Claiming Tuesday: The Next Generation

by Edwards, Riley

  Jackson left for work, starting his twenty-four-hour shift. I knew the only reason he hadn’t called in and changed his schedule was because Brady had finished installing the alarm. He was also monitoring the cameras. Thankfully, no more letters had been left. No flowers, no calls, no emails. I was hoping it was over.

  My mother had also scurried her lying ass back to Hawaii. I only knew this because my father had called my grandmother to inform her his wife would no longer be an issue. He was right, because as much as some people may’ve thought it made me a horrible daughter, I was going to press charges against my mother for the role she’d played in my humiliation.

  Nick assured me, with Meredith’s confession and the evidence they had, it was an open and shut case. He also told me, he wouldn’t be surprised if all three of them tried to make a plea deal. Which meant I wouldn’t have to testify, so a plea deal sounded good to me.

  Yesterday, Jackson had checked the mail, declaring I was going nowhere near the mailbox, even though no one had been caught on camera. He tore open a letter from my attorney before handing it to me after he’d read it. The dismissal of Meredith’s stupid, unwinnable lawsuit had finally come. It was a relief, and one less thing I had to deal with. Some would think his alpha tendencies were purely bossy, but I appreciated them for what they were—him taking care of me. Yet another reason I needed to step up my game and show Jackson how much I appreciated him.

  Jackson had also sat by my side when I’d called my manager, Lambert, and told him I’d be retiring from modeling, effective immediately. Lambert wasn’t surprised. He’d known how much I hated it and said he’d seen the writing on the wall years ago. He also told me he was thrilled to hear I was finally putting my happiness first and he’d be ready to help me in the future if I needed it. I knew he meant those words, he’d been a good friend to me over the years.

  Mercy had also called right after Jackson had left to tell me about Autumn Lakes. The nursing home would be shut down for quite a while with all the damage to the residential side, not to mention, the business office was a complete loss.

  She shared what little she could and explained they had a suspect, part of the reason was because of what I’d found in Gran’s statements. The person had been careful, but the investigation had revealed a pattern. The prescriptions had only been written on certain days of the week.

  Mercy was able to cross reference some of the other patients’ records and found their bogus prescriptions had been written on the same days of the week. It seemed, whomever they were looking for only worked Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. The schedule confirmed there was one full-time office person and two part-timers. Only one of the three people worked the right shift. Mercy was confident she’d have an arrest by the end of the day.

  Thank sweet Jesus, Gran was out of there. Clearing up the billing with the insurance company was going to be a nightmare, but nothing compared to the fire. We were lucky Jackson was there. I hadn’t smelled a damn thing, and with the fire alarm disconnected it was anyone’s guess how out of control the flames would’ve been by the time someone had noticed.

  But Jackson was there. And, once again, he saved the day.

  I was cleaning up after lunch, listening to my country jam on my Bluetooth speakers, at a low volume, per Jackson and his father’s instructions, when there was a knock on my door. Mercy, Jackson, and Jason were all at work, so was Delaney, and Gran couldn’t drive. I was going to ignore the intrusion, not wanting to buy cookies and not needing to find Jesus, when the doorbell rang.

  I checked out the peephole to see a woman in a swanky business suit, hair perfectly coiled in a severe bun, with what looked to be dirt or grease on her hands. I’d never seen the woman before.

  I unarmed the alarm and opened the door. Before I could say anything, the woman started. “Oh, thank God someone’s home. My car was making this horrible sound. I pulled over and turned it off and now it won’t start. I forgot my cell at the office; I didn’t go back and get it because I was only going to grab a quick lunch. God, sorry, I’m babbling. May I use your phone?”

  “Sure.” I stepped aside and she entered, the storm door whispering closed behind her. “Follow me, I left my cell in the dining room.”

  I hadn’t taken more than two steps when I felt a pinch to my neck and jerked in surprise. My hand didn’t even make it to swat away whatever had bitten me. Without warning, everything became too heavy to move. Too fuzzy to walk. My ass hit the floor, and through a hazy fog I stared up at a woman I didn’t know, and she smiled down at me.

