Walking on Her Grave (Rogue River Novella, Book 4) (3 page)

“No, Seth,” Carly yelled as she grabbed him arm. “You can’t go back in there.”

“I have to.” He pulled away, but she tightened her grip on him.

“No!”

A crack and boom sounded behind him as another huge beam crashed and the rear wall of the building collapsed.

Nausea and soot coated the back of Seth’s throat. The third man was buried under an inferno.

Emergency vehicles streamed into the gravel lot: an engine and pumper from the Solitude station, EMTs, an ambulance, and a tanker from a neighboring town. Rural firefighting was an expensive endeavor, with communities sharing costly equipment and a limited number of trained personnel. The fire chief jumped down from the truck. Seth waved both arms at him. The chief ran across the clearing to Seth.

“There’s at least one man inside.” Seth leaned forward to rest his hands on his knees as a coughing fit seized his lungs. He rubbed at his eyes.

“Got it.” The chief waved to two men in full gear. Air tanks bobbed on their backs as they raced toward the fire, but another portion of the building caved in with a crash of heavy timber. Seth flinched. Sparks shot through the air. Firemen dragged hoses and aimed them at the blaze.

Carly had his arm again—or still—turning him away from the certainty that the third man hadn’t survived. What had been a kitchen and outdoor dining area was now a giant bonfire. No one could get inside. And no one could possibly get out.

“Lean back.” She poured a bottle of water over his face, washing soot from his eyes. She handed him a second bottle. He rinsed his mouth, spat, then drank.

More emergency vehicles swarmed into the clearing. Seated on the back of a fire engine, Seth watched the chaos. The ambulance crew loaded the burned men into the vehicle and drove away. An EMT slipped an oxygen mask over Seth’s face and pointed him toward a waiting ambulance.

“I’m fine.” Seth coughed.

The EMT shook his head. “Not an option.”

As he climbed inside, three grass rigs—smaller off-road fire trucks designed to fight wild land fires—drove around the burning lodge into the meadow, watching for blowing embers that could set the dry grass ablaze.

The O’Rourke resort was supposed to be the savior of the community. The construction phase had already put many unemployed people to work. When the building period ceased and the resort opened for business, other jobs would be created, a boon to the rural economy. There was no telling how long it would take the O’Rourke project to recover from today’s fire.

Seth settled into the ambulance and let the EMT take his vitals and start an IV. The medic had been right. Seth felt all right now, but smoke inhalation and burns could worsen. His throat was raw and tight. As his adrenaline surge ebbed, small points of pain throbbed from various parts of his body, and the smell of singed hair told him he’d been hit by falling embers. The EMT cut off Seth’s soot-stained, scorched T-shirt and listened to his chest. He took a deep breath, testing his lungs. He coughed hard, his shortness of breath highlighting the risk he’d taken to save the O’Rourke employee. Seth could have been killed. No more Carly. No more Brianna. No more anything.

For one worker’s family, today would end with tragedy. If Seth had been quicker, if Carly hadn’t stopped him from running back into the fire, he’d have made it back inside before the roof gave out.

And instead of following the ambulance, Carly would be mourning his death.

Carly sat on a plastic chair in Seth’s ER cubicle. He reclined on the gurney, shirtless. A dozen small bandages on his face and torso covered minor burns. The bandages and the oxygen mask on his face sent fear rolling through Carly. At the scene she’d held it together, helping the burn victims until the emergency units rolled in. But hours later, now that Seth was safe, her hands shook and her stomach roiled.

She could have lost him. One man at the O’Rourke resort wasn’t going home with his family tonight. She understood why Seth had run into that burning building. It was his nature to risk himself for others, but knowing that didn’t make the terror any easier to bear.

The curtains parted and a doctor entered the cubicle. He scanned a clipboard, then set it on the foot of the bed. “Your vitals all look good. Your oxygen levels are normal, and your airway hasn’t swelled. Are you ready to go home?”

“More than ready,” Seth said.

“The nurse will be in shortly with your paperwork. Keep that burn on your forearm clean and covered.” Miraculously, the rest of his injuries hadn’t been serious.

Twenty minutes later, dressed in an old T-shirt she’d found in the back of his SUV, Seth followed Carly out of the cubicle. Frowning, he scanned the space. Carly knew his mind was on the two surviving men. Emergency room staff hustled around a glassed-in acute care bay down the hall. She put a hand on his elbow and steered him toward the exit.

