by Marnee Blake
“Sand in my fuel tank.” Lance’s face remained expressionless. “Someone contaminated my Jeep.”
The ramifications stole Meg’s breath. No one would put sand in someone’s fuel tank without wanting to cause them trouble. “What does sand in the fuel tank usually do?”
“It wreaks havoc on an engine, obviously,” Lance said, his jaw tight, his voice sharp. “Most of the time it would cause the engine not to start. But, in this case, whoever did this either meant to hand me a large mechanics bill, or—”
“Or they hoped something worse would happen to you.” Bates tilted his head in agreement. “Worse than what happened to you, I should say.”
Lance nodded. As he didn’t react, Meg could only stare at him.
They’d suspected as much, but hearing it confirmed…
“Do you have any suspects?” There had to be something. No one had seen anything? The air center parking lot was busy. How had someone done this without anyone knowing?
“We’re still in the process of questioning people. So far, I don’t have anything to report.” Bates’ mouth thinned. It bothered him, too, then.
“There have to be other resources we can tap. The police, can we get other federal officers involved? This is a government agency. No one should be able to threaten one of our officers and get away with it.” There had to be something they could do that they weren’t doing. Someone must be dropping the ball somewhere.
She caught Lance’s eye, though, and he shook his head. He didn’t want her to push. She clamped her jaw closed, looking away. He was right.
The more she said, the more she gave away her true feelings for him. From Mitch’s suspicious gaze, to Joe’s averted glance, she was on thin ice.
“We’re installing security cameras throughout the premises, including the parking lot. That should deter much of the monkey business.” Bates knocked on the desk, right over the file. “But I can’t express how important it is for you to be careful, Mr. Roberts. If you notice anything out of the ordinary, you need to let one of us know immediately.”
“Of course.” Lance rubbed his palms on his thighs. “Anything else?”
Joe inhaled, and foreboding laced down her spine. “I want to talk to you about your plans after training.”
Lance’s brow creased. He didn’t like this either. “What do you mean?”
“This isn’t usually how it’s done, but I’ve spoken with Bates and he agrees.” Joe cleared his throat with an awkward cough. “It might be better if we transferred you to another team.” As that bombshell dropped in the middle of the room, Joe hurried on as if to make sure no one cut him off. “Bates thinks that if we explained the situation, one of the other smokejumper teams might be willing to swap for you.”
“You want me to leave?” Lance’s calm voice gave nothing away, but she knew better.
“Not leave exactly. We don’t want to lose your expertise, and you’re a damn fine firefighter. The Forest Service needs you.” Mitch hurried to explain. “We only wanted to offer a solution. If you were interested.”
“I’m not. If you want me to go, you’re going to have to fire me. I’m not letting some nameless punk scare me out of here. I have as much of a right to be here as any of these other guys.”
“I’m not sure you’re going to have that choice.” Joe straightened some papers on his desk, before looking up at Lance. “If we can’t discover who is doing this soon, we will need to act in the best interest of the team. This isn’t about you. Someone doesn’t want you here. Until we find out who that is, it might be best if you aren’t here, either.”
“You might never find out who it is.” Lance’s tone was sharp. “If I’m gone, and this guy fades away, then I’ll have had to move and the person responsible will never be brought to justice.”
Joe lifted his hands, shaking his head. “I understand your frustration, but unless something happens soon to prove to all of us that you aren’t a danger or aren’t in danger here, we might not have any other choice.”
Lance wanted to argue, she could see it on his face. His jaw was tight, and his fists were clenched, but he kept his mouth shut, nodding.
Her temper spiked. Part of her understood. Joe had to look out for the entire air center, and if he needed to neutralize the situation for now until they could find out more information, she got that. But the part of her that cared about fairness, the part that hated when kids peeked during games of hide and seek or when someone cheated on a test in school, that part of her was outraged.
Not to mention that Lance would be gone.
“There has to be more we can do.” She motioned toward Mr. Bates. “I get that you’re doing your job, but maybe if we had more resources, more investigators. There has to be something else besides this.” She refused to look at Lance, afraid she would give herself away. But that didn’t keep her from defending him. “It isn’t fair.”
“Fair or not, we have to do what keeps everyone safe.”
She opened his mouth to argue, but Lance cut her off. “I understand. Our final jump is in two days. Hopefully we will have more information by then.”
He shook his head the slightest at her, and she got the message loud and clear. She glared at him. This wasn’t right. It bothered her that they weren’t going to pursue this further. But it was up to him.
Why wasn’t he sticking up for himself?
As she followed him out of the office, she waited until they were alone in the hall and grabbed his arm, stopping him. “Why didn’t you say more back there? This isn’t fair.”
“You’re right. But, this isn’t about fair.” Lance’s brow was low, his eyes hard. “Things aren’t fair sometimes, Meg. I know that better than most.” He turned as if he was going to walk away, but she grabbed his arm again.
“What does that mean?” She hissed. “What are you trying to say?”
