Burning for Autumn

by Freya Barker

  “Have all you need?”

  “As much as I can get, anyway. A lot will depend on the fire inspector’s report. Busy night for those guys.”

  “What does your gut tell you?” I ask him. I know what mine tells me, but I may be a little too close to this particular investigation.

  “I’m sure you picked up on the fact our first arson occurred not long after she arrived in town.” I feel myself start to bristle, but keep it in check. I asked him for his opinion; the least I can do is hear him out. “It’s also highly coincidental that she works in the new burn center. However,” he says, dragging the word out, and a little of the pressure releases from my chest. “My gut says she’s got nothing to do with this, other than someone appears to be looking for her approval. You’d do well to keep an eye on her.”

  “Plan to.” Apparently that strikes him as funny, because he chuckles as he pulls open the door.

  “Right—good luck with that.”

  I close and lock the door behind him. No way I’m leaving her alone tonight. Kicking off my boots, I walk through the main floor, making sure all windows, the back door, and the cat gate are secure. I should probably crash on the couch, but I know she has a spare bedroom, and I’d prefer to be closer, just in case.

  Autumn’s door, the first one at the top of the stairs, stands open. I tell myself I just want to make sure she’s okay when I head there, instead of down the short hallway to the spare room. I almost turn around when I see she’s in the middle of changing, but the sight of her back has me walk straight up to her, my hand already reaching out.

  I run my fingers over the thick ridges in her skin from base of her neck down to the middle of her back.

  “I was fifteen,” she says, her voice tight. “It was an accident. The fabric of my top melted into my skin.” A shiver runs down her back.

  Grabbing the nightgown I notice on the bed, I slip it over her head. I don’t quite trust myself to speak for fear I say something wrong, and this most definitely is not the time to ask questions, she’s dealt with enough of those tonight. Instead, I wait for her to put her arms through the capped sleeves and turn around. Her face is pale, dark circles stand out under eyes that look dry but red-rimmed. I flip the covers back and wait for her to step out of her pants and crawl in. Neither of us says anything. Tucking her in, I brush a strand of hair that’s escaped her braid off her face, and lean over to brush my lips over hers.

  “Are you leaving?” she asks softly when I head for the door.

  “Only as far as your spare bedroom, sweetheart.”

  I didn’t expect to fall asleep, but apparently I did.

  I wake up to the smell of coffee and immediately check my phone for the time: six forty-five. Sitting up, I find three cats on the bed—all three staring at me. One of them—mostly white and brown with some back patches—seems to be the most curious when I hold my hand out. Not my pet of choice by any stretch of the word, but I have a good idea how attached Autumn is to them, so it’s in my best interest to try and make friends. It lets me scratch its head, leaning it into my palm.

  “She likes you.” My eyes shoot up to find Autumn leaning against the doorpost. “I was coming to see why my brood hasn’t come down for their breakfast. Usually they have me tripping over them until they get fed.” I notice she’s trying not to look at me, keeping her eyes mostly downcast.

  “Red.” Her eyes flit up. “Come here.” I’m pretty sure part of her wants to tell me to shove it, but she pushes away from the post and slowly walks over to the bed. When she’s within reach, I grab her by the hand and pull her down to sit on the edge of the mattress. “Did you sleep at all?”

  “For the most part.” Her eyes are focused on the movement of my thumb as I stroke the top of her hand.

  “Why not try to get a couple more hours?”

  “I have to be at work for eight anyway.”

  “You’re going to work.” It’s more of a statement than a question, but Autumn picks up on my disbelief anyway.

  “It’s not like I got hurt or anything,” she snaps, trying to pull her hand back.

  “Don’t get all riled up because I’m concerned. Yesterday was not a picnic.”

  “I’m well aware of that.”

  “Right, and you also realize that I know it was probably much more traumatic in your case.”

  “Why? Are you talking about my scars?”

