The Widow's Protector

by Stephanie Newton

  Betsie nodded, her fingers sliding along the edge of the white hospital sheet. “The doctors said another couple of minutes and I wouldn’t have made it. Hunter saved my life.”

  “And you saved Sean’s life. Bets, I can never repay you for that.”

  Betsie reached for Fiona’s hand. “You don’t have to. When I moved here from Georgia, I didn’t have anyone. You and Sean are my family.”

  Fiona squeezed her hand. “You know we feel the same way. And we’re going to rebuild, don’t worry.”

  Her friend nodded. “I know. It’s one of the things I love the most about Fitzgerald Bay. We don’t let each other down.” She reached for the glass of water sitting on the bedside tray and sipped from the straw, wincing as she swallowed.

  “I’ve got to get to work anyway, so I’m going to leave and let you get some rest. I’ll be back to see you again.” Fiona walked toward the door, the questions that she’d pushed aside crowding her mind again. She knew Hunter wasn’t responsible for the fires. But who among their friends—acquaintances—neighbors—was?

  “Fee.” Betsie’s hoarse voice stopped her. Fiona turned back. “We’re going to find who did this.” Underneath Betsie’s soft Southern accent was the steel that had helped her move to another state and build a successful business.

  Betsie would know how much it hurt to have the arsonist responsible for Jimmy’s death out there, free to set fires.

  Fiona tried a smile, but didn’t quite pull it off over the determination. She nodded. “Yes, we are. I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure that happens.”

  * * *

  The twenty-four-hour shift Hunter was responsible for started at 7:30 a.m. Hunter liked to be there early enough to hear the locker room chatter before he got the official report from Liam Fitzgerald.

  “It was endless last night, man.” In the locker room, as Hunter changed into his uniform pants, Danny Fitzgerald changed into his street clothes.

  “At least you didn’t get bored.” Hunter looked up from his locker.

  “Not bored. I’m starving, though. Oh, and 4213 Chestnut Street is out of town and their alarm system is malfunctioning. We were there three times yesterday. What can you do, though? You gotta go.”

  Danny was right. They had to go, regardless of figuring it was a false alarm. “Maybe they’ll get home today.”

  Danny’s grin flashed white. “Nope, they’re on a cruise to the Bahamas. I talked to their neighbors, who were also a little annoyed to have the fire department on their front lawn at one in the morning.”

  “Nice.” Hunter buttoned his uniform shirt over his T-shirt.

  “You’re gonna have fun.” Nate Santos laughed from the other side of the room.

  “Copy that.” Hunter made a mental note to see if Liam had already called the alarm company. “See ya, Danny. Nate.”

  Hunter glanced at his watch—just enough time to catch the chief before the guys got here and started the equipment and apparatus check.

  The chief was in his office, pictures of the scene at the Sweet Shoppe spread on his desk. He hung up the phone as Hunter came in. “What’s up, Hunter?”

  “I was hoping there was some word on the evidence from the fire yesterday, sir. Is there anything you’d like me to follow up on while I’m here today?”

  The chief gathered the photos and closed the file. “No, nothing new. Cops are investigating. I’ll let you know when I hear from them.”

  It wasn’t like Fitzgerald to shut out Hunter, but he wouldn’t push. Most likely, the chief was just preoccupied. “Yes, sir. Let me know if you need anything.”

  “Brennan Fox called in sick again.” The chief looked up from the folder. “I’m going to ask Danny to fill in for Brennan. So you’ll have to keep the probie with you.”

  “Yes, sir.” Lance Woods, the new probationary firefighter, had been paired with the more experienced Brennan Fox. Hunter frowned. Brennan wasn’t the type to blow off work without a good reason. “I’m going to check in with Brennan, too. This is the third time he’s called in, right?”

  The chief turned around in his chair and slid the arson file into the credenza behind his desk. “Yep. Let me know what you find out.”

  “Yes, sir.” Hunter walked into the hall outside the chief’s office. On the wall was his friend Jimmy’s photograph and plaque. He stopped in front of it, like he often did. Jimmy had been the real deal. Real husband, real hero. And while intellectually, Hunter knew that nothing he could’ve done would’ve changed the outcome of the fire that had killed Jimmy, he carried the weight of failure every day.

