8
The call came in well after midnight Thursday morning, judging by the texture of the moon pushing against the curtains of her firehouse office. Ellie bolted upright, her pulse notched to high and her feet hitting the cold cement floor before dispatcher Judy Franks had finished relaying the call.
Car accident on Route 61 north of town. Ellie keyed up the radio microphone and told Judy to page squad three. She’d divided the twenty-some volunteers into three groups, each taking turns serving as primary in a twenty-four-hour call period. At some point, she hoped to have a captain for each squad manning the firehouse, along with an EMT-trained firefighter.
Until then, it was only Ellie and Doug Miller doing a twenty-four-hour tour. They rushed out to the garage, jumped into their turnout gear, and dived into the rescue rig. Franklin, bless him, had followed her to the edge of the firehouse and stood watching as they opened the door and pulled out into the deserted street.
Doug sat quietly beside her, not saying a word about having her at the wheel. Of all her men, he was the quietest. She could count the words the burly wrestler-type had spoken to her on one hand.
Moonlight illuminated the pavement, and the darkened houses seemed like eerie watchmen as the rescue unit screamed past them, siren blaring, just in case they encountered motorists.
Half a mile out of town, she switched off the siren, feeling stupid. Nothing but the shadows of birch and pine trees cluttered the road. She didn’t look at Doug, who stared out the window as if on an afternoon drive. Gripping the wheel, she floored the rig, thankful for the fact she didn’t have to dodge minivans and SUVs like she’d had to as she’d careened down Duluth’s streets.
Over the chatter box she heard a few of her squad members calling in and Judy reporting the accident’s location. Ellie mentally calculated the response time, knowing they were eating away precious seconds of the “golden hour,” the envelope of time when a person’s recovery is most optimistic.
She saw the crash as she finished a turn in the road. Headlights peeled back the night around a large oak, where a Ford Bronco lay on its side, passenger side down. Ten feet away, an elderly woman in a parka, her nightgown flapping in the lake breeze, waved them over as Ellie pulled onto the shoulder.
Whoever had been driving had done a good job of trying to kill themselves. The SUV had jumped the ditch, bounced off a beech tree, and landed with its roof propped against a thick oak.
Ellie winced at the slash in the beech’s trunk. Throwing on the five-hundred-watt lights, she hopped out of the vehicle. The instant bath of light gave the scene a blunt, jarring reality.
Ellie didn’t miss the odor of fuel saturating the air.
“I tried to get her out, but the door wouldn’t move,” said the elderly woman as she tramped up to them.
“Thank you, Francine,” said Doug, while Ellie moved to the side of the unit. “We’ll take care of it from here.”
Ellie grabbed her class B fire extinguisher and shoved it into Doug’s arms. “Watch my back. I’m going to see if I can find that leak.”
With her flashlight, Ellie scanned the area for power lines, letting out a breath of relief when she saw that the SUV had missed the pole.
Doug was right behind her as she crept up to the Bronco. Ellie heard the crunch of glass under her boots and moaning from inside the vehicle. “Hang in there,” she called. “We’ll get you out.”
Angling her flashlight, she scanned the undercarriage of the SUV, locating the fuel line. Sure enough, fuel leaked out of a puncture between the front wheels. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a golf tee. “If this thing goes up, douse it good.”
She heard the sound of a motor in the background, a car barreling up the highway. Moving with care, she worked the golf tee into the puncture until it sealed the fuel drip. Even so, fumes emanated from the saturated ground. She prayed the electrical systems from the car wouldn’t set it off.
Ellie could barely reach the door. “We need to immobilize the vehicle.” The worst thing she could do is cause the Bronco to fall forward onto its tires by climbing on it, inflicting more damage to the victim inside.
“I’ll get her,” Doug said instead, setting down the extinguisher. Standing on the tire, he began to hoist himself to the hood.
The Bronco rocked and Ellie jumped back, afraid it would land on her. “Get down, Doug!” She yanked on his coat. The man fell back and landed hard on the gasoline-spattered ground.
An expletive flew from his mouth. “What’s wrong with you?”
