The river brought memories of her father back too. He’d taught her to fly-fish on the Rogue. Carly’s heart squeezed. Not a day passed that she didn’t miss her dad.
Giving her space, Seth moved ten yards away and cast out over the water. His muscles shifted under his snug T-shirt, tempting her to sweep a hand across his broad back. She knew how his taut skin would feel and missed the contact with his warm body. Their physical connection had never waned in spite of the difficulties in their marriage. But great sex couldn’t make up for their problems.
She had to admit, he’d made an effort this summer. He’d actually taken at least one day off each weekend to spend time with Brianna, even though his job as an investigator for the county sheriff’s department had been complicated by his appointment to a drug task force. With a drug gang war budding between established dealers on the coast and a new manufacturer somewhere in Solitude, Seth had spent weeks away.
Rogue County had seen a surge in drug-related deaths and crime as a power struggle played out between the rival drug dealers. Her father had been among the casualties. How Bill Taylor, former chief of police and town pillar, had been poisoned by a hallucinogenic compound was still a mystery. The new designer drug, C-22—or bacon, as it was known on the street—was far too easy to overdose on.
Carly pushed the nostalgia from her mind. She was here to clear her head with a few hours of communing with nature. What would she give to pitch a tent in the clearing, beyond the reach of cell phones and responsibilities, and hide for a solid week?
They fished in silence. Water rushed over rocks. A hawk circled overhead, his sharp cry protesting their invasion of his fishing spot. Carly’s muscles relaxed. Her mind calmed. Seth had been right. There wasn’t much an afternoon on the river couldn’t cure, even if the fish weren’t interested.
Seth’s line jerked. He snapped his wrist. “Damn. Missed him. I think it’s too hot for the fish.”
The wind picked up, sending a dead leaf tumbling across the rocks and into the water.
“Maybe.” She took off her broad-brimmed hat and let the breeze cool her head.
Seth reeled in his line. He froze. Water dripped from the tip of his rod as he sniffed the air. “Do you smell smoke?”
Carly inhaled. The faint tinge of burning timber hit her nostrils. “Yes.”
He reeled in his line, his posture shifting from casual to all business in a blink. “We should go. There’s no sense in taking chances. It’s been so hot and dry, a wildfire would roll right through here.”
So much for an afternoon of peace.
They broke down their rods, changed back into sneakers, and stowed their equipment in the rear of the SUV. Seth climbed behind the wheel. Starting the engine, he turned the vehicle around.
He cracked the window and gave the air another sniff. “The smell’s getting stronger.”
Carly held on as Seth depressed the gas pedal. The SUV bumped down the dirt lane to the country road that led back to Solitude. A haze of gray crawled across the blacktop. As soon as the tires hit pavement, Seth gunned the engine.
Barely a mile down the road, on the right-hand side, a plume of black smoke snaked into the sky. Carly pointed out the window. “There.”
Seth slowed the truck. “The resort.”
The construction site of the new O’Rourke resort was only a mile downriver from where they’d been fishing.
“That explains why the smell was so strong.” Carly gripped the armrest as Seth steered through a bend in the road and continued to drive toward the smoke.
CHAPTER THREE
They sped past a private road marked by an oval-shaped wooden sign. Hand-painted white letters spelled out “O’Rourke’s Lodge at Rogue River.” A pair of upright oars flanked smaller plaques detailing the resort’s activities: white-water rafting, fly-fishing, hiking, and camping.
Frustration swamped Seth. One evening alone with his wife—that’s all he’d wanted. They were both on call far too often. Taking time away from work was a key component in his plan to win her back. Usually Carly sent Brianna off with him and excused herself. This was the first time he’d gotten her alone all summer, and he’d had to enlist his mother-in-law to make his plan work. He understood Carly’s reluctance. He’d been an ass, but he was working hard to overcome his alpha-dog nature. How could he convince Carly of his determination to change if they didn’t spend any time alone together? The universe was conspiring to keep them apart.
