by Debra Cowan
Passion and playfulness mixed on her face. "I've never done this three times in one night before."
"Neither have I," he said wryly. "Let's hope I can."
She laughed, reaching between their bodies. "Oh, I don't think you're going to have any trouble, Detective."
He caught her bottom lip between his teeth, parted her legs. Suddenly she froze.
Jack frowned. "What is it? Did I hurt you?"
"No. Listen." She turned her head toward the window and Jack did the same.
The streetlamp cast short fingers of light through the window, not enough to see by, but enough to distinguish between shadow and darkness. Something moved in front of the window. A crackle of underbrush sounded.
"Damn!" Jack popped up off the bed, scrambling for his slacks.
Terra was right behind him, grabbing her robe off the back of the door as she raced down the hall. He snatched up his suit jacket, running behind her as he felt for the backup gun he carried in the coat's inside pocket.
By the time he reached the entryway, his 9mm Glock was nestled in his hand. "Let me go first. I'm armed."
She opened the front door and waited as he stepped out on the porch. Cold concrete chilled the soles of his feet, but after the first sting of discomfort he ignored it. He stepped onto the sidewalk then into the grass.
"Wait." Terra disappeared, then returned in a few seconds with a flashlight.
"Good idea." He took the light and with her pressed to his back, they scanned the perimeter of the yard.
They saw no one around her two large maple trees. The branches were half-stripped and too sparse to hide anyone. Jack shone the light on Terra's bedroom window. Followed the line of brick down to the ground. The short evergreen bushes seemed undisturbed, but he thought he saw a dark shape in the grass.
"Over there. Let's be careful."
Together they moved up until the thin strip of light fell flush on the spot. He cocked his head. "Looks like a footprint."
"Yes." Terra glanced at the grass around the spot. "There's a pretty heavy dew tonight. Is there more than one print?"
Jack shifted the flashlight so that he illuminated a patch of yard, the grass looking streaked. "I can't be sure if it's a shoe print, but it looks like something went through the grass."
"Somebody was here. Outside my window." Terra gripped his arm.
"We can't be sure."
"You know it, and so do I, Jack." She stared unflinchingly into his eyes. "It's the serial arsonist."
He moved over to examine the drag marks in the grass, already fading because of more accumulating moisture.
"We don't know who it was." He put an arm around her. "Let's go back inside. There's no one out here and you're freezing."
By the time they got inside, her teeth were chattering. "You last night, me tonight. Why wouldn't it be the arsonist?" she asked.
"I admit it looks that way."
"We can't afford to think otherwise, Jack. Not after the Molotov cocktails in your living room."
He shut the door, thumbed on the safety of his gun and laid it on a decorative table in her entryway before pulling her to him. "You're right. We need to be careful, but if the arsonist was going to do something tonight, he or she had the chance to do it."
"There's no telling how long he was at the window before we heard him."
"Right." He hugged her close, feeling the chill of her body through her light robe. "I don't think he'll be back tonight, but just to be safe, I'm going to call it in. See if a patrol car can sit outside the rest of the night."
"It's almost four o'clock."
"I'll feel better if we get someone over here."
She nodded.
"You okay?"
She hugged him tight. "That was creepy."
Very creepy, he thought later as he stood at the window in her bedroom. She'd finally gone to sleep, but he hadn't been able to close his eyes. He didn't know if his insomnia was due to the noisy lurker, or because of what had happened between him and Terra.
Chapter 12
A week after the incident at her house, Terra and Jack still had no leads on the prowler. Jack had canvassed her neighborhood and asked if anyone had seen or heard anything that night, but no one had.
The note from the last delivery of roses had yielded no prints. Neither had the vase. And the florist couldn't remember who had placed the order.
Terra hated the thought that she and Jack appeared to be targeted by the arsonist, but it meant they were close to something. They had met with the mayor and briefed him about the fire started by the serial arsonist at Jack's house. But all three of them agreed not to release that information to the media yet.
Their lack of progress had Terra ready to chew nails. Not only because they had no leads from the last flower delivery, but also because they couldn't prove why LeBass had gone to see Harris the night of the murder. They couldn't connect the Halcion to him, Cecily or Reynolds. They couldn't bust a single alibi.
The only thing going their way seemed to be their relationship. Jack was an attentive and generous lover, plus he made her laugh, which her ex-husband hadn't been able to do very often. But she sensed a reserve in him, some deep place he hadn't shared with her. She wouldn't push it. He would share with her when he was ready.
That Wednesday night, after dinner and a session of languorous lovemaking, Terra and Jack decided it was time to take a different tack in the investigation. She would call Dane Reynolds and let him know she was ready to grant an interview. Putting out a public plea might net them some new information. The exposure might also push the arsonist's buttons.
She was on her way home when a call came over her radio. A blaze had been reported in a poor residential area, less than three minutes away. Estimated arrival time for the closest responding unit was between eight and ten minutes. She radioed in that she would answer the call and to send the unit.
She pulled onto the street lined with small frame houses. All of the fifties-style A-frames had shallow porches and one-car garages. Only the paint colors differed. Orange flames shot into the sky over a yellow frame house and Terra slammed on her brakes in front of the cracked driveway.
