Riverbend Road

by RaeAnne Thayne

  “Gosh, thanks.”

  He chuckled again and the warmth of it seemed to ease through the car even through the hollow, tinny Bluetooth speakers.

  “Keep me posted.”

  “Ten-four.”

  She turned her vehicle around and headed in the general direction of her own little stone house on Riverbend Road that used to belong to her grandparents.

  The Redemption mountain range towered across the lake, huge and imposing. The snow that would linger in the moraines and ridges above the timberline for at least another month gleamed in the afternoon sunlight and the lake was that pure, vivid turquoise usually seen only in shallow Caribbean waters.

  Her job as one of six full-time officers in the Haven Point Police Department might not always be overflowing with excitement, but she couldn’t deny that her workplace surroundings were pretty gorgeous.

  She spotted the first tendrils of black smoke above the treetops as she turned onto the rutted lane that wound its way through pale aspen trunks and thick pines and spruce.

  Probably just a nearby farmer burning some weeds along a ditch line, she told herself, or trying to get rid of the bushy-topped invasive phragmites reeds that could encroach into any marshy areas and choke out all the native species. But something about the black curl of smoke hinted at a situation beyond a controlled burn.

  Her stomach fluttered with nerves. She hated fire calls even more than the dreaded DD—domestic disturbance. At least in a domestic situation, there was some chance she could defuse the conflict. Fire was avaricious and relentless, smoke and flame and terror. She had learned that lesson on one of her first calls as a green-as-grass rookie police officer in Boise, when she was the first one on scene to a deadly house fire on a cold January morning that had killed three children in their sleep.

  Wyn rounded the last bend in the road and saw, just as feared, the smoke wasn’t coming from a ditch line or a controlled burn of a patch of invading plants. Instead, it twisted sinuously into the sky from the ramshackle barn on Darwin Twitchell’s property.

  She scanned the area for kids and couldn’t see any. What she did see made her blood run cold—two small boys’ bikes resting on their sides outside the barn.

  Where there were bikes, there were usually boys to ride them.

  She parked her vehicle and shoved open her door. “Hello? Anybody here?” she called.

  She strained her ears but could hear nothing above the crackle of flames. Heat and flames poured off the building.

  She pressed the button on the radio at her shoulder to call dispatch. “I’ve got a structure fire, an old barn on Darwin Twitchell’s property on Conifer Drive, just before Riverbend Road. The upper part seems to be fully engulfed and there’s a possibility of civilians inside, juveniles. I’ve got bikes here but no kids in sight. I’m still looking.”

  While she raced around the building, she heard the call go out to the volunteer fire department and Chief Gallegos respond that his crews were six minutes out.

  “Anybody here?” she called again.

  Just faintly, she thought she heard a high cry in response but her radio crackled with static at that instant and she couldn’t be sure. A second later, she heard Cade’s voice.

  “Bailey, this is Chief Emmett. What’s the status of the kids? Over.”

  She hurried back to her vehicle and popped the trunk. “I can’t see them,” she answered tersely, digging for a couple of water bottles and an extra T-shirt she kept back there. “I’m going in.”

  “Negative!” Cade’s urgency fairly crackled through the radio. “The first fire crew’s ETA is now four minutes. Stand down.”

  She turned back to the fire and was almost positive the flames seemed to be crackling louder, the smoke billowing higher into the sky. She couldn’t stand the thought of children being caught inside that hellish scene. She couldn’t. She pushed away the memory of those tiny charred bodies.

  Maybe whoever had tripped Darwin’s alarms—maybe the same kids who likely set the fire—had run off into the surrounding trees. She hoped so, she really did, but her gut told her otherwise.

  In four minutes, they could be burned to a crisp, just like those sweet little kids in Boise. She had to take a look.

  It’s what her father would have done.

  You know what John Wayne would say, John Bailey’s voice seemed to echo in her head. Courage is being scared to death but saddling up anyway.

  Yeah, Dad. I know.

  Her hands were sweaty with fear but she pushed past it and focused on the situation at hand. “I’m going in,” she repeated.

  “Stand down, Officer Bailey. That is a direct order.”

  Cade ran a fairly casual—though efficient—police department and rarely pushed rank but right now he sounded hard, dangerous.

  She paused for only a second, her attention caught by sunlight glinting off one of the bikes.

  “Wynona, do you copy?” Cade demanded.

  She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t stand out here and wait for the fire department. Time was of the essence, she knew it in her bones. After nearly five years as a police officer, she had learned to rely on her instincts and she couldn’t ignore them now.

  She was just going to have to disregard his order and deal with his fury later.

  “I can’t hear you,” she lied. “Sorry. You’re crackling out.”

  She squelched her radio to keep him out of her ears, ripped the T-shirt and doused it with her water bottle, then held it to her mouth and pushed inside.

  The shift from sunlight to smoke and darkness inside the barn was disorienting. As she had seen from outside, the flames seemed to be limited for now to the upper hayloft of the barn but the air was thick and acrid.

  “Hello?” she called out. “Anybody here?”

  “Yes! Help!”