  “You couldn’t fucking listen, could you?”

  Everything went dark.

  * * *

  “You said you weren’t going to hurt her.” A man’s voice pulled me from my daze.

  “Really, Dolph?”

  Dolph?

  I tried to move my arms, but they wouldn’t budge, neither would my legs. I was bound. Trapped. I couldn’t move. When I was five and had fallen into a pool and almost drowned, I’d thought I’d been scared. And when I started to get death threats and I’d shake in fear, I’d thought I’d known the meaning of terror. Nothing, not anything I’d ever felt before, had been close to how petrified I was in that moment.

  I was slowly coming back to my senses, and the first thing that hit me was the smell of gasoline, so pungent I gagged.

  “Hurry up,” the woman ordered.

  I was violently jerked up by my bicep, pain sliced through me as my joints strained and bent unnaturally behind my back. Before I could process what was happening, I was on my feet then I wasn’t. Randolph roughly swung me up and into his arms, and without my hands free I had no way to stop my face from slamming against Randolph’s shoulder. My cheek felt like it’d been slit open I’d hit so hard, and I cried out in agony.

  “Shut up.” He held me tighter, wrenching my tied arms to the point I thought they’d come out of socket.

  Everything was foggy, and even though my eyes were now open they wouldn’t focus, not on anything. Bright light and blurry silhouettes were all I could make out.

  “Please don’t do this,” I begged, barely able to get out a whisper.

  “I warned you,” he hissed, his beard rubbing my cheek as he spoke. “I told you to leave it alone.”

  I had no idea what he was talking about, but I couldn’t ask. My stomach revolted as my body shook with each step he took. The light dimmed, before it brightened, then dimmed again. With a violent shake he got my attention. “This is your fault.”

  “Please don’t. My grandmother. I’m all she has.” I still couldn’t get more than a murmur out.

  “You should’ve thought about that. I could’ve kept you safe. All you had to do was say thank you for the flowers, let me take you out. I wanted to keep you clear of this.”

  Flowers? Randolph had sent the flowers?

  I was unceremoniously dropped into my bathtub, the door was slammed shut, and I was left in the dark.

  I hadn’t screamed. I hadn’t fought. I was paralyzed from fear, and if the gasoline smell was anything to go by, I’d just allowed Randolph to lock me in my tomb.

  I opened my mouth to belatedly call for help but no sound came out.

  I should’ve been panicking. I should’ve been screaming my house down, but I couldn’t. I was too disoriented to move and the only sound I made was a croak.

  This was wrong. All wrong.

  Please, Lord above, don’t let Jackson be the one to find me.

  So much had been left unsaid.

  34

  Jackson

  “So you finally broke her down,” Brice said as he tossed a slice of apple into his mouth and continued to talk while crunching. “’Bout damn time.”

  “She’s worth it,” I told him, finishing up the last of my lunch.

  It wasn’t often the firehouse was quiet but with inspection looming, most of the squad was in the bay cleaning gear or making sure it was in good working order, giving Brice and me a rare moment of privacy.


  “I hear that. The good ones are.”

  “Speaking of good ones, you still talking to Liza with a Z?”

  No lie, that was how the woman introduced herself. She’d walked straight up to Brice, bold as brass, and said, “Hi I’m Liza with a Z.” I knew Brice, therefore I knew he wasn’t serious about her, he never was. He’d been telling me for years, until “the one” knocked him on his ass, he was playing the field. Considering his field was open, he tapped a lot of ass; he just never got serious.

  “Nope. She asked how many kids I wanted. We finished dinner, I took her home, gently explained why I wouldn’t be callin’ again, and went on my merry way.”

  “Damn, that was quick,” I noted.

  “I reckon it was a record, for sure.”

  The piercing sound of the paging alarm cut off our conversation and we waited to hear the details of our first call out of the day.

  “Engine forty-two. Truck eight. Ambulance thirty-one. Report of a house fire three one six Willow Drive.”