“Do you have my wallet and keys?” he asked.

“In my purse.” Carly opened the door that led to the waiting room and exit. “You don’t need keys. I’m driving.”

“Seth!” Faye O’Rourke, city council member and matriarch of the O’Rourke family, hurried across the shiny beige tiles. Faye normally walked with a remarkably spry step for a senior citizen, but today her movements were stiff, almost arthritic. Unruly hairs had sprung from her normally tidy gray bun. Carly knew she was a grandmother, but her shrewd blue eyes and equally sharp mind camouflaged her age. For the first time in Carly’s memory, Faye seemed to show her advancing years. “I wanted to thank you for what you did today and make sure you were all right.” Concerned eyes roamed over Seth’s bandages.

Seth coughed. “I’m fine. Burns are all minor.”

But Carly was sure they hurt plenty.

Faye reached into the pocket of her cardigan and withdrew a tissue. She blotted her eyes. “Tim and Bob are more than grateful.”

“Are they going to be all right?” Seth asked.

“Yes, thanks to you. They’re transferring Bob to a burn unit in Portland, but Tim’s injuries are less serious. They said they can treat him here.” Faye reached toward him, hesitating at the sight of rolled gauze encasing Seth’s forearm. Carly knew how she felt. She was afraid to touch him too. Faye dropped her arm. “I can never thank you enough.”

“I wish I’d have gotten them all out.” Smoke inhalation, and regret, roughened his voice.

“I know you do, but there wasn’t anything else you could have done.” Faye pressed the tissue to her eye and inhaled a shaky breath. “Oh, Seth. The fire chief already suspects arson. Who would do such a thing?”

Seth’s spine straightened at the word
arson
.

“First Walt betrayed me. Now this.” Faye sniffed.

Walt Burrowes had been Faye’s construction supervisor. Walt had been dealing drugs from the construction site. He’d been shot and killed by Carly’s cop sister three weeks ago.

“I don’t know, Faye.” Seth sighed.

Carly caught movement in her peripheral vision. Zane Duncan, Solitude chief of police, came through the door and headed for them. “Here comes Zane.”

“You both all right?” Zane asked, scanning Seth and Carly with a frown.

“Yeah,” Seth said.

Carly nodded.

“Glad to hear it.” Zane turned to Faye. “I need to ask you some questions.”

“Of course.” Faye nodded. “I just wanted to make sure Seth was all right.”

Carly tuned out their conversation as she walked with Seth out the automatic door. Overhead lights tinted the blacktop yellow.

“What time is it?” he asked.

Carly checked her cell phone. “Ten thirty.”

She slid into the driver’s seat, adjusting it forward so she could reach the pedals. The community medical center in the county seat of Hannon was a forty-five-minute drive from Solitude.

Seth shifted position restlessly, grimacing.

She glanced over at him. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah.” He closed his eyes as Carly drove onto the rural highway.

Dozing off soon after they left the hospital, Seth snored softly. The doctor had cleared him, but the slight rattle in his breath worried her.

Forty-five minutes later she pulled up in front of the Craftsman-style bungalow they’d bought soon after their wedding. She’d loved sitting on the deep front porch and watching Brianna and the neighborhood kids ride bikes and play tag. A wistful sigh escaped her lips. She missed her home. She missed her life. And despite all the drama in their marriage, she missed Seth.

Her hand hovered over his muscular shoulder, and she tried to remember where all his bandages were located. Finally she settled on touching his hand.

Seth opened his bloodshot eyes.

“We’re here,” Carly said. “I’m sorry to wake you, but there’s no chance of me carrying you inside.”

“It’s fine. Thanks for driving me home.” Seth reached for the door handle. He blinked in surprise when Carly got out and rounded the vehicle to offer assistance.

“You can lean on me,” she said.

“I’m okay, Carly.” Seth stepped out of the SUV. He didn’t look okay. The nurses had cleaned his burns, but his blond hair was dark with soot and he smelled like ashes and singed hair. Both of those things reminded her how close he’d come to death. Just thinking about what he’d done made her fingertips tremble.

Seth unlocked the door and went in. Carly hesitated at the threshold. She hadn’t been inside the house since she’d moved out last winter. She’d always waited in the car or on the porch for Brianna.
You’re being stupid
. She forced herself through the doorway and into the living room. The house was small, but she’d always thought of it as cozy. The dining room was attached to the living room. An arched doorway led into the kitchen.

