Firefly Mountain (12 page)

“If by ‘goofing around’ you mean shamelessly flirting,” Raina said.

“Shush,” Haddy said. “I didn’t see you telling Mason to stop following you around.”

“I never tell handsome men to stop following me around.” Raina winked. “Seriously though, Patrick will never say it, but having you folks around is good for him. He’s a loner by nature.” She deliberately caught Gini’s gaze. “He needs some prodding out of his shell.”

“Gini,” Haddy said, “isn’t shell-prodding one of your many talents?”

“Get in the car, Haddy.” Gini opened her door and turned back to Raina. “Listen, Haddy and I are organizing an event so folks—”

“Women,” Haddy corrected.

“Yeah, probably mostly women, can get their Burnam Fire Department calendars signed. Would you be interested in singing at that event?”

“Me? Really?” Raina jingled her keys in her hands.

“Yeah,” Gini said. “You’ve got a great sound. Bluesy and jazz-like. I think it would make our whole firefighter-ogling droolfest a bit classier.”

Raina barked out a laugh. “Droolfest. I like the notion. Count me in.”

“Great.” Talking to Raina was so much easier than dealing with Patrick. Gini had trouble believing they were related. She and Jonah were so much alike. Raina and Patrick, not so much.

She fished out a business card from her purse on the driver’s seat. “Here. Stop by the studio when you get a chance, and we’ll talk specifics.”

“Sounds good. I’ll bring some samples of my music.” Raina took the card and punched in the code to close Patrick’s garage door. “See you around, ladies.” She waved and got into her car.

“Getting in with the sister,” Haddy said. “Another phase of your scheme to photograph Patrick?”

They got into the SUV, and Gini started it up. “All part of the master plan,” she said, but she wasn’t entirely sure what the end goal of that master plan was anymore.

Clouds of black smoke were visible before the fire trucks arrived at Meadow Cliff Park. When they pulled into the parking lot, people were running to their cars and generally causing a monster traffic jam as they tried to leave. Six police cars screamed into the lot behind the fire trucks and dealt with crowd control by ushering cars into a single file to exit the small park.

As Patrick hopped off the truck, he caught sight of the abandoned swings. Most of them still swayed back and forth as if mothers had yanked their children from them so quickly the swings didn’t realize they were without passengers. He imagined how frightened the children must have been, and his hands curled into fists inside his gloves. No child should have to be that afraid. Ever.

Jonah tapped him on the helmet signaling they were to head into the barn, which stood in the center of the park. It appeared to be the nucleus of the blaze, angry flames reaching through its roof to the gray sky above. Now that Patrick looked closer, he could see people tugging horses into the parking lot. He stopped one of them, a short, older woman wearing a cowboy hat.

“All the people and horses out of that barn?” he asked.

“Stacey Briars hasn’t checked in.” The woman wound and rewound the reins in her hands. “We run drills for this sort of thing, but she hasn’t checked in.”

“All right. We’ll find her.” Patrick adjusted his gear and jogged to catch up to Jonah. Midas ran alongside him. “One Stacey Briars has not checked in.”

“We’ll have ourselves a look then,” Jonah said.

Patrick followed Jonah, who was taking the lead. Two other firefighters had been assigned to the same duty because the barn was so huge. Midas maneuvered his way ahead of them and waited for Patrick’s signal to enter the barn. As fighters opened up the hoses on the blaze, all of them entered and fanned out. Patrick and Jonah went to the left with Midas while the other two went to the right. After several minutes of serious sniffing around, Midas scratched at a stall door and barked.

When Patrick caught up to the dog, he saw a young woman slouched against the door inside the stall.

“Jonah,” he said. “Over here.” Patrick gave Midas a quick rubbing and signaled for him to get out of the barn.

“One Stacey Briars found,” Jonah said into his helmet to alert the other two fighters.

“She’s alive,” Patrick said after checking her neck for a pulse. He hoisted the woman up into his arms.

“Let’s move.” Jonah and Patrick began their exit.

As Jonah navigated his way out, a crackling noise above them sounded, causing both of them to look up. A barn rafter lost its hold and swung down. Patrick didn’t have time to react with Stacey in his arms, and the thick beam nailed Jonah in the right shoulder. He lost his footing and went down to all fours.

