“Are you ready?”
Dusty blinked, bringing Jolie’s masked face into focus. Behind the safety glass, her mouth blocked by the vents and breathing tube, her eyes took on a surreal quality. Made him remember how beautiful they were. And how full of determination Jolie was.
He responded by pulling on his hood, his mask, checking the airflow on his air cylinder, then flicking on his mike, which had a feed straight to Jolie and the chief. They performed a test to make sure the radios were working, then he passed her and led the way into the burning building.
An hour later, Jolie stumbled from the door of the pub, her air cylinder dangerously low, exhaustion pulling at her limbs. She felt as if she was walking through mud as she concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other until she was far enough away to pull off her mask and take in gulping breaths of air.
She was aware of Dusty behind her, but could focus on little more than her own breathing, dropping her mask and hat to the ground and supporting herself by resting her hands on her knees. Once her heartbeat started to slow, she glanced up to find Dusty standing in front of her, his hat tucked under one arm, looking as if he was ready to go into the fire instead of having just come out of it. He didn’t appear in the least bit winded. His back was strong and straight. His face serious and unsmiling as he stared at the thick smoke still billowing through the broken windows. But thank God there were no flames.
Jolie’s heart gave a tight squeeze.
His gaze rested on her as she straightened. “Are you all right?” he asked.
She nodded, pushing her hair back from where it had escaped the clip at the nape of her neck. “I will be.”
The chief rushed up, another man at his side, more than likely the commander from the neighboring town’s teams. “Good job, you two. At least we won’t have to worry about the fire spreading to the dry cleaners.”
Jolie turned toward the flames still devouring four of the buildings on the other side.
For the past fifty minutes, she and Dusty and a couple of other firefighters who’d joined them later, had worked side by side, fighting back the fire that threatened to engulf the entire building and move onto the one next to it. They’d stacked up debris, broken all the windows, taken down flammable material, then doused the pile until not one spark remained.
“Here.”
Jolie glanced to find someone holding out a small water bottle. She followed the hand up to stare into the face of Elva Mollenkopf.
She slowly accepted the bottle and murmured a quiet thanks, but irrationally refused to drink from it until she watched Dusty nearly down the contents of his bottle in one breath. He finished, then ran the back of his hand across his mouth, his brown eyes twinkling at her. “What’s the matter? You think she might have poisoned it?”
Jolie grimaced and glanced at her watch. “I suppose it’s safe. It’s not officially Halloween yet.”
Dusty’s soft chuckle made her smile as she sipped from the water, welcoming the cool liquid against her parched mouth and throat.
A figure stepped out from inside the little that remained of the general store. Jolie realized it was John Sparks and he was holding two severely melted plastic containers. He put them down near the chief, then pushed off his helmet and mask. “I found these in the back room of Jake’s place.”
Jolie looked closer. “What are they?”
“Ten-gallon gasoline containers.”
Her gaze shot to his.
“That’s right. Looks like all our suspicions are correct and that we may have an arsonist in our midst.”
Dusty took off his air cylinder, then slipped out of his coat. “Well, at least we can be thankful they targeted the fire during a time when foot and customer traffic was light. No one got hurt.”
Chief Jones sighed. “Almost no one. Pastor Noble got pinned down by a bookcase at the library. Think he busted his leg.”
Jolie frowned. An arsonist? She remembered her line of thought earlier about Devil’s Night and all it entailed. Was it possible a group of teens had started this fire? But in other cities, abandoned homes on the demolition list were usually the targets. There was no mistaking that this stretch of Main Street was far from abandoned.
Gary scratched the top of his head. “That would certainly explain how the sucker rekindled after we performed the overhaul.”
A voice crackled over the radio. Gary stepped a foot away to respond.
Jolie dropped a shoulder and let the strap of the air cylinder slide down her arm, doing the same on the other side. She lowered the canister to the ground, then straightened her jacket, feeling more tired than she could remember ever feeling.