She rounded on him. “Where did you go to rescue school?” Not waiting for an answer, she ran to the rescue vehicle and retrieved the Hi-Lift jack. Doug had found his feet—and his snarl—by the time she returned. She ignored him and shoved the jack under the frame of the doorjamb. As she began hiking it up, she heard a car pull up behind the rescue unit.
Sweat beaded between her shoulders as she worked. In a moment, the car rested tightly against the tree. “Now we climb on,” she said loud enough for Doug to hear.
She gripped the tire and felt hands behind her, pushing. She turned and looked into Dan’s eyes. The concern in them spiraled right through to her bones. She hadn’t seen him since Sunday when she’d heard him preach. But that day he’d looked haggard and pained. He’d spoken on John 14, somewhere near the end, about finding peace. “Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.” That verse had resonated deep inside her and picked at the scabs she’d so carefully tended. Her legs had hustled her out of the sanctuary before Dan could turn those probing eyes on her and see how he’d opened old wounds.
She knew enough about being troubled and afraid to fill a lifetime of sermon illustrations.
“Hi,” she said but didn’t let her eyes linger for his mind-scattering smile. In a second she was crouching on top of the driver’s-side door.
The window had been shattered; jagged glass draped the window frame. “Hello in there,” she called softly.
Someone moaned in reply. Shining a light into the window, Ellie made out a woman. Curled in the fetal position, she was holding her forearm as if trying to keep it immobile. Her face twisted in the light, and as she met Ellie’s gaze, her expression radiated shock. Ellie surmised the victim had banged her head into the window, evident by the glass embedded in an ugly spidery wound that dripped blood into her dark hair, down her thin face, and off her jaw. She looked about Ellie’s age.
“Hang on,” Ellie said in an even, calming tone. “We’re coming in after you.”
She looked down at Dan, still standing at the ready beside the vehicle. Doug moved to greet Joe Michaels, Guthrie Jones, and Lionel Parks—most of squad three who’d arrived. Ernie was still unaccounted for.
Ellie reached in, tugged on the unlocking mechanism in the door. She heard it click, but when she tried the door, it gave only enough to slip a finger between the frame. “Dan, get me a pry bar, will ya?”
While she removed the glass from the window, careful not to let it rain down on the victim, Dan ran to the rig and returned in a second with two pry bars. He mounted the SUV behind her and dug the bar into the door beside hers. “On the count of three.”
Together they seesawed the door open, the metal screaming. She wasn’t unaware of Dan sitting right behind her, his strong arms around her while they worked in tandem. Guthrie, a probie with a wide, round face and eager eyes, stood below, watching like a first grader. Although he’d already passed his beginning firefighter course, his status was indirect assistance only. Joe stood at the ready with a C-collar and backboard.
The door screeched open another six inches. “Guthrie, we need the door chain.” A second later the eager lad, his eyes afire, returned and helped her drape the chain around the door, securing it to itself with the slip hook. She tossed it to Dan, who jumped down and secured the line over the hood and around the steering column under the carriage near the front bottom wheel. Anchoring it tight, he attached the hand winch.
Ellie met Dan’
s eyes, recognized in them the intensity of the first night they’d met when he’d told her she was some sort of dream come true, and felt her heart twitch. He had the look of a man who knew what he wanted and wasn’t going to let tragedy stand in his way.
In a second they’d winched the door open. Ellie lay on her stomach and maneuvered her way inside, bracing herself on the steering wheel. “Can you move, ma’am?” she asked.
The inside of the car reeked of blood and beer, and terror radiated from the woman. She looked like she’d been out for a hot evening in her leather jacket, black jeans, and styled long dark hair, now matted and sticky with blood. Her face had taken a beating, and a bruise cupped her eye.
The woman nodded, but her wide eyes indicated otherwise.
Pushing herself out, Ellie motioned for the C-collar. When she moved back inside, she felt Dan holding down her legs, again reading her mind. Her hands free, she snapped the collar on the woman. “Were you wearing your seat belt?” she asked.
