Montana Fire (8 page)

“I’ll let you know what I find out,” he said.

She tossed him a quick smile, ducked past him, and strode down the hallway.

Man
. He had it bad.

*     *     *

Jamie should have thanked Max for visiting Jonathan, but she’d been stunned that he
was there. She hadn’t expected him to take time out of his day to check up on someone
he didn’t even know.
Wow
.

All last night, she’d thought about Max. He’d come on a bit strong at the wedding,
but when she was finally able to be honest with herself, she could tell he was only
trying to help.

With all that had happened, she realized she had to change her attitude or chance
walking through life in cement-filled shoes. Starting today, she’d have a better outlook.
Compared to Jonathan, her life was rosy. She had a place to live, a good job, and
some amazing friends. She planned to reach out to others and to make more of an effort
to get out.

Right now, though, she had to see her friend. Jaime inhaled and knocked on his room
door, though he wouldn’t be awake to answer. As soon as she stepped inside, she halted.
Her heart cracked. His head, neck, and shoulder were heavily bandaged, and his breathing
ragged. An IV stand stood next to his bed with the saline silently dripping into his
body. The heart and blood pressure monitor beeped rhythmically.

Jonathan was probably pumped full of Ativan for his anxiety, and given morphine to
ease the pain. She didn’t want to rouse him just to say hello. He needed his rest.

She tiptoed over to his bed and softly called his name. Jamie waited a few beats,
but as he continued to sleep, she studied him. Something was different about him.
He looked younger, but how could that be? Maybe it was that his beard was cut short.
Because his head was wrapped in gauze, his matted hair no longer showed. Had they
cut that, too? The only reason would be if he had a head wound or was burned.

“Hey, Jonathan. It’s me, Jamie. I brought you coffee and breakfast this morning, but
when I couldn’t find you, Larry seemed happy to take it off my hands.”

Even though her voice shook, she hoped some part of Jonathan’s brain could tell she
was there for him.

His fingers jerked, but he didn’t open his eyes. Her pulse raced.

Jonathan groaned. “No. No.”

God. He was having a nightmare. Was he dreaming about the moment the board fell on
him? Was he reliving the terror? She couldn’t imagine waking up to smoke, fire, and
disorientation.

Jamie placed her palm on top of his hand. “It’s okay. No one will hurt you. You’re
safe now.”

He shook his head. “Monster truck.”

That was an odd thing to say. His jerking legs calmed. Hopefully, his nightmare had
turned into a more pleasant dream. He might be remembering when he used to play with
big trucks as a kid.

Jonathan’s thrashing about suddenly increased, causing his heart rate to increase.
“Forty-seven.” His words were slurred, so she couldn’t be positive she’d heard him
correctly.

“Forty-seven? Is that what you said?” She didn’t really expect an answer.

“Concut.”

She barely made out that word. Could have been Connecticut, but she couldn’t be sure.
Jamie pulled up a chair and leaned closer to him. “Are you trying to tell me something?”

His movements became more agitated. “D.”

When her hospice patients had been sedated, they’d rambled, too, but Jonathan seemed
more distressed than any patient she’d taken care of. His fingers moved, almost as
if he were typing. Her presence seemed to be aggravating him, so she pushed back the
chair and stood.

“You rest now, you hear? Get well soon.” Stomach churning, Jamie rushed out.

*     *     *

After watching Jamie head off to Jonathan’s, or rather Vic Hart’s, room, Max took
the elevator to the bottom floor. Dr. Randy Carstead had been the admitting physician
on duty when the paramedics had brought in Jonathan Rambler. Max wanted to understand
why a fairly healthy, trained FBI agent hadn’t run from the fire. Something or someone
must have stopped him. Also, if Max’s assumption about the wall collapsing was wrong,
he needed to know. It might affect his other conclusions.

He waited a good ten minutes for Randy to finish up with a patient. When the doctor
made eye contact, he came toward Max, flipped off his gloves, and tossed them in a
nearby receptacle.

“Long time, no see.” Randy had been at Stone Benson’s wedding a few days ago. “What
brings you here?”