Several people huddled in the street. A young black man trained a puny stream of water from a garden hose through the front door. Terra grabbed her turnout coat, slapped on her helmet and boots then snatched her ax from the back of her Explorer.
"Presley Fire Department." She rushed up carrying her air tank, mask and flashlight. "Who's in the house?"
"Mrs. Allison," the young man said. "And my dad, Frank Isaacs. He's trying to get her out."
"What's your name?"
"Travis." Sweat beaded his face. The front of his long-sleeved shirt was soaked. His eyes were already red with smoke.
"Travis, keep the water coming." Terra shrugged on the straps of her self-contained breathing apparatus, adjusting the thirty-plus-pounds weight on her shoulders. "The fire department will be here shortly. Don't go in. I'll have my hands full finding your dad and Mrs. Allison in this smoke. I can't come looking for you, too, okay?"
Fear strained his features, but he nodded, making an obvious effort to remain calm.
She smiled and pulled her mask up over her face. Ducking inside, she fell to her belly on the floor, swallowed up by smoke and darkness and heat.
* * *
Jack didn't remember driving to Presley Medical Center. After Terra had said "injured" and "concussion," his brain had seized up. Panic and dread cut straight to the bone.
He kept hearing her voice on the other end of the phone, swearing she was all right. She'd said something about rescuing someone from a fire, but he couldn't remember. All he cared about was seeing her, making sure she was safe.
Somehow he reached the hospital without having a wreck. He pushed through the revolving door and walked into a room dominated by a nurse's station. A clutter of people and noise assaulted his senses. Crying children, moaning adults. Medical personnel gave firm direct
ives as they moved around the room, checking for the most serious cases. Several soon-to-be patients filled the chairs along the wall. Some stood.
Jack told a short, gray-haired nurse behind the desk who he was looking for and she directed him to the last curtained cubicle. He thanked her, walking quickly down the hall. The smell of antiseptic underlined the scents of air freshener and sickness. A child cried out in a cubicle as he passed. Just being here dredged up the same numbing fear he'd felt when he had gotten the call about Lori.
Telling himself the situations were different didn't settle his nerves. They were as raw and exposed as if someone held a switchblade to his throat. Terra had said she was all right, but he had to see for himself.
How had this happened? Why had she been anywhere near a fire?
He tried to reason away the churning sickness in his gut. Just an hour ago, he'd known his world, his woman, felt secure in that knowledge. That phone call had ripped through him like shrapnel. Right now, he felt as if he'd been dropped blindfolded into a foreign country.
As he neared her cubicle, Jack slowed. The buzz of voices drifted from the other side of the curtain. She had visitors.
He stopped at the sound of her voice.
"I thought that ceiling was going to collapse before I got her out."
"It did, Terra," a woman said wryly. "Your head is just harder than a roof beam."
"You guys sure took your time getting there," Terra joked.
Jack ran a hand over his face, surprised to feel sweat. She sounded hoarse, her voice almost buoyant.
"You charged in there like the Lone Ranger," a man said. "Don't think you needed much help."
"Yeah, you glory hound." This time the voice came from an older male voice. "You've still got it, Ace. You can watch my back any time."
She won't be watching anyone's back, Jack thought savagely.
"If I eat all this ice cream you guys brought, watching is about all I'll be doing."
They all laughed.
"Good job on that lady, Ace," the older man said. "She and the neighbor would've been lost if you hadn't acted so quickly."
"I'm glad I was nearby."
"And didn't forget how to use your equipment," the younger man teased.
"Ha ha," Terra said. "You all know it was luck as much as anything. With all the smoke and heat, I couldn't tell what was what until I got right to her."
Jack detected a thread of exhaustion beneath her light reply. He struggled to level out his emotions. This was probably her way of decompressing after the all-out adrenaline rush of a rescue, but he couldn't listen to any more of this.
The people in her room were too accepting of what had nearly happened, the danger Terra had faced. Oh, he knew the drill. Cops were the same way. Joking helped release the stress that followed after facing death or a risky situation. It was all part of the job. The problem was Jack hadn't counted on Terra still doing the job of a firefighter. She was an investigator. She wasn't supposed to be on the front lines anymore.
Using all his years of experience as a cop, he blanked his face and stepped inside the small room. "Hello?"
Three firefighters surrounded the stainless steel hospital bed, filling the boxy exam room to capacity.
"Jack, come in." Terra's eyes lit up and she motioned him over.
He moved behind a man in full firefighter gear and stepped up to the bed. Jack recognized the red-haired man, but couldn't name him. A bandage glared white against her temple and his heart clenched at the raw scrape showing beneath it. She wore a soot-streaked white T-shirt and jeans. Her tennis shoes and a long-sleeved denim shirt were in a chair in the corner. A grimy turnout coat and boots lay on the floor. Propped up with pillows, she looked fragile. Vulnerable.
He swallowed around a hard lump in his throat. "How are you?"
"I'm okay." Her gaze met his, trying to reassure.
She didn't look okay to him. Still he nodded, trying to keep his emotions in check.
