Hot for Fireman

by Jennifer Bernard

  “I’m sorry, Daddy.” Her father’s face, when he’d first seen the disaster, had been the hardest moment for Katie.

  “It’s not your fault, Gidget.”

  Katie looked away. She didn’t know how the fire had started, but one thing she knew. It certainly was her fault.

  “I should never have put you in charge. Big responsibility.”

  Katie gritted her teeth, but before she could answer, Bridget stepped in.

  “Dad,” said Bridget sharply. “Katie did a great job with the bar. You know she did.”

  The idea that Bridget would champion her rendered Katie momentarily mute. Nina Dane, her arm locked with her husband’s, nodded in agreement, gazing on the charred wreckage with a look of satisfaction. “We owe Katie our thanks, Frank. The Lord works in mysterious ways. After all, the place is insured.”

  Frank started. “Is it? What’s the date? July 28. Yes. Policy runs out end of the month. We’re fine.” A broad smile wreathed his face.

  Katie did a double take. “You remember about the insurance, Daddy?”

  “Of course. Important stuff.”

  “Then why didn’t you help me with it? You let me worry about it all by myself.”

  Her father looked at her as if she’d spoken in a foreign language.

  “Figured you had it handled. You would have come to me if you needed anything.”

  “Mom wouldn’t let me.”

  Nina bristled under the weight of her husband’s red-faced frown. “How could I? You needed rest. No stress, remember? You needed your gnomes.”

  “What do gnomes have to do with it? Don’t blame the gnomes,” Frank roared.

  “I’m not blaming the gnomes,” Nina roared back. “I’m not blaming anyone. But your health—”

  “I’m not an old man, for Chrissakes.”

  “Look at you, just talking about this is sending your blood pressure up.”

  “Stop!” Katie burst out. “Listen to me!”

  Everyone went silent. For the first time she could remember, Katie was the sole focus of her family’s astonished attention. “I never wanted to run the bar. I never should have done it.”

  “But you did it so well.” Her mother launched into a protest.

  Katie held up her hand for silence, which, astonishingly, worked. “I never. Wanted it. But I was afraid to walk away. I didn’t want to let you down. I didn’t do a very good job with it. The only thing I did right was hire Ryan. He tried to help me. No one else did. And now look where he is.”

  Suddenly tears dribbled down her face.

  “Honey!” Her mother left her father’s side and pulled her into a hug. “It’s not your fault. You can’t blame yourself.”

  Huge sobs shook Katie’s entire body. All the pent-up worry and pressure came pouring out. “But . . . but . . .”

  Her father put his arms around the two of them. “You should have told me you didn’t want the bar. I figured it would be more fun than some stuffy university.”

  “But . . .”

  “How could she, when she knew your health was at stake? For shame, Frank.”

  “It’s okay . . .” Katie fought to squeeze out some words between the sobs. She didn’t want her parents to blame themselves. That wasn’t the point at all. She had something important to say, and instead of spitting it out, she was crying in her parents’ arms.

  “I thought she enjoyed the Drinking Crew and all the crazy high jinks at the old place.” Her father’s voice rumbled over her head. The entire conversation seemed to be taking place over her head.

  “I . . . I did . . .” she squeaked.

  “Having a handsome young barkeep didn’t hurt either.”

  “Oh please, Dad, that probably made it worse.” Bridget chimed in. “It’s obvious she has a crush on him.”

  That did it. Katie tore herself away from the group hug and confronted her family. “I can speak for myself. Dad, I like the Drinking Crew.” Hiccup. She gripped her fists tightly, determined to say what she had to say. “Working at the bar wasn’t all bad. But it’s not what I want to do with my life. Yes, I should have said so from the beginning. It’s true I didn’t like grad school that much. But that’s not the point. You shouldn’t have dumped the whole thing on me without offering any help at all.”

  Her parents looked thunderstruck. Frank slowly nodded. “You’re right there, Katie girl. As a matter of fact, you’re making some very good points.”

  “And Bridget.” She whirled on her sister, who stood with one hand on her hip, watching the whole scene with openmouthed amazement.