“Maximus! Max, get back here now!”
Jolie turned toward the voice, finding Penelope Moon calling her dog. She clapped her hands, but the mixed breed of setter and Great Dane barked, then playfully avoided the owner in the middle of the street.
“I’ll get him!” Scott Wahl called out, stepping from where he was helping Sal at the pumper.
“Oh, God,” Jolie whispered, an arctic chill inching up her spine.
Just as she feared, the dog, caught between Penelope and Scott, playfully darted first one way, then the next, then figured out the only clear route for escape was behind him. And behind him lay the fire.
“Max!” Penelope’s voice took on a more urgent edge as the dog barked, dodging water lines and firefighters, then ducking straight through the door to the pub from which flames still licked outside the upper broken windows, despite the full stream of water targeted at them.
Jolie immediately reached for her helmet.
“Oh, God,” Dusty murmured next to her, shrugging into his coat.
She looked up in time to see Scott darting inside the building after the dog.
Dusty took off at a full run, Jolie right on his heels. They reached the front of the pub, only to be pushed back by a wave of heat as fire flashed inside. Martinez stumbled out, hauling his mask from his face and gasping for air. “She’s going to blow!”
Jolie looked at Dusty and he looked at her. That the establishment stocked liquor went without saying. And the fact that liquor was incredibly flammable needed no mention, either.
“Where’s Scooter!” Dusty grabbed the firefighter by the front of his turnout coat.
“Who?” He shook his head. “I didn’t see anyone in there, man. My partner went through the back, and it’s just as bad there.”
Dusty pulled his mask over his face and Jolie did the same with hers. He glanced at her, his eyes filled with question.
She merely nodded.
And then he led the way into the building.
Chapter 16
Without the aid of an air cylinder, Dusty was forced to keep as close to the floor as possible. The area behind the bar where Eddie kept the hard liquor burned bright as day, the heat shattering bottles, the alcoholic contents of those bottles further feeding the flame.
His heart slamming against his chest, he tried to call out over the roar of the fire, but it seemed his words went no further than his mouth. He coughed and inched along the floor.
He knew the layout of the pub well. Just like most food or beverage establishments, the front section was open, with a long bar along the left wall with stools, and tables dotting the rest of the area. In the back was a jukebox and a pool table. Beyond that were the rest rooms and the storage room.
Glancing over his shoulder, he found Jolie on his heels, slowly scanning the area to her right and left. She looked at him and shook her head.
“I don’t see him,” she said over the radio.
Where was the dog? Dusty wanted to know. Surely after rushing inside, the mutt figured out that the game was over. Why hadn’t he run back outside?
Dusty’s foot caught on the leg of a chair and he kicked it out of the way, continuing his forward movement.
“The bathrooms,” Jolie said. “Maybe he’s in one of the bathrooms.”
Dusty nodded. The men’s room
was to the left and some fifteen feet ahead. He started in that direction first, ducking when another bottle exploded, shooting off a wild flame.
“You guys near the bar?” a voice sounded through Dusty’s earpiece. Martinez, he thought.
“No,” he heard Jolie answer.
A moment later, a full stream of water, followed by another, was aimed for the ceiling above the bar, cooling drops raining down over the dancing flames with canny precision as their fellow firefighters hit the blaze with everything they had.
Dusty continued his forward movement, the low crouching position placing strain on his knees. He hadn’t realized how quickly he’d gotten out of shape, despite his physical work in construction.
“Dusty, wait.”
He heard Jolie’s voice at the same time he felt her gloved hand on the back of his leg. He glanced at her over his shoulder. She was looking at something to the right, then she pointed, indicating he should look, as well.
Dusty swallowed hard, wondering if he was going to like what he was about to see.
He did as she asked, scanning the area by the pool table thoroughly. He couldn’t see a thing. Jolie tapped on his leg again, motioning for him to move back a little. He did. And immediately spotted a figure crouched under the pool table, his back to them, his arms tightly holding the dog.
