Line of Fire

by Jo Davis

  “I’m so tired.”

  “I know.” Oh, sweet Jesus. Help me.

  A throat cleared and he looked up to see Captain Reynolds standing there, sympathy etched on his craggy face. There wasn’t anyone in the fire department who didn’t know Sean’s story.

  “I just wanted you to know I’ve got things in hand. They’re still looking, but so far . . .”

  “Thanks, I appreciate it. I’ll be over there to help as soon as Chief Mitchell gets here.”

  God, don’t let Tommy be dead, please. Sean would never survive, and neither would our team.

  “No problem, son,” the captain said kindly.

  The captain walked away, toward the building, and Howard comforted the man in his arms as best as he could. It wasn’t enough, but it was all he had to give.

  All that was left to do was continue to be there for Sean.

  And pray they all survived the fallout of this day.

  “Did Hensley report in?”

  Forrest’s hand tightened on the receiver. Rose had no idea Hensley hadn’t done the job, or that the firefighter’s demise wasn’t simply an accident, a casualty of their plans, so to speak. And there was no reason he needed to know about Forrest’s side deal, either.

  Best that Rose believe Will was the one buried in the rubble along with Skyler. If they were lucky, he’d never learn differently. He’d just have to get Will out of town before Rose arrived.

  “No. It’s been too long, so I’m assuming he perished in the collapse along with the firefighter.”

  His stomach threatened to eject his breakfast, but he held on somehow. He didn’t like to lose, but murder was an appalling way to ensure a win. Almost like a cop-out. Better them than me.

  “Too bad,” Rose said, not sounding sorry. “The authorities will find his body and assume he’s the missing night watchman?”

  “At first. When they realize there was no guard, they’ll probably think whoever reported that was wrong and he was a derelict.”

  “Fine. He can’t be tied to us anyway, nor can the money we paid him be traced back to us. We made certain of that.”

  “True.”

  They had a maze of safeguards in place to protect their scam. It would take a genius to unlock them. Though the Feds had some pretty smart people employed to ferret out information—no, he wouldn’t think of that.

  “As soon as I have my money from this job, our association is at an end,” the man said. “When I arrive in town, should our paths cross, you don’t know me, and we’ve never spoken in our lives. And you won’t get in my way. Is that clear?”

  “Crystal.”

  Ever since the day Jesse Rose had arrived in Sugarland more than two years ago and showed up on Forrest’s doorstep sporting a cocky grin, his life had been hell. The bastard had proof in hand that Forrest was skimming money from the city coffers, and had proposed a deal—Forrest’s cooperation in a massive fraud scheme in exchange for Rose allowing him to live to enjoy the money. They’d both benefit from the relationship, he’d said.

  And they had. Forrest had no idea what Rose did or intended to do with his portion of the money, nor did he care. Thank God Rose would soon be out of his life, and that was enough.

  But Forrest’s relief was short-lived as the man continued.

  “I expect that sum will include the two million you’ve skimmed off the top of our agreement, plus a twenty percent penalty. I believe that’s fair. Besides, you’d have to be breathing for it to do you any good, correct? Have a nice day.”

  The asshole disconnected and Forrest replaced the handset, slumping in his office chair. “He knows.”

  Desperation clawed at his belly, sudden and foul. Will had warned him not to cross this man, but he hadn’t listened. As with so many other details, he had to have his way.

  He had to find a way to distract himself from his current predicament, or he’d go mad. What to do?

  The news. Maybe he could learn something more about the warehouse collapse.

  Nervous, Forrest flipped on the small television set in the corner of his office, the one he used as city manager to keep him abreast of current happenings in the area.

  A feverish search was under way for the firefighter, and hopes were dimming in regard to finding him alive.

  With any luck, he’d have a lady to console before the day was done.

  “Shea, honey, your brother is here to see ya,” Dora said, catching Shea as she left a patient’s exam room.

  Shea glanced up from the papers she was reading. “Did he say what he wanted?”

