by Lisa Ladew
Bruin’s gaze followed the length of the hose. “One hundred foot hose, filled with water, nine hundred pounds or so.”
Beckett felt like dropping it. “Nine hundred you say?”
Mac came up on Beckett’s other side, grabbing more hose. “Put your back into it, hardhead,” he grunted to Beckett.
Beckett ignored him. More headway. Maybe that bearen ordering Beckett around would shut up, finally.
A bearen in full fire gear rushed past Beckett, ducked under the hose, then caught Bruin with his shoulder in an obvious body-check. Mac dropped his length of hose and stared after him. “Hey, you dick, come back here and try that again!”
Beckett grunted as the weight increased. “Mac, a little help.”
Mac glared after the offending bearen until Bruin spoke. “No worries, bro, they don’t bother me.”
Mac flipped the bird at the bearen’s back, then picked up the hose again. With volleys of grunts and heaves, the three of them messily maneuvered the hose to where the bearen had wanted it. They dropped it.
Beckett looked to Bruin. “What was that about, you piss somebody off?”
Bruin shrugged. Mac answered for him. “All of them apparently. I heard a different acorn-head call him a traitor earlier.” He faced Bruin. “What’s up, bro? Spill.”
Bruin shrugged again. “They think I think I’m better than them. They don’t think I should be carrying a gun or hanging out with wolves.”
Mac faced Beckett, his face a parody of surprise. He hooked a thumb at Bruin. “You hear that? Them bears are some judgmental berry-eaters, aren’t they?”
Beckett just stared at Mac, not taking the bait. He buffed his nails on his ruined shirt and stared out at the flaming lake as hot air hit him in the face. He hoped that the breeze they’d been dealing with all day wasn’t turning into an actual wind. Because that’s what it felt like. He’d learned what a firenado was, a whirlwind induced of fire and caused by rising heat and high winds. He’d also learned that what the signs said could come next would be an actual fire tornado, when a wildfire created an actual cloud that spawned a real tornado, which was a thousand times more dangerous and could easily flatten a path through a city, while starting the rest of it on fire. That’s why they were all out here, every last male, busting their asses.
Bruin stared at Wade and the fire chief still arguing over the fire. “Well, something has to put it out and not ruin our water for life!” Wade shouted.
“Baking soda,” Bruin whispered.
“What?” Beckett said, edging closer to him.
“I think baking soda will work,” Bruin said. “I even ordered a couple truckloads after Mac told me about the Vahiy signs. They are mounded in piles behind my house.”
“You gotta tell your chief,” Mac said.
Bruin shook his head sadly. “He doesn’t listen to me. Never has. Thinks I’m useless and stupid.”
Mac’s face twisted in anger. “Well, he’s gonna listen to me. Anything’s worth a fucking try.”
***
Hours later, Beckett was released from the scene. The fire was almost completely out, Bruin’s suggestion working like gangbusters. They’d already spread the word to all the other afflicted counties, and more were reporting success.
As he strode away from the scene, his mind immediately went to what he’d dealt with that morning. He dug out his phone and began making his calls, the first one to Detective DuPage, the one he’d left in charge of the scene at the trailer. Beckett had no real authority over DuPage, but as a member of the KSRT, he received respect and allowances from everyone on the force.
“DuPage.”
“This is Oswego. You still out there?”
“Nah, we wrapped up thirty minutes ago. I’m at the station working on my report.”
“What do you know?”
“The dead male, his name is Myles Pekin. A moonshiner who had been on that plot of land for a few years now. He came from New Mexico and bought the place with cash. It already had the trailer on it. The woman buried in the back yard is probably his common-law wife, Sandra Cook.”
“Could you do a tox-screen on her?” Beckett asked, thinking of the mushrooms in the forest.
“We can try. But we know what killed her.”
“What?”
“A blow to the back of the head.”