“Jonathan Rambler was brought in yesterday with burns to his chest and neck. I’m trying
to reenact the warehouse fire on First Street. My data tells me a board fell on him.
Does that line up with what you found?”

His eyes widened. “I’m impressed with your accuracy. The burn marks are consistent
with a rectangular surface, but that’s not all that happened to him.”

Randy had his interest. “What do you mean?”

“From the size and shape, I’d say the butt of a gun did some damage to the back of
his skull.”

“So he was beaten?” Maybe that was why the agent didn’t smell the smoke and get the
hell out of there.

“Looks like it. With that kind of blow, he’d have been unconscious almost immediately.
His knuckles were bruised, too, implying he’d put up a fight.”

Fuck. Jonathan had grunted and thrashed about when Donner Pearson had placed him on
the gurney, but all the jostling could have woken him up for a few seconds. “Thanks.”

Randy held up a hand. “One more thing. I called the station this morning. Had I known
you were in charge, I would have contacted you, too.”

“That’s okay. What did you find?” It was probably the information Dan had told him.

“The man was covered in stage make-up, a wig, and extra padding. Strangest damn thing.”

From Randy’s raised brows, his curiosity had gotten the better of him, but it wasn’t
Max’s place to explain. “Interesting. Appreciate the help.”

“Anytime.” A nurse rushed over to the doctor and informed Randy that an ambulance
had just delivered a car crash victim. “Gotta go. Don’t be a stranger.”

“You bet.” Max hadn’t socialized as much as he’d have liked in the last few months.
While he’d played a game or two of darts and shared a couple of drinks with Randy,
Max had been too busy finishing his fire science degree to do more.

He should probably go back upstairs and question Jamie about Mr. FBI Man, but she’d
be less likely to talk about her friend with him in the room. Max decided to speak
with her tomorrow.

He stepped outside. Crap. The air temp had dropped at least ten degrees. He’d hoped
the cold front heading this way would hold off until after the weekend, but it didn’t
appear it would.

As he made his way to his SUV, he heard curses coming from the far end of the lot.
Max stopped, looked around, and then spotted a raised car hood. He wove his way over
to see if he could help.

When he neared the actual car, he stopped. Oh, no. Jamie had her head under the hood.
That sucked. Poor girl had just experienced an attempted break-in at the clinic, seen
a friend suffer a horrible fate, and now this. She’d have to be mighty strong to endure
three setbacks in such a short period of time, but she didn’t need his pity.

When he made it to her parking spot, Jamie was shifting her butt right and left. He
swallowed a chuckle at her action. She didn’t seem like the ass-wiggling type, nor
did she seem like someone who would know a spark plug from a brake line.

When she planted her foot on her calf, an overwhelming rush of interest invaded his
bloodstream. Damn, she was doing it again to him—just like at the wedding. Max had
dated a lot of women over the years, but he hadn’t been looking for someone special.
He’d cut off that part of his brain, waiting until he’d found the arsonist who’d burned
his family home. With that man in jail, he was ready to resume his life, only Max’s
emotional cells had yet to fire—until now. Too bad the timing sucked. Rock Hard needed
him to do a job.

Max cleared his throat to let her know he was near. “Need help?”

She stiffened, shot out from under the hood, and turned around. Her long inhale implied
she was warring with herself. “No.” She paused. “Thank you. Grayson can be temperamental
sometimes, but I’ve always managed to get him started.”

A chuckle escaped. She named her car? “Grayson?” Max hadn’t seen this whimsical side
of her before, but he liked it.

Her chin lifted. “That’s his name.”

“Mind if I take a look? I’m rather handy with engines.”

“Really?”

“When I was sixteen, I took apart an old clunker. Would have been able to put it back
together again if my grandmother hadn’t decided that my summer project took up too
much garage space. She dumped all the pieces in one big bin. Never did get it to run
properly, but I sure learned a lot.”

She clamped a hand over her mouth and laughed. “Seriously?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Did she apologize?”

“Not my nannie. Said I should have known better.”

Jamie smiled. “She sounds wise.”

“Not to a sixteen-year old she didn’t. So, do you want my help or not?”

“I’m good.”