  I look at her with an eyebrow raised. “I’m not asking you to tell me about them, but you don’t have to for me to know that those burns hurt a fuckofalot and for a long time. On a fifteen-year-old, those scars run much deeper than skin.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Yes, you are,” I soothe, pulling her against my chest. Not really my place to be picking at someone else’s scab. We all have them, the things that never really heal, that we carefully tuck away. We all have our own way of covering up to the outside world.

  Tangling my hand in her hair, I tilt her head and take her mouth. It only takes a little coaxing for her to soften her lips and let me inside. I kiss her deeply, but when her fingers start exploring my chest and concentrate on a nipple, I have to break away before I lose all control. Both of us are breathing hard.

  “All that’s keeping me from following through where our date left off last night, is the smell of your grade A coffee.”

  I stand by the door and wait for Autumn to stuff her phone in her purse and dig out a bunch of keys.

  “Do you have a spare key?”

  Autumn turns her head, looking at me with an eyebrow raised. “A bit fast, don’t you think?”

  “Smartass. No, it’s always a good idea to leave an emergency key with a friend or a neighbor for eventualities. Just in case.”

  “And I’d give one to you because…” she teases.

  “Who better than the interim chief of police, who also happens to be the guy you’re dating.”

  “Is that what this is? I admit it’s been a while, but from what I can recall, one date does not constitute dating.”

  I’m glad to see the tension around her mouth and eyes relax a little. I already put her through the paces this morning over coffee and toast. Made her go over most of the answers she’d given Ramirez last night, in hopes daylight may prompt something she hadn’t thought of before. I’ve pushed enough for today.

  “It does in my book,” I counter, pulling her close and pressing a quick kiss on her mouth. “Come on. You’re going to be late.” And I need to make sure there are some security measures in place.

  “Hang on.” She walks off to the kitchen and returns right away, holding out a key in her hand. “For emergencies.” I tuck it in my pocket as we head out the door.

  “I’ll check in with you later.” I bend through the open window of her car for a quick kiss before I watch her drive off.

  Fucking Stan Woodard is waiting in my office by the time I get to the station. Figured he’d come knocking sooner or later.

  “How many does that make?” he asks, before I even have a chance to sit down.

  “You know how many it makes, Stan. Probably one more than yesterday around this time.” I’m not quite ready to include the shed fire until I get the report back from the inspector.

  “I understand there were two.”

  “Can’t confirm that yet. There are a few things that might suggest that, but I want to be sure first.”

  Stan tents his fingers, nodding like he’s processing the information, but I already know what his next question is going to be. He does the same thing every time he’s preparing to put the pressure on.

  “How close are you to catching this guy?”

  And there it is—the push—which means I have to be fucking diplomatic, not my best side.

  “You know that’s impossible to predict, Stan, but I’m hoping the fire inspector’s report will help us get a step closer. All I can tell you is, we have some of our best men on this twenty-four seven.”

  “People are getting restless, Keith. They hear
fire engines go out all the time—smell smoke in the air—it makes them jumpy. It’s been dry since early May, they worry about wildfires. All it takes is one spark.”

  No shit, Sherlock. I fight not to roll my eyes. “Preaching to the choir, Mr. Mayor. Now if that was all, I should get back to my investigation.”

  Stan’s no idiot, and he knows I’m not one either, so this whole dog and pony show of him dropping in to throw his weight around is a total waste of time. It’s posturing. He’s showing his constituents he has their best interests at heart. I wouldn’t be surprised if the Durango Herald is outside waiting to capture him walking out of the station. The perfect picture of a conscientious mayor, whose first concern on a Monday morning is the well-being of his town. Something like that.

  This is why I don’t want this job. Stan wants an ally in the office, someone he’d like to be able to influence—who can make him look good—but I’m not that guy. I want to be out there in the trenches, where I can focus all my attention on the investigation. Especially now, when someone I have a personal connection with, might somehow be connected.