Jolie coughed, a deep, racking sound that reminded Dusty that she’d just suffered from major smoke inhalation the day before.
“Jolie,” he said into the radio connecting them. “I can handle this. You go ahead and get out.”
She shook her head. “You need help.”
“No. I need you to get out of here before it’s you I’m forced to help.”
“Jolie,” another voice sounded over the radio. This time Gary’s. “Dusty’s right. Come on out. Sparks says he’ll go in to help.”
Dusty met her wide, determined eyes. “Either you go, or we both go,” he told her resolutely. “You decide. Which will it be, Jolie?”
Her mouth moved, but without her mike switched on, he couldn’t hear what she was saying. When she started backtracking, he decided it was probably better that he hadn’t heard her. He’d lay ten-to-one odds that the words weren’t pleasant.
Smiling to himself, he turned back around toward the pool table.
Jolie emerged from the pub’s doorway, dry, hacking coughs racking her body. Sparks stepped forward and tried to help her walk to the perimeter of the scene. Jolie waved him away. “Get in there!” she told him. “He needs help.”
Sparks nodded and began moving back toward the building. Doubling over, Jolie rested her hands against her knees, slowly inhaling, then exhaling, trying to cleanse her lungs of the acrid smoke that filled them.
A loud blast vibrated the air, nearly blowing her back onto the street. The draft caught Sparks and sent him reeling toward a truck. Jolie stared wide-eyed as great, spurting flames arced through the open door to the pub, then were sucked back in again.
Oh, God, no! she cried silently.
She stumbled a couple of steps forward, ignoring the heat searing her skin. No…no…no…
Her eyes were glued to the front of the building as the firefighters in charge of the hoses retargeted their streams on the door.
“Wait! I see something!” Sparks shouted, holding his side as he started forward.
Jolie heard a bark, then Max leapt from the door, his fur soot-covered and matted, his pink tongue lolling out of his mouth as he ran toward his owner.
“Dusty?” she whispered, moving slowly forward. Come on, baby, you can do it, she silently told him. Just find the door….
Even as she mentally said the words, her mind was working through all the possibilities. First was that Scott was in a state of shock, and given his awkward position wedged under the pool table it would be very difficult indeed to pull him out. Second…
She shuddered, not wanting to acknowledge the other possibility. The chance that Dusty caught the brunt of the blast and was even now lying unconscious on the pub floor where he would fall victim to the toxic smoke.
Come on, Dusty, she said, continuing her silent mantra. You can do it. Just get up. Pull yourself out if you have to. Just come back to me. Do you hear me, Dusty? Come back to me….
She was near the door herself now, barely aware of where Sparks had caught up with her and had placed restraining hands on her shoulders. She absently tried to shake him off, trying to continue her forward movement.
Then, as if the fire itself had belched him out, Dusty appeared in the doorway like a black knight, Scott’s body propped alongside his, the teen’s arm draped over Dusty’s shoulder.
Jolie thought she might pass out right then and there, her relief was so great, so all-consuming. As soon as Sparks had taken Scott, Jolie launched herself into Dusty’s arms, nearly sending him sprawling back inside the door to the pub.
“Whoa,” he murmured, taking off his helmet. “What did I do to deserve that?”
Jolie held him tight, her cheek pressed against the heavy, soot-covered material of his jacket. “You came back.”
Dawn’s purple fingers inched across the eastern sky, casting dim light over the charred remains of Main Street. Dusty stood in the middle of the street, feeling strange as he stared at the black, hollowed-out structures before him. If not for the tint of the coming sunrise, he could have been looking at a black-and-white photograph. The fire had claimed, eaten, destroyed every last bit of color, leaving nothing but monochrome skeletons in its wake.
They’d finally knocked down the monster two hours ago. Since then, every man and woman on the site had inched through the debris, soaking it, overhauling it, so that this time absolutely no hot spots remained. The job finished, everyone stood at various, random spots on the street, robbed of words as they stared at what night had hidden.
