by Freya Barker
I hit 3rd Avenue from the south, just as a patrol car with flashing lights stops in front of Autumn’s place, two blocks away. The orange glow of fire is visible from here, and smoke billows from the house. I run the Tahoe over the median and half up the sidewalk on the other side.
“Go!” Joe yells, shoving the gear in park as I propel myself from the car.
Jesus. It’s like the house is surround by a ring of fire, eating its way up the walls. Most of the porch is already engulfed in flames, and Officer Conley is hesitating at the base of the steps. “Get the old man!” I yell at him while barreling past, throwing myself full force against Autumn’s front door. The heat of the flames feels like it’s blistering my skin as I retreat and hit it again, this time managing to break the lock from the post.
“Autumn!”
Flames are shooting from the kitchen, the sudden airflow providing fuel for the fire. The house is hot and thick with smoke, as I blindly find my way to the stairs up to her bedroom. I hope to fucking God that’s where she is.
Autumn
I wake up to the sound of my phone ringing somewhere in the house and immediately burst out coughing at the smoke in my room. Panicked, I blindly feel around the bed for my cats. My fingers graze fur before the air becomes so thick, I’m forced to roll out of bed on the ground, grabbing hold of the small warm body and tucking it under my arm. Crawling as low to the ground as I can with only one useable arm, I make my way into the hall and over to where I’m guessing the stairs are.
The smoke is blinding and I’m forced to press my face into the carpet to try and get a clean breath in my burning lungs.
“We’ve gotta get out of here.” Keith’s voice suddenly sounds at my ear.
“…get others,” I cough, batting off his hands.
“No time. Let’s go!” he yells, plucking the cat from my arm and half pulling me down the stairs. There he barks at someone, “Her cats. There’s three more.”
He half carries me out onto the porch, where cool air hits me and I inhale as deep as I can, resulting in a painful hacking cough. Tears stream down my face and darkness creeps in as I gasp for breath.
Next thing I know, I’m on my back in the grass, blinking up at the leaves of the large maple in my front yard. The instant I feel the pressure over my nose and mouth, I wrestle to get away, but two strong hands hold me down.
“Easy, Red. It’s just oxygen. They’re taking you to Mercy for smoke inhalation.” My watery eyes find his hazel ones, and he must read the question on my face. “We’ve got two. The multi-colored one and the gray tabby. Joe’s got them safely locked in my truck. The cat door was unlatched though. The others may have escaped out the back.”
I manage to wrestle one hand free and push away the mask. “Mr. Bartik?” I manage before the mask is firmly returned over my mouth. My heart sinks when I notice his eyes flit away for a second.
“Already en route to the hospital. Not gonna lie, honey. He doesn’t look good. They were working on him as they loaded him up.”
Fresh tears fill my eyes as I nod my understanding. Poor Joseph.
My head starts to swim and I feel darkness creeping in again as I’m being rolled onto a board.
When I open my eyes again, I’m in a bed and I can’t breathe.
“Don’t fight it. You’ve been intubated; it’s doing all the breathing for you. Your airway became compromised on the way to the hospital.” Jen leans into my view, smiling. “Good to see you awake though. I’ll let Dr. Landis know, maybe we can get that tube out.”
She starts to move away, but I manage to grab her arm, hoping to be able to convey my question with my eyes. She seems to understand when I let my eyes roam around the room before landing on her again.
“He was here all night. Mostly sleeping in that chair over there.” She indicates a recliner in the corner of the room. “I just sent him out to grab a coffee. He should be back shortly.”
As if by design, a very tired-looking Keith walks into the room, a carryout cup in his hand.
“I’ll leave you to it then,” Jen says, giving me a pat on the shoulder and stepping away from the bed.
