Father Figure

by Rebecca Daniels

  She’d spent so many years without him, too afraid to hope there was even a chance they could be together again. It had seemed too impossible—like dreaming the impossible dream.

  Except her impossible dream had come true. She had Dylan, and she had Josh, and she was almost ready to believe anything was possible now. Almost.

  Marissa leaned back in her chair, feeling the sting of tears against the lids of her eyes. All three of them had come so far. They’d made it through the pain and the betrayal, and the long years apart. But there was still one big hurdle they had to get over, one huge mountain to scale. The truth.

  Fate had played a cold and curious joke in their lives—had allowed time and circumstance to separate them with miles and emotions. But somehow, by some quirk of nature, some act of providence or miracle of faith, they’d managed to find their way back to each other. They’d managed to get beyond so much, but would they be able to get beyond the truth?

  She thought of Dylan and Josh together, and of the small miracle that was happening between them. Even without knowing their true relationship, a bond had begun to form between them. But what was going to happen to that bond, that fragile line of communication and caring, once they learned the truth?

  “Headache?”

  Marissa jumped violently, her eyelids flying open. She stared at Karen, who stood in the doorway of her small office, and tried to pull her thoughts together. “W-what was that? What did you say?”

  “Marissa, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” Karen apologized, her face filled with regret. “I just thought you might have a headache. You looked a little tired.”

  “No, just resting my eyes,” Marissa lied, pushing away from her desk and coming to her feet. She pointed up at the clock. “Do you know if that’s the right time?”

  Karen glanced up at the clock on the wall, and checked it against her wristwatch. “Yeah, just a little before one.”

  Marissa frowned. “You haven’t seen Josh around anywhere, have you?”

  Karen shook her head. “No, is he coming by?”

  Marissa’s frown deepened. “Well, he’s supposed to report to work by one.”

  “Well, he’s still got a few minutes,” Karen said, walking back toward the door. “Rick’s going to be late today, anyway.”

  “Rick? Why? Where’d he go?” Marissa asked, following her out of the office and to the bank of file cabinets along the wall.

  “You remember,” Karen said, pulling out a file drawer. “He went to that computer fair in Sacramento. He should be back around two.”

  Marissa did remember. She’d just filed it away somewhere in the back of her brain and forgotten. “I think I’ll wander out to the construction site—just check on the boys, make sure Josh gets there all right.”

  “Go ahead,” Karen said absently, searching the jammed drawer for a file. “I’ll hold down the fort.”

  Marissa smiled as she headed down the corridor and out the door. The blast of hot summer wind that greeted her almost felt good in contrast to the frigid air in her air-conditioned office. And as she headed down the walk toward the maintenance yard, she began to feel better. Still, the truth loomed large in front of her, staring her in the face like a formidable opponent. Soon she would have to find a way to deal with it—for all their sakes, and the sooner, the better.

  Marissa walked quickly past the maintenance trailer, slipping through the makeshift chain-link fence that cordoned off the building site from the rest of the yard.

  “Josh?” she called out, walking toward the framed structure. “Anyone here?”

  She stopped and listened for a moment, then stepped carefully around the littered work yard toward the framed structure. Something didn’t feel right—it was too quiet, too deserted. It was obvious Josh wasn’t there, and she knew Rick would be late. But where were the other two boys?

  “Skip? Randy?” she called, walking around the framed shed. With most of the drywall completed, it was difficult to tell if there was anyone inside. “Hey, anyone in there? Where are you guys?”

  Sidestepping several large rolls of insulation material, she grabbed hold of the framed doorjamb and lifted herself up onto the concrete floor, ducking low to avoid a low-hanging beam. She looked around, dusting her hands on her skirt and blinking to help her eyes adjust to the shaded interior.

  “Randy?” she called again, carefully making her way farther into the shadows. “Where are you guys? Skip?”

  But again there was no answer, no sound of any kind. The place was empty.

  Her hands went to her hips, and she pushed her hair back away from her face. The enclosed structure was stifling inside, and beads of sweat began to form along her forehead and upper lip.