“You…maybe things always work out for the best for you. Maybe whatever is right, whatever is just…maybe those things happen for you. But if I’ve learned anything since our fathers died, it’s that sometimes you have to take the punches when there’s nothing else you can do.”
“That’s bullshit.”
They stared at each other, at a crossroads. Was he going to let them chase him out of here? Then again, he’d left before. Maybe this wasn’t worth fighting for to him.
Maybe what they were doing together wasn’t worth fighting for either.
Her anger seeped away, leaving only a bone-crushing loss. “If you leave here, where are you going to go?”
“I don’t know, Meg.” He sighed, his hands on his hips. It was asking a lot right now, but she needed a clear picture of where she stood with him. “I don’t think they know.”
“So you’ll just take that chance?” She hated what was she was about to say. “You’ll leave here? Again? You’ll leave me.” Her pain was clear in her voice, but she’d never been good at hiding her feelings.
“Meg…” He shook his head. “It’s not like I have a choice. You heard them. If they think I need to go, there’s not much I can do about it.”
If she argued with him, if she made a case for why he should fight to stay when he might be in danger or put others in danger, she would look selfish. Be selfish. But it wasn’t like her not to fight for what she wanted, for the people she cared about. Could she fight for him, when he wouldn’t fight for them?
There was only so much she could do.
She looked down, into the corner…anywhere to avoid looking at him. “Right. Of course.”
“Meg…” He reached for her, but she moved away. She couldn’t handle it if he touched her right now.
“No, it’s okay. I get it.” She backed up, determined to hold it together here, in their workplace.
She was an idiot. Had she believed that he’d changed, that he’d suddenly become the man who stayed and fought wh
en things were hard?
“Why don’t you just text me later?” She motioned behind her, toward her office. “I have to get back to work.”
She attempted to walk away, to retain any dignity. But he stopped her. “Meg?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m meeting someone. About our fathers.” He exhaled, as if he didn’t want to tell her this. “I told you I’d let you know, so you could come with me.”
“Right.” She glanced back at him.
“Would you like to come?”
She didn’t. But, she couldn’t pretend she didn’t want to know what was happening. He wasn’t going to tell her on his own. If she wanted information, she needed to go along with him, hear for herself. “Sure. When?”
“Tonight.”
“Fine. Let me know.”
Chapter 18
Lance trailed behind Meg as they followed the directions Roger Palance’s wife had given them, around the back of the house and out into the garden.
He’d picked her up at Stack Park a half an hour ago. The conversation on the way north to the Palances’ house had been equal parts stilted and overly friendly.
Meg was trying too hard. Her smile was too wide, her back too straight. He didn’t know what to do to calm her down, so he’d allowed her to talk until she ran out of gas. He answered her questions, asked about her day. When she couldn’t find anything else to say, he offered to let her choose the radio station. They’d driven the rest of the way with the country station filling the silence, both of them lost in their own thoughts.
Maybe he should have let her drive separately. He’d been afraid she might not come, though. He’d also refused to deny himself the opportunity to sit in her company. Call him selfish, but he would rather have an uncomfortable car ride with her than drive alone.
Now, they walked around the house and down a stone path to the garden. Roger knelt in the dirt, a straw hat pulled over his eyes.
He must have heard them coming because he glanced up before returning to his work. “You two are ten years too late.”
Lance didn’t know if he’d ever met Roger. He’d heard his name lots of times growing up. His dad always said he was subtle as sandpaper. Guess he could understand that now. “I’m sorry, sir?”
“If you wanted to ask questions, you’re a decade late.” Roger tugged at an overgrown shrub of some kind. “Not sure what anything I say now will help.”
“We appreciate the help anyway.” He’d called, so Roger had been aware he was coming. But he hadn’t told him anything about bringing Meg. Roger’s wife hadn’t mentioned any loss of faculties, but maybe the guy thought they were someone else.
Roger snorted. “You’re the spitting image of your father.”
Lance grinned at him. “I’ve heard that before.”
“I bet.” He leaned back on his knees, shielding his eyes from the early evening sun. He pointed at Meg, his face softening. “And you? You’ve got the look of your mother, with your father’s coloring.” He tipped his hat. “You’re the Buchanan girl.”
Meg shifted, obviously uncomfortable.
Lance stepped closer, taking the attention away from her. “You called, said you had some information for us.”
“That I do.” Roger shifted, getting to his feet faster than most sixty-year-olds Lance knew. Then again, the guy had spent his entire adult life in top physical shape, chasing fires up and down the Western part of the US. He dusted his hands off on his pants. “Come on. Regina made cookies because you were coming. Doesn’t make me cookies. Blood sugar. Let me get you both a drink. Beer?”
They followed him to a set of patio furniture situated under a huge fir tree. Roger reached into a cooler, pulled three Coors out. He accepted one and popped the top.
Meg waved hers off. “No, thank you.”
Roger motioned to the cooler. “Tea?”
“I’m fine.”