The wide construction entrance at the rear of the property opened onto the rural highway. Dry weeds and grass edged the blacktop. The area was ripe for a wildfire. Seth slowed the car. “Keep your eyes open for brush fires.”
He turned into a large gravel clearing. In the final stages of construction, a compound of buildings comprised O’Rourke’s Lodge at Rogue River. The nearly finished main building, designed in the rustic log cabin tradition, would boast a dozen luxurious rooms, a two-story stone fireplace, and a gourmet locally sourced restaurant with indoor/outdoor seating. Porches with low-slung roofs spanned the entire width of the building front and rear. Raised on stilts to prevent water damage when the river flooded, a dozen cabins were strung out along a gravel path from the lodge to the river. Behind the cabins, a small meadow spanned the distance from the compound to the river. Forest flanked the property.
Flames engulfed the rear section of the lodge. Smoke rose in black plumes, blotting out the clear blue sky. On a Thursday evening, the construction vehicles were quiet and still. Seth saw no signs that the fire had spread beyond the building.
Through the open SUV window sirens wailed, thin and distant, over the forest. The fire crackled. Men yelled. Standing on the rear porch, three men sprayed foam from fire extinguishers. But the fire needed more than handheld equipment. Much more. Seth eyed the roof. Flames licked at the heavy beams that supported the structure. Those men needed to get off that porch.
He parked as far from the fire as possible. “Take the truck and go home. I’ll get a ride back into town.” As a county cop, Seth knew just about everyone in local fire and rescue.
“I’m not leaving you here,” Carly said in a tone that didn’t allow for negotiation.
“I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Right back atcha.”
Damn it. Seth swallowed his curse, just barely. This was the kind of situation that brought out his protective instincts, and those overdeveloped primal urges were a large part of the reason Carly had left him. He wanted to tuck her away somewhere safe while he saved the world. Unfortunately, Carly did not share his vision for her, and he had to have faith in her intelligence and resourcefulness. “All right.”
Her eyes flickered with surprise.
He pointed at Carly. “But you stay here.”
Her nod did not fill him with confidence. She would follow his instructions, unless someone needed help. Then all bets were off, and Carly would jump right in. He should love that about her, but in reality, Seth’s list of people to protect started with Brianna and Carly. Everyone else in the world ranked far below his family.
Seth jumped out of the SUV. He ran for the building, yelling at the men to get away from the fire. But he was too late. A section of porch roof collapsed, crashing in a pile of smoke and flames. Embers showered the clearing. High-pitched screams split the air. Heart slamming into his ribs, Seth ran toward the chaos. A figure stumbled out of the blaze. Flames rose from his khaki shirt and pants. Seth took him to the ground. Someone threw a blanket over them and smothered the flames. Carly.
He left her to care for the man and lurched forward, sprinting for the section of burning building where he’d last seen the remaining two figures. He should wait for the fire department, but the men inside would be dead before the fire trucks arrived.
A single leap took him over the three steps and onto the collapsed floorboards of the porch. The men had been about ten feet inside the roofline. They couldn’t be far away.
“Whe
re are you?” Seth coughed as smoke billowed around him. Visibility was barely a few feet. The heat seared his skin. His eyes and lungs burned, and his vision blurred. He crouched. Listening through the crackle of fire, he moved toward a scream. A man lay on his back, his legs trapped under a fallen beam. Seth skirted a burning pile of debris. He squatted and heaved the beam to one side. Grabbing the man by the arms, Seth hefted him over one shoulder. He ran for the clearing and carefully deposited the injured man on the ground next to the first victim. Carly smothered a few burning patches of clothing with her blanket. Seth forced his legs to straighten. Coughing, he turned back toward the fire.
“No, Seth,” Carly yelled as she grabbed him arm. “You can’t go back in there.”
“I have to.” He pulled away, but she tightened her grip on him.
“No!”
