Into the Flames

by Multi-Author

  “How about this?” Detective Raymond raised a picture of a man in his late twenties, clean cut and somber.

  She studied the image. There was something about it that niggled in the back of her mind. “Maybe.”

  Detective Kurtz pulled a small notebook from his pocket and flipped it open. “He works for a local delivery company.”

  Martha felt all the color drain from her face. Frank sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed his hand up and down her arm. “Everything is okay. You need to rest.” He glared at the other men and she knew he was seconds from tossing them all out.

  “I know him.” She looked up at Frank. “I know him.”

  “How, honey?”

  Her mouth was dry and her entire body trembled. “He picked up my paintings and delivered them to the gallery.” She looked at the Detectives. “I hired his company to deliver my work.”

  “That’s the link.” It was Detective Kurtz who explained. “I’ve been in contact with the detectives in the other cities. All the women attacked had hired a delivery company as part of their work. Edgeworth apparently stayed in a city long enough to find a target and set the fires. Then he’d leave and find a job with another delivery company.”

  “He was in my home.” Martha thought she might be ill. “We talked about my artwork. He seemed interested, asking when and how I worked. I didn’t think twice about answering him. He seemed so nice.” Her laugh was bitter. “Isn’t that what they always say? He seemed so nice.”

  “You couldn’t have known,” Burke assured her. “The guy had no criminal record. We might never know what set him on this path.”

  “We might never know.” Detective Raymond repeated as he narrowed his gaze at Frank. “Want to tell me how he caught fire?” He glanced at Martha. “He didn’t make it.”

  “He’s dead?” Martha was both appalled and relieved that she never had to fear that Alan Edgeworth would come after her again.

  The detective gave her a curt nod. “About ten minutes ago. Never got a chance to question him.”

  Martha’s blood curdled. For whatever reason, the detective didn’t like Frank. Martha knew if he could, he’d drag Frank into a mess over the man’s death. While Frank might have technically killed him, it had been in self-defense.

  “He must have had fuel or something on him.” Frank stilled beside her and said nothing as she continued. “It all happened so fast. Frank pulled us out of the fire and Edgeworth was waiting for us on the lawn. He was going to burn us alive.”

  “You don’t have to talk about this now,” Frank murmured.

  “No, I do. Obviously, the detective seems to think we’re somehow responsible for the death of this man. Don’t you?” Better to go on the attack.

  Detective Raymond had the grace to look sheepish. “I just want to know the facts,” he muttered.

  “The facts are that the man came to kill me. Again. Frank rescued me. Again.” She emphasized the word again each time she said it. “I saw him coming up behind Frank and pushed him out of the way. Frank acted on instinct and pulled me down with him. Edgeworth came after us. Maybe he stumbled. Maybe he was careless in his hurry to kill us. Whatever the reason, he got caught in his own flames.”

  “How did he find us?” Frank asked. “No one other than the six of us knew Martha was staying with me?” He picked up the picture and looked at it again. “He was at the police station.” He looked at the other men and tossed the picture down on the bed. “He passed me in the hallway just outside the interrogation room.”

  “He must have overheard something,” Raymond speculated. He picked up the picture and studied it as though trying to find some understanding.

  Frank’s gaze narrowed. “A delivery truck went down the street just after we arrived home. The son of a bitch followed us and I never noticed.”

  “That’s why he’s been so hard to catch,” Devlin pointed out. “No one notices the deliveryman. Those trucks are everywhere and the drivers are pretty anonymous. Plus, they can get in just about anywhere.”

  That realization made her shiver. She’d certainly opened her door to him. So had all the other victims.

  They talked for a few more moments and then Detective Kurtz tucked his notebook back into his pocket. “I think we have everything we need.”

  Martha was grateful to the younger man.

  Detective Raymond rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. Okay. I’m glad you’re both okay. We’ll need you to come in and give formal statements once you’re out of hospital.”