  “Where is everyone?” she murmured to herself, frustrated and hot. She moved an impatient hand along her forehead, swiping at the perspiration, and looked about helplessly. She crinkled her nose, an acrid, pungent odor suddenly filling her airways. “What’s that smell?”

  But the flash came so suddenly, she had no time left for an answer. There was no time to think, to reason, to understand—it was just there in a flurry of lights and sounds, exploding in her head and against her face. Yet even as her head came down hard onto the concrete floor, she didn’t worry. Dylan and Josh would be coming, they would know what to do, they would know the answer. She thought she heard their voices—calling, shouting—but then the darkness came and swallowed everything in its path.

  * * *

  “What time does your watch say?”

  Josh tipped his wrist, checking the LED readout on his sports watch. “One-eleven,” he said in a precise voice as he turned and looked across the Jeep to Dylan. “And fifteen seconds.”

  Dylan groaned and pushed his foot down harder on the accelerator. “Marissa’s going to kill me.”

  “Not only that,” Josh added dryly. “You’re speeding, Sheriff, and I feel I must point out that it’s not exactly the kind of example you should be setting for an impressionable lad such as I.”

  Dylan shot him a killing look. “Oh, okay. I’ll slow down, then, and let you explain to the principal that we’re late because your old bones kept encouraging you to give it one more try.”

  The smile on Josh’s face cracked and threatened to crumble. “Away, my good man,” he said with a British accent and a sweeping gesture of the hand. “And don’t spare the steed.”

  They were both laughing as they pulled into the school parking lot and brought the Jeep to a stop in the space next to Marissa’s car.

  “I’m surprised she hasn’t called the cops,” Josh joked as he jumped out of the Jeep.

  “Cops, nothing,” Dylan snorted, taking off across the parking lot on a run. “I’m surprised she hasn’t called in the National Guard.”

  They rounded the corner of the building, running along the walk outside Marissa’s office. Dylan peered through the window as they passed, seeing no sign of her inside. He shot Josh a helpless look.

  “It would be too much to hope that she’s just stepped out for lunch, wouldn’t it?”

  Josh jogged along beside him, nodding his head. “Way too much.” He pointed off into the distance, in the direction of the work site. “Let’s face it. She’s out there waiting for us, and it’s not going to be pretty.”

  They’d followed the walk past the school offices and headed for the maintenance yard. They had just started toward the trailer that housed Rick Mathers’s office, when Dylan slowly came to a stop.

  “What is it?” Josh asked, coming to a stop beside him. “What’s the matter?”

  Dylan pointed to the sky above the trailer, squinting against the sun. “Is that smoke?”

  Chapter 15

  Dylan peered through the break in the curtain, watching the crush of doctors and medical personnel crowd over Marissa. His heart rammed so violently against the hard confines of his rib cage, there was a physical pain in his chest.

  He closed his eyes, seeing the hideous scene that had gre
eted them as they’d run past the maintenance trailer and headed out to the construction site. The entire shed had been engulfed in flames—a huge fireball of heat and fire, and he shuddered to think what would have happened if Karen Hamilton hadn’t been there, screaming frantically that Marissa was inside.

  The smoke had been so black, the heat so intense—he could still feel it burn against his face as he’d searched frantically through the inferno for her. She’d been so pale when he’d finally found her, her body had been so limp, so lifeless, and that had frightened him even more than the falling structure around them. If they’d been just a minute longer, if they’d caught a red light or had stopped in at her office, he never would have gotten to her in time.

  He squeezed his lids tighter, feeling the salty sting of tears and bracing himself against a fierce wave of panic. She had to be okay; she just had to. He couldn’t face life without her; he wouldn’t want to.

  “Sheriff, got a minute?”

  Dylan opened his eyes and turned away from the screen. What was left of his fishing vest hung in tatters from his shoulders, its sturdy canvas material having spared him from the heat and flames. “Yeah, what have you got?”