A crack and boom sounded behind him as another huge beam crashed and the rear wall of the building collapsed.
Nausea and soot coated the back of Seth’s throat. The third man was buried under an inferno.
Emergency vehicles streamed into the gravel lot: an engine and pumper from the Solitude station, EMTs, an ambulance, and a tanker from a neighboring town. Rural firefighting was an expensive endeavor, with communities sharing costly equipment and a limited number of trained personnel. The fire chief jumped down from the truck. Seth waved both arms at him. The chief ran across the clearing to Seth.
“There’s at least one man inside.” Seth leaned forward to rest his hands on his knees as a coughing fit seized his lungs. He rubbed at his eyes.
“Got it.” The chief waved to two men in full gear. Air tanks bobbed on their backs as they raced toward the fire, but another portion of the building caved in with a crash of heavy timber. Seth flinched. Sparks shot through the air. Firemen dragged hoses and aimed them at the blaze.
Carly had his arm again—or still—turning him away from the certainty that the third man hadn’t survived. What had been a kitchen and outdoor dining area was now a giant bonfire. No one could get inside. And no one could possibly get out.
“Lean back.” She poured a bottle of water over his face, washing soot from his eyes. She handed him a second bottle. He rinsed his mouth, spat, then drank.
More emergency vehicles swarmed into the clearing. Seated on the back of a fire engine, Seth watched the chaos. The ambulance crew loaded the burned men into the vehicle and drove away. An EMT slipped an oxygen mask over Seth’s face and pointed him toward a waiting ambulance.
“I’m fine.” Seth coughed.
The EMT shook his head. “Not an option.”
As he climbed inside, three grass rigs—smaller off-road fire trucks designed to fight wild land fires—drove around the burning lodge into the meadow, watching for blowing embers that could set the dry grass ablaze.
The O’Rourke resort was supposed to be the savior of the community. The construction phase had already put many unemployed people to work. When the building period ceased and the resort opened for business, other jobs would be created, a boon to the rural economy. There was no telling how long it would take the O’Rourke project to recover from today’s fire.
Seth settled into the ambulance and let the EMT take his vitals and start an IV. The medic had been right. Seth felt all right now, but smoke inhalation and burns could worsen. His throat was raw and tight. As his adrenaline surge ebbed, small points of pain throbbed from various parts of his body, and the smell of singed hair told him he’d been hit by falling embers. The EMT cut off Seth’s soot-stained, scorched T-shirt and listened to his chest. He took a deep breath, testing his lungs. He coughed hard, his shortness of breath highlighting the risk he’d taken to save the O’Rourke employee. Seth could have been killed. No more Carly. No more Brianna. No more anything.
For one worker’s family, today would end with tragedy. If Seth had been quicker, if Carly hadn’t stopped him from running back into the fire, he’d have made it back inside before the roof gave out.
And instead of following the ambulance, Carly would be mourning his death.
CHAPTER FOUR
Carly sat on a plastic chair in Seth’s ER cubicle. He reclined on the gurney, shirtless. A dozen small bandages on his face and torso covered minor burns. The bandages and the oxygen mask on his face sent fear rolling through Carly. At the scene she’d held it together, helping the burn victims until the emergency units rolled in. But hours later, now that Seth was safe, her hands shook and her stomach roiled.
She could have lost him. One man at the O’Rourke resort wasn’t going home with his family tonight. She understood why Seth had run into that burning building. It was his nature to risk himself for others, but knowing that didn’t make the terror any easier to bear.
The curtains parted and a doctor entered the cubicle. He scanned a clipboard, then set it on the foot of the bed. “Your vitals all look good. Your oxygen levels are normal, and your airway hasn’t swelled. Are you ready to go home?”
“More than ready,” Seth said.
“The nurse will be in shortly with your paperwork. Keep that burn on your forearm clean and covered.” Miraculously, the rest of his injuries hadn’t been serious.