  “What about the media,” she asked. She wasn’t worried so much about herself but the last thing Frank needed was extra scrutiny.

  “We’ll keep your names out of this if we can. With Edgeworth dead there’s no trial. The case is closed,” Kurtz told them. “We’ll contact our colleagues in the other cities so they can tie up their lose ends and speak with the families of the victims. With any luck the story will die quickly. As far as we can tell, Edgeworth has no family for the media to question and I know neither of you are eager to talk with them.”

  That was a relief, but Martha didn’t really start to relax until the detectives finally left. Burke patted her hand. “Don’t worry. All you need to focus on now is getting back on your feet.”

  “What’s Raymond’s problem?” Frank asked. “He really wanted to pin this on me.”

  “He lost his son in a fire years ago. Always figured the firefighters didn’t do enough to get him out.” Devlin eased up beside her bed as he spoke.

  “Jesus,” Frank muttered.

  “I’ve been over the old reports and the fire started in the boy’s room. The investigators figured he was playing with matches and things got out of control.”

  “That’s awful.” Martha couldn’t imagine anything quite as horrifying for a parent to have to deal with.

  “Yeah, it is.” Devlin sighed. “He probably shouldn’t have been on this case but I guess his boss thought he could handle it because it’s been almost twenty years.”

  “This case is closed,” Burke told them. “Just give your statements as soon as you can and you can put this behind you.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry as hell for all you’ve both lost.”

  Frank shrugged. “I have insurance. I’ll rebuild.”

  “Thank you.” On impulse, she held out her hands out to Burke and Devlin. Each man took one of them and gave a light squeezed. “For everything.”

  “You’re welcome.” Burke released her and held out his hand to Frank. “Ellis.” Devlin followed.

  Frank shook both men’s hand and they left. She and Frank were alone once again. “We need to talk.” She glanced at the door.

  “I know,” he told her. “But not here.”

  “Okay,” she readily agreed. She wasn’t exactly keen on talking about this in such a public setting. Anyone could walk in at any time.

  His relief was palpable. All this was tied in why he’d left her all those years ago. She knew it in her heart.

  Martha yawned, exhausted by the events of the past few days. “Sleep,” Frank told her. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

  This time she trusted him not to leave. She closed her eyes and slept.

  * * *

  The apartment wasn’t fully furnished but it wasn’t empty either. Frank’s buddies had heard what happened and they’d all rallied to help. They still didn’t have much in clothes or personal items, but there was a sofa in the living room, a table in the kitchen and a bed in the bedroom. There was also food in the cupboards thanks to the wives and girlfriends of his fellow firefighters.

  While Martha had been resting, he’d been on the phone making things happen. Now, only twenty-four hours after the latest fire, the two of them walked into the two-bedroom apartment. It was on the second floor of a fairly new building and had a balcony and large windows.

  His best friend’s cousin was the building super and had gotten them the place. Frank would forever be in the man’s
debt even though he knew Sanchez would never ask for repayment. That’s the way it was with the guys he worked with. They were the best.

  “What do you think?” he asked her. He knew he was hovering but couldn’t make himself stop. He was afraid to let Martha out of his sight.

  She slipped off her canvas shoes, walked to the center of the room and turned in a circle. “You’re a miracle worker. I have no idea how you managed to do this so quickly.”

  Her praise pleased him. “I had a lot of help.”

  She nodded and nibbled on her lower lip, a sure sign she was worried about something. He dropped their shopping bags on the floor, took her by the hand and led her to the sofa. Once again, she was wearing new clothes. Sanchez had brought a change of clothes to Frank from the firehouse and his buddy’s wife had purchased a few new things for Martha. Frank was grateful to them both.

  Martha had on a pair of brown pants—she’d called them yoga pants, but all he knew was they made her ass look good—and a loose white top that fell to her thighs.

  “Sit down, honey, before you drop.” He waited until she was seated. “I know you have questions,” he began.

