“I’m at the hospital. It’s going to be okay, but Hunter was hurt in the fire—”
“I’ll be right there.”
Oh, God. Oh God, oh God, oh God. Please, let him be okay. God, I know You love Hunter more than I do. Please, let him be okay.
She grabbed the notebook and her bag from the table and ran for her car, for the first time in days not even thinking about her bruises.
In minutes, she was hurtling through doors of the E.R. toward the desk. Her uncle caught her up in his arms, halting her momentum. “Hey, Fee. Slow down, honey. They’ve got him back in CT, checking his head.”
“What happened?” She hated the way her voice shook, hated the way the tears were gathering behind her eyes.
“A stairway collapsed. He was thrown. He took a knock to the head, but when we brought him in, he was conscious and talking.”
“He saved my life.” A young firefighter stepped forward, his face pale beneath his freckles.
She blinked and a tear broke free to run down her face. “How?”
“We were coming down a stairwell and the metal broke loose. We were both thrown, but my boot was trapped. The whole building could’ve come down any second.” The kid’s voice broke. “Excuse me.” He bolted down the hall toward the public restroom.
Her uncle shook his head. “Every time he thinks about it, he goes to throw up again.”
“His first fire?”
“First bad one.” Mickey paced the length of the waiting room and back again.
Fee watched the probie come out of the bathroom, looking pale and clammy. “Hunter says that if you’re not scared, you’re either stupid or crazy and neither of those traits make a very good firefighter.”
Lance dropped onto one of the brown plastic couches and leaned his head against the wall.
Her cousin Danny looked up at Fiona, from where he was seated with some of the other A-shift guys. “Hunter’s right. Know the beast, understand how it works, maybe, but you never disrespect it.”
The doors slid open and a doctor walked out. “Hunter Reece’s family?”
Practically everyone in the waiting room stood up, half of them still covered in soot, wearing their turn-outs.
The doctor smothered a half laugh. “Okay. Well, you’ll need to take turns going in to see him, but I’m sure he’ll want to see you. I’m guessing you’re Fiona? He was asking if you were here.”
Fee nodded. “He’s okay?”
“He’s going to be just fine. He’s in the third room to the right.”
Fiona walked down the hall, her footsteps quickening as she got closer to his room. Peeking around the open door, she saw him lying in the bed, his sooty face dusky against the stark white hospital sheets, lashes a dark smudge on his cheek.
Her lip wobbled. She bit down on it. Thank You, God.
Hunter opened his eyes and when they connected with hers, she saw a flash of something raw, some emotion she recognized on a soul-deep level, before he shuttered it, leaving behind the Hunter she always saw. The faithful friend.
She walked closer and slid her hand under his. “You scared me, do you know that?”
“I’m sorry.” He held her hand, rubbing her thumb with his larger one.
She looked down at their entwined fingers. “I wouldn’t have been able to take it if I lost another person I love.”
* * *
Hunter blinked, taken off guard for a second. She’d said that before, when they were talking about keeping their relationship the same. “You mean because we’re friends. It’s only natural that you would worry about me.”
“No, Hunter, that’s not what I mean.” Fiona laughed, tears in her eyes. She leaned forward, her voice quiet. “I know what we decided the other day, but I think you and I both know that we’ve been more than friends for a long time.”
Hunter shook his head slowly. He’d promised Jimmy he would take care of Fiona. He was pretty sure Jimmy hadn’t meant in the biblical sense.
“When I heard you were hurt, my heart stopped. I couldn’t stop praying.” She leaned closer, close enough for her sweet scent to ripple around him. He clenched his free hand into a fist to keep from burying it in her hair.
His chest ached, but he wasn’t ready to admit that he had those kind of feelings for her. Not out loud. He didn’t even want to admit it to himself. She wasn’t his, had never been his.
“I just wanted to get back to you.” He felt his chin wobble and hated the weakness. His head hurt. “I don’t know what there is between us, Fee. All I know is I didn’t want to leave you.”
She nodded, one tear clinging to her bottom lashes. “Okay. I can take that. We’ll figure the rest out later.”