Everything looked the same. Exactly the same. Seth hadn’t moved a single piece of furniture. He’d left the ruffled curtains on the windows. The doilies her mother had crocheted still graced the tables.
So much for a bachelor pad.

Their wedding portrait hung on the wall. Carly tried not to look at it, but her gaze was drawn in by their smiling faces. Taken on the back lawn of her parents’ house, the picture symbolized their hopes and dreams for the future, the start of their life together.

“We were really happy,” Seth said from behind her.

“And drunk,” she added.

“That too.” He laughed, sliding around her and walking into the kitchen. The ice dispenser rumbled.

Carly dumped the plastic bag that held his discharge instructions on the dining room table. Picking up the pink papers, she scanned them. “Do you need some ibuprofen?”

“No.” He appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. He held two tumblers of amber liquid on ice. “Want one?”

Carly lifted the papers in her hand. “I don’t see alcohol anywhere on these instructions.”

“It’s implied.” He took a long swallow. Behind the red of his eyes, grief and anger lingered. He held the tumbler out to her. “It’s been a long day.”

“Can’t argue with that.” Lowering her guard with Seth wasn’t a good idea, but her nerves were raw from nearly losing him.
What the hell?
Carly accepted the glass and sipped. Whiskey burned a path down her throat and warmed her belly.

“I smell like an ashtray. I’m going to take a shower.” Seth took his drink with him.

“You’ll mess up all your bandages.”

“Then you’ll just have to redo them,” he called over his shoulder.

“Wait.” Grabbing the plastic wrap from the kitchen drawer, she hurried after him into the bedroom.

He tossed his shirt into the hamper. “What?”

“The burn on your wrist needs to stay dry.” Carly drew up short at the sight of his bare torso. He’d shed some pounds since she’d left, not that he’d ever carried much body fat. His muscles were more defined. He’d had his shirt off in the hospital, but she’d been distracted. Now, in the bedroom they’d shared for eight years, she couldn’t not notice the hardened planes of his chest.

Seth held out his hand. Carly set her drink on the dresser and wrapped his arm from wrist to elbow. “Hold it out of the spray.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She went into the bathroom and started the shower for him. Like every other room in the house, space was tight. A glance in the mirror over the pedestal sink told her she hadn’t totally avoided soot smudges either. She used soap and a washcloth to clean the worst of it away, but her hair smelled like smoke. Seth came into the bathroom. He set his glass on the small chest by the door and dropped his shorts.

“The water is cool.” Carly looked away, her face hot.

“Oh, come on. You’ve seen me naked thousands of times.” He rolled his eyes, pulled the shower curtain aside, and stepped into the claw-foot tub.

Carly went back into the bedroom. She perched on the edge of the bed and tried not to think about all the things they’d done in it. Not an easy task with Seth naked and wet in the next room. He’d always applied his natural intensity to his lovemaking. He gave 110 percent in everything he did, which was why she knew he was grieving for the man he hadn’t saved, and blaming himself.

Carly drained her glass and went back to the kitchen for another. Then she laid out the first aid supplies. Seth emerged from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his hips. Carly removed the plastic wrap from his arm. Then she gently covered each angry red mark, each small reminder of his courage, with a clean piece of nonstick gauze. The only wound the doctor had been concerned about was the second-degree burn on his forearm. The rest were superficial, but they still looked painful.

“Do they hurt?” An image of Seth running into the flames streaked into her mind. Well into her second whiskey, Carly rested her forehead against his shoulder. With each sip, she cared less about their issues.

“Not much.” He glanced at her almost-empty glass. “You’re not driving home, are you?”

“Like I would leave you alone tonight.” She collected the bandage wrappers and took them into the bathroom. “Mom said she’ll look after Brianna.” She sniffed her hair and smelled ashes. “Do you mind if I take a shower?”

He cleared his throat. “Of course not. Take some clean clothes from my drawer.”

Carly grabbed one of his T-shirts and a clean pair of gym shorts. She detoured to the kitchen to refill her glass before climbing into the shower. Wanting no reminder of the day’s trauma, she scrubbed the smoke from her skin and hair. The liquor and hot water relaxed her muscles. Dried and dressed, she emerged. The ceiling fan turned a lazy circle over the bed, and the room felt cool on her damp skin. “Did you turn on the air conditioner?”