  “Please help!”

  Two distinct, high, terrified voices came from the far end of the barn.

  “Okay. Okay,” she called back, her heart pounding fiercely. “Keep talking so I can follow your voice.”

  There was a momentary pause. “What should we say?”

  “Sing a song. How about ‘Jingle Bells’? Here. I’ll start.”

  She started the words off and then stopped when she heard two young voices singing the words between sobs. She whispered a quick prayer for help and courage then rapidly picked her way over rubble and debris as she followed the song to its source, which turned out to be two white-faced, terrified boys she knew.

  Caleb and Lucas Keegan were crouched together just below a ladder up to the loft, where the flames sizzled and popped overhead.

  Caleb, the older of the two, was stretched out on the ground, his leg bent at an unnatural angle.

  “Hey, Caleb. Hey, Luke.”

  They both sobbed when they spotted her. “Officer Bailey. We didn’t mean to start the fire! We didn’t mean to!” Luke, the younger one, was close to hysteria but she didn’t have time to calm him.

  “We can worry about that later. Right now, we need to get out of here.”

  “We tried, but Caleb broked his leg! He fell and he can’t walk. I was trying to pull him out but I’m not strong enough.”

  “I told him to go without me,” the older boy, no more than ten, said through tears. “I screamed and screamed at him but he wouldn’t go.”

  “We’re all getting out of here.” She ripped the wet cloth in half and handed a section to each boy.

  Yeah, she knew the whole adage—taught by the airline industry, anyway—about taking care of yourself before turning your attention to helping others but this case was worth an exception.

  “Caleb, I’m going to pick you up. It’s going to hurt, especially if I bump that broken leg of yours, but I don’t have time to give you first aid.”

 
“It doesn’t matter. I don’t care. Do what you have to do. We have to get Luke out of here!”

  Her eyes burned from the smoke and her throat felt tight and achy. If she had time to spare, she would have wept at the boy’s quiet courage. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. She scooped him up into a fireman’s carry, finally appreciating the efficiency of the hold. He probably weighed close to eighty pounds but adrenaline gave her strength.

  Over the crackles and crashes overhead, she heard him swallow a scream as his ankle bumped against her.

  “Luke, grab hold of my belt buckle, right there in the back. That’s it. Do not let go, no matter what. You hear me?”

  “Yes,” the boy whispered.

  “I can’t carry you both. I wish I could. You ready?”

  “I’m scared,” Luke whimpered through the wet T-shirt wrapped around his mouth.

  So am I, kiddo. She forced a confident smile she was far from feeling. “Stay close to me. We’re tough. We can do this.”

  The pep talk was meant for herself, more than the boys. Flames had finally begun crawling down the side of the barn and it didn’t take long for the fire to slither its way through the old hay and debris scattered through the place.

  She did not want to run through those flames but her dad’s voice seemed to ring again in her ears.

  You never know how strong you are until being strong is the only choice you’ve got.

  Okay, okay. She got it, already.

  She ran toward the door, keeping Caleb on her shoulder with one hand while she wrapped her other around Luke’s neck.

  They were just feet from the door when the younger boy stumbled and went down. She could hear the flames growling louder and knew the dry, rotten barn wood was going to combust any second.

  With no time to spare, she half lifted him with her other arm and dragged them all through the door and into the sunshine while the fire licked and growled at their heels.

  CHAPTER TWO

  SHE MADE IT only a few steps out of the burning structure into the blessedly sweet air and blinding sunlight before strong hands reached to take both boys.

  “Careful of Caleb’s leg. I think it’s broken,” she mumbled, not even sure who was helping her and very much afraid she was going to be sick now from a combination of the smoke choking her lungs, the exertion and delayed reaction.

  “We’ve got to move, before the whole thing tumbles down around us.” As her vision adjusted to the shift in light, she saw Cade, his face set and hard, carrying both boys as if they weighed no more than a couple bags of sugar.

  “You coming?” he growled.

  “Right behind you, Chief,” she mumbled, then called on the last of her strength to follow Cade as he rushed away from the structure toward a cluster of emergency vehicles just arriving on scene.

  He headed straight for the ambulance pulling in just behind the first water truck. Before they reached it, a couple of paramedics jumped out and grabbed a gurney out of the back. They were two of the best in the volunteer department, she saw with relief. In seconds, Ed Cutler had Caleb on the stretcher.

  “I didn’t have much time to assess the situation but it looked like he broke his ankle. He jumped out of the hayloft once the fire started,” Wyn explained, keeping a careful eye on Ed’s partner Terri Michaels as she hooked Luke up with an oxygen mask.

  “Thanks. Sit down before you fall over,” the bald EMT ordered her. “Terri, get a mask on Wyn here too.”

  “I’m okay,” she said. “Don’t worry about me. You’ve got enough on your hands with the boys. They come first.”

  “You’re going to let them treat you,” Cade growled. “And then you’re going to explain to me why the hell you thought you could defy a direct order.”

  The paramedics exchanged glances and then pointedly busied themselves with Lucas and Caleb.