Keith immediately takes her place, grabbing my hand in his. “Glad to see those green eyes, honey. I know you’ll want to know about the cats,” he says, sitting down on a stool, not letting go of my hand. “The good news is, there’s no evidence either one of your missing cats died in the fire. Ramirez contacted the humane society and they’ll be on the lookout. The other two are staying at his place until I have a chance to take them to my house.” At this my eyes grow big. “The back of both units is burned badly, Red. Not to mention the smoke and water damage in the rest of the house. There’s no way you can live there for the foreseeable future. We’ll find a solution, but for now you and the cats are moving in with me.”
Dirty bastard. He knows I can’t say anything, but that doesn’t mean I can’t show my displeasure in other ways.
“Ouch!” he yelps when I twist the fingers of his hand backward. “Shit, woman. You almost snapped my fingers off.” My single raised eyebrow sends the message home firmly. “I’m not handling you,” he says softly, leaning in and brushing a stray lock of smoky hair from my face. “I’m keeping you safe. I didn’t follow my instincts last week, when that son of a bitch paid you a visit, and look what happened. I can’t make that mistake again, Red. No matter how pissed it gets you, I need to do what I can to make sure he can’t hurt you again.”
His eyes show me the truth of his words. I show my understanding by finding his hand. He lifts mine, kissing my palm before he laces our fingers.
“You should probably also know I talked to Chief and Sophie. She was ready to hop on a plane, and I suspect he probably had to tie her up to stop her. I promised them an update today.”
“Well, Ms. McCoy, I hear you are with us again.” Dr. Landis’ booming voice sounds from the doorway. “If your young man wouldn’t mind stepping out of the way, I’d like to have a look at you.”
A giggle gets stuck behind the damn tube at his description of Keith as my young man. Of course not that surprising, since at almost seventy-two, Dr. Landis is one of the oldest physicians at Mercy.
Keith steps aside and shows me his phone, gesturing to the hallway with a wink.
It’s not until he walks out of the room that I realize he hasn’t mentioned Mr. Bartik at all.
Chapter 17
Keith
“Congratulations again.”
I shake Benedetti’s hand. We just got here in time for him to hop on the last flight to Denver, but we had to race from City Hall the second our business there ended.
In a little less than four weeks, he should be back, ready to take on his new office as Chief of Police. Needless to say, the emergency council meeting had the outcome we’d hoped for. The choice really wasn’t that difficult, Benedetti comes highly qualified and motivated. Clearly a much better option than my reluctant, unhappy, and burned-out ass offers.
The prospect of being able to put all my energy in one case at a time again soon, lifts a weight off my shoulders.
“Thanks. Tell Tony thanks for the hospitality and good luck with your arson case.”
“Now a murder case,” I correct, thinking of poor Mr. Bartik.
The EMTs worked hard to get him back, but he was called DOA when they arrived at Mercy. His autopsy is scheduled for first thing tomorrow and I haven’t told Autumn yet. In fact, I’ve threatened the hospital staff with bodily harm if they even dropped a hint. Luckily she was out like a light when I left, still under the influence of sedatives. She still has the tube; her throat apparently remains too swollen to risk removing it.
“Right. Wish Autumn all the best for me, and give her my sincere condolences. I’ll be in touch when I have definite dates, but in the meantime, if there’s anything I can do, you’ve got my number.”
The last boarding call for the flight to Denver comes over the crackling sound system, and with a lift of his chin, he rushes through security.
“Ramirez.” Tony answers at the first ring.
“He’s off and I’m heading back to the hospital. Anything on next of kin?”
“Nothing. Bartik’s wife died in 2012 and she had a brother who passed away two years ago. Guess he was the last one standing.”
“Christ.”
“Sobering, isn’t it?”
“Sure fucking is. I’ll check in later.”
Jesus. The man was eighty years old, and from what Autumn mentioned, had a rich history, a long marriage, but all of that died when he did. Sad. I can’t help but compare my own situation: my mother was the only family I knew until she passed away five years ago. I never knew my father. Sure I have friends, but no family, no real legacy to leave when I die.