The woman barely shook her head.
Ellie held it still. “Okay. Don’t move.” She debated taking off the roof to lever the woman onto a backboard but decided speed prevailed over precaution. The woman’s pulse felt erratic and fast, and her color reminded Ellie of putty.
Hooking her arms under the woman’s arms, she hollered up to Dan, “Haul me up!”
Strong hands on her jacket and waist told her that someone had propped up a ladder. When she negotiated herself and the victim out of the window, she saw Joe ready with the backboard lying on the side of the car. With care, she laid the woman on top of it. “Hang in there, ma’am,” she said to the woman, who still hadn’t released Ellie’s arm from her white-knuckle grip.
Quickly they secured the victim and lowered her to the ground. Ellie made quick work of splinting her arm, fixing on a non-rebreather mask, and taking the woman’s vitals. By the time the ambulance had arrived, the woman was packaged and ready for transport.
Guthrie stood ten feet back, his eyes full of hero worship when Ellie closed the ambulance doors. Joe and Dan were layering the fuel-soaked area with foam, creating a barrier between the fuel and oxygen. Doug and his pal Ernie, who had finally arrived twenty-plus minutes into the incident, stood glaring at her from the clasp of light. No doubt Doug had embellished their incident to epic proportions.
She unhooked the winch, watching Chief Sam and one of his deputies taking a statement from Francine. Tucking the apparatus back into its compartment, she didn’t hear Dan steal up behind her.
“Good job getting Bonnie out.”
“You know her?” Ellie turned and jumped at the effect of Pastor Dan Matthews, up close and personal, looking devastatingly handsome in his turnout coat and hint of dark whiskers. The guy hadn’t stopped to comb his hair, of course, and it curled defiantly from under his pushed-back helmet. He braced one hand on the SUV door, leaning into their conversation.
“Yeah. She and her husband own the General Trading Store—that big log department store on the harbor. Just recently separated.” He shook his head. “They came to me for counseling a few weeks ago. We had one session and they didn’t return, although Bonnie tried to schedule another.” His face twisted, as if he took their absence as a personal failure. “I wanted to help her, but I have rules against counseling alone with a woman. Poor Bonnie. She’s had it rough. From what I hear, her sister Emilee was killed in an auto accident a few years ago, and Bonnie’s felt pretty alone.”
“Looks like she’s trying some different methods of counseling.” Ellie remembered the redolence of beer swilling the vehicle.
He nodded, a grim look on his face. “Well, I was impressed with your quick thinking. You knew just what to do.”
She smiled at that. “Well, thanks. It’s nice to know I’m earning my keep.”
“Was there any doubt?”
She opened her mouth, incredulous. “Remember, and I quote, ‘over my dead body’?”
He winced, closing one eye and then the other. It was so endearing and filled with exaggerated pain she laughed. “Okay,” he admitted, “so maybe I had a teensy bit of doubt. But my stupidity had more to do with me than you, believe me.”
Oh? She wanted to follow that statement right down to his secrets. “Hmm. You know how to pique a girl’s interests, Mr. Do-Right.”
“Do I now?” His gaze had turned decidedly mischievous. “Well, I don’t suppose I could tempt you into a cup of coffee down at the Loon Café? It’s open all night, and I know Becky could rustle us up some eggs.”
Ellie checked her watch—4 A.M. She should be running home, climbing under the covers, snuggling with Franklin. But something about Pastor Dan’s smile felt like an embrace, and she couldn’t disentangle herself from his charm. “Okay.”
“I can’t believe it’s closed.” Dan shook his head and angled Ellie a look of exasperation. Framed in the glow of early dawn, it softened all her features and dropped her age about ten more years. He felt decidedly delinquent, as if he’d been out all night cruising on a hot date.
But Ellie didn’t look like that kind of girl. With her Laura Ingalls braids, her jean jacket, and clasped hands on her lap, she looked sweet and pure.
He wanted to slap himself. He shouldn’t be thinking about kissing her. Not only would she fire him on the spot, but Ellie Karlson was the last woman he should consider for a wife. He gave a half chuckle, just thinking about her trying to lead the women’s Bible study. . . . She’d probably make them do laps around the church if they didn’t memorize their verses.