Patrick was near enough to the exit that he handed Stacey off to a waiting EMT. He ran back inside and hauled Jonah to his feet. Though he could hear Jonah’s swearing at the movement, Patrick didn’t stop until they were both outside the barn and far enough from the blaze to be safe.

“Man down,” Patrick said into his helmet. “Need medical.”

“On the way,” a voice buzzed back.

Jonah had already ripped his helmet off. “Fuck, that hurts.”

“Can you move it?” Patrick helped Jonah out of his coat.

Jonah wiggled his fingers and forearm, but couldn’t raise his arm from the shoulder. “Nah, I heard something snap in there when I got hit. Man, I think I’m going to pass out.”

Patrick eased Jonah onto his back and sure enough, Jonah passed out. Just as well. Unconscious was the only way to face the kind of pain he had to be in. One EMT dealt with a coughing Stacey Briars, and two others secured Jonah to a stretcher, bracing his arm to his side before carrying him off.

Patrick helped one of the hose teams until the scene hissed with heat, but was free of actual flames. On his way to the truck he had ridden on, he saw Mason talking to the lady in the cowboy hat. Mason motioned Patrick over.

“Mrs. Jennison here said the barn”—he looked down at his notebook—“just ‘exploded like fireworks on the fourth of July.’ All of her staff was supposedly out conducting riding lessons, so the barn should have been empty at the time the fire broke out.”

“Only it wasn’t,” Patrick said. “Stacey Briars was found inside. She’s with the EMTs right now. Minor smoke inhalation, I think.”

“Thank goodness she’s okay.” Mrs. Jennison wiped the sweat off her brow with a shaky hand.

“I’m going to need you to investigate the scene, Patrick,” Mason said.

“Okay,” Patrick said. “But I want to check in on Jonah first. He got hurt back there. They took him to the hospital.”

“What? Really?” Mason’s face lost some of its color.

“Probably broke his collarbone,” Patrick said. “You should call Gini.”

“Right.” Mason’s expression went back to all business. “I’ll get a few men to keep nosy folks out of the scene until we can come back.”

“Who’d want to do this? Meadow Cliff is a place people come to relax and have fun with their families,” Mrs. Jennison said.

“We’ll get to the bottom of it,” Mason assured her.

She nodded, her cowboy hat sliding back and forth as she did so. Clicking her tongue, she nudged the horse beside her and joined the other instructors at the edge of the parking lot.

“Seems we may have more than a one hit wonder on our hands here,” Patrick said.

“I was afraid you’d say that,” Mason said. “This was a much larger fire than the one on Cloudson Drive. You think Arson Mystery Guest is going to up the show each time?”

“They do love a performance,” Patrick said. “That’s half the thrill of setting the fire. Seeing if they can outdo themselves and what kind of an audience it’ll attract.”

“Sick.” Mason pulled out his cell phone. “I’ll call Gini and meet you at the hospital.”

Patrick joined his team on the truck, whistled for Midas, and watched the blackened remains of the Meadow Cliff barn get smaller and smaller as they headed back to the station. He always wished he could do more. Putting out the fire was first and foremost, but what about afterward? What about the poor families or, in this case, the poor horses and trainers, who now had nowhere to call home base? Sure, the flames were gone, but so was everything else.

Fire took so much. His own parents. His ability to look at himself in a mirror. Julianne’s…He closed his eyes thinking about his sister.

Now Jonah, the first person he’d actually be willing to call a friend, was hurt. Just when Patrick thought he was winning against fire, it laughed in his face.

****

“What do you mean we can’t see him?” Gini’s temper was rising. The only thing keeping it at bay was her fear that Jonah wasn’t going to be all right. That and her father’s arm around her shoulders.

“I’m not saying you can’t see him, Miss Claremont,” the nurse said. “I’m saying the doctor is tending to him, then you can take him home.”

“Easy, Gini,” her father whispered. “There are people here. Lots of them.”

The caution in his voice was clear, the warning to not get angry, and she counted to ten. When she turned back to the nurse, Gini somehow managed a smile. “I’m sorry. I’m just concerned.”

“Of course,” the nurse said. “I’ll come back out and let you know when you can collect your brother.”

Collect him?
As if he were a lost wallet or something. Gini clenched her teeth as her father’s hand massaged her neck.

“Here, Walter.” Her mother held out a paper cup of coffee to him.