  “I don’t have a ‘crush’ on Ryan. I’m not twelve. I love him.” She put every ounce of her heart into that statement. She saw Bridget register her seriousness, as if she’d put on lipstick for the first time, or something equally grown-up. “He’s probably going to hate me now that he’s in a coma, I mean, when he wakes up from his coma. But that doesn’t change anything. I’ll still love him.”

  She saw pity flash across Bridget’s beautiful face, which enraged her.

  “And just so you know, we’ve slept together.”

  Her mother gasped. She didn’t dare look in her parents’ direction. “Like I said, I’m not twelve. I’m a grown woman and for some reason, Ryan is the only one who seems to recognize that.” She gave a sweeping gesture toward the Hair of the Dog. “Everything that happened here is my responsibility. I’m not a particularly good bar manager, but the point is, I’m not a child.”

  “Well.” Her parents looked at each other. Nina Dane shrugged daintily. “I suppose it’s a good thing this happened before the insurance ran out then. How much is the policy for?”

  Frank Dane puffed up his chest. Katie gestured for him to take center stage. “One. Million. Dollars. Can’t say I wasn’t thinking ahead.”

  Bridget and Nina gasped. Nina stepped back, her hand fluttering to her throat. “A million dollars? We could buy that condo in Baja.”

  “I could make a gnome convention center.”

  “I could open my own gym,” Bridget chimed in. She let out a spurt of delighted laughter.

  Frank whirled Nina into a quick waltz. “Didn’t I always say I’d take care of you? That the bar wasn’t a big waste of time?”

  “I take it all back, my dear,” laughed Nina. “Every bad thing I ever said about the Hair of the Dog.”

  Bridget already had her cell phone out, ready to call her friends. “Katie,” she said, barely glancing up from it. “I take back everything I ever said about the bar. And you.”

  Scowling, Katie weighed whether or not to take offense at that. Best to move on, she decided. Why get stuck in the quarrels of the past? She was a new woman, with a new approach to her life. “Woman” being the operative word. “Thank you, Bridget. I appreciate that.”

  Bridget graced her with a glowing smile and began talking into her phone.

  “Jake and Todd, ya hear this?” Frank bellowed toward the twins.

  “Hang on, Dad,” Jake shouted from the spot where the front door had once been. “There’s a dude here asking a bunch of questions.”

  Katie turned sharply. Her brothers had stopped kicking at scorched chair legs and fallen fake timbers, and stood with a man in a gray business suit. For a dizzy moment, Katie thought it was Carson Smith. Maybe he’d decided to do the job after all, since she’d given him the money. And then hung around to boast about it.

  But this man was thinner, slightly hunched, mostly bald. He was taking notes in a very official-looking notebook.

  As if moving in slow motion, Katie headed toward the three of them. The smell of the burning debris got even stronger the closer she came. She sneezed. Jake shot her a queasy smile.

  “Here’s the one you want to talk to,” he said to the man. “This is my sister Katie. She’s been running the bar for my dad while he recovered from a heart attack. Katie, this guy’s from . . . where are you from?”

  The man held out a scrawny hand. “Fidelity Trust. I’m a claims adjustor. B
ill Feldman.”

  Katie shook his hand, knowing hers was ice cold. “Thanks for coming by. We’re still in shock over the fire.”

  “Fires are a bad business. Very bad. I’m sorry for your family’s loss. You aren’t Francis Q. Dane, I take it.”

  “No. That’s my father. But could we, I mean, the bar’s my responsibility. He’s supposed to be avoiding stress. I can answer any questions you might have.”

  He assessed her over the top of his rimless glasses. He had surprisingly nice eyes, she noticed. A pleasant amber color. “Very well then. Are you familiar with all the employees?”

  She relaxed. Questions about employees posed no challenge. “Yes. We only have two.”

  “Do you have anyone on staff with expertise in fires? Say, a volunteer fireman of some sort?”

  The world seemed to stop turning. She felt the bright sun beat down on her head, caught a glimpse of a boy riding past on a Razor scooter, craning his neck at the wreckage. “Why do you ask?”