  Deputy Ronnie Henders hesitated for a moment, glancing over Dylan’s shoulder to the emergency medical team working furiously in the background. “We’ve got the O’Riley kid down at the station. He’s crying like a baby. A unit’s still posted at the Carver house, but there’s been no sign of Skip yet.”

  Dylan slowly crossed the waiting area of the Amador County Hospital’s emergency room, where Josh sat waiting. “You had a chance to question Randy?”

  “Yeah,” Ronnie Henders said, nodding, falling into step beside him. “He swears he thought they were just going to scare her. He didn’t know anything about the fire.”

  Dylan saw Josh pop up from the tired, worn-looking sofa where he sat with Marissa’s worried parents. With wide, expectant eyes, he rushed toward Dylan, his face eager and hopeful.

  “How is she?” he demanded. “Is she awake? Is she going to be all right?”

  “There’s no news,” Dylan said, wishing like hell he had more, and better, news to report. “The doctors are still with her.”

  “What’s taking so long?” Josh yelled, his voice cracking with emotion. “Why isn’t someone doing something? Isn’t there someone around here who can help her?”

  “She is being helped,” Dylan said, feeling more helpless than he had in his life. He understood Josh’s anger and his frustration. He felt the same way himself. He wanted to stalk into that examination room and demand that she be okay. Disheartened, he turned to Marissa’s mother, who now stood beside Josh, and saw the worry and concern in Josh’s face mirrored in hers. “All we can do right now is wait.”

  “I’m sure they’re doing all they can,” Marie Wakefield said in an attempt to soothe her grandson. She turned her anxious gaze to Dylan. “Were you able to see her?”

  Dylan shook his head, feeling tears stinging his eyes again. He thought of Marissa’s beautiful face—now streaked and ashen—and the army of medical personnel working to keep her alive. “They wouldn’t let me in.”

  He turned back to Josh, slipping a comforting hand on the teen’s shoulder. Josh desperately needed someone to lean on, someone to be strong to look up to and to keep him going. Dylan discovered he wanted very much to be that person. And maybe he needed Josh just a little bit, too.

  “Just try and hang in there,” he said in a low voice, his hand on Josh’s shoulder squeezing tight. “She’s going to make it, and she’s going to need you. Hang on, okay?”

  Josh nodded his head, a tear spilling down each cheek. “I’ll try. I—I will.”

  Dylan gave Josh’s shoulder a final pat, then turned to Ronnie Henders. “Has the arson team had a chance to look around?”

  “Yeah,” Henders said with a long sigh. “It’s pretty much as you thought. Looks like he waited until she got inside, then ignited the fire with some kind of remote control device.”

  “Arson?” Josh’s head snapped up, the anger in his face turning to rage. “What are you talking about?”

  “Slow down, slow down,” Dylan said in a calm voice, putting a hand on Josh’s shoulder again. “Let me take care of this. Let me—”

  “No,” Josh said with a sneer, pushing Dylan’s hand away. “You’re saying this was done on purpose?”

  “We don’t know anything for sure yet,” Dylan insisted, a whole new type of panic setting in.

  “It was Skip,” Josh said in a cold, flat voice. “You don’t even have to say it. I know. It was Skip.”

  Dylan stared into Josh’s cold, dark gaze. “We’ve got units out looking for him. We’ll pick him up.”

  Josh started to back away. “Don’t bother,” he said, turning and starting for the door. “I know exactly where he is.”

  “Joshua, you come back here,” Marie Wakefield cried. “Where are you going? Josh, please.”

  “Josh,” Dylan called after him. “Wait. Let me go with you.”

  “No, thanks, Sheriff,” Josh called over his shoulder, making his way through the noisy emergency room. “I’ll take care of this myself.”

  “Wait up, Josh. Come back,” Dylan shouted, running after him. But the crowd was too thick. By the time he got to the doors, Josh was gone.

  “Sheriff James?”

  Dylan turned back around, swearing under his breath, and looked up at the tall, haggard-looking doctor standing in the crowded corridor. “Yeah? I’m James.”

  “The fire victim you brought in,” he said, holding a shiny stainless-steel clipboard. “She’s asking to see you.”