“What’s so funny?” When she looked at him with those breath-stealing blue eyes, all his humor disappeared. Perhaps he was in more danger than he realized.
“Uh, nothing.” He sighed. “Well, I didn’t know the Loon was closed on weeknights.”
“Not much of a nightlife, huh?”
Was she teasing him? She did have the most beautiful smile, and she employed it now, rendering him . . . “Uh . . . no . . . I, ah . . .”
She laughed. “I’m kidding you, Pastor! Loosen up.”
“Right.” Sweat trickled between his shoulder blades. “I guess I don’t know what to do. I wanted coffee.”
“And eggs. In fact, I think you promised.” She yawned, but her eyes twinkled behind her hand.
“I don’t remember promising.”
“Well, if you’re not going to feed me, then I’m going back to the ranch. Franklin is waiting.” She had a tweak to her smile, however, and for some reason he couldn’t get past the idea that she wanted to be here with him. That somehow he’d made a giant, don’t-pass-go leap from fiend to friend.
He suddenly felt very, very warm. “Hey, I have an idea. Let’s go . . . well, okay, I don’t know if you’ll like it, but I’d like to show you something.”
She narrowed one eye. “The same something you wanted to show me a week ago without my badge?”
He shook his head. “I meant it when I said I was sorry.”
“It’s okay, Dan. I’m not wearing my badge today.”
“Not like you don’t have to. I mean, it’s up to you, but I don’t have a problem—”
He liked it when she laughed. It filled his car with the texture of happiness.
“Well, I was a little . . . touchy that day,” Ellie admitted. “It’s not every day that the fire chief needs to be rescued. My pride may have been a bit bruised.”
He smiled. How he appreciated a woman who could see herself from the outside and admit her weaknesses. “And now?”
“After your stellar incident report on how well your fire chief managed tonight at the crash site, I think my ego will fully recover.”
“Ah, the stellar incident report.” He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “So this is an attempt at extortion. You’ll go with me in exchange for flattery?”
“Absolutely.” She smiled and sucked him right into her world. Grinning like a man cleared of all charges, he fired up his VW Bug and drove through the streets. Ellie watched the houses ti
ck by without comment.
“Have you found a place to live yet?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I moved some of my gear over to the firehouse. I’m sleeping there most nights anyway. I know I should find someplace to rent before I go broke, though.”
“You know they say that the hotel could fall over with a big wind.”
She chuckled. “That or burn to the ground. I don’t even want to think about how many fire hazards I saw. I’ll have to meet with the manager and have him implement some changes before I book another week there. At least I’m next to the fire escape.”
“So you’re sleeping at the firehouse? with the guys?” He didn’t mean for that tinny, disapproving tone to emerge—he hoped she wouldn’t guess it was more personal than moral.
She scowled at him. “No. Not with the guys as you so delicately put it.”
“Sorry.”
She whacked him playfully, and he was relieved to see a smile on her face. “I’m in my office with the door locked; they’re upstairs in the bunk room. It’s almost like having my own apartment.”
“Then you don’t walk around in your long johns?”
She glowered at him. “No. I reserve that for my trips into town. The grocery store, the library, the bookstore. I have a rep now. The Jammie Girl.”
Pure glee rippled through him at her self-teasing. “Well, Jammie Girl, have you ever played any stick?” He pulled into the high school parking lot and drove around back to the ice arena.
“Stick?”
“Yeah. Hockey. Do you know how to skate?”
This time when she looked at him, he saw pure challenge in her fiery blue eyes. “My brother was a goalie for his high school team. He got good because he practiced against me.”
“Then let’s shoot some stick, Jammie Girl.”
9
Are you sure you don’t want more pads? This ice is hard.” Dan circled Ellie as she pushed herself to a sitting position on the ice. She was going to have a bruise on her hip the next time she looked in the mirror, but she forced a smile.
Deep Haven [03] The Perfect Match Page 10