  “The question is part of my investigation.” Now his amber eyes no longer looked nice. They looked reptilian. “I suggest you answer.”

  Todd piped up. “Ryan used to be a fireman, didn’t he? At the San Gabriel firehouse.”

  “Ryan?” The claims adjustor jotted it down with a blue ballpoint pen. “Last name?”

  “Blake,” said Katie, mechanically. “He was injured in the fire. He’s in the hospital right now.”

  “So he was here when the fire broke out?” Another note in his book.

  “Yes, he was here. He had a little girl with him. He dove out the side window to save her. He nearly died.”

  “Interesting.” More jotting.

  Katie was starting to hate ballpoint pens. Not to mention claims adjustors. Was the man trying to imply something about Ryan? “Yes, it’s an interesting story. So interesting Channel Six wants to interview him because he’s such a hero.”

  “God save us from heroes,” muttered the man, scribbling more notes.

  “Excuse me?”

  He looked up from his notepad. “Everyone wants to be a hero. It’s astonishing how far some people will go to be one. Would Ryan Blake have any motivation for wanting to appear as a hero?”

  Appear? Motivation? The words ricocheted around Katie’s head. She longed to rip the man’s glasses off his face and stomp them into the scorched sidewalk. But she held on to her temper.

  “He wouldn’t do that. He didn’t have to. He already was a hero. He put out tons of fires when he was on the force.”

  “When he was on the force?”

  Oh Lord. Katie suddenly saw how things might look to a cynical insurance guy who didn’t know Ryan. He’d probably think Ryan had staged the rescue so he could get his job back.

  “It’s ridiculous. Why would he put Danielle’s life in danger? He’d never ever do that.”

  “Danielle. The little girl? Who is she?”

  Katie squeezed her eyes shut. This couldn’t be happening. “Captain Brody’s daughter,” she whispered. “Ryan’s fire chief.”

  “So he managed to rescue the fire chief’s daughter. Heroic and convenient.”

  “You don’t know Ryan,” she said, desperate. “He would never start a fire. He was terribly injured and could have died.”

  “Someone started this fire who knows about fires. We found a can of the same varnish they use at Station 1 on the ladders. There were multiple points of origin. I believe the arsonist’s hope was that the fire would burn hot enough to destroy all traces of the accelerant. Slight miscalculation there.”

  “Arsonist?”

  “Yes.” The adjustor closed his book and gave her a formal smile. “I’m afraid at this juncture I cannot approve your claim, pending determination of the fire’s origin. If arson is involved, it’s in the hands of the legal system. The fact that your employee, an experienced firefighter, happened to be here when the fire broke out, and happened to rescue the child of his former fire captain in a dramatically heroic fashion, certainly bears serious investigation. And, of course, we’ll have to look into his connection to you, the beneficiary. We will inform you of the results in due course. Good day, Ms. Dane.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “Ryan.” Did his eyelids flicker, just a tiny bit? Katie tried again. “Ryan.”

  Katie sighed. She’d been sitting at his side for the past two hours, holding his hand. She needed someone to talk to, and Ryan seemed to be the only one who would do. Even when he was unconscious, she’d rather talk to him than anyone else.

  “Your CAT scans are looking good. The doctors are going to cut off the phenobarbital to wake you up soon. Great news, huh?”

  Not that he had much to look forward to when he woke up. Congratulations on waking up from your coma, Ryan, now you get to face an arson charge! The thought made her ill. How could she make them understand that the last person on earth who would commit arson was Ryan?

  She traced her hand along Ryan’s muscled forearm. He’d done so much to help her. Sure, he’d been kind of bossy in the process, but always with the best intentions. If she told the investigator about all the fires he’d tried to stop, would he believe that Ryan must be innocent? Or would he still claim Ryan was trying to be a hero? Should she tell Bill Feldman about Carson Smith? At least that would lead him away from investigating Ryan. On the other hand, that would mean the end of any chance of her dad getting the insurance money.

  She sat up, jostling Ryan’s arm in the process. He made a little sound, a breathy squeak.

