Close To The Fire

by Suzanne Ferrell

  “That’s the other reason why you wouldn’t let me come visit, isn’t it?”

  He nodded.

  Tenderly, she wrapped her arms around him and led him over to her sofa. He collapsed down in her arms. This strong, brave man needed her. She held him to her chest, felt the silent wracking of the sobs he kept inside, the tension of his muscles beneath her hands as he tried to hold on to that external veneer of courage he’d shown the world for so long.

  He protected so many people. Who protected him?

  He was hers to protect. Always had been.

  “It’s okay, Deacon,” she murmured as she held him close. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

  And still she held him. Even after his body relaxed in her arms.

  A low rumble sounded outside. Libby glanced out the window at the clouds in the sky, wondering if they were finally going to get some rain.

  Slowly, he raised up and sat back on the couch. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to break down like a little kid all over you.”

  “I didn’t mind,” she said, turning to face him.

  He gave a half strangled laugh. “It’s not what I came here for, that’s for sure.”

  “What did you stop by for?”

  He stood, retrieved his shirt and pulled it back on.

  So much for getting physical. Dang it.

  “Is this about Kyle? Did you want to talk to me about what happened at practice today? I did notice that several of your prime players had unusual cuts and bruises.”

  “Yes, it’s about Kyle, but not his injuries or who might’ve been involved in the beating.” Deke sat down again, keeping a little distance between them this time. Then he ran a hand over his face.

  A tension started low in Libby’s abdomen. Whatever Deacon was here to talk to her about, it had him tense. “What is it, Deacon?”

  “I need you to see if you can get that seal on Kyle’s records lifted.”

  “I’d need a very, very good reason. No juvenile judge is just going to lift that seal, especially if it’s been put on there to protect someone who is still a minor.”

  Deke turned slightly and took her hand in his. “Remember when I told you Bill and I went back into that building because we were told the arsonist had a kid with him?”

  A cold chill settled on Libby. “The same boy you found after the arsonist died in the house fire a year later?”

  “Yes. Mike Feeney tried to locate the boy after our fire the other night. He couldn’t. The kid has basically disappeared.” Deke stared deep into her eyes and she could read the concern in his deep-brown eyes.

  “And you think Kyle is that boy?” Not the strong, responsible young man she’d gotten to know the past few days. Surely not.

  “The boy’s name was Kyle Harkin,” Deke said, squeezing her hand a little tighter. “We have to consider the possibility that his records were sealed because some judge was trying to protect him from his father’s past.”

  “And you think he could be the arsonist?”

  “I don’t know. He came to town and suddenly we have an arson fire. What if he learned from his father how to set the fires? What if the firebug is in his genes?”

  “You can’t believe that, can you?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t want to. That kid has been through a lot and seems to have come out for the better. But I have the whole community’s safety in my hands. I have to know if he’s possibly the one responsible for that fire.”

  “Just because he was that arsonist’s son, doesn’t mean he set the fire,” she said.

  “Elizabeth, I need to know.” he said. The soft, gravelly sound of the name he alone used for her cracked her resolve. The bleakness in his eyes shattered what remained.

  “I can call Judge Rawlins, explain the situation and see if he can overturn the seal on the records.” She reached for her cell phone.

  At the same moment, Deke’s phone went off.

  The fire alarm she’d heard two nights ago.

  Jarred to his feet, he whipped out his phone and answered, hitting the speaker function. “This is Reynolds.”

  “Chief, we have a fire called in for eight-three-seven Orchard Lane.”

  Deke’s eyes went wide and Libby gasped. That was Deke’s boyhood home.

  “Excuse me, Brandt? What address?”

  “Eight-three-seven Orchard Lane. I’ve got both squads deployed. You want the GPS?” Brandt Outman, the radioman repeated.

  “No. I know where it is. I’m on my way. Call Sheriff Justice for me and Mike Feeney of the arson department, too.”

  He closed the phone and strode out the door.

