Twilight

by Kristen Heitzmann

  He closed his eyes. “A little girl … Ashley Trainor, two years old.”

  Laurie remembered the way he’d lunged for Maddie.

  Cal held his hand to his side, and his breath caught. “Each parent thought the other had her. Too much confusion. Exits blocked. The building was a loss. We were pulling out to contain. Then we learned Ashley was in there.”

  The pain was deep in his voice. Pain deeper than any physical injury. Pain that had changed him, broken him. Laurie trembled. Cal had always loved deeper, cared more, risked more.

  “Frank said no.” He rubbed his palm along his thigh in distracted agitation. “But I disobeyed. I thought—”

  “Cal, don’t.” Laurie touched his cheek. She didn’t want his sacrifice laid bare, didn’t want to know, to feel his failure.

  He turned, teeth clenched, jaw tense. “She was alive.” His eyes burned. “I saw her there, scared, unable to help herself.”

  Oh, God, that little girl! Laurie felt his torture, saw it in his face, thought of her own children and the horror of losing them. Little Maddie, trapped and terrified.

  “I was so close.” Tears welled in his eyes, red rimmed and haggard. “She was too little, Laurie. Too helpless.”

  Laurie’s voice was a ghost. “She died.”

  “The place flashed. Ignition blew me out.” He cocked his chin and looked up at the sky, one tear making a track down his burned cheek.

  They sat in silence a long moment. Laurie could think of nothing to change what he saw in his mind, what she now knew had caused his erratic behavior. Like what soldiers experienced long after a war.

  “That’s what Rita treated you for?”

  He swallowed. “I went a little crazy. Hit the sauce and behaved badly. They slapped me with a medical suspension to clean up my act. Court ordered me into treatment.”

  “And?”

  “And I came back the fireclown.” He grimaced. “A position tailor-made for pyrophobic firemen.”

  Laurie’s eyes stung with tears. “It must have been awful.”

  “It was hell. Still is sometimes.” He formed a crooked smile. “You saw that for yourself.”

  “But you came in for me. You faced the fire, you …”

  “I’m no hero, Laurie. Just a fool.” He slid a hand around the back of her neck, pulled her forward, and kissed her lips. It brought more pain than pleasure, and not because her lips were cracked and scorched. It was because she didn’t know what to feel. He drew back, and she was glad.

  He pressed himself up. “Think you can walk?”

  Her knee still throbbed and bled, but she nodded. “Can you?”

  “Don’t have much choice. Unless we get to the highway, no one’s going to find us.” He sat up, wincing. “Ray would have been here by now.”

  “Cal …” She laid a hand on his shoulder. He shouldn’t move. He might have serious injuries from the falling debris.

  “It’s okay.” He pulled himself to his feet.

  Laurie was almost too tired to do the same, but she made herself follow. He held out an arm, and she hooked hers in. Slowly they started for the road. They hadn’t gone far when the snow began— small, listless flakes meandering down, stinging her cheeks like tiny pinpricks. She raised her fingertips to touch the skin.

  Her face was burned like sunburn from the scorching heat she’d escaped. What would have happened if Cal hadn’t come? He’d saved her life. Why was she surprised? He’d been trying to save her from the first time they’d met.

  It hurt to think what he’d faced in order to do it now. To enter a burning building after … Why had he told her? Did it matter that he’d suffered a crisis? Even that he’d weathered it badly? He was Cal. It scared her more than the flames.

  A wind chilled his face when Cal caught sight of the highway. He forced his legs to move, in spite of the raw, burned skin on the back of his calves. Every part of him hurt. Laurie was silent, and, after baring his soul, he was glad to stay quiet too. Why had he told her?

  Maybe, in the midst of victory, to show her he was fallible. She’d called him a hero. But he hadn’t done this alone, hadn’t saved her. Someone higher, someone bigger, some real savior had intervened.

  God? The Big Man? The Lord Jesus? Those moments of aloneness haunted him. It hadn’t been Laurie he needed. It was a more primal need, a spiritual need. A God need. Something no person could fill. But he couldn’t talk about that, didn’t understand it. So he’d told her his story.

