by D. M. Webb
“I’m not playing.” He leaned back and tapped his knee. “Too many injuries, hence the reason I am behind a desk.”
“You can be the umpire.”
“No way.” He chuckled. “Every year a hothead from each department gets in a fight during the game, and the umpire gets stuck in the middle of it. Nah. I leave it to the younger men now.”
Maggie laughed with him. “Remember last year? I didn’t think anyone was going to be able to take Baers down, but Toby gave it a good try.”
“Well, it’s all in good fun. Wouldn’t be a ball game if there wasn’t at least one officer and firefighter to get benched.”
Maggie shook her head. “I just don’t understand y’all.” She stood to go, but Conners waved her back into the chair.
“I ordered a pizza, and it should be here. Keep me company, please. That way Sandra doesn’t have to lie when she tells the bonehead in city hall that I’m busy with someone. For some reason he keeps bypassing the chief and harassing me.”
His pleading look convinced her. She settled back down with a dramatic sigh. “Anything for my boys.”
His laugh shook his body and scattered a few more papers about his desk.
: : : : :
David pulled into the firehouse and parked the motorcycle in the corner. The smell of grease and oil in the bay greeted him. He breathed in deeply. This felt more like home.
He dismounted and hooked the helmet on the handlebars. The new flaming sun shone in the fluorescent lights. The design cost him a pretty penny but was worth every bit of it.
“David, you’re finally here, man!” Jason walked past with a roll of hose.
“Had a meeting. Now I gotta get my paperwork caught up.”
“Yeah, I heard about the wreck. Horrible way to go.”
David frowned. “No one died. What are you talking about?”
Toby Jones, his blond hair gleaming, came in from the side door. “He’s talking about the Fusion.”
David laughed. “Oh, that. Yeah, it’s heading for the scrap yard. No way they are fixing that car.” He slapped Toby’s shoulder as he walked past and rounded the corner.
Wet hoses lay stretched out in the small hallway. Sam Tennyson and Mark Fowler, on their knees, ran their hands slowly over the hoses.
“Why the hall?” David stepped carefully over the snaky apparatuses.
Sam ran his hands under one of the lines as he spoke. “You’re in late. Was in the bay, but finished those. Chief had these short ones stretched out in here. Don’t ask. Been a hectic day.”
“How many leaks?”
Sam looked up. “Two so far. Y’all really did a number on them.”
“That’s why you’re still here?”
“Yeah. Thomas had me on hose duty. Just about finished. You won’t like what he’s got you on. Sucks being a captain,” Sam added with a grin.
David pushed open the door to the office. He peered in and greeted the chief. “Thomas. Thanks for allowing me to take care of business.”
“Any luck?”
“Yeah. I’ll move in by next week.” David rounded the desk and peeked through the blind slats. “Need to catch up on paperwork. How’s the day going?”
Thomas Dearborn snuffed out his cigarette. “Been a quiet day, but the mayor is sending someone over to get the roster sign-up and donation list. And I need an inventory list of the medical equipment.”
“Sure thing.” David accepted the folders and frowned. “You leaving early?”
“As of now. C shift is on, and since you’re finally here, might as well call it a day.” Thomas stood and stretched. “I have to run over to PD for a moment. Oh, and we got three rookies coming in at the end of the week. I have two of them on your shift. Think you can handle the training?”
David shrugged and hid his scowl behind his hand. “Sure thing.”
“Good.” Thomas flung his jacket over his shoulder, and David followed him out of the office. “Two wrecks, a brush fire, and a medical call. That was a busy shift for you.”
“Wouldn’t be so bad if we weren’t so undermanned.”
“Working on it, David. We’re not the big city.”
David snorted. “Big city politics were worse. Believe me, this small town stuff is nothing compared to what goes on in the city.”
He followed the chief out the back and behind the firehouse. Thomas opened his car door and then looked over at David. “Miss the city any?”
“No way. Glad to be home.”
“Even if it was a step down?”
David stuffed his hands in his pockets and bit his lip. Was it worth it? “Yeah. Even if it was a step down.”