Hunter closed his eyes.
“I do have something to tell you. I found Jimmy’s journal from the last week. I found it in his locker at the station.”
“What?” Maybe he was more out of it than he thought. He didn’t follow.
“I got to thinking about all of Jimmy’s notebooks and why I never found the last one. So I went to the last place he would’ve had it…and found it under the bottom panel of his locker at the station.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a leather-bound journal. One like he’d seen Jimmy writing in on dozens of occasions.
He let out a breath. “Wow.”
A knock sounded at the door and Nate Santos stuck his head in the door. “Attention hog.”
Firefighters poured in around him, filling the room. Lance came in last, looking a little green.
Hunter grinned. “Hey, probie. Come over here.”
Lance limped forward.
“You did good. Stayed with me, got the victim out—hairy mutt that he was—and we both made it out alive. I call that a good day.”
The young firefighter still had grime around the edge of his hairline where he’d scrubbed his face in the bathroom. “Thanks, Hunter.”
“That would be sir, to you.” Nate Santos sat on the end of Hunter’s bed.
The probie flushed at Nate’s criticism.
Hunter stared at Nate and let his amusement show in his slow smile. “Nate’s obviously forgotten his own probie year when he tried to rescue a cat from a drainpipe and got his arm stuck for seven hours.”
The dozen or so guys in the room laughed, one of them punching Santos in the arm. The veteran firefighter flushed and dug in his pocket for a toothpick. The scent of cinnamon immediately filled the room.
“Trying to quit smoking again, Santos?” Hunter kept his voice mild.
Nate’s black eyebrows slammed together, but then he laughed. “Always trying to quit, Reece.”
To Lance, Hunter said, “You earned the right to call me whatever you want today.”
Liam Fitzgerald piped up. “I wouldn’t call him Reese’s Pieces, though. He bloodied Douglas’s nose once for calling him that.”
Fiona laughed. “I’d forgotten all about that.”
“I was nine.” Hunter rubbed his head which, despite all the meds, was pounding like a jackhammer was going to town inside it. He just wanted to go to sleep.
The chief shooed them out of the room. “Some of you are on duty and some of you have a shift tomorrow. Get outta here.”
As the guys filed out, fist-bumping and high-fiving Hunter, the chief stayed behind. “Reece, watch yourself. I don’t want to see you at the station until you’re cleared for duty. Got it?”
“Yes, sir.”
Fiona’s uncle turned to look at her, but his eyes were on the notebook. “I trust you found what you were looking for this afternoon?”
She nodded.
“You’ll tell me if there’s anything I need to know?” This time, the comment was for Hunter.
“Yes, sir.” Hunter’s head might be killing him, but he recognized an order when he heard one.
Finally everyone was gone, except Fiona. She put her cool hand on his head. He leaned into it. “Hurts, right?”
He let out his breath on a sigh. “Yeah.”
“Go to sleep. I’ll be
here. I don’t have to pick Sean up until eight.”
“Thanks. Fiona, I…” Hunter closed his eyes. There was no way he could say a tenth of what he was feeling. He didn’t know what he was feeling. Love, guilt, fear, gratitude.
“I know.” She smoothed his hair away from his face. “You don’t have to say anything. I know.”
He drifted into sleep. What seemed like seconds must’ve been over an hour, because when he woke, Fiona was gone and the room was dark. But it was what he’d suddenly remembered that made his heart race: a firefighter, walking into the smoke, leaving him to die.
ELEVEN
Hunter’s muscles tensed as the door to his hospital room opened. Fiona’s red curls appeared in the doorway and he relaxed. Fight or flight. Apparently he hadn’t gotten the adrenaline out of his system yet.
“I brought you a soda. I thought you might be thirsty.”
The cold drink tasted so good going down his parched throat. Fiona always seemed to know what he needed, sometimes even before he needed it. “Where’s Sean?”
“He’s with Bridget. She called and said he’d fallen asleep on the couch. She put him to bed. He’s had a crazy week, but he’ll be fine.” She pulled a chair closer to his bed. “I wanted you to look at this and see what you can make of it.”
