoke.

“And you have me.”

Her heart began beating very fast. She was tempted to make a joke but screwed up her courage instead, and met his gaze. “Good. I think I like you the best. Even more than the contents of your Crock-Pot—and that’s saying something.”

His contented rumble made her glad she’d been brave. “We’re going to find him, Lou,” he said, his expression fierce as he stared into her eyes. “We’re going to find that fucker. He won’t hurt you again.”

“Okay,” she whispered, overwhelmed by his intensity and the matching emotions that stirred in her. “But can we sleep first?”

“Okay.” Callum scooped her up and carried her through the kitchen and up the stairs.

“You don’t have to carry me,” she protested, looping her weighted arms around his neck. “You must be exhausted.”

“I’m fine.” He brought her into the bathroom, carefully lowering her legs until she was standing upright. After he watched her for a minute, most likely to make sure she wasn’t going to keel over, he turned to start the shower.

Lou unzipped her hoodie and let it drop to the floor. When Cal caught a glimpse of her in her tank and pajama pants, he blinked several times before heading for the door.

“I’ll…uh, get something for you to wear.” Still facing away from her, he paused in the doorway. “Will you be okay by yourself?”

“Sure,” she said, although she wasn’t sure if her legs would support her for another minute. Since she wasn’t about to strip naked in front of Callum, though, she’d just have to be tough. Her voice must have held more confidence than she felt, since Cal left, closing the door behind him.

The hot water felt amazing, except when it stung the minor burns and scrapes that were scattered over her body. The water ran gray at first as it washed the soot from her skin. She helped herself to Cal’s shampoo and soap, finding comfort in the thought of smelling like him. Her energy didn’t last long, though, so she rinsed quickly and turned off the water.

She was toweling off when Cal knocked on the door, opening it immediately after and giving her just enough time to clutch the towel to her chest. A quick downward glance showed that she had all the vital parts covered—barely.

His stare earlier was nothing compared to how his eyes raked over her now. Since he appeared to be frozen into place, Lou reached out and snagged the T-shirt and shorts dangling from his paralyzed hand. When she pulled gently, they popped free of his fingers. The movement seemed to wake him from his daze.

“Sorry. I’ll just…” He turned and almost walked into the edge of the door, jerking back just in time to prevent a collision before dashing out of the bathroom.

If she hadn’t been so exhausted, Lou would’ve laughed. Instead, she just concentrated on dressing without falling. She was tempted to forgo brushing her teeth, but soot seemed to have settled into every corner of her being, including her mouth, so she grabbed the toothbrush she’d used the last time she’d stayed there. By the time she opened the bathroom door, the floor was tilting, reminding her of the drugged whisky.

That, in turn, reminded her of the fire and her terror and the murderous figure in the doorway. Callum must have been waiting for her, since he scooped her up before her legs could fold beneath her and carried her to his bed. Even with all the horrors of the night churning in her brain, her body was done. Lou fell asleep seconds after he tenderly placed her on the mattress.

* * *

Daylight made it so much worse.

The sun made the new snow sparkle wherever it lay, covering mountain peaks in the distance, lining tree branches and fence wires, turning the landscape into a postcard. It made the wreckage of her former home look even more bleak and pathetic. Lou had thought she’d be able to scavenge a few things, but
everything
was gone, destroyed once by fire and a second time by water—both from the hoses and the snow. She wasn’t even able to look at the charred shell of her truck.

“There’s nothing left here,” she said as Callum laid a hand on her lower back. Heat seeped through her coat to her spine, offering comfort. It was painful to look at the remains of her cabin and know that it had almost held
her
remains. If it hadn’t been for Callum… She shivered. “Let’s see what the sheriff and Winston have to say, and then we can go.”

The chief and Rob were standing a discreet distance away, far enough to give her some privacy, but close enough to intervene if she started messing with their crime scene. Straightening her spine, she hoped it was enough to move her from “pathetic victim” to “stoically enduring survivor.” From the expressions on the two men’s faces as she approached, she doubted her efforts were successful.

“Lou,” Early greeted her, examining her closely as if checking for fire damage or an impending breakdown. “How are you?”

“Hanging in there,” she said with a tight smile. It was only the partial truth, but if she shared any more, she’d start blubbering again, and no one wanted to see that.

“Good,” the chief said approvingly before giving the man next to her a nod. “Callum.”

Rob cleared his throat after Callum returned Early’s greeting. “Looks like arson.”

She’d been expecting tear-inducing commiseration, so Rob’s all-business attitude was a relief. Callum’s hand, still on her lower back, tightened into a fist around a handful of her coat.

“The first ignition point was your bed.” Early kept shooting wary glances at her, as if checking her reaction to his words. “It appears to have been soaked in accelerant, most likely gasoline, and then ignited. Gas was also poured over the floor in the bedroom and living room, as well as along the base of the walls. The second ignition point was in your kitchen. That’s a pretty common occurrence with amateur arsonists—two ignition points. They figure the more the better.”

“So this person broke in first? He was in my house with me?” The idea made her stomach want to turn inside out. Even though she wasn’t looking at him, Lou could feel the tension radiating from Cal.

The sheriff nodded. “Did you lock the door last night?”

“Yes, I always do.” She had a moment of doubt and paused, trying to remember the actual act of locking the door after Cal left the previous evening. She turned to Callum. “I did, right?”