  “Ryan?” She held her breath. But, still deep in his trance, he made no other sound or movement. “I’m going to start my own investigation,” she told him, whether he could hear her or not. “The only way that claims adjustor will believe you didn’t set that fire is if I find out who did.” She bent to kiss him on his stubble-covered cheek. “I love you.”

  Funny how those words were becoming so easy to say.

  Outside the hospital, the warm evening enveloped her in a smoggy embrace. Not even a whisper of a breeze moved the eucalyptus trees in the small courtyard. She walked to her car, digging her cell phone out of her purse. So much for her determination never to speak to Carson Smith again.

  She started to dial his number, then changed her mind. Maybe it would be better to speak to him in person. She dialed Doug instead.

  “Hey, Doug.”

  “Hi, Katie.”

  “What’s the matter?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You sound funny. Are you high?” But she knew it wasn’t that. When Doug was stoned, he got spacey. Right now he sounded nervous.

  “No.”

  Now he sounded defensive. Oh well. She didn’t have time to decipher his moods. “Do you know where I can find Carson Smith?”

  “Why?”

  “What is with you? I want to talk to him.”

  “I don’t know where he is. You should stay away from him anyway.”

  Katie reached her car and fumbled for the keys. “Thanks for the advice, but I really need to talk to him. Never mind. I’ll just call him.”

  “Wait! Don’t call him. Where are you?”

  “At the hospital.”

  A brief moment of silence followed. No doubt Doug didn’t like hearing that, picturing her at Ryan’s bedside.

  “Fine. I’ll go see Smith with you. Meet me at Starbucks, we’ll go together.”

  Katie hung up slowly and got into her car. She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. Something was off with Doug. He didn’t sound like either his normal morose self or his stoned, slightly happier self. Something tugged at the edge of her memory. She’d seen him like this before, nervous and guilt-ridden. When was it?

  The calculus test, in their junior year of high school. He’d cheated in order to avoid getting a D. No one had known, or even suspected, not even Katie. But he’d acted exactly like this for three weeks, jumpy and defensive. It had eaten at him so much that finally he’d turned himself in to the school principal
. Doug had a lot of problems, but he couldn’t handle a guilty conscience.

  Guilty conscience.

  Good God, had Doug set the fire? It made sense, in a way. He might have done it to please her, since Carson Smith had been such a bust.

  But how would Doug know about the varnish? And why, for God’s sake, would he set the fire when Ryan and Danielle were inside the building?

  Her anger mounting, she pulled out of the parking lot and headed for downtown San Gabriel.

  When she walked in, she spotted Doug at their favorite corner table. He slouched over a tall cup and picked at a chocolate chip scone. His cast looked filthy and raggedy, with bits of thread coming undone.

  Doubt flooded her. Could Doug have set the fire with his arm in a cast? Then she steeled herself. This was an investigation. No letting Doug off the hook.

  She sat down across from him and waited for him to meet her eyes. It took him a while, and then it lasted only a microsecond. Exactly how he’d acted after that chemistry test.

  “Doug. What the fuck?”

  “What?”

  “You set that fire.”

  “Are you crazy?” He looked around the café and lowered his voice. “Are you trying to get me in trouble?”

  “I’m trying to find out what happened.”

  “Well, I’m sorry about the bar. The rumor going around is that your bartender set it. Trying to be all heroic.” He ended with a sneer.

  “You know that’s ridiculous.”

  “Makes sense to me.” He broke off a bit of scone and popped it into his mouth. Katie thought of Ryan lying in a hospital bed hooked up to a ventilator, and wanted to wipe the smug look off Doug’s face.

  “Look, Doug, I know you don’t like Ryan. But accusing him of something he didn’t do is unforgivable.”

  He ducked his head sullenly. A strand of black, wavy hair stuck to his cheek. At his best, Doug had the look of a dark fallen angel. In high school she’d thought of him as a beautiful, damaged boy. She’d wanted to heal him, keep him from hurting himself. And yet—it had never worked. He’d still done every brain-dead thing most teenagers did. Drugs, pot, cigarettes, blackout drinking. The only thing he hadn’t done was sleep around. He’d always been loyal to her.