  “Nurse. Nurse,” Dylan called out anxiously as Marissa’s lids drifted closed. Dylan wasn’t sure he’d ever experienced panic before, but he recognized it immediately—he was experiencing it now. He’d only just gotten there, the doctor has said she’d asked to see him, but there was no response from her—no sign of life. “Could you come here, please? I think…I think something’s wrong here. There must be something wrong.”

  The nurse walked around the gurney, glancing down at Marissa and reaching for her wrist. “No, she’s fine, Sheriff. She’s just sleeping,” she said after a moment, gently placing Marissa’s hand back down and tucking the sheet around her. “Don’t worry, she’s going to be fine. She just needs to get some fresh air into her lungs, and let that nasty cut on her arm heal. Before you know it she’ll be as good as new,” she assured him. She pointed to the clear oxygen mask hanging above the gurney. “If she starts coughing, give her some oxygen. But she’s exhausted. What she really needs is her rest.” She glanced at Dylan and winked, giving him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “I’ll leave you alone for a little while, but I’ll have to boot you out of here soon. We need to get her cleaned up and to her own room.”

  Dylan could only nod as the nurse slipped past him and disappeared through the curtains that surrounded the small cubicle. There were things he would have liked to ask, questions he’d wanted answered, but he was too drained to speak, too emotional to get the words past his throat.

  He reached out, gently stroking Marissa’s cheek with the back of his fingers. Her face was still streaked with soot, and beneath it her smooth, golden skin looked pallid and ashen. But to him she’d never looked more beautiful. She was alive, and that was all that mattered.

  “Dylan,” she murmured drowsily, then began coughing loudly.

  Dylan jumped at the sound of her voice and reached for the oxygen mask.

  “Breathe deep,” he instructed, slipping the mask over her nose and mouth. After several deep breaths, her coughing stopped and she pushed the mask away.

  “Where’s Josh?” she demanded, grasping at his hand. Her eyes were open now, looking red and tired, and she looked wildly around the small cubicle.

  Dylan returned the mask to the hook above the gurney, then gazed down at her. Reaching out to push her hair away from her face, he smiled down at her. “Don’t worry about h
im. He’s all right.”

  Marissa’s head shifted back and forth on the pillow. “But he’s okay. He’s not hurt?”

  “He’s fine,” Dylan said, bending down and brushing a gentle kiss along her cheek. But inside of him, a cold, hard knot of dread began to form. “Just relax. The doctor said you need your rest. I’ll be right here.”

  “I-it was Skip,” she stammered, her skin looking pale and white beneath the smudges. “It was Skip. He wanted to hurt me—and Josh, too.”

  “Don’t worry,” Dylan said, patting her hands. “I’ll take care of it. Please, sweetheart, don’t worry.”

  “But, Dylan,” she sobbed, straining to lift her head from the pillow. “You can’t tell Josh. You can’t tell him about Skip.”

  Dylan squeezed her hands tight. The look on her face tore at him, and all he wanted was to gather her up in his arms and tell her he would make everything all right. But how could he? Josh had taken off like a bat out of hellangry and dangerous. There was no telling what the kid would do.

  “Don’t think about this now. We’ll have Skip in custody soon. They might even have him now, so don’t worry about it. Josh is fine. And you’re going to be all right. That’s all that’s important.”

  She sank back onto the pillow. “Promise?”

  The knot in his stomach twisted. “I promise.”

  She smiled up at him—a tired, weak smile. “The doctor told me you saved my life.”

  Dylan shrugged, relieved to see the worry leave her face. “It was the least I could do. I got Josh back late.”

  Marissa clutched at his hands again. “Thank God you did, otherwise…otherwise…” She squeezed her eyes tight, tears slipping from beneath her lids.

  “We agreed not to think about that now,” Dylan reminded her, brushing away her tears.

  “I know,” she whispered, reaching up and cradling his cheek in her hand. “I love you.”

  He smiled, leaning down and pressing a kiss against her lips. “Good. I’d hate to think I ruined my lucky fishing vest for nothing.”