Beckett whistled, low and long. “What about the other woman and the girl that lived in the trailer? Any word on them?”
“They were found at the bus station this morning.”
Excitement whirled in Beckett’s chest, much like he imagined a firenado would bounce around in a forest. “You have them at the station?”
“Ah, hold on.” Beckett pressed the phone to his ear as he walked. He’d parked his truck over a mile away, not wanting it covered in soot and ash. DuPage came back on the line. “Says here the older one was taken to county and the younger one to the interim home.”
Excitement turned to dread, then bitter anger. “What? You know as well as I do that was self-defense. Why did they go to lockup?”
“Calm down, Beck, I didn’t have anything to do with it. Word came down from somewhere else they were to go to lockup. Someone up the ladder. “
“Who?”
Beckett heard computer keys clacking, even over the sound of his own heart pulsing in his ears, as DuPage looked through the digital file. “It doesn’t specify. Just says Chief. Doesn’t say which chief from where.”
Beckett swore. If she were his mate, he was going to ream someone a new asshole for that call. Maybe even if she weren’t. “How long ago?”
“Ah, looks like she went at about eight or nine.”
“Thanks,” Beckett said, about to hang up, when DuPage’s voice stopped him.
“Wait, a note just came in on her file. She’s headed to the hospital. For a-a head injury.” His voice dropped an octave. “She was attacked by a bunkmate.”
Beckett swore again, and picked up his pace. “Thanks, I’m out,” he said, hanging up the phone and jamming it in his pocket, then stopping himself. He needed a change of clothes. He’d head straight over there and Rhen help this mysterious chief if she was hurt badly.
He reached his truck, rooted in the back for clothes, then snarled when he found nothing but a towel.
He’d grab a change of clothes at the hospital, then go find—
He realized that he hadn’t even gotten her name.
Chapter 14
Cerise stared at another ceiling, her anxiety skyrocketing, handcuffs pinning her to another bed.
“Uh, can I get a drink of water?” she called to the prison guard blocking the entrance to her hospital room.
“Wait till the nurse comes back,” he grunted.
She pressed her lips together and looked around the room for the fiftieth time, then settled on the ceiling again. Pushing the nurse wouldn’t do any good, she needed to push the guard or she would never get out of here. She didn’t know what exactly pushing was, or how long she’d been able to do it, or what its limits were, but she’d seen its effects clearly on the nurse in the prison. As soon as she’d said, I need to go to the hospital, too, the nurse had frowned, then pulled Cerise’s lower eyelid down and stared at whatever she saw there, and said, “You’re sicker than I thought, you need to go to the hospital, too.”
It had almost fallen apart when the ambulance had shown up to take both her and Cici to the hospital, and the paramedic had asked what was wrong with Cerise. The nurse had looked him in the eye and said, “She’s sicker than I thought, she needs to go to the hospital, too.” Cerise had panicked for a moment, even her untrained ears telling her that wasn’t an actual diagnosis, but then the nurse had shoved two charts into the paramedic’s arms and shooed him toward Cerise’s bed with her hands. The paramedic had set his lips and done what he was told, which was take Cerise to the Emergency Room, where she still hadn’t been seen by a doctor.
It was a busy night, lots of firefighters kept walking by her r
oom, the smell of chemicals and fire drifting in to her every time one passed. Somewhere down the corridors she could hear men talking loudly, urgently.
What if I can push the guard without touching him? She thought maybe she could, at least a little, but somehow knew whatever strange power her brain had was stronger when she touched someone. What if all she was able to do without touching him was make him suspicious?
She stared at the ceiling, wondering if she were really going to try. If she didn’t, she would be taken back to the jail and hopefully not be in any more trouble than she already was. She’d get a chance to talk with a lawyer, maybe get to tell her story to someone, maybe be able to convince someone to let her out? And how long would that take? How much damage would be done to Kaci in the meantime? Kaci, who was completely innocent in all of this. Kaci, who’d never been apart from Cerise for more than a few days, and all of those days had been spectacularly awful for her.