Thomas shook his head with a laugh. “If you say so. Oh, glad you cut that mop off.”
David ran his hand over his head, the short bristles tickling his hand. “Yeah.”
He stepped back as the chief pulled away from the curb and drove off. Thomas’ question played in his mind. Was it worth it? St. Louis offered more money. He was Battalion Chief there. Here he was only C Shift Captain. Fourth man on the totem pole.
Worth it? Yeah. St. Louis would have eventually killed him.
He opened the side door and weaved his way through the fire engines in the bay. A small piece of red caught his eye. He bent down and picked up a small plastic shard. Great.
“Toby!”
“Yeah?”
“We need to change out the right brake cover on Engine Two.” He rounded the corner of the truck, tossing the plastic shard into the garbage pail as he passed by. “Looks like we busted it the other night pulling it in.”
“Okay!”
David looked around. He didn’t see the man anywhere. “Where are you, dude?”
“Oh, here.” Toby popped his head from around the opened bay. “Got a visitor.”
He watched as a vision in white floated inside his firehouse bay. She smiled at him, a pile of folders pressed against her chest. Her hair was pulled into a ponytail with golden ribbons shooting out around it. Her white blouse billowed around her hand as she pushed at a wayward lock of hair. His eyes traveled down her pink-clad legs and lazily back up. The woman must have an affection for pink.
“Maggie Goddard.”
“David Boyette.” She mimicked his tone.
He swallowed against his dry throat. “What brings you here?”
“The mayor. Festival time will be here in three weeks. Thomas said he had the roster ready, and I’m here to pick it up.”
David nodded. “Oh, yeah, yeah. Come on. I’ll get it for you.” He led her to the hallway, silently cursing himself for acting like a school boy. Idiot. “Watch your step. Boys are checking hoses.”
She tiptoed over the stretched hoses, waved to the men on the floor, and brushed past him as he held the door open. He breathed in her scent as she passed. Oh, man. She smelled of cotton candy.
He didn’t realize he’d closed his eyes until he heard Sam hoot. A few catcalls echoed down the hall from Jason. David glared before he shut the door. They were making something out of nothing.
“I think Thomas left them on the desk somewhere.” David eased past her and rounded the lump of scarred metal. Run reports and folders covered the surface. He picked up a red one and looked inside. “Yeah. Here you go.”
Maggie browsed through them. “Oh, you’re going to be the catcher.”
David perched on the corner of the desk, his knee lightly brushing against her leg. Maybe she wouldn’t think that was intentional. “Yeah. Position I used to play before I left.” He watched as she read the lists.
She flipped to the donations spreadsheet and raised her eyebrow. Puzzlement etched across her face, creasing her forehead.
“It shows that there’s a collection of vintage Hot Wheels toy cars to be auctioned off and a stack of old records?” Maggie looked up. “We only asked for a few not-too-valuable things. Like lamps or paintings or such.”
David shook his head. “It’s only valuable to the person who bids.”
“Who owne
d the old records?”
“Don’t know.”
“Oh my, did you see the list?”
“No. Why?”
She handed him the paper. He took it from her and looked at it. Wow. Whoever did this was donating a bundle of money. “These records have to be priceless.”
Maggie set her handful of folders on the table. She stood on tiptoe to read over his arm. “See that one?” She reached up to point at one of the entries.
David gave her the paper and read over her shoulder instead. Short stuff would need a step ladder to read over his. He propped a hand behind her on the desk, bringing himself a little closer to her. “Which one?”
“Here. That’s a 1958 Elvis album. And look here, Kenny Rogers, Eagles--”
“Live version at that.” David dipped his head closer to the paper. “A Conway Twitty. Oh, Mom would love that one. Queen and Twisted Sister.”
Maggie ran her finger down the list. “This is a small treasure find. I’ve got this retro player at home.”
David scooted further up on the desk, bringing himself even closer. Her arm now brushed against his uniform’s sleeve. “The one that plays records, CDs, cassettes, and iPods?”
