Frowning at that thought, he picked up his keys and left his apartment building. After getting into his car, he headed to the doctor for his follow-up appointment. His fingers weren't swollen anymore, and although he had some stiffness in the joints, it wasn't anything that would stop him from doing his job. Hopefully, he'd be released back to work.
After arriving at the doctor's office, he was quickly ushered into an examination room. The orthopedist, Dr. John Robertson, conducted a fairly quick exam, testing the motion and swelling of his fingers and told him the healing was progressing nicely.
"I'd like to get back to work," he said.
Dr. Robertson gave him a knowing smile. He'd been mending Callaway bones for two decades. "I'm sure you would. I can release you for full duty starting Saturday."
"That's four days from now."
"Exactly. Four days, not a lifetime. There's still some swelling around that third knuckle. I'd hate to see you suffer a permanent disability in that hand. I can, however, release you to modified duty if you'd like to start sooner."
He groaned. No firefighter ever liked modified duty, which usually involved checking fire alarms and giving school presentations. "I'll stick with full duty on Saturday. That actually fits in pretty well with my shift rotation."
"Good. I'm going to tape your fingers back up today. But you should be able to go without it by Saturday."
"Thanks, Doc."
"Say hello to the family for me."
"Will do." He grabbed the release form and headed out the door. He would stop by the station on his way home. His crew was working today, so it was good timing. He'd let Captain Warren know he'd be back at the start of the next shift on Saturday morning.
Fifteen minutes later he pulled into a parking spot behind the firehouse and got out. It felt good to be back. The firehouse was more home to him than his apartment. Even though it had only been a few days, it felt like months since he'd been back. A lot had happened in the past week.
He'd always thought everything important in his life occurred from this base point, the firehouse, the center of his world, but ever since Olivia had come to town, his center had shifted.
Adam and his other friends greeted him with smiles and slaps on the back as he walked into the dayroom.
"Are you back?" Adam asked.
"Next shift."
"Good. Your replacement is an asshole."
Colton smiled. "Hanes?" The man who often subbed in on their crew was a twenty-five-year veteran with an attitude that probably matched Warren's. Hanes didn't think anyone who'd been born after the eighties was worth shit.
Adam nodded. "I can't wait for him to retire. He could barely get his ass up the ladder yesterday. I almost had to save him instead of the victim. But does he admit anything? No, he comes at me like I did something wrong."
Colton was surprised at the vehemence in Adam's voice. His friend was usually pretty easygoing. "Anything else going on?" he asked. "How's your hot redhead doing?"
Adam shrugged. "Doing someone else from what I hear."
He'd just come to the heart of Adam's annoyance. "Sorry."
"Whatever. What about you and the beautiful brunette? She still around?"
"For a few more days," he said, feeling depressed at the reminder.
Adam gave him a thoughtful look. Then a smile spread across his face. "So it's like that."
"It's not anything."
"You sure about that?"
"Not really," he admitted.
"What are you doing here? You should be spending every second trying to find out if whatever you have going on is something."
Adam was right. Olivia might have kicked him out this morning, but that didn't mean he had to stay out of her life. In fact, that was the last thing he intended to do. "I'm going to see her later," he said. "First, I need to tell the captain I'll be back on Saturday." Colton got to his feet. "Has his attitude improved in the past week?"
"He's a rigid boss, but the only person he seems to really dislike is you."
"Great," he said with a sigh.
He left the dayroom and walked down the hall to the captain's office. He could see Warren inside, reviewing what appeared to be incident reports. He knocked on the half-open door.
Warren looked up, his jaw tightening as he saw him. "What do you want, Callaway?"
"I've been released for work next shift. I wanted to let you know." He set the form he'd received from the doctor down on the desk.
"I'm thinking you should start that work somewhere else," Warren said. "A change might be good for you."
"I like it here," he said evenly, his stomach churning at the idea of a transfer.
"Well, I don't like you here," Warren returned pointedly.
"Care to explain why?"
Warren gave him a long, hard look. "Why don't you ask your brother?"
"I did ask him. Burke didn't tell me what's between you two, but he did say that you're a good firefighter." Actually, Burke had used the word decent, but Colton wasn't going to say that.
Warren's eyes flashed surprise at that piece of information. And for a moment, it didn't appear that he knew what to say.
"Look, I can do a good job for you," Colton said, taking advantage of Warren's silence. The last thing he wanted was to be transferred because of his last name. "I'm not my brother. I don't know what went down with you and Burke, and even if I did know, there's nothing I can do to change it. But if you give me a chance, I can prove my worth to you and the team. This is my home. I'd like to stay. I'd like for us to find a way to work together."
Warren stared back at him. "I made the same kind of impassioned speech once—to your brother. Do you know what he did? He turned his back and walked away."
Colton ran a frustrated hand through his hair, wondering again what the hell had happened between Warren and Burke.
"I'll think about it," Warren said grudgingly.
"Great. I'll see you Saturday." He left the office before the captain could have second thoughts.