But if she could get this guard to come over to her, maybe, somehow, she could get out of the hospital. This ability of hers that she’d discovered was an absolute game changer for them. She could push someone into giving them a ride to California. It wouldn’t even matter if he or she was a person they ordinarily wouldn’t want to get in a car with. She’d already proven she could protect herself with it.
A pang of guilt hit her as she wondered again how Cici was. She shouldn’t have tried to strangle you. Cerise knew that, but still, she didn’t want to hurt people, didn’t want to force anyone to do something they didn’t want to do. She knew the pain of that.
But what choice did she have? None.
She opened her mouth to call to the guard, planning to try to push him to come closer to her, close enough that she could touch him, then she could tell him to unlock her handcuffs. Before she could say a word, a male voice spoke at her doorway.
One she’d heard before.
“Hey, Corporal, why don’t you take a break, I need to talk to her in private.”
She whipped her head up, not daring to believe her ears.
The guard nodded, falling over himself to move out of the new guy’s way. “Yes, sir. I’ll be at the nurse’s station. Yell for me when you’re done.”
The man from the house she’d broken into strode into the room, his eyes locked on hers, the look on his face one she couldn’t quite puzzle out. He looked almost… hungry.
He was wearing blue scrubs that barely fit his wide chest, the camouflage hat she’d seen on his pillow now perched on his head. He brought the smell of old fire from the hallway in with him. She searched his chest for a nametag, but found none.
She stared at him, waiting for the first words out of his mouth, wondering what they would be. Did he know she’d been to his house not once, but twice? Was she about to get yelled at? Threatened? Beaten? She tried to think back, to remember what she’d said to him when she pushed him. She thought maybe it had been to forget about her.
She tried to shrink away from him as he got closer, still unable to read the look on his face. Her mind tensed in fear, but her body stayed calm, like it knew something she didn’t. Her shoulders were still knotted from the earlier fight, but the rest of her body was relaxed. He reached her and put his hand on the bedrail, only a few inches from her hand, and her first instinct was to reach up and touch his fingers, but she stayed herself, wanting to hear what he would say first. Wanting to read his emotional weather.
He smiled then, a grin that would have made her knees weak if she’d been standing. A grin that made her heart quicken and everything in the room blur but his face. “Hey there, darlin’,” he said, his voice a country drawl she found delicious, even through her fear. “They treatin’ you right in here?”
Cerise felt her lips part and her eyes go wide. She didn’t know what to make of him. Two words escaped her lips before she had a chance to think about them. “I’m scared.”
His face twisted with compassion and something stronger. “Don’t be,” he said, then reached down to grasp her hand softly, something like expectation on his face.
Cerise curled her fingers around his, not thinking. Flex. Push. She held back the flex, tried to control its strength, keep it under control. Power rippled out of her, she could feel it go, like actual muscle contractions, or tears falling from her eyes. She tried to pay more attention to it, but lost it when she spoke, her awareness of it dissolving as she used a different part of her brain. “Get me out of these handcuffs,” she whispered to him, her muscles finally tensing. “I have to go find my sister. She’s in real trouble and I need your help.”
The man frowned and stared at her for a second. Cerise had a moment to wonder if she’d been imagining the push before, grasping at insane straws, but then his eyes unfocused slightly. He let go of her hand, turned to the table next to her and rummaged through it.
“What are you looking for?” she asked, still whispering.
“Something to spring the lock on those cuffs, I don’t have a handcuff key on me.”
Oh. Right. Smart. She pushed up on her elbows to watch, her gaze pulling back to the door every time someone passed, fearful thoughts running through her head, until one grabbed her attention. He’s going to get in trouble. He’s going to lose his job.
Cerise bit her lip. She hadn’t even considered that. She wouldn’t be able to make up for this one. She couldn’t pay back something like that.
