Cold Dawn

by Susan Sleeman

  Besides, her emotions were in such turmoil right now that she didn’t know if her feelings for him were true, or if gratitude for rescuing her explained her response when she gazed into his concerned blue eyes.

  “Hold off for a second,” he said, his expression darkening. “I want to explain a few things about fire to make sure if you’re ever trapped like today you can survive.”

  “Okay,” she said humoring him when the odds of getting caught in a fire again had to be pretty slim. Especially one deliberately set to kill her.

  He locked gazes with her, his eyes burrowing in and holding. “Stay low. Air’s better down there. Plug gaps, door cracks, or windows with anything you can find. And don’t open a window or door without making sure it’s safe.”

  “How do you know if it’s safe?” she asked, honestly interested now.

  “Feel the door. If it’s hot, fire is close on the other side and seeking air to burn. In that case, opening the door provides air that fuels the fire and could trigger a backdraft.”

  She nodded. “Got it.”

  He widened his stance, his gaze filled with passion for his new profession. “When the fire on the other side of a door has consumed all available oxygen, and then the door’s opened, it gives the fire more oxygen, and it explodes in a flash of fire that will kill you. Same is true of windows.”

  She shuddered at the thought.

  “Another signal for an impending backdraft is when smoke chugs like it’s being pushed out and sucked back in under the door and changes colors. It gets dense and grayish-yellow.”

  “Thanks,” she said sincerely. “I pray I’m never in this situation again, but I feel more prepared now.”

  “One last thing—don’t stop to grab anything. Just get out.” He took a long breath, his eyes filling with pain. “I’ve seen what happens when someone doesn’t make it out. And I hate that Andy died that way. I couldn’t imagine if you…” He shoved fingers into his thick dishwater blond hair flattened from the hood.

  She’d never seen him so expressive. His personality had changed. He was physically everything she remembered him being. Brawny, toned. But gone was the brash swagger and over-the-top confidence. Now he seemed more emotional. That was even more attractive to her.

  Not a good thing. Not a good thing at all. She had to watch herself around him.

  “I got it. I promise.” She jerked her gaze free and stepped into the large open space that was a wall of burning fire only a few hours ago. Now timbers were scorched, the roof collapsed in areas, the sky clear above her. Gaping holes dotted the floor in other areas, but the basic structure still stood. She could hardly believe it.

  She continued in toward the packing room, keeping her eyes away from the area where flames had recently terrorized her. What if she would have been alone?

  She was suddenly back there. In the moment. In the fire as they raced for safety. She could still feel the heat. See the orange and yellow flames advancing. Crackling, and ravaging everything in the blazing path.

  Her heart pounded, and she couldn’t move.

  Griff’s hand came into hers, and the warmth traveled up her arm. She was aware of his strength, his size, and his height beside her, but she still couldn’t move.

  What had happened to her? Was she now this frozen, weak woman when she only wanted to be strong?

  Oh, please.

  Griff cupped her hand tighter. “You think because you survived the fire, that things will go back to normal, but they don’t. You’ve had a shock, a life-altering shock, and you’ll have to learn to live with it.”

  Was he right? Would she carry this with her forever?

  Some of her fellow officers who’d been shot on the job struggled when they returned to duty. A couple didn’t return. Perhaps this was the same thing. She’d never been shot and left the job due to a damaged shoulder, so she wouldn’t know if she would’ve been one of them.

  Griff tugged on her hand until she faced him. “I’ve been in your spot, honey. Several times. If there’s anything I can do to help, I will. Just tell me what you need. I’m here for you.”

  Wow, just wow! She’d hurt him. Deeply. And here he was offering to support her. It wouldn’t take much to hurl herself into his strong arms again. Let everything else fade into the distance. But she wasn’t a simpering female. At least she didn’t want to be. She was strong. Nothing bested her.

  Keep telling yourself that until you believe it again.

  “Thank you.” She freed her hand. “But I’m good now.”

  He pressed his lips into a fine line. He knew she was exaggerating, but still he held out his hand, motioning for her to move toward the room where Andy died.

  She willed her feet to move, her steps hesitant. That was a start. One she could use to gain back her confidence. At the doorway, she caught sight of the cooler door, her gratefulness to God for providing the secure room and Griff to come to her rescue filling her heart. She stepped into the room past the area where Andy died to the corner. Her bag was right where she’d left it, undamaged by fire.

  Yes! Thank you again!

  Her heart lifted. She might be able to salvage the camera and photos.

  She hurried to her bag. Not hers. Gage’s. He owned the equipment.

  She squatted and pulled it open. As expected, water had drenched the interior. The only question now was the extent of the damage that the team equipment had sustained. Guilt settled on her shoulders. If she hadn’t borrowed these items, they wouldn’t be damaged. In their line of work, Gage carried plenty of insurance for high-ticket items, but there was always a deductible. She would pay whatever cost he incurred to replace or fix the damaged items.

  “Everything okay?” Griff asked.

  She shook her head and stood. “I need to get the bag outside and the items dried out. I’ll take it to my Jeep and come back to collect evidence. I’ll call Gage, too.”