  “No, but I don’t think he’s going to leave until he talks to you. Seems important.”

  He wouldn’t, either. He’d make like a boulder in the waiting area until she made time for him, so she might as well see what he wanted and send him on his way.

  “All right, thanks. I’ll get rid of him.”

  “Oh, don’t hurry on my account.” Dora’s tone left no doubt she’d be more than happy to keep her brother occupied.

  Shea smiled and shook her head, and started down the hallway for the waiting room. She found Shane near the double doors, pacing with a frown on his face rather than lounging in a chair thumbing through a magazine as he usually did.

  “Hey, Bro,” she said, giving him a peck on the cheek in greeting. “What’s up? I’m not sure I can get away for lunch today, if that’s what you were thinking.”

  “No, that’s not why I’m here.” When he paused, something in his demeanor set off alarm bells. “Is there somewhere we can go to talk in private?”

  “I—sure. This way.”

  She led him through the double doors, down the hallway past the break room where he ate lunch with her now and then. When they came to a private family consultation room that wasn’t in use, she gestured him inside. The expression on his face was one she’d hoped never to see again—filled with anguish for what he had come to say.

  “Shane? What is it? You’re scaring me,” she said, grabbing his arm.

  Gently, he took both of her hands in his. “Sis, I got a call a short while ago from Howard Paxton, Tommy’s lieutenant. There was a fire at a warehouse, and it collapsed.”

  Collapsed. She stared at him, processing the word. Then the meaning behind the word. Strange how the little things, like the lines around Shane’s mouth, the tick of the clock on the wall, the voices in the hallway, became sharper when bad news was imminent. She’d been here before, like this, with him.

  Cold swept through her, but not enough to numb the fear.

  “No,” she cried, shoving at his hands. But he refused to let go. Her voice rose in panic. “No, don’t you tell me anything bad has happened. I won’t accept that.”

  His face twisted with remorse. “Sweetheart . . . he didn’t make it out. They’re searching, but—”

  “Oh, my God.” The room spun and she felt him grab her around the waist, guide her to sit in a chair. “What do you mean they’re searching? How long ago was this?”

  He sat down next to her, not relinquishing her hands. “Howard called about twenty minutes ago, and I rushed right over here. I got the impression that it just happened. The other firefighters got out safely before the building fell, but Tommy didn’t. They’re looking for him, and Howard promised to call as soon as they found him.”

  Her lips trembled and she clung to her brother. “They will, and he’ll be fine.”

  Shane didn’t say anything else for a long while.

  Howard and Captain Reynolds kept the search organized, focused on the front of the building. The tall structure had been reduced to kindling no higher than his knees in many places, not an encouraging sight. Firefighters crawled all over the debris like ants, thankful the fire was out, though they kept a watchful eye for flare-ups.

  They were working against the clock now, every single second one more off Tommy’s life. The kid had to be about out of air by now, and could easily suffocate. The wail of his PASS device frayed everyone’s nerves more with each pas
sing minute, escalating their fears.

  Howard was glad his dad had left with Sean a few minutes ago. His friend did not need to be around to witness whatever they found.

  “Over here!” Jones, one of the Station Three guys, yelled. “Got him!”

  Howard and the others converged on the spot, but had to slow down as they picked their way over the rubble. “Go easy,” Howard advised. “We don’t want anything to shift and hurt him worse.”

  If he was still alive, but nobody voiced that.

  “He’s about four feet down, under some boards and pieces of the tin roof,” Jones said, pointing. “I can’t see much except part of his coat, but he’s not moving.”

  Julian started tossing shit aside. “Help me make this hole wider so one or two of us can get down there next to him, free him, and lift him out on the backboard.”

  “Quick as you can, but careful,” Captain Reynolds said.

  “Tommy?” Eve called. “Can you hear us? Tommy!”

  The lack of response dampened Howard’s spirits, and he saw the impact reflected in the faces of the others as they worked, yet no less diligently. If anything, they doubled their efforts, finally widening an opening big enough for two of them to slip down next to Tommy and finish extricating him.