She glanced at the firefighters. "Do you guys know Detective Spencer?"
He recognized the woman and nodded. Shelby Fox had fought the fire at his house.
The older of the two male firefighters cleared his throat and stuck his hand across the bed. "Detective, I'm Jerry French. I worked the Vaughn fire."
"Yes, I remember." Jack shook his hand. "How are you?"
The man next to Jack, Rusty Ferguson, nodded at him. Shelby extended her hand.
"Hi, Shelby. Nice to see you again."
"Looks like you made it all right after the fire at your house."
"Yeah, thanks."
"Glad to hear it."
Jack glanced back at Terra, itching to touch her. Get these people out of here.
A half-gallon carton of chocolate ice cream sat open on a wheeled table next to the bed and he raised an eyebrow. "Ice cream?"
"Shelby brought it." Terra gestured to two brown paper bags on the floor next to her bed. "Rusty and Jerry brought some, too."
"Ice cream is a big deal at the station," French explained. "Kinda like cops and donuts."
Jack's smile felt forced and brittle. He couldn't stop checking her pale perfect skin for bruises or burns. That he saw only one bandage was a small relief.
"What's the prognosis?" he asked, trying to keep the hard edge out of his voice.
"She's gonna live," Shelby joked.
Jack stiffened.
Terra slid a hand into his and squeezed in silent understanding.
Rusty grinned. "We'd better get out of here before we're thrown out."
"Thanks for coming," Terra said. "Tell Captain Maguire I'm fine."
"Will do," Shelby said as she walked out with the men.
Finally alone with Terra, Jack battled to keep his jaw from clenching up.
Easing closer to the bed, he glanced again at the dressing on her temple. He wanted to touch her, but didn't know if he should. "Are you hurt anywhere else?"
"No, just my head. I'm really okay, Jack. Promise."
"What did the doctor say?"
"I have a mild concussion and a knot on my head." She touched the bandage. "I'll be good as new as soon as you kiss me."
She lifted her face to his. Shadows of pain lingered in her eyes; the blacks of her pupils edged out the beautiful green.
He kissed her gently. "I can bring some of your stuff from home."
"No thanks. The doctor is filling out my release papers. I shouldn't be much longer."
"You're leaving tonight?"
"The doctor said I could."
"Doesn't he think you should stay overnight? What if something happens?"
"He wouldn't let me leave if he thought there was a chance of that," she said softly.
"You didn't bully him into it?"
"Me?" She fluttered her eyelashes at him.
He didn't see how she could be so relaxed.
"Jack." She tugged him down to her eye level. "I'm fine."
Her eyes were red rimmed, but lucid. Though pale, her skin wasn't waxy. She didn't appear weak or as if she were about to pass out. The vise around his chest eased. "Can I get you something? How about some root beer for a float?"
"That sounds wonderful, but maybe later. I've had enough ice cream for tonight. It doesn't really help my headache, but I didn't have the heart to tell the guys."
"Anything else? I'm at your beck and call."
"Too bad I can't take advantage of it right now." She caressed his hand.
The thought that she might have been seriously injured—or worse—squeezed his heart painfully. The room pressed in on him, cut off his air. "Let me check on the doctor."
"Thanks. It's Dr. Laird. One of the nurses will probably know where he is."
Jack needed some space before he put his fist through the wall. He had to get out of here. A few minutes later, he returned with the middle-aged physician whose Looney Tunes tie was spotted with blood. Jack wondered if any of it belonged to Terra.
As much as he hated being in this room, h
ated that she was here, he wouldn't leave.
The doctor checked her pupils and asked her a couple of questions before turning to Jack. "She was unconscious for less than a minute. She has a slight headache and enlarged pupils, but no memory problems, no confusion or nausea."
Jack nodded.
"She did sustain a bruise to the temple. I've done a CAT scan and an EEG. Everything looks good. She can go home, but someone must stay with her for the next twenty-four hours." He glanced at his watch. "Until ten o'clock tomorrow night."
"Yes, sir. I can do that."
"Good." The doctor gave him a sheet of typed instructions and the symptoms that would demand medical attention.
He patted Terra's hand. "This could've been much worse. You're one lucky lady."
"Thanks, doc."
Jack clenched his fists.
"I think you'll be fine, but follow my orders to the letter."
"All right."
He looked at Jack. "Call me if you notice any of those signs, Detective."
"I will."
"You're released, young lady. Watch where you're going next time."
She grinned. "Thanks."
Once Terra had her shoes and denim shirt on, Jack pulled his truck up to the emergency room entrance. She insisted she was able to get in on her own, but he picked her up and settled her in the seat himself.
She kissed his cheek, her lips curving.
Her smile tore at something deep inside him. His pulse finally returned to normal, but as he drove to her house, he realized he'd been kidding himself.
Getting that call out of nowhere had shredded the illusion he'd created for himself. For them. She'd automatically gone into that fire, putting herself in harm's way. She could have been killed.
The thought of losing her just as suddenly as he'd lost Lori made Jack nauseous. He didn't have it in him to relive the helplessness, the rage or the brutal heartbreak that had ravaged him after Lori's death.
Getting involved with Terra had been a mistake.