  Libby grabbed her sandals and handbag then ran out the door after him. “Deke, wait.”

  He kept going until he got to the elevator. “Libby, whatever it is, it will have to wait until I get back.”

  “No, it can’t.” She said, hopping into the elevator with him. “Cleetus and Sylvie are there.”

  As the elevator descended, he turned to hold her steady while she got the second shoe on. “What do you mean, Cleetus and Sylvie are at my old house?”

  “Sylvie was looking for a place to rent. I knew your mom’s old place was available.” She gripped his forearm tight. “I sent them there this afternoon.”

  “Fuck!” He said as the door opened, practically pulling her out with him. “Call Clint, tell him to meet me there.”

  He was running out of the building, but she was right behind him, cursing her choice of shoes for the day. No matter what he thought, he wasn’t leaving her behind. He wasn’t doing this alone. Not this time. She reached his truck just as he started the engine.

  “Dammit, Libby, you’re not coming,” he said as she wrenched open the door.

  “Hell yes I am, Deacon,” she said, climbing into the passenger side and pulling out her phone. “So stop arguing and drive while I call Clint.”

  * * * * *

  He slipped into the gathering crowd. He’d worried about hiding his thrill at watching the fiery dance he’d created from those around him, but seeing the firefighters work as a team to move the deputy off the lawn to the neighbor’s driveway hit him hard.

  How had this happened?

  No one was supposed to get hurt. The house was empty.

  Why was the deputy there?

  Had he messed up? Had someone seen him and reported it to the sheriff’s office? Was that why he was in the house?

  Maybe he should leave?

  Suddenly, more sirens sounded as the second fire truck arrived. He couldn’t leave now. His adversary would be here soon. Glee replaced the momentary internal worry the deputy’s injuries had caused him. When his enemy saw what he’d done, the other man would know he meant business and stay away from the goddess. His goddess.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Smoke billowed out from blocks away. Deke gripped the wheel tighter as he sped in the direction of his boyhood home. He’d turned on the truck’s siren outside the courthouse and hit the gas the minute Libby had her seatbelt fastened.

  Whoever this firebug was, and Deke had no doubt this fire was set by the same guy who torched Zimmer’s farm, the guy had just made his first mistake. He’d made it personal.

  Deke prayed that Cleetus had gotten Sylvie out in time. He couldn’t take having another death laid at his doorstep.

  “Clint’s already on his way to your house,” Libby said beside him, slipping her phone back in her bag. “Dear God, I pray they got out. I don’t know what I’ll do if they’re in there.” Her voice caught. “I sent them there, Deacon.”

  Her words mirrored his and suddenly he knew that whatever they found, they’d get through this together. He laid his hand on hers. “It’s not your fault, Libby. You didn’t set this fire.”

  “You think it’s the arsonist?”

  He let go of her hand and turned the last corner onto Orchard. The house was in shambles. Flames roared from the rubble. Both fire squads were there, working to contain the raging inferno. Deke pulled in b
ehind the quint engine and stared at the rubble that used to be his home.

  What the hell was he going to tell Mom?

  “Dear, God,” Libby whispered. “It’s gone.”

  Suddenly a fist pounded on the driver’s window, startling them both.

  Colin Turnbill, the eldest of volunteer firefighter Aaron Turnbill’s kids and a member of the fire department, yanked open the door. “C’mon, Chief. All hands on deck. Cleetus is unconscious.”

  The news seemed to snap Deke out of his shock. The next second he was out of the truck and reaching into the back for his turnout gear. “Where is he?”

  “Over in the neighbor’s drive. Took three of us to move him there.” Colin pointed to the far side of the yard.

  Libby had come around the truck. “Was Sylvie injured?”

  Colin shook his head. “No, the little lady looks okay, but she was trying to move Cleetus by herself when we moved in, so I think she might’ve gotten some smoke in her lungs. Still won’t leave the big guy’s side, though.”

  “What happened to him?” Deke had kicked off his shoes and stepped into the legs of his gear, straight into the boots at the bottom.