  “I’ll go,” Julian said grimly.

  “All right, you and me.” He turned to tell Zack to run and grab the backboard and medical kit, but the man was already back with them, waiting to hand them down.

  Julian went first and crouched next to the still form, Howard following. Howard grabbed the kit from Zack and peered into the space where Tommy lay, trying to see his injuries. He set the kit aside and they struggled to move boards and metal off him, some of the shrapnel twisted like spaghetti.

  Tommy’s back was to them, the Air-Pak hanging slightly off center. His blond hair was nearly gray with dust and dirt. Julian reached out and switched off the PASS device, and the silence, the complete stillness, was ominous. Working quickly, they managed to slip his free arm out of the strap holding on the tank, and moved the heavy piece of equipment off to the side. His other arm, however, was still caught under a sheet of metal.

  “Let’s roll him, easy. One, two—”

  On three, they gently turned him onto his back . . . and Howard’s heart nearly stopped.

  “Madre de Dios,” Julian whispered.

  The right side of the kid’s face was sliced open, filleted, right through the straps on his face mask. An angry red line traveled from his temple, down his cheek, and curved underneath his jaw, almost bisecting his throat. He was awash in blood. But if they’d hoped that would be the worst of it, nobody upstairs was listening.

  “My God, his hand,” Howard said hoarsely.

  His wrist wasn’t just pinned—it was severed almost clean through by a shard of metal the size of a dinner plate. The fact that it was still deeply embedded there was probably the sole reason their friend hadn’t bled to death.

  Julian pressed two fingers to the side of his neck. “Alive, thank God, but weak. We’ve got to get him out of here.”

  “Help me get this mask off.”

  Howard held his head steady while Julian slipped the mask off and discarded it. Tommy’s face was pale, lips parted, lashes resting against his cheeks. He appeared to be barely breathing.

  Quickly, Julian put on a neck brace as a precaution, to avoid more damage, if possible. They left the metal in his wrist. It wasn’t safe to remove it, except by the surgeon in the OR.

  Howard didn’t want to think about the road ahead for Tommy, if he made it. Which was far from a given.

  Tommy’s lashes fluttered and he moaned, pale blue eyes glazed. “Six-Pack?”

  “Easy does it, kid. We’re getting you out of here.”

  “Tell my parents . . . I’m sorry . . .”

  “Can’t do that, cause you’re going to be fine. Tommy?”

  No answer. His eyes closed.

  They ran an IV, strapped on an oxygen mask, and checked his vitals. “He’s in shock,” Julian said, voice anxious.

  “BP’s slipping.”

  Julian grabbed the backboard. With as much care as possible, they worked his Air-Pak the rest of the way off, moved him onto the hard surface, and strapped him down. Ready to go, they stood and lifted their burden, keeping him level. Zack and Eve were waiting to take him.

  The others gave a cheer, more as a morale boost than any conviction that Tommy would be fine. A couple of the men helped him and Julian out of the hole, and Howard turned to Captain Reynolds.

  “We’ve got this,” Reynolds said, waving a hand at the mess. “You guys go ahead and take care of your own.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate it.” He wanted to say more, but words failed.

  “No problem. We’ll give you the next clean-up duty.” Howard managed a halfhearted smile. “Done.”

  “Let us know how he’s doing.”

  Howard nodded and jogged toward the ambulance, where Zack and Eve were loading the gurney into the back. Howard jumped in the driver’s seat of the ambulance and Julian rode in the back, monitoring Tommy.

  “Goddamn, I’m down two good men.”

  He didn’t envy any of them what lay ahead.

  Least of all, Sean and Tommy.

  Shea jumped when Shane’s cell phone rang. She wrung her hands as he listened, and pounced on him the second he hung up.

  “They’ve found him and got him out, alive.”

  “Oh, that’s wonderful! He’s okay, right?”

  “I don’t know, hon. Howard just said they’re bringing him in, and to keep you out of the way.”