He stood up straight, holding up his hand, a tiny silver piece of metal glinting in it. A paperclip. “This’ll work.”
He maneuvered one end of the paperclip to stand straight out, then bent over the cuffs holding her right hand to the bed and it sprang open almost at once.
The word stop was on her tongue, but she didn’t say it. She had to choose between Kaci and this man. Maybe if she came back here after she’d gotten Kaci to her parents, said she’d held a gun to this man’s head, then maybe he wouldn’t get in trouble.
Her mind grabbed onto the idea with strong hands, convincing her it could work, had to work.
She would figure out the details later.
***
Beckett skirted the hospital bed and bent over the second pair of handcuffs securing the woman to the bed. He’d felt no visceral reaction when he’d touched her, and he knew from talking with Crew, Graeme, and Trevor, that if she was his one true mate, he would have known the first time he touched her. Strangely, he felt no disappointment, only anticipation and determination. She might not be his one true mate, but she was still special to him. He would discover exactly how and why.
Within seconds, he had her unlocked. She sat up, rubbing her wrists and fixing him with a curious stare. He smiled at her, his heart strangely full and satisfied, an emotion he didn’t know if he’d ever experienced before. She looked so lovely, so sweet, so innocent. He took a deep breath, pulling in her delicious licorice scent. He was so glad to have found her, and so glad she seemed to not be badly injured, that he was having a hard time focusing on what he had planned when he’d first entered the room.
His mind serene for the first time in weeks, maybe years, he took a step back and waited for her next move. He felt good just being in the room with her, just standing near her. Questions ran deep in the back of his mind, like who are you, and why were you in my house, but he didn’t ask them. They didn’t seem important.
Oh! He’d almost forgotten. “You have to go find your sister. She’s in real trouble and you need my help. Wait here.”
She raised a hand and started to say something, but he was already moving out the door. He hooked a right in the hallway and found the same scrubs cart that he had taken the scrubs he was wearing from. He ran his fingers along the women’s sizes, grabbing an extra small, small, and medium size of a pastel purple scrubs pair. He had little idea how sizes for women worked. He turned back toward the room, then thought better of it and returned to the cart, grabbing a large also. She was not tall or big, but he’d learned over the years with women he’d brought home or bought presents fo
r that not only were women weird about sizes, but sizes were never consistent across brands. He briefly considered wheeling the entire cart into the room, then shook his head and ran back to the room, where she had climbed back into the bed and covered herself with a blanket. When she saw him, the relief on her face was obvious.
“You came back,” she said, swinging her legs onto the floor and throwing the blanket to the side.
“You have to go find your sister, but you can’t do it in those clothes. Here.” He thrust an armload of scrubs at her, and turned around, pulling the curtain so she could get dressed in private, then stood at the door to guard it.
Within a moment, she said, “I’m done.”
He turned and pulled the curtain open, wanting to just stand and stare at her, she was that lovely in the purple. But she was trembling, her eyes darting from him to the door behind him, like she was terrified.
He frowned, wanting to fix it for her, still not even knowing her name, but feeling a profound connection with her that made his heart hurt in a way he hadn’t felt in years.
He held out his hand. “You have to go find your sister. She’s in real trouble and you need my help.” The words sounded strange to him, but he didn’t stop to think about why. They had to be acted on because they created an unbearable tension inside him that he somehow knew would only ease when the concepts were finished.
She clasped her hands to her chest and stared at his hand, not taking it. He dropped it to his side.
“Let’s go.”
Chapter 15
Cerise modified her pace so she was a step behind the doctor, or whatever he was, her head down, eyes on the floor in front of her feet. There was no way they were getting out of there without being stopped. Their plan, or lack of a plan, was going to do nothing more than get her thrown right back in jail, tacking on attempted escape to murder. The black hole that was her life threatened to swallow her whole, but she put one foot in front of the other, taking each moment as it came.