  She dreaded the call, but he needed to know what happened. And she should probably call Blake as well, but his deputy was on scene and would report in. Besides, she wanted a chance to process potential forensics before she talked to him. He would forbid her from touching anything, and he wouldn’t share the information he learned. She was better off gathering the forensics and asking for forgiveness after the fact.

  “Gage?” Griff asked.

  “My boss. Gage Blackwell. He owns the company I work for.” She opened the bag.

  “Let me carry it for you,” Griff offered.

  He was always such a gentleman. So at odds for his he-man tough exterior, but he had a tender heart and perfect manners. His family raised him to be a strong Christian man. Something she’d always appreciated about him.

  “I’ve got it,” she said, determined to gain some of her strength and independence again.

  “As you wish.” He looked disappointed in her answer.

  She picked up the bag, and as they walked out, she looked around. Andy died here. In this room. She felt responsible somehow. She hadn’t been in close-enough contact with him in years. Maybe if she had…

  “Stop thinking that way,” Griff said.

  She turned to look at him. “You can read my mind now?”

  “Always could. You’re blaming yourself for Andy’s death.”

  “Yeah.”

  She coughed hard.

  “Let’s get outside for better air.” He took her gently by the elbow and steered them out of the building. When they got to the parking lot, they sat down on the curb to catch their breath. Griff still had their water bottles, and they drank in silence.

  Thinking of Andy dying in a fire, she bit her lip to keep from crying. “I should have been a better friend.”

  “He was staying with me since he moved back to Rugged Point, and he didn’t mention this place.” Griff swallowed hard. “So you could’ve been in daily contact with him and this still could’ve happened.”

  “Why did he move back home when he seemed to love his life in Portland?”

  “He
said his parents were getting older, and he wanted to be around for them.”

  Sam gave his comment some thought. “He was a great son, but he’d moved to Portland to get away from his helicopter mom. She didn’t stop hovering even when he became an adult. So coming back doesn’t make sense.”

  “I thought the same thing. But when I pressed him, he clammed up, so I left it alone.”

  She looked up at the smoldering building. “Why was he here? Makes no sense. None at all.” She shook her head. “Maybe if we figure out why he came back, we’ll find out who killed him.”

  Griff watched her carefully. “I’m glad you said we.”

  “I didn’t mean…” She shrugged.

  “Go ahead and finish what you were going to say. I’m a big boy and can handle it.” His eyes narrowed.

  She looked at him. “I didn’t mean we were going to work together.”

  “Look, honey,” he said sounding exasperated with her, but all she could really focus on was the way he kept calling her honey. The way it tripped so easily off his tongue and wrapped around her like a warm fleece blanket. She should tell him to stop using it, but when she opened her mouth to protest, the words wouldn’t form.

  “I’ll be looking into this with or without you,” he continued. “But we would be far more effective if we worked together.”

  What? Together? No way.

  But he had a valid point. And she did want to find out who killed Andy and now tried to kill her. Logic said she should jump at the chance to partner with him, but she’d never been able to think logically around Griff. She tried, but other than breaking off their relationship her heart ruled when it came to him.

  “So what if we used to be a couple?” he continued. “We’re both professional enough to get past that, right?”

  She wanted to say “yes, of course,” but she wasn’t sure she could. All she wanted to do was lean into him, pull his head down to hers, and kiss him. To stroke his nearly cleanshaven face when as a SEAL he’d always had a thick beard.

  “Right?” he asked more pointedly.

  Obviously, he’d gotten over her. Of course he had. She was the one who had bailed on him. “Yes. I can handle it. I’ll talk to Gage about you helping us.”

  He gave a firm nod and stood up, reaching for her hand. She allowed him to help her stand, then followed him across the parking lot, watching his sure strong steps in tactical boots. He was agile even for his height and build—solid muscle. His broad shoulders had always carried her every problem with ease. And other problems she didn’t think he could handle, too, like the death of his beloved parents the year she’d dated him. He’d been a wreck inside, but outwardly he was strong for his younger brother and sister. She’d always admired him tremendously for the way he cared for his siblings.

  He was a catch alright. One she’d reeled in and then thrown back.

  Wait. Had someone else caught him? She didn’t even think to look at his hand for a ring because she was sure her mother or sisters who still lived in Rugged Point would have told her if he’d gotten married, but maybe they didn’t know. Or were trying to spare her. Yeah, they would do that for sure.

  She caught up to him and took a subtle look at his ring finger. Empty. But what if he was the kind of guy who didn’t wear a ring? Or maybe he just didn’t wear it while working. Could be dangerous, she supposed. Why did she even care?

  He bent down to get in her face. “Something wrong?”

  She shook her head and dug out her cell. “Crud. I forgot this is dead, and I left my charger in Cold Harbor.”

  He took hold of her hand and peered at her phone. “My car charger will work.”

  He spun and headed for a large black pickup with polished chrome now coated in gray ash. He slowly opened the door and stood back. “Help yourself.”

