Читать книгу The Widow's Protector - Stephanie Newton - Страница 10

TWO

“I got six stitches in my arm.” Sean pulled his pajama top over his head and climbed into his fire-engine bed. “Jordan B. only got four stitches in his foot when he kicked that nail.”

“Very impressive. Is that what you’re going to show your class tomorrow in show-and-tell?” Fiona pulled up the covers to his chin, sheets covered with little fire hats and cute floppy-eared Dalmatians. Sheets that had been picked for a little boy with a firefighter daddy. They matched his fire-engine-red walls. “Or are you going with one of your Lego creations again?”

“I want to take Hunter and Liam for show-and-tell.”

She stopped in the motion of tucking his favorite stuffed elephant under the covers with him. “Hunter and Liam? Why?”

“Because Hunter rescued Miss Betsie and Liam helped me after the fire.” He gave her a look that said, duh, why do you think? “They’re heroes.”

“I see your point.” She tickled his chin and he giggled as she turned out the light and then remembered something from the fire that she’d been meaning to ask him. “Sean, why did Hunter call you L.J. today?”

“He calls me that sometimes. It stands for Little Jimmy. He says I remind him of my dad.” Sean’s voice was getting sleepy. “My dad was a hero, too.”

Fee closed her eyes. Unfortunately, Jimmy had been all-too-human. But Hunter had given her son something irreplaceable—a way to see his dad in himself. “Your dad was something special, funny and smart and brave—just like you. I love you.”

Sean mumbled an “I love you, Mommy.” Fiona leaned over and kissed him on his head.

Gathering up his dirty clothes and wet towel off the floor, she started down the stairs. Halfway down, she sank to a sitting position, dropped her head into her hands and let the tears fall she’d been holding in all day. She’d gotten used to one empty pillow, one missing piece of their family. She wouldn’t have survived another one.

When Sean was born, Jimmy had given her a tiny gold disc with Sean’s first initial and his birthstone to wear around her neck. She never took it off. She wrapped her hand around that pendant, as if by clutching it in her palm, she could somehow keep him safe. This fire had brought back so many feelings that she’d thought she’d buried.

Fear, doubt, grief.

A soft knock at the door jerked her head up. She swiped at her cheeks with the back of one hand, leaving the pile of clothes where she sat on the stairs. A quick peek through the peephole told her it was Hunter. He had his arm propped on the wall beside the door. The line of his body said he was as tired as she felt. She pulled open the door. “I have coffee made. It looks like you could use some.”

“Mrs. Davenport sent you some lemon squares.” The plate was in one hand. He held out her keys with the other. “And I brought your car back.”

“I don’t think so.” She pretended to consider him. “In fact, definitely no. I like the blue truck. It makes me feel tall.”

He gave an overdramatic sigh, but his eyes were serious as he studied her face. “You doing okay, Red?”

She didn’t meet his eyes, instead reached for the plate of lemon squares and headed for the kitchen, ignoring his question. “I really appreciate you taking care of things at The Reading Nook after I left with Sean. I knew the stores on Main probably wouldn’t open, but I was afraid one of the ladies might show up.”

“And you were right, but I think Mrs. D. just wanted to pump me for information.”

“About the fire? Do you know anything?” Fiona slid a cup of coffee to him.

He took a swig from the mug and reached for one of the brownies she put on the plate with the lemon squares. “I walked through the scene with your Uncle Mickey this afternoon.”

“And?” She kept pouring coffee as if his answer didn’t mean anything to her. As if her whole world hadn’t changed two years ago when an arsonist set fire to an abandoned building on the outskirts of town.

“We’re still analyzing the evidence.” He looked down at the coffee in his mug and she knew he wasn’t telling the whole truth.

“Tell me, Hunter. You’ve always been straight with me.”

* * *

He looked up, into the blue eyes he’d fallen in love with as a teenager. They’d been inseparable growing up, best friends from the fort-building days all the way through the growing pains of middle school, both swearing off dating in favor of crabbing from her family’s dock.

But somewhere along the way, things had changed for him. He’d realized that his red-haired playmate had turned into a red-haired beauty. His plan was to meet her at the dock and ask her to the freshman ball. That plan was derailed when she came running down the pier after school, starry-eyed because Jimmy Cobb, the cutest boy in school, had asked her to the dance.

She was full of dreams and he…just kept his mouth shut. Jimmy had been the kind of guy that everyone liked. Funny and irreverent, he was always up to something. And their inseparable twosome became three.

Hunter pushed away from the table and paced to the counter. So, technically, no. He wasn’t always straight with her. He’d buried those feelings long ago in favor of something more important. A friendship that had sustained both of them through some tough times. His dad’s inability to find and keep a job, her mom’s battle with cancer. Jimmy.

She walked up beside him, leaning one hip against the cabinet. “Come on, you know I’ll find out anyway.”

He turned his head to look at her. “I can’t say for sure, but—”

“It’s him. Oh, Hunter, why is he back now?” Terror streaked across her features. “Is it Sean? Is he after my son?”

Hunter put his hand over her two. “There’s no indication of that, Fiona.”