  Firefighters take care of each other. They go in together, they come out together.

  They don’t leave their partner.

  He would die before he let what happened to Jimmy happen again. This arsonist would be caught and would pay.

  Danny Fitzgerald, back in uniform, walked up beside him, stopped and looked at the wall where Jimmy’s picture hung. “He was a good guy.”

  Hunter nodded. “He was. Thanks for filling in today.”

  “No problem. I can use the overtime. I could also use a nap.” Danny looked hopeful as Hunter turned and walked toward the apparatus bay.

  “Go for it.” Hunter paused and looked back. “After we equipment-check.”

  The other two firefighters in their shift crew were waiting in the apparatus bay for them. Every day started with equipment maintenance and restocking anything that had been used on the prior shift. Because their department was small, their units were medical response units, with each of their firefighters cross-trained as EMTs. Some shifts staffed a paramedic, too. Each had their own duty in an emergency, though in a department as small as theirs, there was some overlap.

  Blond-haired, blue-eyed Max Lavigne stuck his head from where he was repacking the kits. The paramedic on B-shift liked to talk about how lucky he was with the ladies, but Hunter had actually never known him to have a girlfriend. “Brennan call in sick again?”

  Danny nodded his head. “Yep. Lucky you. You get me instead.”

  “Hard luck, maybe.” Lavigne kept a straight face until Danny laughed and slapped him on the back.

  Hunter hid his smile, settling into the routine, checking each gauge on the engine, with Lance following his every move. Growing up an only child, he’d been envious of Fiona’s relationship with her siblings. He’d dealt with way more than any kid should have to deal with. He’d wished for brothers. Now he had them.

  The firehouse tones sounded. All the banter stopped as each man ran for his turnout gear. Hunter was swinging onto the truck less than two minutes later as dispatch announced, “Fire-Rescue One, respond to home alarm at 4213 Chestnut Street.”

  Danny looked at Hunter and laughed. “Told you,” but he didn’t slow down as he settled into the seat on the opposite side. If anything, each of them was moving a little faster.

  An arsonist was targeting their own. And they were the ones who stood between the arsonist and the people of their town.

  THREE

  The bookstore hummed with activity. It seemed that everyone wanted to come by and talk about the fire. Fiona didn’t want to talk about the fire. She slid a book into place on its shelf.

  The fear lingered in the back of her mind as much as the smoky smell lingered in the air, but in the here and now, she couldn’t think about it. If she did, it could paralyze her. So instead, she focused on her business.

  Mrs. Davenport had returned to look through the garden section. Fiona’s assistant, Merry, had five or six little ones for Story Time in the children’s section. The moms and nannies were gathered in a group of comfy chairs by the window pretending to look at books, but really just talking.

  Fiona picked up a couple of Hollywood gossip magazines and dropped them off on the table next to those ladies, stopping to compliment Georgina Hennessy’s nanny, Delores, on her new hair color.

  The scrapbookers were in the apartment upstairs cropping pictures. A year ago, Fiona had expan
ded to include a small selection of scrapbook materials in order to bring in new business. It had paid off. The crafters loved making a pot of coffee and sitting down for a few hours of serious scrapbook time. The dedicated space upstairs was perfect for crafting.

  The chime on her front door rang. Nate Santos walked in, his typical toothpick clenched in his teeth. His black hair was a little mussed but in his FBFD T-shirt, he still drew a sigh from the moms sitting by the window as he walked in. She smiled a welcome. “Hey, Nate, you just getting off shift?”

  “Yeah. I had breakfast at the Sugar Plum and thought I’d drop by to make sure you’re doing okay after the fire the other day.” He sauntered a little closer to the counter, pulled the toothpick out of his mouth and shoved it in his pocket.

  They’d gone to high school together, but had run with different circles. He’d tried hanging out with Jimmy and Hunter for a while, but Nate had partied. Jimmy and Hunter would’ve rather been out on her little sailboat or crabbing with her at Aunt Vanessa’s, even in high school.