  We were both out of our seats and jogging to the bays when the page repeated the call.

  I kicked off my sneakers, stepped into my boots, and was jerking my pants up by my belt when Brice turned to me and asked, “So, you thinkin’ of keeping this one, or what?”

  Hell, yes, I was keeping her.

  Warmth slid down my chest, something I was finding happened a lot when I was thinking about Tuesday.

  Tuesday.

  The warmth turned to ice.

  “What was that address?” I asked, yanking my coat over my tee.

  “Three sixteen Willow Drive,” Brice answered as he finished with his gear.

  “Fuck! That’s Tuesday’s house!”

  “Shit.” I saw him looking around the bay before his gaze stopped and he yelled, “Chief! Job’s at Clark’s woman’s house.”

  I was prepared to disobey an order and roll out with my squad even if he told me to stay behind when chief bellowed, “Get a move on!”

  I slammed my hand twice over the Station 57 insignia proudly displayed on the red paint of the engine and climbed into the jump seat. Brice followed suit, and behind him, Louis, Mark, Pete, and Joanne followed, with Mike driving, and Captain Casey in the front seat. Mike did not delay flipping on the lights and pulling out. We cleared the building and he hit the sirens and we were off.

  “She’s fine, brother. You know she’s probably the one that called it in.”

  “Yeah,” I answered Brice.

  She was fine, she had to be. We’d pull up, it’d be nothing, and she’d be out front waiting.

  Except her motherfucking house was on fire.

  “Request squad two.” Came through the radio. “Engine twenty-nine, Truck five. Fire jumped. Second structure involved.”

  What the fuck? I stared out the window trying to remember how close Tuesday’s neighbors were. They weren’t, there was at least twenty-five feet of space between the two homes. There was no wind. Tuesday’s house had to be fully engulfed for the fire to have jumped so quickly.

  Mike turned the corner and my heart stopped.

  None of the normal adrenaline that spiked right before a job was present. Nothing but ice-cold fear. So much fucking terror I was choking on it.

  “She’s not in there,” Brice quickly said. “Slow down, brother. Breathe. Focus. This is what we do. Just like every job, slow, steady, easy. We got this.”

  I didn’t answer, and I didn’t wait until he moved. I simply climbed over him, jumped down, and took a moment to scan the area.

  No Tuesday.

  Nowhere.

  I yanked an air pack from the compartment and belatedly noticed Brady’s pickup truck was half on the curb in front of Tuesday’s house.

  “Fifty-seven, be ready with a hose line!” I heard Chief yell. “Aerial in place. Squad three, check the back.”

  For the first time since I’d become a firefighter, I was frozen. All I could do was stare at the flames as they danced, watch as the vinyl siding of Tuesday’s house melted and fell away. The front windows had already exploded, red and orange flames swirled together. Thick black smoke billowed. The fire had roared to life; popping and crackling of burning wood was all I could hear. I was motionless, mesmerized by what I’d once thought was the most beautiful sight. The colors as they mixed before they were extinguished. Now, I understood the devastation.

  Brice thumped me on the shoulder, pulling me from my stupor.

  I ran full sprint between Tuesday’s house and the nonburning one, finding Mark and Louis already surveying entry points. Joanne was using a fire rescue chainsaw to cut the impact resistant glass pane out of the sliding door frame.

  Please, Sweetness, do not be in there.

  “Only way in is here.” Mark pointed to the kitchen window. “Maybe a four-minute pocket.”

  We had three minutes before we’d need to pull back. I checked Joanne’s progress, there wasn’t enough time to wait for her to finish with the slider. I needed to get through the kitchen window.

  “Help me up.”

  “Whoa!” Brice yelled over the crackling, grabbing my sleeve.

  “I know this house. If we only have four minutes, I’m going in.”

  Understanding I was right, he let go of my sleeve and hoisted me through the window. My boot went into Tuesday’s kitchen sink, and I easily jumped off the counter and started to yell out, though between my mask and the roaring of the fire it would be damn near impossible for her to hear me.