Of all the women he’d ever known, he’d never met one who turned down help—especially
when it came to cars. But if Jamie thought she could fix it without any tools, he’d
stay for the show. Her decision to repair the car herself was a good sign. Her actions
indicated someone who wasn’t a victim anymore. Maybe their little talk had helped.

Folding his arms across his chest, he leaned against the car parked next to hers.
Rich didn’t expect him at the firehouse for another hour, but he bet Jamie had patients
to treat at the clinic. If she didn’t hurry, she’d be late.

God, but she was cute. Tiny, wiry, and with just the right amount of spunk. Now more
than ever, he wanted to know who this woman was. She fascinated him.

Jamie continued to push and pull at the wires as if the car would miraculously start.
“Would you like me to give you a jump?”

She kept her head averted. “If I jiggle the right wires, I can get it started. It’s
always worked before.” Her focus and good intentions were admirable. He hoped she
succeeded, but in his experience, randomly tugging on wires didn’t solve many engine
problems. When she seemed content with her attempt, she stood. “Let’s see if that
worked.”

Her satisfied smirk sent another unwanted spark straight through him. What was it
about this woman that pushed him off balance?

Don’t even answer that.

Max zipped up his coat, fearing the dreaded storm might come sooner rather than later.
She yanked open her door, hopped in, and cranked the engine. It made a grinding and
freewheeling noise, like the starter or possibly the solenoid had gone bad. That would
set her back both time and money.

Stubborn set to her jaw, she got out again, and ran her hands up and down her arms.
Only then did he notice how thin her jacket was. He unzipped his coat, slipped it
off, and placed his jacket over her shoulders.

“What the—” Her eyes practically crossed. “Now you’ll be cold.”

“You’re welcome.”

She smiled and her pretty blue eyes sparkled. “Thank you.”

“I hate to bring this up, but if you don’t call AAA, you’ll miss work.”

Her hands fisted. “Don’t have that.” She acted embarrassed, as if he’d judge her.

It didn’t matter if she did. Not only did he have roadside assistance, he’d recently
performed the inspection on their building, and had made friends with Emily, the woman
in charge of towing. He bet she’d help. He pulled out his phone, made the call, and
explained the situation.

“Let me see.” He heard keys tapping over the line. “Carl is out on a job now, and
it seems Pritchard hasn’t showed up for work yet. As soon as Devlon gets back, I’ll
send him out.”

“How long?”

“I’m guessing ‘bout an hour if you’re lucky.”

“I’ll be here. I need to run an errand, but I’ll return before your guy arrives. Thanks.”
The whole time he chatted with Emily, Jamie continued to fiddle with the engine, but
given the tilt of her head, she was listening to his every word. The big question
was how she’d respond to his offer of help.

He disconnected. “Tow truck will be here in an hour.”

“I heard, but I could have called someone.”

Yes, but she hadn’t. She had an interesting set of values. Given how she’d come early
to the hospital, she didn’t want to be late to work. On the other hand, he bet it
bothered the hell out of her to let anyone give her assistance. He didn’t know which
path she’d choose.

He wanted to make it easy on her. “How about if I drop you off at the clinic and come
back here to wait for the tow?”

She finally faced him, her gaze shooting right then left. “You’d do that?”

“Sure. I like doing nice things for a beautiful woman.”
I so didn’t let that slip.
Shit. Now she’d think he was trying to pick her up. Which he was, in a way.

“You talking to me?”

Her very bad Al Pacino imitation hit some mental funny bone, and he dropped back his
head and laughed. “You are something else, Jamie Henderson. I promise I won’t take
advantage of you on the short drive there.” Max had no idea what was going through
her head, but given her recent episode at the clinic, safety had to be paramount on
her mind.

She nodded. “I appreciate it. But how will I get home without my car?” She held up
a palm. “Never mind. I can call a friend.”

“I’ll give you a lift to your house. I have a feeling your car might need a new starter.
If that’s the case, it could be a few days for them to repair it. They might even
have to order the part.”

“Like I need this?” She bit her bottom lip. “How will I visit Jonathan?”

She’d given him the perfect segue to ask about the mystery man, but his cop instinct
told him this wasn’t the right time.

“Let’s get you to work, and your car to the shop. After you find out what’s wrong,
you can come up with a plan.”