I’m forty-four years old and other than my work, my years have little meaning. I’ve never given it any, but that has to change. I don’t want to die alone and simply disappear.
Morbid thoughts I try to shake off when I step into the hospital. I stop by the nurses’ station to check on any developments. Jen isn’t there, but another nurse tells me Autumn’s still resting and Dr. Larkin will be in to check on her. See if perhaps the tube can’t come out tonight.
Just as I turn for Autumn’s room, I see Evan come out and intercept him in the hallway.
“Where did you go last night?”
He looks shocked by my question, but then anger sets in. “Are you for fucking real? You’re asking me that?”
“Just doing my job. It’s not a difficult question. You left The Irish around eight thirty? Nine? Where did you go after that?” I persist.
“Home. I fucking went home. Brought Jen to her door and then walked home. Why this fixation on me? You think I could do something like this?” The kicker is, I believe every word he says. The hurt in his eyes is real. “I’d never do anything to hurt her. Or anyone for that matter. Jesus Christ, I can’t believe you’d even consider that.”
Suddenly tired, I run my hands over my face. “I don’t. I mean, I did, I fucking looked into my own men to see if anyone stood out. If anyone paid specific interest to Autumn. You’re one of the few people she actually knows. I just want to get her safe.”
“Yeah, well let me tell you, you’re barking up the wrong tree. Wasting time focusing on me is not going to get her any safer.” He gives me a hard stare before stepping around me. I hear his footsteps fade as he walks away.
Autumn’s eyes are closed when I walk in, the sound of the machine still helping her breathe a steady rhythm in the room. Her hair, still dull with soot, is spread out over her pillow. Her glasses are sitting on the nightstand, my guess is someone found them at the scene and Evan brought them over. They hadn’t been there before.
Nor had the envelope they were sitting on.
The hair on my neck stands straight up and I pull my phone from my pocket.
“Ramirez? Get your ass over here and bring a fingerprint kit and evidence bags. We’ve got a situation.”
Using my phone, I snag a few pictures, before grabbing a pair of medical gloves from a box hanging on the wall and snapping them on. The night table is on wheels, and I carefully roll it to the far side of the room, pulling the recliner in front to block it. I don’t want anyone touching it—even accidentally—until we’ve gone over it with a fine-tooth comb. I just hope the hospital is as clean as it proclaims to be, and that nightstand was wiped clean after the last patient, or the thing could be covered in prints.
Next my eye falls on the door handles. Another place anyone coming into the room would have to have touched. A long shot, granted, but you never know. I pull off my gloves, leave them inside out and slide them over the handles, propping the door open.
It’s all I can do for now until Ramirez gets here, and I can leave her side to get a clear account of who all visited her room during my absence.
Taking a seat on the stool next to her bed, I rest my head in my hands, wondering if I have lost my touch. Not only had I left her room earlier, under the assumption she’d be safe in the hospital, I’d also just basically dismissed Evan from my list of possible suspects not ten minutes ago, and here he is, back at the fucking top. My judgment is off.
A tug on my shirt has me turn to find Autumn’s worried green eyes blink up at me.
“Hey.” I reach out and stroke my hand over her hair. She scans the room and turns back to me with a questioning look. I consider lying to her, but just for a minute. “Someone left another note. Here. In your room.”
Autumn
My hands get cold and clammy at his words.
With my mind still sluggish, it takes me a moment to reach a full understanding of the implication. Whoever almost burned my house down, had the balls to come into this room.
And I was too fucking drugged to even notice.
No more sedatives.
“Let’s see if we can get that tube out, shall we?” A smiling—and clearly oblivious—Dr. Landis walks into the room, one of the nurses behind him, pushing a cart.
Instead of leaving the room, Keith merely rounds my bed and stands guard on the other side, giving the doctor space to examine me.