“Yeah. Dad got it for my birthday last year. Oh, what I wouldn’t give to have these.” She heaved a sigh and blinked away the dreamy look.
He shrugged. “Bid on them.”
“I can’t. Festival volunteers cannot bid on items. Mayor’s rules.”
“Get someone else to bid on them.”
Maggie smiled and collected her folders. She backed up a step to look at him. “That’s a good idea. Dad might, but I don’t know if he’ll be free to do the bidding. But Sarah probably can for me.”
“Hey, yeah, get Sarah. Everyone would be too afraid to bid against Satan Sarah.”
Maggie squealed and covered her mouth with a hand. “How did you find out her nickname? She hates that name.”
David grinned. “Can you keep a secret?”
Her eyes brightened, and she leaned in closer to him. Her tantalizing scent reached his nose. Intoxicating.
“Yes. I can keep a secret.”
He bent down even closer to her, his lips bare centimeters from her ear. “So can I.”
“Oh.” She screwed up her face and whacked him in the chest with the folders.
David laughed. She had definitely been spending too much time with his family. “No, really. Jeremy told it to me a long, long time ago. While he and Sarah were dating.”
“She was a terror back then.” Maggie placed the sheets in her file and then opened the door and stepped out into the hall. “Well, thanks for the files. Will you be able to stop at church tonight?”
David leaned against the door jamb, his hands stuffed into his pockets. “Doubtful. But I can catch you later if you want. Maybe tomorrow morning for coffee?”
Maggie smiled and shook her head. “No. Sorry, I can’t. I have two appointments in the morning.”
He narrowed his eyes. She wouldn’t get away that easily. He never took no for an answer. “Then I’ll come to the shop.”
She cocked her head at him, a little puppy dog with blue eyes. “There’s no need.” Her feet danced past the hoses as she walked away.
David smiled and pushed away from the door. “Maybe no need. But where’s the harm?”
He followed her through the bay. Toby was busy with the back of Engine Two, and he paused to watch them. David scowled at his friend as he passed by. He didn’t need Toby watching him.
Maggie stopped at the opened bay and turned to him. “There’s no harm, David. But I prefer to have no interruptions at my store.”
“Then I’ll buy something. Be a customer.” He crossed his arms over his chest and dared her to say no this time. The sun, lower in the sky now, cast a golden ray across her face. “It’s just coffee. Nothing more.” He smiled, fighting the impulse to push away a lock of hair that fell across her brow.
She huffed at the strand, blowing it away from her eyes. “Just coffee?”
David took a step closer, staring into her bright blue eyes and tracing the sprinkle of freckles along her nose and cheeks with his gaze. “Just coffee.”
She squinted and pursed her pink lips at him. His thoughts went from good intentions to where it had no business being, especially with a preacher’s daughter.
Her voice brought him back around to reality. “ . . . winning with you, is there?”
Huh? He took a gamble on what she had said. “Not really. I’m a determined man.”
Maggie huffed once more and turned around. She called over her shoulder. “Creamer and two sugars. Strong.”
David smiled. Yup, he always won. She crossed the two-lane and disappeared beyond the corner. Definitely a sweet confection. David licked his lips and turned back into the firehouse. Score one for him. Toby stood by the truck.
“She’s out of your league, man.”
David stared at his friend. “What do you mean? She ‘s a woman. Any woman is in my league.”
Toby bent down and started polishing the taillight. “She is way too good for you and any of us. Jason went out with her twice. Nothing came of it. He said she was way too classy.”
“I don’t plan—”
Toby rose and stood nose to nose with him. His friend’s reaction caught David off guard. “I’m only saying this once. You are my boss and my friend. We’ve known each other since high school. That said, I know what you were like before and now. You hurt her, I hurt you.”
David’s nostrils flared. He thrust his chin up and stared Toby down. “As I was saying, I don’t plan to do anything. I just want to know her a little better, as in find out more about her. She’s the preacher’s daughter, for crying out loud.”