“Jimmy’s notebook?”
“Yeah, I’ve been looking at it, but I can’t figure it out.”
He’d seen Jimmy hunched over that leather book so many times, scribbling notes, thinking, writing some more. “Why didn’t I ask him why he’d been so preoccupied? Maybe Jimmy would’ve confided in me.”
Fiona shook her head slowly. “I think he was protecting you. I know he was protecting me.”
She opened the notebook to one of the center pages. It was a drawing of a burn pattern and a date from a fire Hunter hadn’t even realized had been arson. Jimmy had been cataloguing evidence. Her words came slowly. “There’s more. A lot of it’s in what I think must be some kind of code, but you might be able to make sense of it.”
Hunter’s headache had diminished to a dull throb, but still it seemed like this thought couldn’t possibly come from a rational brain. But once there, he couldn’t erase it. He knew it had to be true. It was the only thing that made sense. “I think Jimmy was looking for the arsonist on his own time. And I think it’s what got him killed.”
His words hung in the air, heavy, like wet smoke lingering after a fire. But as soon as he said them, he knew it was the only explanation that made sense.
There was another knock at the door. Some kind of reflex made Hunter slide the notebook under the pillow as Fiona got up to answer the door. He saw her back snap straight and her furious tone before she took two reluctant steps to the side.
Her brother Douglas and Nick Delfino stood in the doorway. Great. That’s just what he needed with his brain all scrambled from a head injury.
“I know you’ve had a hard day. We’re not going to keep you long.” Douglas shifted from one foot to another and shot a look at his sister. He pulled a pad and pen from the pocket of his uniform.
The brighter light from the hall was making Hunter’s head hurt worse. “I don’t think I’m supposed to talk to you without my attorney present.”
Douglas’s fist clenched around his pen. “One question, Reece, that’s all. I’m going to ask it. You answer or not. It’s up to you. The rookie firefighter said he saw something in the fire after the stairs fell. He heard you call out, so he thought you might’ve seen something, too.”
Hunter’s jaw clenched reflexively as he tried to decide what to say. “Did the probie say what he saw?”
Delfino laughed. “It doesn’t work that way, Reece. We’re not giving you the answers. You either saw the same thing or you didn’t.”
“I saw someone dressed in turnouts. There were no identifying markers. I don’t know if he was one of ours or not.”
The two cops shared a quick look, but their faces gave away nothing. It didn’t matter. Hunter knew if they were here asking questions that the probie had seen the firefighter who’d left them in the fire, too.
“Thanks,” Nick Delfino said as they walked toward the door. “Call if you think of anything else.”
“Do me a favor, Douglas. I think you might owe me one.”
Fiona’s brother didn’t answer or turn his head, but he stopped at the door to listen.
“Get someone on Lance. Make sure he’s protected until we catch this guy. If he saw the guy, Lance might be in danger.”
Douglas looked back. “What about you?”
“I can take care of myself.”
* * *
Fiona slid the key into the lock of her newly painted shop—the front door; she wasn’t going to go through the back door again for a long, long time—and she didn’t care who thought she was scared. She was.
She glanced around Main Street, trying to stay aware of her surroundings. Getting off the bus, a lone woman, in clothes that looked slightly too big for her. A couple was playing Frisbee in the park under the lights and a twenty-something guy was walking his beagle on the opposite side of the park. Or more accurately, his beagle was walking him. All around her people were going about their normal business and an arsonist tried to take out Hunter today.
It was hard to even compute. Things were beginning to make a little more sense. At least with the notebook and the realization that Jimmy had been hunting the arsonist, it had become more clear what the criminal was after. Why had he searched her house. But why now? After nearly two years?
She’d dropped Sean’s school clothes for tomorrow at Bridget’s and let him sleep while she came to check on the progress at the store. She would just be here long enough to make a list for the guys tomorrow.
Sean had had a hard week, that part of what she’d said to Hunter was true. But kids were resilient and tomorrow was pizza and movies night. She would make it as normal as possible for him. They would rent whatever movie Sean wanted to watch, usually something involving talking animals, order a pizza with every kind of meat possible and chill in front of the TV until they both went to sleep. It was Sean’s favorite night of the week.