  “Best we can tell a door hit him when the explosion occurred.” Colin said.

  “Explosion?” Libby asked, exchanging a look with Deke. That must’ve been what had sounded like thunder when she’d been holding him earlier.

  “Yes, ma’am. Most likely a natural gas line blew,” Colin continued. “According to Sylvie, Cleetus was carrying her out of the house when it blew and a door hit him once they were outside the house.”

  At that moment, a truck drove up. Doc Clint rolled down his window. “Where do you want me?”

  “Over with Cleetus, he’s been hurt,” Deke said, snapping the last buttons of his coat.

  “I’ll show you,” Colin said, jumping onto the truck’s running board and holding onto the door.

  Libby started after the truck. Deke grabbed her arm to stop her.

  “Libby…” He wanted to say so much, to beg her to leave, to be safe.

  “You go,” she said, turning her hand to hold his a moment. “I’ll go check on Cleetus and see what I can do to help Clint and Emma. I’ll be safe, I promise.”

  Deke watched her go for a moment before slamming his helmet on and connecting his radio. “Reynolds, here. Who’s on lead?” he asked, checking the radio was working and letting the others know he was here.

  “Deke, it’s John Wilson. Glad you’re here,” came the older man’s voice over the radio.

  Deke jogged past the quint to where the older man stood, directing the hose team where to work the fire with their water. “Where’s the other team?” he asked when he got close enough not to use the radio.

  “I’ve got Gage and the second team working the back of the house. Worse part of the fire seemed to be there,” John said, pausing. “He said this was your mom’s house?”

  “Yeah. I’d just finished repairing and painting it to rent.”

  “Sorry to hear that. Any chance there was a gas leak you weren’t aware of?”

  “Nope.”

  John’s steady gaze met his and Deke knew he was thinking arson. “Damn.”

  “Yeah. So, let’s try to preserve some of this rubble for Mike to look at later.”

  “Do our best.”

  “Thanks. Our first priority, though, is to try to keep this thing from spreading. I’ll check on the neighbors. See if they can give us a hand by wetting down their homes and the grounds.”

  Deke turned and saw that a crowd had formed outside the barrier that Bobby had once again set up. An idea hit him. He went back to his car, grabbed his phone and headed to where Bobby stood on crowd control.

  “Bobby, I need you to do something for me,” he asked, turning his back to the crowd.

  “Whatever you need, Chief,” she said, her brows drawn down in question.

  He opened his hand. “Any chance you could get some video of the crowd for me?”

  A smile spread slowly as she took the phone. “No problem.”

  He left her to go talk with the neighbors. By then, Clint should have information on how badly Cleetus was injured.

  And hopefully, Bobby would capture the firebug’s image on his phone.

  He was tired of being played for a fool.

  * * * * *

  The sight of the big deputy lying limp and unmoving on the driveway was alarming. Clint and Emma were working on him, talking quietly between themselves. Off to the side stood Sylvie, her arms wrapped around herself like she was afraid she’d break if she let go. Libby’s heart broke for the little stylist and she hurried over to stand with her.

  No one should be alone when someone they cared about was injured.

  “How is he?” she asked quietly, putting her arm around Sylvie’s shoulders.

  Sylvie shook her head. “I don’t know. He wouldn’t wake up…and there was so much blood…I couldn’t stop…” Her voice broke and she turned to clutch Libby to her.

  “Doc Clint and Emma are with him, Sylvie. They’ll take good care of him.” She wouldn’t promise Cleetus would be okay. She couldn’t. Sylvie was right, there was an awful lot of blood on him and around his head. Even on the cloth Sylvie still clutched in one hand.

  “What happened?”

  “I’m not sure. When we pulled up outside, there wasn’t any smoke or fire. I swear there wasn’t.” Sylvie trembled and Libby squeezed her shoulders. “Then Cleetus opened the door and the house was just so lovely and homey. I got distracted by something and then he was headed into the kitchen. That’s when I could smell something odd…and then saw the flames…and then he grabbed me and ran out…and there was this horrible rumble…and explosion…and we landed outside…somehow I was on top of him…then he turned…” She finally stopped to take a breath and swallowed hard, tears streaming down her face.