He'd barely hit the hallway when the alarm went off. It went completely against the grain to not react to the call. He wanted to join his crew on the engine. He wanted to be racing to the fire. But instead he had to stand and watch his coworkers go to work while he walked to his car.
Fighting fire was something he'd been born to do. He realized that more clearly now. While he might have originally gone into the job to follow in his father and grandfather's footsteps, his reasons for staying were completely his own. This firehouse was his home, which was why he'd been willing to beg Captain Warren for his job. He'd gotten a reluctant yes. Hopefully, some good work and a little time would destroy whatever doubts Warren had about him. But he was tired of running in the dark. He needed to find out what had gone down between Warren and his brother.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Colton found his brother across town at another firehouse. As a battalion chief, Burke had his own office. Burke greeted him with a more welcoming smile than he'd gotten from his captain. But there was still a wary question in his eyes.
"What are you doing here?" Burke asked.
He deliberately shut the door behind him, then moved into the office and took a seat in the chair in front of Burke's desk. This was probably the chair where rookies got chewed out by Burke, but while there had been many times in his life where he'd been intimidated by his big brother's accomplishments, today was not one of those days.
"I need some answers," he said shortly.
Burke's eyes were a darker blue than his own, and they always seemed to be filled with shadows that hid the nature of his thoughts.
"What about?" Burke asked.
"The problem between you and Mitch Warren. I just came from speaking to Warren. He wants to transfer me out because my last name is Callaway and I'm related to you."
"He didn't say that."
"Actually, he did," Colton replied, meeting his brother's gaze. "So what's between you?"
"You might be better
off transferring," Burke said.
"I don't think so. I've never run from a fight, and I'm not going to start now." He paused. "You've never run from a fight, either, so the fact that you'd suggest I'd go along with a transfer makes me even more curious."
"My problems with Warren have nothing to do with firefighting." Burke leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.
"Keep going," Colton urged.
Burke debated for a minute, then said, "Mitch Warren dated Leanne before I did."
Colton was stunned. Burke never ever mentioned his late fiancé by name, and the fact that Warren had been involved with Leanne was even more surprising.
"He blames me for her death," Burke added.
"How on earth is that possible? A drunk driver killed Leanne, not you."
Burke gazed back at him, his eyes icy cold. "He didn't think Leanne would have been on that road if it hadn't been for me."
"I don’t understand." Colton paused. "I guess I don't really know what happened that night."
"It doesn't matter. I told Warren that his relationship with Leanne had ended years earlier and it was none of his business why she was out that night. He flipped out and took a swing at me. Of course he missed. He can fight fires, but he can't actually fight."
Colton stared at his brother, hearing the cold contempt in his voice. He didn't know Burke very well. There was over a decade of years between them, so they'd never been close growing up, but he'd always respected his oldest brother and held him up as the kind of man he wanted to be. Burke had always seemed so up-front about everything, but now he was being deliberately vague, almost as if there were some sort of strange reason for why Leanne had been on the road that night.
"So my advice to you," Burke continued, "is to consider a transfer."
"That's not an option." He remembered Mitch's words to him. I made the same kind of impassioned speech once—to your brother. He turned and walked away. Whatever Burke had kept from Warren was still driving the captain crazy, and it had been years since Leanne had died.
"Then I don't know what to tell you," Burke said. "Warren is unreasonable, and you're going to pay for what he considers my sins, whether that's warranted or not."
"Why was Leanne on the road that night?"
Burke's lips tightened. "It's not important, Colton."
"It seems like it is to Warren. That's why he hates you, because you won't give him an answer."
"It won't change anything. Leanne will still be dead." Burke cleared his throat. "And that’s all I'm going to say on the subject."
Frustration ran through him at Burke's reticence, and he found himself understanding his captain's frustration as well. "Burke—"
"I'm done, Colton. You want to stick it out with Warren, then you'll have to figure out how to get along with him."
Or maybe he could get Warren to tell him what he thought Burke had done so badly when it came to Leanne. But he wasn't going to tell his brother that. "Okay," he said, getting to his feet. "I guess I'll see you around."
"Yeah. Close the door on your way out."
Burke was back to work by the time Colton stepped into the hallway. Or at least he was pretending to be. He couldn't believe Burke was unaffected by the reminder of Leanne. He'd been devastated after her death.
Colton pondered the rest of their conversation all the way back to his car. He knew next to nothing about his brother's relationship with Leanne. Now he couldn't help wondering what had been going on with them at the time of her death. Perhaps there was more to that story than anyone knew.
As he got into his car, his phone rang, and his pulse jumped as Olivia's name appeared on the screen. He hadn't been sure when he'd hear from her again, but for some reason he hadn't anticipated it being this soon.
"Hello, Olivia?"
"Colton, thank goodness."
He could hear the fear in her voice. "What's wrong?"
"Someone broke into my hotel room. They took all the stuff we picked up at Molly's. I don't know what to do."
"Did you talk to the front desk?"