From her position at the front door, she could see into the renovated store. The electrician had installed recessed lights in the ceiling yesterday. She’d had to have the wiring replaced anyway, so she’d made a few upgrades, despite what she’d told Betsie.
The guys had left the lights burning low. A soft glow filled the room. She closed the door behind her and walked in, pausing to run a finger down her dusty counter. Her shop smelled like fresh paint. The smoke smell was gone, but the place felt empty. Missing the life that usually infused it.
She hadn’t really let herself think about the loss, or grieve over it. She’d been too busy reeling from so many blows at once. Betsie and Sean. Her house being broken into. Hunter being accused. Her lips parted as she dragged in a ragged breath. If she let herself dwell on that, it would overwhelm her. Right now, she better focus on one day at a time, one moment at a time.
Fiona walked into the middle of the store. She’d been in this place before, after Jimmy had died, having to start over. Then she’d had no idea how to do it. She’d been so angry. At some point, though, she’d realized that all that guilt and resentment wasn’t hurting the arsonist who had killed Jimmy. It was only hurting her.
Creating a new beginning for herself and Sean was the hardest thing she’d ever done. She’d poured herself into starting the business. And she’d begun to move on. Not to forget, just to heal. Going through these fires now brought back memories, but the experience also made her long for a future. A different future than she’d envisioned, to be sure, but one that included her and Sean, and Hunter, too.
She would never forget Jimmy, but she could move forward.
Hunter just wasn’t ready yet to put the past behind him. And that was okay.
A knock on the door startled her out of her thoughts. She whirled around, sliding her hand in the pocket
of her jacket for the can of pepper spray. The young woman at the door was slender, almost slight, with honey-blond hair pulled back into a ponytail. Her wire-rimmed glasses gave her an innocent schoolgirl look. But the thing that stood out the most to Fiona was that she looked tired. Fiona recognized her as the woman who just got off the bus.
Opening the door, Fee stood in the crack, a little wary of a stranger in Fitzgerald Bay with everything that had been going on. “Can I help you?”
The young woman took a quick breath. “My name is Demi, Demi Taylor. I’m new in town, just got off the bus there on the corner.”
Fiona smiled at the rush of words. “Welcome to Fitzgerald Bay. I’m Fiona.” She looked around. “Normally I would offer you a cup of tea and a chance to buy a book, but as you can see, we’re in the middle of a remodel. Do you have family around here?”
Demi’s green eyes darted away. “I don’t have any family. There’s no one, really.”
She shivered and Fiona opened the door a little wider. “Do you want to come in for a minute and warm up?”
“I don’t know why I stopped. I guess it just looked friendly with the lights on.” Demi walked farther into the room, hitching up one small bag higher on her shoulder. What looked like a sleeping bag was in another small roll over her other shoulder. “It’s nice. I like the wood shelves. It’s warm.”
“I know. I wanted it to look like the bookshop from You’ve Got Mail.” Fiona followed Demi. She wanted to help, but couldn’t quite lose the lingering sense of unease. It wasn’t Demi. It was everything that had been going on lately. She turned back, smiled. “Can I help you find your way somewhere in town?”
Demi pursed her lips and shrugged one thin shoulder. “Are you going to be hiring when you open up the place? I guess I’m looking for a job.”
“I’m not, I’m sorry. I have two assistants already. You could ask at the inn across the way, they might be hiring for the summer season.”
Demi’s face fell. “Oh, okay. Well, thanks. I guess I could stay at the inn, too. Is it very expensive? I don’t have a lot of money.”
“Demi…” She hesitated. Her brothers, the cops, were probably going to kill her for saying this but sometimes she just felt like she needed to follow her gut. “I have an apartment upstairs that I use for classes. It’s probably going to be at least a few weeks, maybe even a couple months before I get this place ready to open again. If you want to stay upstairs until you find a job and get on your feet, you’re welcome to.”
The Widow's Protector Page 13