“I know, it’s a crazy thought.” Her eyes filled and she fled the room.

He followed her into the living room. She was folding a load of towels that had been left on the couch, her hands full of nervous energy. She’d always preferred to do something. He was the one who dwelt on things.

But she looked up from the laundry, her eyes filling again. “I can’t quit thinking about Betsie, how she looked on that gurney. She saved Sean’s life and now she’s fighting for hers.”

He picked up a towel and looked for a place to put it. The coffee table was covered in books. He shoved over some and made a place for his stack. “What happened today is even harder for you because of what you’ve been through before. But this new fire means new evidence, a new chance that the arsonist made a mistake.”

His eyes were on the picture on the mantel. The photo of his friend, Jimmy. “We’re going to find whoever did this and make sure he pays for what he did.”

“Before someone else gets hurt?” Fiona made room for a stack of hand towels next to her pile on the coffee table.

Hunter chose another towel to fold, the clean, fresh smell of the laundry wafting around him. He frowned. His towels didn’t smell like this. “How do you make these smell so good?”

She stopped midmotion. “What?”

“My towels smell like towels. Yours smell good.”

She stared at him like he’d just grown two heads. “It’s called fabric softener, Hunter. Stop trying to change the subject.”

“If only it were that easy.” He put the last towel on the pile and stood, dropping a kiss on the top of her head before walking toward the door. He turned around.

He couldn’t answer every question, but he could tell her one thing with certainty. “I promise you—he’s not getting away this time.”

* * *

Fiona walked down the hall toward Betsie’s hospital room with a handful of gerbera daisies that reminded her of Betsie’s bright style. She’d dropped off Sean at school and thankfully, she hadn’t had to haul in either her cousin Liam or Hunter for show-and-tell. At Betsie’s room, she paused. Voices drifted out through the partially open door.

One of the voices was easily recognizable as her brother, Douglas, Fitzgerald Bay’s police captain. The other sounded familiar, too. She’d practically grown up at the precinct. She tried to place the voice.

Her brother said, “And you don’t remember anyone in particular coming into the Sweet Shoppe more often, maybe slipping into the kitchen area?”

Betsie’s response was too low for her to hear.

“Is there anyone who works for you who might have a reason to get back at you? Any disgruntled employees?”

Fiona almost pushed open the door then to tell them what a crazy question that was. The Sweet Shoppe was such a success because Betsie was so sweet. Her candies and baked goods were the icing, so to speak. Fiona had her hand on the door when the next question stopped her.

“What about Hunter Reece? Has he been in your place much?” The cop, whose voice she now recognized as Nick Delfino’s, tried for a nonchalant tone, but failed. Fiona’s knuckles whitened on the vase of flowers she held.

Nick had joined the Fitzgerald Bay police department a couple of months ago. “Do you know if Hunter was aware that you and Sean often had breakfast together before school while Fiona prepared her shop for opening?” he continued.

Fiona pushed open the door. “I imagine that Hunter knows a lot about my schedule considering that he’s one of my best friends.”

“Fee, you need to stay out of this.” Her brother had the grace to look at least a little embarrassed as Fiona crossed the room and placed the flowers on the windowsill.

“I disagree. If you have any questions, I’ll be happy to answer them since I was there.” Fiona looked from one cop to the other.

Her brother looked at Nick and jerked his head at the door. “Betsie, if you think of anything else, just give us a call. I’m going to leave my card right here on the table.”

“I will, Douglas, thanks.” Betsie’s voice was low and hoarse, but she was sitting up in bed, obviously feeling better, her brunette curls in artless disarray around her face.

Fiona shot her brother a we-will-talk-later look as he left the room with Nick Delfino right behind him. She knew Hunter didn’t have anything to do with the fire at the Sweet Shoppe, but the fact that the cops—brothers or not—were asking questions about him brought something back to the surface that she’d really tried not to think about. The arsonist was most likely someone they all knew and possibly liked. No stranger in Fitzgerald Bay would have the kind of access needed to pull off these crimes.

With effort, she put the disturbing thoughts away, for now. “I’m so glad to see you sitting up, feeling better. I was so scared.”

Betsie nodded, her fingers sliding along the edge of the white hospital sheet. “The doctors said another couple of minutes and I wouldn’t have made it. Hunter saved my life.”

“And you saved Sean’s life. Bets, I can never repay you for that.”

Betsie reached for Fiona’s hand. “You don’t have to. When I moved here from Georgia, I didn’t have anyone. You and Sean are my family.”

Fiona squeezed her hand. “You know we feel the same way. And we’re going to rebuild, don’t worry.”

Her friend nodded. “I know. It’s one of the things I love the most about Fitzgerald Bay. We don’t let each other down.” She reached for the glass of water sitting on the bedside tray and sipped from the straw, wincing as she swallowed.

“I’ve got to get to work anyway, so I’m going to leave and let you get some rest. I’ll be back to see you again.” Fiona walked toward the door, the questions that she’d pushed aside crowding her mind again. She knew Hunter wasn’t responsible for the fires. But who among their friends—acquaintances—neighbors—was?