  He picked up a book on golf courses around the country from the display by the register, looked at the cover and then put it down, finally making eye contact with her.

  “We’re fine, Nate, trying to keep things as normal as possible, but it’s nice of you to come by.”

  His fingers fiddled with a display of ink pens, picking them up and then replacing them as he wandered the length of her counter. “If you ever want me to hang out with Sean, just for some male bonding, I’d be glad to.”

  Fiona wasn’t quite sure where Nate was going with this or what his motivation was. She didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but as sweet as it was for him to offer, he wasn’t exactly the kind of mentor she wanted for Sean.

  “Luckily there’s no lack of males in my family. Sean’s got lots of guys around, maybe too many, when they get to butting heads.” She smiled again. “It’s really nice for you to think of him, though.”

  Nate’s fingers stilled. “Nice. Right. Okay, I’ll be seeing you around, Fiona.” He shook his head as he walked toward the door, glancing toward the gaggle of women by the window who were openly staring at his muscular arms. He shot them a grin. “Ladies.”

  Fiona rubbed a hand over her eyes. For the most part, she hadn’t had to fend off many advances over the last couple of years. Maybe the guys around here had figured she was still grieving or maybe they were scared of her cop brothers. Maybe Nate was just trying to be nice. Or maybe it was open season on the Widow Cobb.

  Merry walked with the preschoolers to their moms and nannies in the front of the store. “Okay, mommies, we’re all finished. Today we did a project on the letter B and read a couple favorites by Sandra Boynton. We have the books we read today plus some others by the same author on the round table right over there. Let me know if you have any questions.”

  The moms wandered off and Merry leaned on the counter by Fiona. “So.”

  Fiona flicked her eyes up to meet her assistant’s pretty, brown, amused eyes. “So?”

  “Nate Santos? He’s really cute.”

  “Why is it that newly paired-off people always want other single people to get fixed up? I’ve known Nate since high school, Merry. He’s not my type. I’d tell you to go for it, except you’re off the market. My brother is a lucky man.”

  Merry’s face lit up and she wiggled her ring finger so it caught the light from the display window. “Why, yes. Yes, he is. It’ll be official next month. I can’t believe it.”

  “I can’t, either. I thought Douglas was a confirmed bachelor, way too set in his ways. I guess it just took the right woman.”

  “Obviously.” Merry’s curls bounced as she laughed.

  Fee reached under the counter and pulled out a stack of magazines and books wrapped with a blue satin ribbon. “I pulled these last night. I thought they might help with the planning.”

  Merry’s eyes widened. “Oh, you darling. I can’t wait to dig into these—on my lunch hour, of course.” She grabbed Fiona’s face and kissed her cheek. “It’s going to be so much fun to be sisters for real.”

  Fee laughed. “I can’t wait for that, too. Christmas is going to be really fun this year.”

  One by one, it seemed that the Fitzgerald siblings were finding their mates. First it had been Merry and Douglas, then Keira had started dating Nick Delfino. Just last month, her brother Owen had declared his love for his high school sweetheart, Victoria Evans, the innkeeper.

  It was nice to have something good to think about. She pointed to a dress on the front of Bridesmaids magazine that made her shudder and grinned at Merry. “Just don’t make me wear an avocado-green bridesmaid’s dress and we’ll still be friends when it’s all over.”

  One of the moms from Story Time came to the counter with a stack of Sandra Boynton books. “I don’t know how you girls do it, but you always seem to know what the kids are going to like. I don’t think we’ll get out of here without buying these.”

  Fiona began ringing up the books. “Now that’s what I like to hear. Children who like to read.”

  The door chimed again. Fiona glanced up. Today must be the day for firefighters in the bookstore. It was Brennan Fox. He and Jimmy had been on the same shift until Jimmy had died and when Hunter made the move to B-shift, so did Brennan. Regardless, the fire department was pretty small. There were only twelve career firefighters. “Hi, Brennan, let me know if I can help you find anything.”

  He didn’t say anything, just nodded and headed for the back of the store. She didn’t know him that well, but he looked terrible. Circles under his eyes, his dirty-blond hair sticking up all over his head, and he had at least a three-day beard, something a firefighter wouldn’t be sporting on duty.