  Cal swallowed the ache in his throat, the tears just behind his eyes. Until that moment with Laurie, he hadn’t cried, hadn’t shed a tear for Ashley Trainor or her family. He’d raged. He’d drunk himself into a stupor. He’d numbed his mind with pain-killers. But he hadn’t cried. Nor had he described, even to Rita, what he’d just told Laurie.

  He’d joked, he’d argued, he’d rebelled. But now it seemed his rebellion was crumbling away. He couldn’t summon the self-deprecation, the anger, the guilt. He looked around him. Where was the smoke, the orange, the shakes? If anything should have brought it on, that burning barn … He wiped the sooty streak from his left eye.

  Now was not the time to give in to the sobs building inside his chest. Later. He’d visit it later. With God’s help? He dropped his chin, recalling Reggie’s words. “It’s not what happened to the circumstances; it’s what happened here.” In his heart. Cal shuddered. Maybe Reggie was right. Maybe he couldn’t do it himself, his way.

  He and Laurie reached the edge of the pavement and stopped together. Cal scanned the empty expanse of blacktop, spackled now with snow. Maybe this was his road to Damascus. “You remind me of someone, the Apostle Paul. Took a mighty wallop to get his attention.” And Reggie’s story had stuck more deeply than he knew. Cal’s side was shooting pain, the burns screaming a chorus while his head kept up a pulsing ache. He looked up at the sky, aswirl with white feathers.

  He had told God to have His way. In the burning barn he’d said, “change me, take me, do whatever you choose.” He’d surrendered, and somehow he couldn’t take up the fight again, couldn’t resist. God was bigger than his rage, bigger than his shame and horror. Cal felt the truth of it. And the dark loneliness shrank away.

  He glanced at Laurie. She was pale and shaking. His shirt had soaked up her blood like a sponge. She must be in pain. He released a slow breath. “We’ll rest.”

  She nodded, leaning into him more than she realized, he guessed.

  He let her lean, though her weight made him compensate in a way that didn’t help the ribs. “Are you cold?”

  “I don’t know.”

  That wasn’t good. She’d lost blood on top of trauma. She could be in shock. “Maybe I ought to look at your knee.” Though with no first-aid equipment what could he do beyond binding it with the shirt as he already had?

  “It doesn’t matter.” Her head sagged against his shoulder.

  He smelled nothing but smoke and gasoline in her hair. “When’s the last time you slept?”

  “I can’t remember.”

  “Ate?”

  She shook her head.

  He needed to keep her talking. And walking. As soon as they caught their breath a little … Cal shifted to relieve the pain in his side and scanned the highway both directions. It was one of those country roads that leapt and bobbed through the farmland like a discarded ribbon in the wind.

  He’d accept a ride from any good-ol’-boy who came by, if any came. The road was still and quiet, but he didn’t worry about that. Something would happen. It had to. He didn’t suppose God would work halfway. Not now, not …

  “Cal?” Laurie’s voice broke.

  “Yeah?” He dipped his head to her.

  “Brian’s dead.” So that was what occupied her thoughts, numbed her mind.

  “I know.”

  She didn’t ask how, just gave a low moan in her throat, as though she hadn’t been certain until that moment. “They killed him. I thought … I thought I’d be the one to die. Or the children. Or you. O
r all of us.” She started to shake again, hysteria building in her voice. “Where are Luke and Maddie?”

  “With Mildred at my grandpa’s cabin.” In the fire, he had told her they were safe, but maybe she didn’t remember. She was running on overload, the same as he. “They’re safe, Laurie. I promise you.”

  That calmed her at least. She must be on an internal roller coaster worse than his own. Maybe talking would help, and he sure had questions. “How did you get mixed up with cocaine?”

  Her eyes came up to him, large and haunted. “Brian flew it in with his private jet. I don’t know how, I don’t know why.” She waved a hand as the words built and spilled from her. “I found it by accident. I couldn’t believe he’d be that stupid. That’s why I left.”

  Not because she didn’t love him, didn’t want the marriage, the life she had as Mrs. Brian Prelane. Cal knew himself for a fool. A familiar thought.

  She drew a jagged breath. “But before I did, I washed it all down the pool drain.”

  Cal let out a low whistle.