  “Sleep well?” A smirking Ramirez comes walking into my office and drops into the chair the mayor just vacated.

  “If you’re here to bust my balls, you can turn the fuck around. I’ve used up all my patience for the day.”

  “Stan putting the thumbscrews on? I saw him talking to a reporter out there.”

  “Not surprised.” I lean my elbows on my desk. “Give me some real news.”

  He flips open his notebook. “Forensics picked up the charred remains of the cat last night. They’re supposed to be working on it first thing, so hopefully we’ll have something soon. None of your girlfriend’s neighbors recall seeing anything, but it wouldn’t have been difficult to get into the backyard. There’s no motion lighting so he’d have had the dark as cover.”

  I refrain from reacting to the label he slaps on Autumn—it’s exactly what he’s looking for. “I noticed the lack of lighting last night. Should be easy to fix.”

  “Is she at home?” Tony asks. “I’d be more than happy to swing by and—”

  “Back off, Ramirez. She’s at work and anything that needs taking care of, I’ll handle.”

  “So noted, but seriously, you may want to consider, if our guy has a hard-on for her, lights may not be enough. You may want to try and convince her to relocate temporarily.”

  He points out what’s been on my mind. The guy seems focused on Autumn, and I have no way of knowing what his endgame is. For all I know, he’s one of her neighbors who’s developed an unhealthy obsession. Whoever it is knows who she is and where she lives. My first instinct would be to move her somewhere else, but I already know that will not go over well. She’s fiercely independent.

  “I know,” I tell Tony. “But as you’ve seen firsthand, she doesn’t take well to being handled. Shit, we’re just getting to know each other. I’m still feeling my way around here.”

  “Uncharted territory for you.” He smirks, knowing me too well, and turns serious again. “You need me to back you up, you know where to find me.”

  “I hear you,” I acknowledge before moving on. “What else have you got?”

  “One of our guys did catch something interesting at the Delwood scene. One of the neighbors saw a guy walking along the ridge behind the houses.” He consults his notes. “The woman thought it was a hiker, he had what looked like one of those big packs on his back. Not a lot of detail, so I’ll head back there today to see if I can find out some more.”

  “Good. I have something for you to note down. You know Evan Biel, right? Fire Department? He was on scene at the trailer fires. I ran into him again last night.”

  “At Delwood?”

  “No, in Autumn’s backyard.”

  At that Tony’s eyes narrow. “You don’t say.”

  Chapter 11

  Autumn

  “I keep bumping into you.”

  I catch Evan walking out of the burn unit just as I’m coming down the stairs.

  “I could say the same.” He smiles, but it’s not convincing. He looks exhausted. “One of our guys got injured on a call last night. I went straight to the hospital after I left your place. I’m just heading home now to catch a few hours before my shift starts.”

  “I’m sorry.” I put a hand on his arm. “I was told about two new patients, that’s why I’m down here, but I had no idea one was a firefighter.”

  “Yeah. Part of the roof collapsed on him before they could get the victim out of there. His biggest problem is not burns, though. His protective gear minimized those, but his helmet got knocked off and he’s got a closed head-injury. Hasn’t woken up yet.”

  The strain is showing on his face, and I feel for the normally upbeat guy. This must weigh on him heavily.

  “Knowing that, I appreciate you coming to my rescue last night even more.”

  His face transforms into a genuine grin. “Enough to stop seeing me as brother material?”

  He’s teasing, I know, and maybe it’s just his fatigue coming through, but I wonder if there’s not an undertone of regret in there somewhere. I don’t want to inadvertently lead him on.

  “I’m actually kinda seeing someone,” I blurt out.

  “Kinda? How do you kinda see someone? You either are or you’re not.”

  “Fine. I guess I’m seeing someone,” I correct myself and observe him for a reaction. “It’s early days yet. I mean, I don’t usually…date.” I let a snort escape. “One might say I’m allergic to anything that reeks of long-term.”