Twenty minutes later, dressed in an old T-shirt she’d found in the back of his SUV, Seth followed Carly out of the cubicle. Frowning, he scanned the space. Carly knew his mind was on the two surviving men. Emergency room staff hustled around a glassed-in acute care bay down the hall. She put a hand on his elbow and steered him toward the exit.
“Do you have my wallet and keys?” he asked.
“In my purse.” Carly opened the door that led to the waiting room and exit. “You don’t need keys. I’m driving.”
“Seth!” Faye O’Rourke, city council member and matriarch of the O’Rourke family, hurried across the shiny beige tiles. Faye normally walked with a remarkably spry step for a senior citizen, but today her movements were stiff, almost arthritic. Unruly hairs had sprung from her normally tidy gray bun. Carly knew she was a grandmother, but her shrewd blue eyes and equally sharp mind camouflaged her age. For the first time in Carly’s memory, Faye seemed to show her advancing years. “I wanted to thank you for what you did today and make sure you were all right.” Concerned eyes roamed over Seth’s bandages.
Seth coughed. “I’m fine. Burns are all minor.”
But Carly was sure they hurt plenty.
Faye reached into the pocket of her cardigan and withdrew a tissue. She blotted her eyes. “Tim and Bob are more than grateful.”
“Are they going to be all right?” Seth asked.
“Yes, thanks to you. They’re transferring Bob to a burn unit in Portland, but Tim’s injuries are less serious. They said they can treat him here.” Faye reached toward him, hesitating at the sight of rolled gauze encasing Seth’s forearm. Carly knew how she felt. She was afraid to touch him too. Faye dropped her arm. “I can never thank you enough.”
“I wish I’d have gotten them all out.” Smoke inhalation, and regret, roughened his voice.
“I know you do, but there wasn’t anything else you could have done.” Faye pressed the tissue to her eye and inhaled a shaky breath. “Oh, Seth. The fire chief already suspects arson. Who would do such a thing?”
Seth’s spine straightened at the word arson.
“First Walt betrayed me. Now this.” Faye sniffed.
Walt Burrowes had been Faye’s construction supervisor. Walt had been dealing drugs from the construction site. He’d been shot and killed by Carly’s cop sister three weeks ago.
“I don’t know, Faye.” Seth sighed.
Carly caught movement in her peripheral vision. Zane Duncan, Solitude chief of police, came through the door and headed for them. “Here comes Zane.”
“You both all right?” Zane asked, scanning Seth and Carly with a frown.
“Yeah,” Seth said.
Carly nodded.
“Glad to hear it.” Zane turned to Faye. “I need to ask you so
me questions.”
“Of course.” Faye nodded. “I just wanted to make sure Seth was all right.”
Carly tuned out their conversation as she walked with Seth out the automatic door. Overhead lights tinted the blacktop yellow.
“What time is it?” he asked.
Carly checked her cell phone. “Ten thirty.”
She slid into the driver’s seat, adjusting it forward so she could reach the pedals. The community medical center in the county seat of Hannon was a forty-five-minute drive from Solitude.
Seth shifted position restlessly, grimacing.
She glanced over at him. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah.” He closed his eyes as Carly drove onto the rural highway.
Dozing off soon after they left the hospital, Seth snored softly. The doctor had cleared him, but the slight rattle in his breath worried her.
Forty-five minutes later she pulled up in front of the Craftsman-style bungalow they’d bought soon after their wedding. She’d loved sitting on the deep front porch and watching Brianna and the neighborhood kids ride bikes and play tag. A wistful sigh escaped her lips. She missed her home. She missed her life. And despite all the drama in their marriage, she missed Seth.
Her hand hovered over his muscular shoulder, and she tried to remember where all his bandages were located. Finally she settled on touching his hand.
Seth opened his bloodshot eyes.
“We’re here,” Carly said. “I’m sorry to wake you, but there’s no chance of me carrying you inside.”
Walking on Her Grave (Rogue River Novella, Book 4) Page 2