  She set down her tote, leaned in, and located the cord’s end to plug in her phone. His truck was immaculate inside. Probably had been on the outside, too, before the fire. No surprise. He’d always kept his vehicle and his clothing that way. Perfectly pressed and folded. Soldier neat, she’d teased him, and he’d willingly accepted her playfulness, laughing along. The good old days when she believed in love and “till death do us part.” Days long gone by.

  Sad now, she knelt by her bag and started removing equipment and supplies. Camera, flash, filters, fingerprint powder, brushes, swabs, spray bottles, and more—all wet or waterlogged.

  “You know how to use all of that stuff, huh?” he asked.

  She looked up at him. “You sound surprised.”

  “I guess I am. I never thought of you as a criminalist or thought you’d leave patrol.”

  When they’d dated, she was a police officer in their home town of Rugged Point. She loved that job, but when they’d split up, she couldn’t stay in the small town and not run into him or field questions from people about the breakup. So she’d moved to Portland where she served as a patrol officer for five years before taking the criminalist job.

  “Things changed.”

  “How?” He squatted next to her. His nearness grabbed her attention, and her gaze landed on his muscled thigh.

  She jerked her focus back to her bag. “I became interested in forensics and decided it would be my plan B so I got my degree at night and—”

  “Plan B? You mean your fallback job?”

  She nodded. “Most police officers have a plan for if they get injured on the job.”

  “It’s common with SEALs, too.”

  “You had a fallback plan?” She shot him a surprised look. “I thought they’d have to drag you kicking and screaming from the teams.”

  “I thought so, too, but then…things changed.” His eyes darkened from their usual indigo blue to more of a navy blue, and he worked the muscle in his jaw. An expression she remembered that meant back off—I don’t want to talk about this.

  He nodded at her bag. “So why did you leave PPB? More money?”

  He was also a master at diverting conversations. She always believed the SEALs had taught him that to prepare him to withstand interrogations.

  She could be equally as cryptic, but why? She liked catching up with him, and if she wanted him to talk, she had to be open, too. “On-the-job injury.”

  “What happened?”

  “When I studied to become a criminalist, I found that I really liked it, but I liked patrol, too. The nice thing is PPB requires their criminalists to be sworn officers. They’re often called up to work crowd control at protests, allowing me to do both things I love.”

  “Which is often in Portland.” He shook his head. “I’ve never seen any other city where residents are as eager to protest.”

  “True that.” She returned her attention to the bag, but couldn’t focus with him still nearby, so she quit trying and looked up. “And the protests often get out of control. That’s where I got hurt. A nutjob broke several store windows. I chased him and another protestor tripped me. I wound up with an anterior shoulder subluxation. It affects my shooting accuracy, and since criminalists are sworn officers and have to be prepared to use a gun, I had to choose between a desk job and unemployment.”

  He watched her for a long time, running his gaze over her as if searching for other injuries. “Sorry about the shoulder.”

  She nodded her thanks and turned her attention back to her bag to signal the end of this personal discussion. She had to get her equipment organized and work this scene like she promised Gage. Even if the scene had changed since she first arrived. “I’ll get this all sorted out and then grab fresh supplies from my Jeep to go back inside. I still need to process the scene.”

  “I was always impressed by your skills as a cop, but this?” He waved his hand over her supplies now spread over the concrete. “This is something else.”

  She warmed over his compliment, but she wouldn’t let him see how much it impacted her. She took out the camera case and opened it to find everything dry, the camera fine. She turned the camera on and flicked through the
images she’d taken.

  “Yes!”

  “Your pics are intact?”

  She nodded, her heart a bit lighter now. “Want to look at them while I call Gage?”

  “Sure, and I want to talk to this Gage fella.”

  She eyed him. “Why?”

  “To get a feel for what I’m getting into.”

  “He’s a former SEAL,” she said, knowing that was all Griff would need to know.

  “Well then, no need to talk to him, and I’m totally in.” He smiled, lighting up eyes that would give a sapphire a run for its money in the glittering department.

  “I thought you would be,” she replied and wished he and Gage didn’t have the SEAL brotherhood in common. If things became contentious with Griff, she needed Gage on her side.

  And no matter what happened during the investigation, Gage would keep Griff on, and her former boyfriend was sure to be in her life for the unforeseeable future.

  4

  Griff watched Sam work under bright Klieg lights set up by the firefighters. She’d taken the fire’s origination point as determined by the arson investigator and created a grid to search outward from there. Very methodical and precise. Impressive.

  She stopped to examine the heavy bar that had swung down and sealed her into the canning room. She studied it with an intensity Griff had never seen in her before. Her mouth was puckered, her eyes narrowed.

  She looked up at him. “The bar likely contains fingerprints, but with all the soot, I can’t see them. I need to take it into evidence where I can better process it. I’ll need tools to get it free.”

  Griff studied the bolts securing the bar to the wall. “I’ve got a toolbox in my truck. I’ll grab some wrenches and be right back.”

  She gave him a distracted nod, but didn’t speak. He went to his truck and unlocked the storage box to select the most likely tools. The battalion had nearly finished rolling up their hoses and loading up their equipment under the lieutenant’s direction and would soon grab the light and leave. Griff hoped Sam would be done by then, or maybe he could convince the lieutenant to leave the lights and generator.