  “What happened the night you left, Frank? I know it’s all related.”

  Martha had always been smart. Plus, she knew him better than anyone else ever had.

  Frank dragged his fingers though his hair. This was it. This was the moment where he reclaimed the love of his life or he lost her once and for all. He was still shocked that she’d defended him to the detective. Although, he shouldn’t have been. Martha was nothing if not loyal.

  He just hoped she didn’t regret that loyalty when he was done.

  “I’d dropped you off at your place and driven home.” It had been a beautiful evening, warm with stars in the sky.

  “I remember,” she murmured.

  “I heard them arguing when I went inside. That was unusual, you know. My folks didn’t argue.”

  “What were they arguing about?”

  “Me.” Frank still remembered that night as vividly as if it had happened yesterday. “Mom wanted to tell me I was adopted. Dad didn’t.” It had been like a fist to the gut to learn he wasn’t their natural son.

  “I walked into the room and confronted them. Demanded to know how they could keep something like that from me.”

  “Oh, Frank.” Martha put her hand on his leg, offering comfort.

  “Dad was angry. He told me I was his son. Didn’t matter what some damn piece of paper said.”

  Martha gave a sad laugh. “That sounds like your dad.”

  “Yeah.” Frank peered out the window but saw nothing except the past. “Mom was crying. She thought I had the right to know in case I wanted to find my birth mother.”

  “That had to have been hard for her. She loved you so much.”

  Frank nodded. “I was angry. Dad was angry. The fight escalated.”

  Martha tensed, her finger digging into his thigh. “What happened, Frank?”

  “I burst into flames.”

  That was the last thing Martha expected to hear. Her heart was breaking for Frank and his family. She’d loved his folks as much as she’d loved her own.

  “You what?”

  “I burst into flames.” There was such pain in his eyes it hurt her to look at them. “Mom screamed. Dad tossed me to the floor, ripped the curtains from the wall and tried to extinguish them. I was scared to death. I shoved him away and ran. I never went back.”

  “Oh my God. Do you mean to tell me your folks don’t know you’re alive?”

  Frank shook his head. “No, I called them a few hours later to let them know I was okay. I also told them I wasn’t coming back. Dad had minor burns on his hands. They could have lost their home and their lives because I couldn’t control myself, didn’t know what the hell I was.”

  Martha couldn’t imagine how he must have felt, how scared he must have been. “Why didn’t you come to me?”

  His big body shuddered. “I didn’t trust myself. Didn’t know what was happening to me. I wasn’t putting you or my parents in danger.” She heard the longing beneath his fierce reply. This was it. The reason he’d left.

  “You were protecting me.” It wasn’t a question, not in her mind.

  Frank blew out a breath. “You. My parents. Myself.” He stood and began to pace in the small space. “I discovered that when I get angry or overly emotional I burst into flames. Or at least that’s how it used to work. I’ve gained control as I’ve gotten older.”

  He turned to her. “I have an affinity with fire. It calls to me. Hell, it sings to me. It’s in my blood.”

  She shivered and her heart began to race. “You don’t start fires. You put them out.”

  “Yeah.” He stopped and faced her. “I needed to be around it and figured this way I could do some good. I don’t know how to explain it, but I understand fire. I always know where to find people trapped in the buildings and I know when the fire is an accident or deliberate.”

  “What happened on your front lawn? You used the fire like a weapon.” She could still see the fire twirling around his arms, almost caressing them before he’d thrown the ropes of flames back at the arsonist.

  Frank shrugged. “I’ve never done anything like that before. I was desperate to save you so I stopped trying to fight the fire. It came natural to use it as a weapon.”

  Martha nodded, trying to take it all in. She’d seen Frank control fire with his bare hands, but understanding how deep it went was hard to comprehend.

  Frank crouched in front of her and took her hands in his. “Don’t you see? I couldn’t risk you. I had nightmares for years about harming you, about burning you when we made love.”