“Your blood work came back much better and your throat looks less irritated. We’ll give this a shot.” He dons gloves and carefully peels the tape used to anchor the tube, away from my cheeks. It stings, pulling the fine hair up by the roots. Guess it saves me a wax job. “Now, this part won’t be pleasant. You’ll want to cough, but it’s important you keep that to a minimum so as not to aggravate your airway any more.”
Unpleasant is an understatement. It feels like my lungs are coming out along with the tube. My throat spasms and I fight to keep from coughing. The nurse offers a drink of water from the straw she aims at my mouth. It helps a little.
“Give it a few minutes before you even try to talk,” Dr. Landis says, patting my shoulder. “We’ll keep you on an IV for a little longer, just in case. Everything goes well, that can come out at the next shift change, and you’ll be heading home tomorrow morning.”
I wince at his words. Ironic, isn’t it? Just a few weeks ago, I still had most of my belongings packed up in boxes. My place was just a temporary roof over my head, but in the short time since, it has become a home. Catalyst was Sophie and Roman’s visit, but getting a sense of belonging through the friends I was making contributed greatly.
The nurse hands the cup to Keith, telling him I can take only little sips, before she follows the doc out of the room with her cart. As soon as they’ve gone, he moves back to the stool on the other side, forming a barrier between me and the door.
“Where is it…” I croak out, the effort resulting in a coughing spell that feels like I’m swallowing razorblades.
“Goddammit, Red. You were told no talking two freaking minutes ago.” He shoves a straw in my mouth, scowling as I take a few sips. “Ramirez will be here any minute to collect the evidence. It’s still on the nightstand, I haven’t had a look at it yet.”
Keith
Not even a minute later he walks in, evidence collection case in his hand. I point him to the bedside table, and leave a still slightly drowsy Autumn in his care, as I go to get some answers.
The same nurse, who was in the room earlier, is working on the computer behind the counter.
“Excuse me…” I take a quick peek at her name tag. “Lisa, were you on all afternoon?”
“Along with Marjory and Faiza.”
“I need to know who all visited Ms. McCoy’s room between noon and now.”
“We’re not required to keep track of that,” she says, a little defensively.
“I get that, but you would notice, wouldn’t you?” I prompt.
“Well, I did see the red-haired guy go in. The one you were arguing with earlier? He was barely in there. I didn’t see anyone else.”
“How about your colleagues? Would they have seen anything?”
&
nbsp; “Possibly. I can ask them when they get back from break,” she says with a shrug.
“That would be great. In the meantime, are there any other rooms empty? I’d like to have Ms. McCoy moved.”
The woman’s eyebrow shoots up. “We can’t just move people around.”
I lean over the counter, handing her my badge. “The name is Blackfoot, Durango PD. We can if the room they’re in becomes evidence in an investigation.” That seems to impress her enough, and she points to the door at the end of the hall. “That one is free. I’ll switch her name tag to the other door.”
“Please don’t. I’d prefer to keep a low profile for now.”
It takes only a couple of minutes to move Autumn’s bed into the other room.
“I’ll have to notify the next shift,” Lisa points out. We’re standing in the hallway just as her colleagues walk up. “Did either of you guys see someone go into room 310?”
“Haven’t paid attention,” the older of the two, a heavy-set woman with graying hair admits.
“Yeah, I saw that cute guy,” the young woman wearing a hijab says. “The one who was in here on the weekend when that injured firefighter was brought in. I figured he was part of Mr. Beacham’s crew. I saw him go into 310.”
“He is. Part of his crew, I mean,” I clarify when the woman throws me a curious look. “They’re both from Fire Station 2. Did you see anyone else?”
“He’s a police detective,” Lisa explains, addressing her colleagues in an almost whisper. “Investigating a case.”
I turn to the younger woman. “Any chance you saw anyone else go in? Hanging around her room, maybe?”
She shakes her head. “No. I mean we had a bit of a rush after lunch, it’s possible someone went in, but I didn’t see it.”
I thank them and head back inside the new room. Autumn’s eyes are on me the moment I walk in.