  “I know. It was stupid. I just didn’t think. I reacted. How could I know …”

  Cal pressed her head to his chest. “You didn’t go to the police?”

  “And turn my own husband in?”

  Her own husband. It hurt to hear it, but he could face it now. He had to. He didn’t say her husband might be alive if she had turned him in. Saying it wouldn’t change things now. Brian Prelane had made a stupid choice of his own. Cal swallowed the hardness in his throat. Why would any man who had Laurie risk it all for … for what? Money? Power? The thrill of the illegal?

  “And he could take the children.”

  Cal glanced down. What did she mean?

  “He threatened it, several times when … we disagreed. He said he’d take them where I couldn’t find them. I know he could have.”

  She was not painting a picture of marital bliss now. But that wasn’t his business.

  “Cal?” She turned her face up. “What did you do? They said you had the cocaine. I heard them through the floor. They said you had it.”

  “Well,” Cal grinned, “between Mildred’s suitcase and Cissy’s cornstarch.. .” Her look made him laugh, which he wouldn’t do again.

  Laurie gripped his arm. “What if they’d—”

  “Well, they didn’t. And I doubt they’ll have time now. I sent Ray for Sergeant Danson. There’s probably an APB on those two already.” Cal could only pray Ray had accomplished that much at least. After all he knew where to find Danson—in the shed, cuffed with his own cuffs and gagged with the bandanna from his back pocket. This wasn’t over yet. Not by a long shot. Even if Ray did convince him to look for two punks in a Mustang.

  Laurie sagged, and he staggered with the pain that shot through his ribs, then jerked his head up, listening. A car. A hint of an engine through the cold air, but a car engine nonetheless. “Do you believe in God?”

  Again her eyes searched his face. “I used to.”

  “Now might be a good time to try again.” Cal steeled himself to wave the car down, then saw Danson’s cruiser top a rise and plunge down again, lights flashing in the growing dusk. Oh boy. At least he wouldn’t have to wave.

  He relaxed his shoulders and drew a careful breath. “Laurie, I might not have much chance to talk here.”

  She pulled back a little. “What do you mean? What’s wrong?”

  The car was nearly to them. Cal released his hold of her. “Will you make sure Annie gets fed and—”

  Laurie gripped his arm again. “What are you talking about?”

  “Cissy knows where to find the kids if Mildred hasn’t brought them down.” Cal turned as Danson slid to a stop and climbed out of the cruiser. He’d brought backup in the form of Pete Rawlings, but didn’t need it as he pulled himself up to his full six feet four, broiling with animosity.

  “Calvert Morrison. You’re under arrest.” He slipped the cuffs from his belt and yanked Cal’s arm.

  “Aah!” Fire shot through Cal’s side and shoulder and head, and he couldn’t stop the cry.

  Laurie shouted, “Wait. He’s hurt. What are you doing?” She might have been a flea circling Danson’s head.

  “I won’t list all the charges I have against you, Morrison, but I’ll give you your rights. Just so there’s no possibility you’ll slip through.”

  “He hasn’t done anything. He …”

  Officer Rawlings took Laurie and led her away.

  Danson yanked Cal’s other arm and cuffed it behind him. “You have the right to remain silent …”

  “Do I have the right to talk?” Cal spoke through gritted teeth, scarcely breathing through the pain. One question only. Had Danson put an APB on the punks?

  Danson slapped the cuffs shut. “Get in the car, wise guy.” He jerked his jaw toward Pete to climb in beside him. “Give him his rights.”

  Laurie moved to follow, but Danson motioned her up front. Even if he wanted to, Cal couldn’t talk now with the car lurching and rising and falling. His breath came in short grunts with each bump and swerve. Rawlings read the Mirandas, then he, too, was quiet.

  Cal understood Laurie’s confusion. Once she glanced back, and he smiled crookedly, giving her the look she expected, a little rebellious and a lot more confident than he felt. Danson muttered something, and she turned around. The glass between them muffled her words, but Danson nodded shortly. Something she’d said must have penetrated his pigheaded rage. Not that Cal blamed him. Assault on an officer was right up there. But he’d been desperate.