  Libby’s heart broke.

  “The next thing I knew, the front door hit him. Then all the blood. And he wouldn’t wake up.” She clutched the bloody cloth to her and sobbed.

  Libby hugged her tighter, her attention torn between where the doctor and nurse worked on Cleetus and watching Deke direct the firefighters, who seemed to be quickly getting the blaze under control. The fact that his childhood home had been reduced to a pile of rubble actually seemed to be helping the men get it put out much quicker than the spread fire in the field. He’d even gotten the neighbors on both sides to water down their houses and yards in an effort to stymie the fire’s spread.

  That was one of the things she loved about Deacon, always had, his ability to lead others. He could inspire them to set passing records in football, as well as learn to fight fires to protect their community. She knew his heart was breaking over the loss of his home, but his first concern was the neighbors who might lose their houses.

  “Oh, look. He’s moving!” Sylvie whispered beside her and pointed towards Cleetus.

  She was right. Cleetus wasn’t just moving, he was trying to sit up at the same time Clint and Emma were trying to hold him down. Clint waved for them to come over.

  “Sylvie,” Cleetus choked out, still struggling.

  “I’m here, right here,” she said, dropping down beside him. “You have to lay still and let the doctor work on you.”

  “You’re alright? I didn’t hurt you?” he asked, then went into a coughing fit.

  She laid her hand on his chest. “I’m fine. Of course you didn’t hurt me. You saved me.”

  “Never want to hurt you,” he said, laying his hand over hers. As if her words were medication, Cleetus closed his eyes, no longer fighting the people helping him.

  Wiping at the tears in her eyes, Libby turned away from the tender scene to come face-to-face with Deke. He caught her by the shoulders.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, his eyes dark with concern. “Is it Cleetus?”

  “Yes. No, I mean not in the way you think. He woke up.”

  “Then why are you crying?”


  She gave a shaky laugh. “It’s just how he and Sylvie are taking care of each other…I just got a little choked up.”

  “You always did cry at sappy movies.” He lifted the corner of his mouth.

  Heat filled her face at his teasing. She glanced over his shoulders at the smoldering rubble. “Is it out?”

  Sobering, he turned to follow her gaze. “For the most part. I’ll leave one crew here to make sure nothing flares up again.”

  “I’m so sorry. Did you lose everything inside?”

  He shook his head. “It was empty and I’d had the inside repaired and painted for a renter. I’ve never been so glad that Mom moved to South Carolina last year as I am right now. Anything important went with her, but damn, I hate seeing the house like this.”

  “Thank goodness she wasn’t here.” She leaned in closer to whisper so no one else could hear. “Do you think it was the arsonist?”

  The look in his eyes told her he believed just that. Movement from the side yard caught their attention as Gage stalked around from the back of the house, carrying a plastic bag in his hand. The hard planes of his face spoke volumes to his barely controlled anger.

  “What did you find?” Deke asked, stepping away from Libby.

  Gage held the bag out to him. “Son of a bitch triggered it with a cell phone this time.”

  “Dammit,” Deke said studying the melted contents the bag. “He’s changing his MO. Last time it was a timer. This time a cell phone.”

  “What does that mean?” Libby asked, not liking the men’s reaction to the change.

  “It means he’s escalating.” Deke glanced back at his former home. “And it’s become personal.”

  Before she could ask why the arsonist would be targeting him, Doc Clint joined them.

  “How’s Cleetus?” Gage asked.

  “Good news is he regained consciousness for a bit,” Clint said. “Bad news is he’s confused, refuses to release his hold on Sylvie Gillis and is too damn big for me and Emma to move by ourselves.”

  “If he’s awake, can’t he just get on the stretcher on his own?” Deke asked as the group headed over to where Emma sat, monitoring the deputy.