“Fee.” Betsie’s hoarse voice stopped her. Fiona turned back. “We’re going to find who did this.” Underneath Betsie’s soft Southern accent was the steel that had helped her move to another state and build a successful business.

Betsie would know how much it hurt to have the arsonist responsible for Jimmy’s death out there, free to set fires.

Fiona tried a smile, but didn’t quite pull it off over the determination. She nodded. “Yes, we are. I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure that happens.”

* * *

The twenty-four-hour shift Hunter was responsible for started at 7:30 a.m. Hunter liked to be there early enough to hear the locker room chatter before he got the official report from Liam Fitzgerald.

“It was endless last night, man.” In the locker room, as Hunter changed into his uniform pants, Danny Fitzgerald changed into his street clothes.

“At least you didn’t get bored.” Hunter looked up from his locker.

“Not bored. I’m starving, though. Oh, and 4213 Chestnut Street is out of town and their alarm system is malfunctioning. We were there three times yesterday. What can you do, though? You gotta go.”

Danny was right. They had to go, regardless of figuring it was a false alarm. “Maybe they’ll get home today.”

Danny’s grin flashed white. “Nope, they’re on a cruise to the Bahamas. I talked to their neighbors, who were also a little annoyed to have the fire department on their front lawn at one in the morning.”

“Nice.” Hunter buttoned his uniform shirt over his T-shirt.

“You’re gonna have fun.” Nate Santos laughed from the other side of the room.

“Copy that.” Hunter made a mental note to see if Liam had already called the alarm company. “See ya, Danny. Nate.”

Hunter glanced at his watch—just enough time to catch the chief before the guys got here and started the equipment and apparatus check.

The chief was in his office, pictures of the scene at the Sweet Shoppe spread on his desk. He hung up the phone as Hunter came in. “What’s up, Hunter?”

“I was hoping there was some word on the evidence from the fire yesterday, sir. Is there anything you’d like me to follow up on while I’m here today?”

The chief gathered the photos and closed the file. “No, nothing new. Cops are investigating. I’ll let you know when I hear from them.”

It wasn’t like Fitzgerald to shut out Hunter, but he wouldn’t push. Most likely, the chief was just preoccupied. “Yes, sir. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Brennan Fox called in sick again.” The chief looked up from the folder. “I’m going to ask Danny to fill in for Brennan. So you’ll have to keep the probie with you.”

“Yes, sir.” Lance Woods, the new probationary firefighter, had been paired with the more experienced Brennan Fox. Hunter frowned. Brennan wasn’t the type to blow off work without a good reason. “I’m going to check in with Brennan, too. This is the third time he’s called in, right?”

The chief turned around in his chair and slid the arson file into the credenza behind his desk. “Yep. Let me know what you find out.”

“Yes, sir.” Hunter walked into the hall outside the chief’s office. On the wall was his friend Jimmy’s photograph and plaque. He stopped in front of it, like he often did. Jimmy had been the real deal. Real husband, real hero. And while intellectually, Hunter knew that nothing he could’ve done would’ve changed the outcome of the fire that had killed Jimmy, he carried the weight of failure every day.

Firefighters take care of each other. They go in together, they come out together.

They don’t leave their partner.

He would die before he let what happened to Jimmy happen again. This arsonist would be caught and would pay.

Danny Fitzgerald, back in uniform, walked up beside him, stopped and looked at the wall where Jimmy’s picture hung. “He was a good guy.”

Hunter nodded. “He was. Thanks for filling in today.”

“No problem. I can use the overtime. I could also use a nap.” Danny looked hopeful as Hunter turned and walked toward the apparatus bay.

“Go for it.” Hunter paused and looked back. “After we equipment-check.”

The other two firefighters in their shift crew were waiting in the apparatus bay for them. Every day started with equipment maintenance and restocking anything that had been used on the prior shift. Because their department was small, their units were medical response units, with each of their firefighters cross-trained as EMTs. Some shifts staffed a paramedic, too. Each had their own duty in an emergency, though in a department as small as theirs, there was some overlap.

Blond-haired, blue-eyed Max Lavigne stuck his head from where he was repacking the kits. The paramedic on B-shift liked to talk about how lucky he was with the ladies, but Hunter had actually never known him to have a girlfriend. “Brennan call in sick again?”

Danny nodded his head. “Yep. Lucky you. You get me instead.”

“Hard luck, maybe.” Lavigne kept a straight face until Danny laughed and slapped him on the back.

Hunter hid his smile, settling into the routine, checking each gauge on the engine, with Lance following his every move. Growing up an only child, he’d been envious of Fiona’s relationship with her siblings. He’d dealt with way more than any kid should have to deal with. He’d wished for brothers. Now he had them.

The firehouse tones sounded. All the banter stopped as each man ran for his turnout gear. Hunter was swinging onto the truck less than two minutes later as dispatch announced, “Fire-Rescue One, respond to home alarm at 4213 Chestnut Street.”

Danny looked at Hunter and laughed. “Told you,” but he didn’t slow down as he settled into the seat on the opposite side. If anything, each of them was moving a little faster.

An arsonist was targeting their own. And they were the ones who stood between the arsonist and the people of their town.