“Yes.” His voice contained the confidence hers lacked. “I heard you lock the door.”

“I suspect the arsonist entered through the bedroom window,” Rob said. “It appears the glass was struck by something rather than exploding from the heat of the fire. I’m sending pieces of the broken glass to the state lab for testing, as well as items they can test to determine what accelerant was used.”

“If it wasn’t gasoline, I’ll eat my shirt,” Early said.

The sheriff shot him a look. “We have to do definitive scientific testing—you know that, Winston. Otherwise, it’ll all go to hell once we get to court.”

“Yeah, yeah,” the chief grumped. “Just saying. Been doing this for thirty years. I know what I know without some lab geek telling me how to wipe my ass.”

If Rob had been just a hair less controlled, Lou was pretty sure he would’ve rolled his eyes.

A sheriff’s department squad vehicle eased through the snow and frozen mud that had once been Lou’s yard. Chris hopped out of the SUV and hurried over to them.

“I was just talking with Lou’s neighbor, Terry Buck,” he said as soon as he got close enough to be heard. His words were rushed, as if he was excited about something. “A few minutes before he saw the fire and called it in, Terry passed an unfamiliar car headed north on thirty-six. A”—he pulled a small notebook from his coat pocket and flipped it open—“dark-colored BMW sedan with Connecticut plates.”

Lou swayed, feeling hot and then cold. She knew that car. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

The four men all stared at her, startled.

“What a vindictive
asshole
.” Her voice, still hoarse, gave out on the last word. “I can’t believe he would do this.” Even as she spoke, though, she knew that wasn’t true. Faced with the evidence, she
could
believe it. He’d always had a temper, especially when he didn’t get what he wanted. And ever since she was sixteen, he’d wanted
her
—or at least the benefits a relationship with her would bring him.

“Uh, Lou?” Chris was the first one of the guys to speak.

“What?” she snapped, and then immediately felt bad. “Sorry, Chris. I’m just so…argh!” Anger and betrayal cut off her ability to form words.

“I take it you recognize the car?” the sheriff asked.

“Yes. I do.” Yanking off her hat, she smacked it against her thigh a few times. “The
dickface
you are looking for is Brenton Lloyd of Glenview, Connecticut: opportunist, social climber, and dater of teens, as well as an employee and friend, unfortunately, of my stepfather, Mr. Richard Chilten.”

“Ex-boyfriend?” Callum asked with an odd inflection to his voice that she couldn’t decipher.

“As embarrassed as I am to admit it, kind of. My parents wore me down when I was sixteen and he was…I can’t remember, twenty-seven or thereabouts. Completely too old for me, but I was in my compliant phase. We were together off and on ever since—I’d have a brave moment and break up with him, but Brent wouldn’t leave me alone until I agreed to get back together. Ugh. When I look back on it, I can see how weak and stupid I was, but he could be persistent, even a little scary. But I never thought he could do something like this. He wanted to get engaged as soon as I finished law school, but the thought of being married to Brent…” She shuddered. “I kept putting him off until I heard him talking to my stepfather about taking over the business once we were married. I’d been dragging myself to law-firm interviews and hating every second of it. When I heard Richard basically selling me to that asshole, I just…snapped. That’s when I told Brent we were through for good. I packed up and moved to the mountains.”

“Why is he targeting you now?” Rob asked.

“Instead of when I first moved here? No idea.” Trying to calm her whirling brain and think, she was silent for a few moments. “My mom mentioned that he was trying to get a hold of me.” It wasn’t a reason, but it was a possible place to start. She pulled out her cell phone.

“Who are you calling?” Chris asked. Both he and the sheriff stepped forward, as if preparing to rip the cell phone out of her hand if necessary.

“Not Brent,” she hurried to assure them before her phone was confiscated. “I don’t even have his number, since I deleted it from my contacts and erased all his messages without listening to them. I’m calling my mom.” She found her mother’s number and tapped it.

“Messages?” Callum and Rob said in stereo.

She nodded absently, listening to the ringing on the other end. “He… Hang on a sec. Hi, Mom.”

“Louise.”

Rob was saying something about not telling her mother about her suspicions, but Lou waved him off, turning away from the listening crowd of men. She could concentrate on only one conversation at a time, especially when that one discussion was with her mother.

“Do you have Brent’s phone number?”

“Oh, good,” her mom said instead of answering Lou’s question. “Are you finally going to respond to him, then? It’s about time. The poor man’s been frantic.”

Lou frowned. Once she’d heard the description of his car, she’d been positive her stalker was Brent. Now, her first doubt crept in. “Has he been around recently?”

“I wouldn’t exactly say recently.”

“When was the last time you saw him? Feel free to use precise dates.”

“What is this about, Louise?”

With a sigh, Lou restrained the urge to throw her phone into a snowbank. Why couldn’t her mom just answer the question? “I’m going to call Brent, but not if he’s traveling or something.” She winced. That had been weak.

Her mom wasn’t buying her lame excuse, either. There was a pause before her mother spoke again. “What ridiculous thing are you planning, and why are you dragging poor Brenton into it?”

“I thought you were excited I was going to contact Brent.”

“Not if you’re up to one of your little schemes,” her mom said. “Brenton is seriously interested in you, Louise. You already broke his heart once. I don’t want you playing with his emotions.”