“Thanks, Liz,” Walter said. “Gini, why don’t we sit over there and have ourselves something to drink?” He nudged his daughter to the bright blue chairs in the hospital waiting room and pushed the coffee cup into her hand.

Gini sat and took several deep breaths.
I will not lose my cool. I will not get angry. I will only breathe.
She told herself this over and over until her muscles relaxed, and the heat of her annoyance dropped away.

“Jonah’s lucky to have gone this long without a firefighting-related hospital visit,” Walter said.

“You’d seen the ER at least ten times by the time you were his age,” Liz added.

“Want to know what I remember most about those ten times, Lizzy?”

“What?” Gini’s mother sipped her coffee.

“You bringing me muffins, cupcakes, pies, and cookies from the bakery.” Walter patted his stomach, a satisfied grin on his face.

“Oh, Walter.” Liz rolled her eyes, but her grin matched her husband’s.

Gini looked from one parent to the other, and the last bit of anger vanished. She could never be pissed for long around either one of them. Fury didn’t stand a chance when they were nearby. Love radiated off them like beams of sunlight warming everything in range.

“Feel better?” Walter asked as he patted her knee.

Gini nodded and tried a sip of coffee. Lukewarm, bitter, and a little gritty. Hospital coffee.

“I saw that face,” Liz said. “It is horrendous coffee, but I’ve spoiled you on the good stuff at the bakery. Now you’re a coffee snob.”

Gini laughed along with her parents, but watched as her mother twirled a finger around the end of her hair and her father’s foot tapped on the sterile white waiting room floor. They put on a hell of show for her, trying to make her feel at ease—keep her from burning the place down—but they couldn’t totally mask their worry over Jonah. How selfish of her to count on them to keep her calm when they did have another child in crisis at the moment.

“I’m sorry,” Gini said.

“For what, honey?” her mother asked.

Gini looked up at Liz. People often confused the two of them at a distance. They shared the same coloring and body type. Long, blond curls bounced around both their faces, and they had both been accused of walking around as if they owned the universe. Gini hoped she looked as good as her mother did when she was her age. She also hoped she’d eventually inherit a fraction of her mother’s compassion and patience.

“For getting all riled up.” Gini took another sip of the coffee, made a face again, and put the cup down on a table beside her seat.

“It’s okay.” Walter rubbed her forearm.

“No. I’ve got to get a better grip on myself. I’d been doing so well. I don’t know what’s going on lately, but I feel…” Gini glanced up and saw Patrick standing at the front desk with Mason.

“You feel what, sweetie?” Liz leaned forward.

“Umm…off balance.” Gini stood without consciously deciding to and ignored her parents’ voices as they called after her. She just knew she had to be next to Patrick. If she could stand next to him, she was sure she’d feel better. More centered. Less lost.

Mason turned around first. “Hey, Gini. How is he?” He gave her a hug, but Gini kept her eyes focused on Patrick whose hazel eyes studied her.

Gini took a step back. “The doctor’s with him now.”

“He’s going to be fine?” Mason asked.

Gini nodded. “Broken collarbone. In about twelve weeks, he’ll be back in business.”

“Good.” Mason leaned on the front desk, but pushed back to standing. “Your mother is waving me over. I’m going to say hi.”

Gini stepped out of Mason’s way and watched Patrick shift his weight from one foot to the other. His hair was wet and a fresh, soapy smell hung around him.

“Were you with Jonah?” she asked.

“Yeah.” Patrick stuffed his hands into his pockets. “We were doing a sweep of the barn at Meadow Cliff. On our way out, a rafter swung down and knocked him off his feet.”

“You got him out?” She inched closer and drew in Patrick’s scent. Cut wood and soap.

“Not without him swearing.”

Gini thought of the words her brother tried—unsuccessfully—not to use.

“Thank you.” Before she could stop herself, Gini was taking another step closer. Sliding her arms around Patrick’s waist. Pressing herself to his chest.

It didn’t feel as if he were breathing. He was so still at first. His heartbeat filled her ear, and the rhythm of it soothed her. She didn’t want to let go, but realized she had to. She couldn’t hold on to him. He wasn’t hers.

As she loosened her grip, Patrick’s arms came around her. His hands slid across her back, his fingers warm against the skin peeking from her tank top. He rested his chin on the top of her head for a moment, and Gini felt completely protected. From everything.