  They passed through Montrose and drove to the emergency room at the hospital in Melbourne. Cal hadn’t been there since the incident with Ashley Trainor and was not eager to go inside again, but Danson was covering his bases, leaving no room for complaint. Laurie was taken off to one curtained area, he to another. Cal hoped they realized her emotional shock must be as bad as the gash in her knee. Maybe now Rita would talk to her. Maybe … He shook away the fuzzing.

  A young doctor Cal hadn’t seen before came in to assess his injuries. Pete Rawlings stayed close as a hovering mother, Cal guessed at Danson’s orders. Too bad he didn’t have any fight left in him. He might have made things interesting. But why? Cal’s head throbbed. What was the point here anyway?

  Laurie was safe, her kids were safe. He didn’t have anything left to fight for. “Yuh—right there.” He tensed against the probing of the doctor’s hand on his side.

  “We’ll X-ray that.”

  “What happened to your ribs?” Rawlings asked.

  “Flashover.” Or was that the last time? “Roof came down.” That was it.

  “What were you doing out there?”

  Cal glanced up. Rawlings looked innocent as a suckling babe, but Cal had no doubt Danson had primed him. One didn’t assault an officer without earning the ire of the entire force. “Out for a stroll,” Cal said, though why he didn’t just answer was beyond him. Habit of recalcitrance. That would have to stop. But just now his head hurt, his side hurt, and most every square inch of skin as well.

  Rawlings frowned. “You can do it easy for me, or hard for Danson.”

  Good cop, bad cop. Unfortunately it was true. Cal jerked when a nurse applied something to the wound on the side of his head.

  “Just washing it up.” Her voice sounded shrill in his ear.

  He recognized her but couldn’t find a name. He sucked a shallow breath. “If you want the story clear, you should get it from Laurie.”

  “Danson’s doing that.”

  So they would compare notes. Well, the sooner he cooperated, the sooner they’d leave him alone. “Laurie’s husband was mixed up with a couple of drug punks. I had nothing to do with his death. I never even saw him unless you count the number he did on my shoulder with a baseball bat. Even then I didn’t see him, since he was masked.”

  “Masked?” Rawlings had taken out a pad.

  “Came at me in the dark wearing a ski mask.”

  “Then how do you know it was
him?”

  Cal felt awash with guilt. “He told me to stay away from Laurie.”

  “Where did he attack you?”

  Cal thought about that. He could picture Brian’s silhouette, bat raised, but he couldn’t place the incident. He winced as the doctor pressed another soaked cloth to his head, scrubbing lightly. He recalled Annie on Brian’s ankle. “Mildred’s yard.”

  “He attacked you at your place?”

  “Outside, yeah.”

  Rawlings wrote. “You filed a complaint?”

  Cal shook his head, then wished he hadn’t. “No complaint.”

  “Why not?”

  “I didn’t know what was going on.” Or did he? What had he thought? He’d gone to Laurie’s. He remembered that much. That’s when he learned she was married—no, still married.

  “A man attacks you and you wait to understand why?”

  “Pete, I’m not thinking real clearly right now.”

  “Mild trauma to the brain.” The doctor pushed aside the curtain and spoke for him.

  Not mild, Cal thought. The physical trauma might be mild, but the mental? He had yet to deal with that.

  “So what were you doing at the barn?”

  “Getting Laurie out.”

  “Did you abduct her?” Rawlings poised his pencil.

  “What do you think?” Cal frowned.

  Rawlings tapped the pencil against his chin. “A woman’s husband is dead. You just admitted he attacked you. Rita told us you have past history with the woman. Yeah, I’d say it’s a good chance you flipped out, took her off to some secluded place …”

  Cal pushed the nurse aside. “And what?”

  Rawlings lowered the pencil. “Why don’t you tell me?”

  “Why don’t you take a flying leap.”

  “We’ll X-ray those ribs now.” The doctor stepped between them. Cal glared over the doctor’s shoulder as he was edged out of the room. Still steamed, he submitted to the X-ray. Stripped down to his skin, he realized the burns were superficial, though still painful. He’d had worse. The last time. He pictured himself wrapped in gauze, newly stitched chin, broken tibia, bruised heart and kidneys. It was the emotional damage that didn’t heal. What would the fallout be this time?