  “What! What does that mean? I can’t see him?”

  “I’m assuming that’s what it means, yes. Here, sit back down.”

  “I don’t want to sit! I’m going out there to wait, and you’re not going to stop me,” she declared loudly. “I work here, not you.”

  “Shea—”

  As she marched out, the first person she saw was Dora. “What’s going on? Have they radioed in?”

  To her credit, Dora didn’t even try to feign ignorance or offer her false assurances. “He’s going straight to surgery,” she said calmly. “He’s busted up pretty bad, sustained some lacerations and has some blood loss. He’s in shock. It’s not good, sweetie.”

  She felt Shane’s palms on her shoulders, his body strong and solid behind her. Oh, no. He has to be all right. “Thank you for telling me.”

  “There’s something else—”

  Just then a commotion outside interrupted and a gurney burst through the doors, being pushed by Howard and Julian. When she caught sight of Tommy lying there, face slashed, covered in blood, her knees almost buckled. And his hand . . .

  “Oh, my God! Tommy—”

  She tried to rush to his side, to follow as the others met the doctor and turned down another corridor toward the OR, but Shane held her back.

  “You’ll just be in the way, sweetheart,” he said, hugging her tight. “They need to be focused on him, not you. I’ll stay with you, okay?”

  “D-did you see him? His face, and his wrist . . .”

  “He’ll be fine,” Shane said, trying to soothe her. “Why don’t we go back into the private room and wait?”

  “His hand was almost severed, for God’s sake! Do you have any idea what that means or what it will do to him? How can you say he’ll be fine?”

  “I know what it means. But right now, the main concern is making sure he’s out of danger. The rest can be dealt with later.”

  Having apparently handed off Tommy to the surgical team, Howard and Julian rounded the corner and came toward them. The men shook hands and Howard studied Shea, expression bruised. Weary.

  “I’m not going to lie to you. It’s bad,” he said quietly before she could ask. “If we’d found him ten minutes later, he wouldn’t have made it. He’d lost a lot of blood and wasn’t getting enough air. As it stands, I believe he’ll survive, but there’s a possibility he could lose that
hand. I don’t know for sure, though. I’m not a specialist.”

  Shea swallowed back her tears. “As long as he’s alive, nothing else matters. We’ll help him deal with the rest as it comes.”

  Howard gave a faint smile. “I’d hug you for that, but I’m filthy. He’s going to need people around him with positive attitudes.” His smile vanished and he wiped his eyes, looking tired. “Speaking of which, I’ve got to call his parents. God Almighty, I don’t want to tell them.”

  “Want me to call?” Julian offered.

  “Nah, I’d better do it. I feel obligated.”

  Dora spoke up. “You guys are welcome to wait in the private room. There’s a phone in there, too, if you need it.”

  “Thanks,” Howard said. “We’ll take you up on the offer and stay until we get some word, or until we receive a call.”

  “Stay as long as you need to. Shea, honey, I’m thinking you’re going to be worthless this shift. Why don’t you go ahead and clock out, wait with them.”

  “Thank you, Dora. I’ll make this up to you.”

  “No problem, sweetie. I know you’d do the same for me.” Dora gave her a quick hug and hurried off to tend to patients.

  Shane sighed. “This could take a while. You might have been better off working to keep busy, take your mind off of things.”

  “If you really think that, you don’t know me very well.”

  “Yeah, that was stupid. Forget I said it.”

  “I will.” She walked back into the consultation room, wondering how things could be going so beautifully, then turn into such a nightmare.

  “Are you going to be all right?”

  In spite of herself, she softened at his concern. “Always the worrywart. It’s Tommy who’s in there, not me.”

  He cocked his head, studying her. “In some ways, it is you. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Tell you what?”

  “That you love him,” he said, sounding hurt and trying not to let it show.

  “It’s not like we were keeping it a secret from anyone.” She hugged him, resting her head on his shoulder. “We just admitted it ourselves. I’m not trying to cut you out of the loop.”