"Yes. They said they'd send up security, but I don't know how that's going to help. Whoever broke in didn't take anything belonging to me, not even my laptop computer, Colton."
His stomach turned over. He was happy Olivia hadn't been hurt, but he was really disturbed by the break-in. "I'm on my way over. I'll be there in ten minutes. Double lock your door."
"I did, but I think the worst has already been done."
"I hope so," he muttered, as he started the engine and sped down the street.
* * *
Olivia sat down on the edge of her bed, still feeling shell-shocked by what had happened. After a happy couple of hours browsing the shops on Union Street and enjoying a late breakfast at an outdoor café, she'd come back to the hotel early Wednesday afternoon to find the boxes containing Molly's diaries and other personal effects missing. Who could have done this?
Only one name sprang to mind—Peter Harper, Molly's son. She'd told him that Molly had left her the journals, although she hadn't told him about the rest. But if he'd broken into her room, he would have taken everything he could find that was tied to Molly. It made sense, but it was still difficult to believe that a middle-aged man, a well-respected businessman, would break into her hotel room.
A knock came at her door, followed by Colton's voice. "Olivia?"
She opened the door, and despite the awkward way they'd parted earlier, she launched herself straight into his arms, needing to feel his protective strength for just a moment.
He gave her a long, comforting hug, then pulled back, his gaze troubled. "Are you all right?"
"Yes," she said, forcing herself to move out of his embrace. "Come in."
He walked into the room and looked around. "Where were you when all this happened?"
"I took a walk down Union Street. I got something to eat and did a little shopping. I was probably gone two to three hours."
"It looks like housekeeping came while you were gone, too."
She followed his gaze to the neatly made bed and couldn't help but remember the night she'd spent under those covers with Colton. He'd left only a few hours ago, but it felt a lot longer than that.
"Yes," she said, realizing she needed to say something to break the increasing tension in the room. "Housekeeping came while I was gone. I just spoke to a hotel security guard. He said he'd interview the hotel staff to see if anyone saw anything, but he didn't sound optimistic, nor did he indicate that the police would be interested in a case that involved only missing personal items and not valuables."
"Probably not."
"So whoever did this just gets away with it?"
"There has to be something we can do."
"Do you have any ideas?"
"Well, I don't think the list of suspects is particularly long."
She met his gaze. "Peter Harper is at the top of my list."
"Mine, too. I think we should pay him a visit."
"I agree, but I wonder what kind of recourse we have. Peter has more of a right to his mother's papers than I do."
"She left you her journals," he reminded her. "The director of the senior center gave them to you."
"I know, but the rest of it we just took."
"True, but I still think we should talk to him, and we should ask him about the pictures of abuse that we found."
She started at his words. "Oh, my God, I still have the pictures."
"You do?"
"Yes. I put the photographs documenting Molly's abuse in my purse as well as that stack of letters from the women she helped. I was going to get coffee and go through them, although I never actually did that," she said, reaching for her bag. She pulled out the photographs and letters. "So we still have these."
"That's something," he said with an approving nod.
"Do you think Peter ever saw these pictures?"
"If he didn't, he's going to now."
"Yes," she agreed. "Although with the amount of
bruises Molly suffered in those pictures, I doubt her kids were oblivious to what was going on." She paused. "I'd also like to know what Peter remembers about the fire that took his dad's life."
"I think you should call Peter and tell him you want to talk about some photographs you found that indicate his mother and/or his sister was abused," Colton said.
Olivia raised an eyebrow. "You want me to throw in Francine as well?"
He met her gaze. "Yes. I want you to get his attention whatever way you can."
"There's a good chance he's at the hospital. He's been there the last few times I've gone."
"Let's try his office first. If he's not there, we'll see if he's at the hospital."
She liked his action plan. It felt good to go on the offensive—to act instead of react.
She called Peter's office and told the woman who answered that it was urgent she speak to Peter about a personal matter. When pressed for more detail, she relayed what Colton had told her, then asked if Peter would be available to see her that afternoon. After a brief pause, she was given an appointment for one o'clock.
"We have an appointment in twenty minutes," she told Colton as she clicked off her phone. "You're going to have to drive really fast if we're going to get there on time. His office is downtown."
"Not a problem. I know all the shortcuts."
She put the pictures and letters back in her bag and then followed Colton out the door.
They didn't speak for the first few minutes. She was focused on what she wanted to say to Peter, and she assumed Colton was concentrating on the road as he wove in and out of lanes and darted down alleyways to avoid traffic. They were making good time until they ran into construction.
Colton tapped his fingers impatiently on the wheel. "Damn. I should have taken another road."
"We're not that far away, are we?"
"Only a mile or two, but in this traffic, it could still take a few minutes, and we have to find parking downtown, which is always a joy."
"Well, we'll get there and hopefully Peter won't leave before we do."
"If he leaves, we'll track him down. I want to know if he was the one who broke into your room."
When Shadows Fall (Callaways #7) Page 21