“Exactly.” Toby walked away and left him standing alone in the bay.
A muscle in his jaw twitched. He relaxed his posture and forced out a sigh.
She was the preacher’s daughter, but she was also a beautiful woman. Her freckles captivated him. Her breathy little voice drew him in like a moth to a flame. He laughed quietly. If he kept on thinking like that, she would have him reciting poetic endearments.
He ran a hand over his face. Snap out of it. Women were trouble. And he had to deal with too much paperwork.
The boys were rolling the hoses as he walked past to the office. He slammed the door and sat down at the desk. His run reports glared at him. David picked up a pen and started filling out the forms. He sniffed. The scent of cotton candy lingered in the air.
Chapter 5
JEREMY QUIETLY SHUT THE car door and popped the tab off his holster. He touched his radio. “Dispatch. 10-23.”
He rapped on the front door. A small scuffling sound reached his ears. The curtain in the window to his left moved slightly. He rapped again. The door creaked open a fraction, and haunted eyes peered out.
“Yes?”
“Mrs. Pearson?”
“Yes?”
Jeremy angled his body to let the light from inside shine on him. “I’m looking for your grandson Bobby. Is he here, ma’am?”
She eased the door open a little wider. Jeremy fought the impulse to recoil. Bloodshot and bruised eyes stared from sunken holes. Her teeth, what remained, hung by pieces of skin. She feebly worked at the chain on the door as she spoke past her broken teeth.
“He’s not here. Not anymore.”
Jeremy pushed at the door and stepped inside. He took in her appearance. Clothes hung on a bony frame, white hair matted with blood, and bare feet. The left foot’s little toe jutted out at an odd angle. He reached out for her, and she shrank back. Fear poured from her. He let his hand fall to his side.
“You called 911, ma’am?”
“I was mistaken.” She brought her right hand up to her face and pushed at a strand of hair that fell forward.
Jeremy peered outside. A few neighbors stood at their doors, watching. He gently shut the ragged door. She shrank even farther away from him. “Mrs. Pearson, don’t
be afraid. I’m here to help. Let me call this in, okay? Let us help you.”
She shook her head, eyes darting around the room. “He’ll be back. I shouldn’t have called. He’ll be mad.”
Jeremy pushed his disgust deep down. Her grandson did this. Lowlife scum. He held out his gloved hand and implored her to take it. “I’m just going to lead you to the sofa, okay? Nothing else.”
She hesitated briefly before sliding her right hand into his. Her left hand stayed curled around her chest. She hunched her shoulders even more as she shuffled over to the couch to sit. Jeremy sat down, keeping his eyes on the window.
“Tell me what happened, ma’am.”
She shook her head. Her whisper barely reached him. “I can’t. He’ll be back soon. He always comes back.”
“Did he say that?”
She stared at him. No. Her eyes said it all. He was gone for good this time.
“Did he take anything with him?”
She nodded. “He needed some cash. I only had a hundred twenty dollars. He took it because he needed it.” She twisted the hem of her threadbare sweater in her fingers.
“Mrs. Pearson, I need to call and have you checked out.” He reached forward and held his hand out again. “Let us take care of you now.”
Her willpower gave way, and she collapsed, folding in on herself. He sank to his knees and held her fragile frame as she shivered. Her words were incomprehensible. He reached up to his mike.
“Dispatch.”
“Go ahead.”
“J forty-nine. Request EMS at 16 Woods Street. Radio forty-three.”
“Copy, forty-nine.”
He held Mrs. Pearson, waiting for the ambulance. His anger at her grandson grew and festered as he comforted the poor woman. Bones of her spine poked through. How long had she gone without food? The poor woman was a withered sack of bones. She looked eighty, but her DMV record had her at sixty-two. Jeremy sighed and fought his anger down. Let it rest in the pit of his stomach along with his disgust.
He offered a prayer for her, asking for protection from her lowlife grandson. Red lights flickered outside, followed by a set of blue.
“Mrs. Pearson, the ambulance is here now. They’re going to take you to the hospital, okay?”