  “I had no choice. You can see how quickly that thing flared out of control. When I rolled up, only the loft was engulfed but I knew it was only a matter of time. If I hadn’t gone in, Chief Gallegos would be sending his guys in for body retrieval and we both know it!”

  “Another ten seconds and they would have been looking for three bodies!”

  Though the June afternoon sunshine was warm and the fire put out plenty of heat, Wyn shivered. As her adrenaline spike ebbed, the reality of the situation began to soak in like that water spraying out of the firefighters’ hose.

  In nearly five years of law enforcement, she’d never had such a close call. She and the boys all could have died inside that fiery barn. If she had been thirty seconds later...if she hadn’t been able to move as quickly...if one of those blazing timbers had crashed to the ground.

  No question about it, they had been lucky.

  She swallowed, suddenly light-headed. She didn’t realize she swayed until Cade grabbed her.

  “Sit down,” he ordered harshly, though his hands were gentle as he helped her to the ground. Terri came over with an oxygen mask and a water bottle.

  “Did you call another ambulance for her yet?” Cade asked.

  Terri looked wary at his clipped tone. “No. We’ll check her blood gases first. Could be, we can treat and release at the scene with a few more puffs of oxygen.”

  “I’m perfectly fine,” Wyn answered through the mask, then spoiled the words with a paroxysm of coughing.

  When Wyn finished, Cade’s silver-blue eyes looked as fierce and hard as the Redemption Mountains.

  “If the paramedics don’t ship you to the hospital, take your vehicle and clear out. You’re officially suspended without pay for the next seven days.”

  For a moment, she thought the fire had messed with her hearing. “What? I just saved two lives!”

  “And almost lost your own in the process.”

  She glared at him. “You can’t suspend me! I didn’t do anything wrong!”

  “You disobeyed a direct order and your actions could have endangered others.”

  “How?” she demanded.

  “You turned off your radio, didn’t you? You had no idea what the status of the other responding personnel might have been. Nor did we have anybody on scene to provide status reports on the fire until the first engine rolled up.”

  She had no answer to that, especially not when he reached down and unclipped her radio from her shoulder. When he turned the dial up the air was immediately filled with voices and static as Chief Gallegos and his team communicated through the airwaves with dispatch about their needs.

  “I made a judgment call,” she said. It sounded weak, even to her. Okay, maybe she had ignored department policy, but those two boys chattering to the EMTs were proof that her judgment call had paid off.

  “The wrong one. I’ll see you in seven days,” he answered tersely, then turned and stalked over to the fire command center.

  * * *

  CADE HAD NEVER been more angry.

  The fury prowled through him, harsh and wild like the fire burning through Darwin Twitchell’s dilapidated barn.

  He had to be able to trust her to do exactly what he asked. Out of all six officers in this small ragtag Haven Point police department, he trusted Wynona most. She was smart, hardworking, compassionate and insightful.

  She had natural instincts and seemed to always find the perfect way to allay any tense situation, from drunk altercations down at the Mad Dog tavern to hot tempers between neighbors.

  He figured she came by those instincts naturally, since she was fourth-generation law enforcement in these parts.

  He didn’t want to suspend her, especially not when they were in the middle of their busiest time of the year with the summer tourist season heading into full swing. But what alternative did he have? This wasn’t the first time she had ignored his orders but he vowed it would be the last. He wasn’t a con
trol freak but he had to know that his officers would follow the chain of command.

  He glanced back at the ambulance. She looked so fragile and vulnerable sitting there in the grass, her cheek sooty and strands of wheat-colored hair slipping free of the thick braid she always wore on duty.

  Beneath his anger lurked something else, something he didn’t want to look at too closely. He only knew that he couldn’t remember ever feeling that bone-deep fear that had sent him racing out of the station to his vehicle and then bulleting through town to the fire scene.

  She was a police officer. One of his police officers. He would have worried about any of his guys who stopped responding while out on a call.

  He put it away when he saw Erik Gallegos heading in his direction.

  “What’s the status?” he asked the fire chief.

  “Barn looks like it’s going to be a total loss,” Erik answered. “Old thing was about to fall over anyway, next time a stiff wind blew off the lake. At this point, my crew is just trying to put out the flames and make sure it doesn’t spread to the undergrowth.”

  “That a concern?”

  Erik shrugged. “Not really. All the rain we’ve had the last few weeks has reduced the threat level for now, but you never know.”

  Cade hoped they had another six or seven weeks before fire season hit, especially since some places in the higher elevations were still covered in snow.

  The chief jerked his head toward his EMTs. “Wynona okay?”

  He followed the other man’s gaze, where Wynona was smiling and saying something to the younger of the Keegan boys. “Seems to be.”

  He thought about leaving the situation there but figured word would spread soon anyway and he might as well get out in front of it.

  “I gave her a week’s suspension for disobeying a direct order and for turning off her comm.”

  Erik snorted. “Seriously? Harsh. You know you would have done the exact same thing.”

  That was different, though Cade couldn’t quite pin a finger on why. “Your guys were four minutes behind her. She should have waited for somebody who could search the premises wearing proper gear.”