  Something in the back of her mind clicked. “That’s what you were dreaming about when you woke from your nightmare, wasn’t it.”

  He nodded. “It still terrifies me. I hadn’t had that dream in years. Having you here triggered it.” He tried to pull away but she held on tight. “So you know everything now. What are you going to do?”

  That was the big question, wasn’t it? For all his size and strength, his abilities and courage, Frank was vulnerable. She saw it in his eyes and loved him all the more for it. And that was the bottom line for her. As unbelievable as it all was, in spite of what he could do, he was still her Frank.

  But he was also so much more.

  “Are you a phoenix?” It sounded stupid to actually say the words out loud.

  “I think so.” Then he shrugged. “Damned if I know. I’ve never actually burned all the way up. All I know is that fire doesn’t seem to harm me. I can also call fire.”

  Frank held up his hand and mini flames appeared at the tips. She jerked back before she could stop herself and her heart pounded in her chest. He immediately closed his hand and the flames winked out.

  She swallowed hard. Frank was more powerful than anyone she’d ever met. Possibly even the most powerful man on the planet considering what he could do. “Wow. That was amazing.”

  “You’re afraid of me.” He stood and moved away, going to stand by the window. “I’m a monster.”

  Martha went to him and wrapped her arms around him from behind. If he were anyone else, she would have already run. The amount of power he controlled was terrifying. She was afraid, but not of him. She was afraid for him.

  Frank was powerful and different, but he was still the man she’d known all those years ago. There was a core of integrity and kindness inside him. He stiffened, but didn’t pull away from her embrace. “You’re not a monster. You’re Frank Ellis, the man I love.”

  He eased her around him until she was looking up at him. “Be sure, Martha. Losing you once almost killed me. I don’t think I could survive a second time.”

  All the love she’d ever wanted was shining in his eyes. She knew her calmness was due to the fact she was still partly in shock from the fire and her discovery, knew it wouldn’t always be easy to handle wh
at he was, but beneath all her fears was a bedrock of love that had never wavered all these years. If she left him now, she’d regret it for the rest of her life. There was only one choice she could make.

  “Take me to bed, Frank.”

  Chapter Eight

  Frank wasn’t sure why Martha hadn’t run screaming from the apartment and him. He’d frightened her when he’d called the fire, but he couldn’t blame her for that. Not only was it seemingly impossible, the woman had been through two major fires in a matter of days. He was an ass for dumping all this on her now, but a part of him was tired of waiting for the axe to fall. If she was going to leave him he wanted to know now and not later.

  Each second that passed, he loved her more. If leaving him would make her happy he’d let her go, even if it killed him.

  “Take me to bed, Frank.”

  Her words echoed in his ears along with her declaration of love. He tightened his hold on her, afraid she’d slip away from him like a dream did upon waking. “I killed a man,” he reminded her. “With fire.”

  He’d have to live with that for the rest of his life, but he knew he’d do it again in a heartbeat if it meant protecting Martha.

  “It was self-defense.” She put her hands on his face, her skin soft and warm against his. “Look at me, Frank.” He peered into her green eyes and saw love and compassion. “You’re not a monster. I don’t know what you are exactly, but we’ll figure it out together.”

  Together—the most beautiful word in the English language. Frank had been alone for so long. No family, no serious relationship, and he kept his friends at a distance as well. He hadn’t trusted what was inside him and didn’t think he could live with harming someone he cared for.

  “You’re sure?” He had to ask again because he couldn’t quite believe he was hearing her properly.

  She took his hand and led him down the short hallway until she found their new bedroom. There wasn’t much in it, just a mattress on a frame. Thankfully, some kind soul had put sheets and a comforter on it.

  Martha stopped by the bed, released his hand and pulled her top over her head, leaving her upper body clad only in a thin cotton bra. The material cupped her full breasts. He made a sound in the back of his throat and reached for her. His large hands covered the mounds easily. She gave a sigh of pleasure.