Old Orchard would never be the same again, Dusty thought, running his hand over his hair. Sure, they would rebuild. But gone was the century-old library with its faded brick foundation and stone roof. The general store that had served as gossip central as well as providing food and necessities was unrecognizable. The pub was destroyed, along with several other buildings, their naked walls reaching up three stories to touch the sky.
“Happy Halloween,” Sparks murmured, slowly moving toward one of the silent fire trucks and stripping out of his coat.
Dusty absently watched him, then scanned the rest of the street, taking in the shocked, still faces of the men and women who had helped equally to try to preserve Old Orchard in her hour of need.
Chief Gary Jones sidled up beside him. “Maybe it will look better after we’ve all had a bit of sleep.”
Dusty frowned. He didn’t think it would ever look better. And the knowledge seeped down into his bones, finding a home there.
Gary scratched his head. “Look, I’ve got the bulldozers coming in an hour. You mind hanging around and helping me oversee the demolition?”
Dusty’s gaze trailed down the opposite side of the street until he spotted Jolie. She was standing ramrod straight, her helmet in hand, staring at the altered town skyline. As if sensing his gaze on her, she looked his way.
Gary said, “I need the rest of the guys at the station. You know, in case, Lord forbid, something else happens and they’re needed.”
Dusty cleared his throat and broke eye contact with Jolie. “I’ll stick around.”
Gary thumped him on the back. “Good. Good.”
Then he walked away, leaving Dusty alone again. He was vaguely aware of Jolie heading his way, but he didn’t look at her. He was exhausted, stressed, and just plain confused. Their brief discussion after they made love in the shower seemed like days ago rather than hours. But no matter the time factor, his feelings remained the same. He’d asked her to stay with him. She had rejected him. It didn’t matter that Old Orchard was in the middle of the worst disaster in her history. All he’d needed Jolie to do was nod. Say she would do anything for him. Then they could have gone together. Bu
t she hadn’t stayed. Had barely even hesitated before letting him know exactly where he stood in her heart. And that was dead last.
She came to stand in front of him. He kept his gaze stalwartly on the rubble.
“What did Gary want?” she asked quietly.
Dusty finally lowered his gaze, taking in the streaks of ash across her forehead, the blue of her eyes, the soot covering her hair. God, he loved her more than anything else in the world. If only she could love him back in the same way. “He asked me to hang around, help with the demolition. I told him I would.”
She nodded. He half expected her to say she’d stay, as well. Instead, she turned back toward the debris. Penelope Moon’s dog Max was sniffing around the edges, but he didn’t make a sound. It was as if he, too, understood the significance of what had happened there.
“I just talked to Darby,” Jolie said. “She’s bringing Ellie by the house in an hour. I think someone should be there. I should be there.”
Dusty stared down at his boots. “Yes, you should.”
“So,” she said slowly. “I guess I’ll catch a ride home with Sal, then.”
He didn’t say anything.
“I’ll see you back at the house in a couple hours?” Her words were hesitant, soft.
Dusty wanted to tell her no. That he wouldn’t be going there again. Instead, he found himself nodding. There was still the matter of the papers. And little Ellie. This time he would do things right. Leave no doubt as to his intentions. When he left this time, it would be for good. “I’ll see you back at the house,” he said, then turned and walked away, leaving her standing by herself in the middle of the street.
Chapter 17
The following evening, Jolie adjusted the tiny tutu on the even tinier ballerina leotard, then gently turned Ellie around to face her. They were in the middle of the second bedroom, which no longer resembled the guest room, with the aid of Jolie’s careful ministrations and Darby’s helping hand. Ellie might have been staying there for weeks rather than three days. She’d even named all the stuffed animals and the doll the twins had given her and stacked them just so against the wall, one on top of the other. Jolie couldn’t help thinking the five-year-old’s rekindled interest in the life surrounding her was a good, healing sign.
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