  “Hope you enjoy those, Marianne. See you next week.” She handed the bag of books to the young mom, but watched out of the corner of her eye as Brennan poked his head into her storeroom before grabbing a couple books off the shelf. Another nosy information seeker?

  Brennan walked toward her with two books in his hands. “I’ll take these.”

  “Sure thing, Brennan. You doing okay?” She rang the first book—Parenting: Birth to Three—and put it in a bag. He didn’t look okay. His hands were shaking.

  “Fine. I’m in a hurry though.” He glanced around the shop and back to her as she rang up the second book—Tough Times Survival Guide—and added it to his bag. He handed her a couple twenties and told her to keep the change before grabbing the bag and rushing out the door. Weird choice of books. She knew he was a single guy with no kids, so maybe the books were a gift.

  Also weird—Brennan worked B-shift and Hunter was working today. She made a mental note to mention it to Hunter. Something definitely wasn’t right with Brennan Fox.

  * * *

  Max Lavigne pulled the steak pinwheels out of the oven. The other members of B-shift crowded around. Max stopped. “Dude. Back off. They’ll be on a plate in about one minute.”

  “Aah, that smells good.” Hunter leaned forward, imagining that first cheesy-rich bite. He had finished his workout an hour ago and was starving.

  “Where did you learn to cook like that?” The rookie, Lance, looking about twelve with his freckled face and curly brown hair, pushed his way into the crowd at the stove.

  “My dad was a chef.” Max slid the first steak onto a plate as the tones sounded. With a sigh, Max pushed the steak again onto the pan and shoved the entire thing back into the still-warm oven.

  Hunter stepped into his turnout pants, pulling them up and over his uniform pants as the dispatcher gave the details of the call and listed a downtown address.

  Danny Fitzgerald pulled his suspenders over his shoulders and grabbed his coat and hat as he ran for the attack engine. “Never fails. Dinnertime, we get a callout. Why?”

  “Builds character.” Hunter slid into his seat and pulled the headphones down over his head. The probie firefighter jumped on board as the big engine roared out of the bay, pulling in his arm just in time to kee
p it from getting smashed as they turned out of the bay and onto the street.

  “Dispatch, Fire-Rescue One is responding. Can you repeat?”

  “Fire-Rescue One, this is dispatch. Respond to a bomb threat at 214 Cherry Street.”

  Shock slammed through Hunter as the dispatcher repeated Fiona’s address. He shook his head trying to assimilate the information, regain his mental balance. “Dispatch, is the house currently occupied?”

  “The house is unoccupied, Fire-Rescue One. Repeat, the house is currently unoccupied. Fitzgerald Bay police are on site. State police also en route.”

  He looked at the firefighter sitting directly across from him—Fiona’s cousin, Danny. Danny obviously recognized the address, too. Any hint of complaint or teasing had disappeared. His jaw had hardened into a determined line.

  Horn blaring, they went through the intersection and pulled up in front of Fiona’s. Red-and-blue lights flared across the gray shingles of her Cape Cod–style house. The four firefighters barreled out into the driveway, only to be met by Douglas Fitzgerald. “No one’s going in right now. You guys are strictly precautionary.”

  Hunter gritted his teeth and held his tongue. Danny, on the other hand, had no problem getting in his cousin’s face. “What’s going on, Douglas?”

  The back door into the kitchen on the side of Fiona’s pretty house was splintered, hanging by a hinge. Tension wound tighter. What had happened here? At dinnertime, Fiona should be here with Sean, doing homework and eating spaghetti while one of her assistants looked after the shop. Where was she?

  He tried to push past the line of police but Douglas held out his arm. “Hold on, Hunter, there’s nothing you can do. We’re waiting for the K-9 team from the state police. They should be here in a few minutes and they’ll be able to tell us exactly what we’re dealing with.”

  Fiona came around the corner from the back of the house. She looked calm, but when she saw Hunter, she broke into a run, hitting him full-on square in the chest. He folded his arms around her, pulling her close. The guys in his crew were watching, but he didn’t care.