  “Tuesday, call out if you’re in here.”

  The kitchen was clear. The dining room was clear. Through the thick haze of smoke, I cleared the living room and headed for the hall.

  “Tuesday! Call out, baby, if you can hear me!”

  “Jackson!” a male yelled.

  I made it to the end of the hallway, which, thankfully, wasn’t fully engulfed. I found Brady dragging Tuesday out of the bathroom.

  To say my world tilted was an understatement. Her arms and legs were bound, and Brady was struggling. Without the help of oxygen, he’d never make it, and I couldn’t carry them both out.

  “Get that ambo ready. Two vics.” I radioed in.

  “Here.” I yanked off my mask and placed it over Brady’s head even though he was shaking his. “Don’t argue with me. We have to get out of here, and I can’t get you both.”

  “Clark, locate egress. Now.” Chief’s angry voice filled the room.

  “Copy that. Securing victim.” I shrugged off the air pack, and Brady swung it over his shoulder.

  I scooped up Tuesday, trying my best to ignore her bindings, and told Brady not to stray from my back. Between holding Tuesday, the lack of oxygen, and the sweltering heat, all I could manage was a semi-fast clip, retracing my steps.

  “Exit!” Chief barked, and when we made it into the dining room, I understood the urgency. The kitchen was fully engulfed, and we were surrounded. The flames crawled up the walls and covered the ceiling.

  “We have one shot,” I told Brady over the raging inferno. “You go first. On the other side of those flames is the sliding glass door. It’s gone. You haul ass through it and when you’re outside you drop and roll. They’ll be ready for you.

  “We’re coming through the slider,” I radioed in. “Is it clear?”

  “Clear,” Joanne answered.

  “Do not—” Chief started but I ignored him.

  “Only way. In three, two . . . Go! Go! Go!”

  Brady took off in a full run, and I prayed I hadn’t just signed the death warrant for the man who’d risked his life for my woman’s.

  “Here we go, Sweetness,” I told a comatose Tuesday, and with what was left of my strength I rushed through the fire.

  35

  Tuesday

  “You’re goddamn crazy.” I heard Jason say.

  “It wasn’t that bad.”

  “That’s not the way Brady tells it.”

  I closed my eyes and fought back the tears. It had been two weeks since a man I barely k
new had endangered his own life to save mine. Fourteen days since Jackson had rescued me from the fire. Brady and me.

  I don’t remember any of it. At least not the part where Jackson had literally walked through fire to save me. Randolph and his crazy sister had given me a shot of diazepam and the heavy tranquilizer had knocked me out. I was lucky I hadn’t died from that alone.

  When I woke up in the hospital to see Jackson next to my bed, still covered in black soot and smelling like a campfire I’d been confused. I didn’t even remember opening my door and letting the crazy woman into my house. It had taken nearly twenty-four hours for the memories to flood my brain, and, when they had, I’d wished I could go back to being clueless.

  I didn’t remember Brady breaking down the bathroom door, which, apparently, Randolph had oh-so-nicely locked on his way out. I also didn’t remember Jackson coming in and saving us both.

  When the memories came back, the last thing I did remember was lying in my bathtub with my hands and feet tied, thinking I was going to die. I was looking back over my life with regret. But it was right before I’d passed out, after the room had filled with smoke, I’d found peace. Even though I’d never told Jackson I’d fallen in love with him, and he wouldn’t get his lifetime with me, I’d had mine with him. I’d end my life loving him. I’d started my day in bed with him, seeing him happy, and my day was ending knowing my last thoughts were about how happy he’d made me.

  Thankfully, that was not where our story had ended. However, I’d been as prepared as a person could be.

  “Sweetness?” Jackson called my name.

  I opened my eyes and focused on the man, who I now had my third chance at finding happiness with, and smiled.

  “For one day, can no one mention the fire? Mercy and Jason are getting married today. All I want to do is enjoy the day and not think about ash and flames.”