Lance didn’t know why she turned it down, but she looked pale, her face drawn. The old Meg wouldn’t turn down cookies either, but she left the plate untouched. He furrowed his eyebrows at her when Roger turned his back, questioning, but she only shook her head.
Roger lifted his beer, and Lance tapped it with his own before taking a drink. Roger motioned to the chairs next to him. “Please.”
“That’s okay,” Meg smiled, but her mouth was tight. “I’ll stand, if that’s okay with you.” She looked antsy, as if she’d prefer to pace around.
“Suit yourself.” Roger shrugged, dropping into one of the chairs.
Well, Lance wasn’t going to stand if he didn’t have to. His whole body was aching from training, not to mention his bad jump with Hunter and his car accident. Besides, Meg seemed like she might not want to be watched too closely. So, he sank down, giving her some space to move around.
As he settled, he glanced across the property. He’d forgotten, having been away from Oregon so long, how beautiful the landscape was. He sipped again, shifting his shoulders, allowing the stress to roll off him.
“You want to know about your fathers.”
He didn’t have to see Meg fully to feel her stiffen. He glanced to the side at the older man, but Roger wasn’t watching either of them, staring out in the direction he’d been looking. Lance returned his gaze there as well. It really was breathtaking. “Yes. Were you there that day? On the plane?”
Roger chuckled. “You can’t start there, my boy. That misses the point, doesn’t it?”
Another sip of beer. “What do you mean?”
The lines around Roger’s eyes creased deeper. “The two of them. Jason and JT, your fathers…starting on the plane misses everything that matters.” He took a long drink of his beer before resting his forearms on the arms of the chair, his hands hanging over the ends. “They were jump partners. Folks in this town might want to blame your dad, but the two of them…” He shook his head. “Nothing good or bad could happen to only one of them. They were together in all of it, through thick and thin.”
So much had happened since those days. Lance could barely remember the time before the Blue Creek fire. But he remembered Jason Buchanan. He and his father were more like brothers than friends. His more charismatic father, always the life of the party and thrived in a crowd. Jason, Meg’s father, was more subdued, but with a spine of steel. Like Meg, actually.
“I piloted that day. JT and Jason were the last pair to go. They jumped after your Uncle Joe and his partner.” He stared ahead, as if lost in the memory. “I didn’t see them jump. I only noticed when their parachutes took off in the wrong direction. Joe got twisted in it all, but managed to land a mile away. When we found him, he was unconscious. JT and Jason landed in the danger zone.”
He knew the specifics after that. They’d found his father and Jason Buchanan two days later. The coroners listed the official cause of death as smoke inhalation.
“What was on the coms?” The smokejumper spotter wore a headset.
Roger paused, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a thumb drive, holding it out to Lance. “This is for you.”
The tech looked strange in Roger’s elderly fingers. “What is this?”
“The recordings of that day. From the plane.”
Lance’s fingers closed over the drive. This is what he had been hoping for. A new lead.
“Lance?”
He turned, making eye contact with Meg. He couldn’t read her expression, but the turmoil in her eyes cut through him.
“For what it’s worth, son, I don’t blame your father.” There was a new softness in Roger’s tone, before he addressed Lance again. “I don’t know who made the mistakes in what happened up there, but I know one thing for sure: Jason was no victim. They didn’t make decisions without each other. Ever.” He took a long drink from his can, settling deeper into his chair.
Did that mean whatever happened had been both of
their faults? People in town assigned blame, years ago. JT had been the first one out of the plane. Fact. Jason followed him. In the middle of the chaos, they’d almost taken Joe down with them, and he’d only survived by some miracle he couldn’t remember.
He studied Roger. If he said that JT and Jason made their decisions together, what did that mean? He filed the info away, finished his beer, and stood. “Thanks for seeing us on such short notice.”
“Yes,” Meg added. “Thank you. I’ll just run in and thank your wife for the cookies.” She nodded to Roger and smiled, but Lance could tell it was strained, fake. She headed toward the house, her head down. She was hurting. He wanted to follow her, but Roger’s words distracted him.
“Hear you’re in this year’s rookie class,” he said as he got to his feet.
Lance stilled, wondering where this was going. “Yes, sir.”
“With the middle Buchanan boy.”
Funny that he called them boys. They were in their mid-twenties. “Yes, sir.”
Roger nodded toward the house where Meg had just disappeared. “Imagine they weren’t happy to see your face.”
“No warm and fuzzy welcome, if that’s what you mean.” Even as he said the words, they weren’t fair. Meg had been different.
“Huh.” Roger shrugged, gazing after her. “Be patient. They haven’t had an easy road either.”
Lance nodded, but part of him rebelled. They hadn’t had an easy road? They hadn’t been shunned after it happened. The way the town had treated his mother? If they’d had leprosy, more people would have talked to them. Instead, it had become so isolated, his mother had preferred to cut ties and go instead of dealing another minute.
“I’m serious.” Roger cast a glance at him from under his straw hat. “None of them remain unaffected. From Karen on down through the twins.”
Lance shouldn’t have been surprised. Obviously, there was a lot Roger kept to himself.