  “But not this time?” he probes, looking just curious and nothing more.

  “Like I said, it’s early days, but…no. I don’t really feel the urge to hoof it the other way the morning after,” I admit.

  Evan chuckles at that. “I don’t think you’d get very far. Blackfoot seems a little territorial.” My mouth falls open. As far as I know I’ve only once mentioned Keith’s name and it was not in a particularly positive light.

  “How—”

  “Wasn’t exactly hard to figure out. He not only gave me the stink-eye and the third-degree last night when he found me in your yard, but it took him only a couple of seconds to ask where you were. The Blackfoot I know would’ve been all about the investigation.”

  “I see.” I smile to myself. It would appear, I’m not the only one in this budding relationship who is operating well out of their comfort zone. That makes me feel a little better. “You should get home,” I nudge Evan, whose jaw almost unhinges with a massive yawn. “Get some rest.”

  “Yeah. I’ll catch you later.”

  The strain back in the lines on his face, he walks toward the exit, and I aim for the patient rooms.

  It’s close to two when I finally have a chance to grab a bite. I pick up a coffee and some yogurt in the cafeteria and head outside to the small courtyard. It’s a nice spot, enclosed by a rock garden with waterfall that provides a peaceful oasis from the busy hospital. Perfect to relax the body and brain for twenty minutes.

  Busy day, but I’m grateful for it because I haven’t really had a chance to think about last night—about Panda. Part of me wants to call Sophie, just to be able to talk to her, but I know she’ll be upset for me and what is the use in that? Still, a friendly voice would be nice.

  The door to the courtyard opens and Jen steps out with a coffee, spots me sitting on the bench, and walks over.

  “Nice out here, right?” she asks, plopping down next to me. “I love coming out here on my last break, when my feet are sore and I’m about to forget my own name. It gives me enough of a boost to get me through those last couple of hours.”

  “Yeah, it’s peaceful.”

  “You seem a little down today, everything okay?”

  My normal response would probably have been something like I’m fine—partially because I don’t like complaining and partially because I prefer keeping to myself—but I hesitate only for a minute. “It’s been a shit twenty-fou
r hours, to be honest.”

  “How come?”

  I stick to the basics. “A fire broke out in the shed in my backyard, and one of my cats was trapped inside.”

  “Oh no, I’m so sorry.” Jen immediately puts a comforting hand on my shoulder and that is enough for my emotions to form a ball in my throat. “Do you know how it happened?”

  “The fire? I don’t know.”

  “It’s just weird, there seems to have been a wave of fires recently. I mean we’ve had four patients come into the unit, these past couple of weeks, who sustained their injuries in a house fire. I can’t remember seeing that before. We get a lot more electrical or chemical burns usually.”

  I make a noncommittal sound, not quite sure what I should to say to that. I got the impression last night, the fact these fires appear to be connected is not common knowledge. Although, I’m sure Jen is not the only person wondering about this.

  We sit quietly for a while, just listening to the sound of water falling and sipping our coffees when she suddenly asks, “What was your cat’s name?”

  “Panda. Black and white. She looked like one: had a white chest and face, with these black spots covering her eyes.”

  “Cute. Did you name her?”

  “No, all my cats came from the shelter already named.”

  “All? How many do you have?”

  “Five. Four now, I guess.” Jen tries to hide the shock on her face, but I catch it and smile. “I’m the proverbial cat lady. I just can’t say no.”

  “Oh, I’m not judging,” she says quickly. “It’s just I can’t keep a plant alive. Heck, I can barely look after myself properly most days. I can’t imagine taking on one pet, let alone five, but I guess they make for good companions.”

  I’m pretty sure the look she throws me is one of pity, and I can imagine what she sees. Lonely single woman, fast approaching middle age—who fills her life with animals—must strike a pathetic picture in her eyes. She can’t be more than ten or twelve years younger, but sometimes that’s light-years removed.