The Protector (13 page)
“This is number six. Impressions, Rachel.”
“He’s justifying his actions. He’s not just angry, it’s become part of who he is. He’s working his nerve up to also kill.”
She looked over at Cole when he didn’t say anything. The intense control the man was exerting over his darkening anger had her taking a step away. “Cole?”
“Rae, I think Jack is in his sights.”
C
assie woke up sweating and sick to her stomach. It was a sensation and a reaction she had unfortunately felt before. She rolled over and carefully put her weight on her elbows, lifting herself up enough so she could hang her head. It had been months since she had to deal with a morning like this. On the worst mornings she had been sick while in bed, in too much pain to risk moving.
When she thought the nausea was at least checked, Cassie slid herself off the edge of the bed and made it to the bathroom. She had changed the fixtures on the sink to long handles so she could turn on the water without having to grip and turn a knob.
She pushed the cold water on full force and lowered her hand into the basin without bothering to remove the gauze. The agonizing pain sharpened and chilled, then eased.
She drew in a shaky breath.
She didn’t have the strength to pick up something with her right hand. Her left hand had swollen overnight to the point it was useless. She looked at the phone on the wall beside the light switch. It had been installed as her safety blanket.
The certain knowledge that Jesus was with her wasn’t much comfort as she contemplated the odds that in a few minutes she would be sitting on the tile floor in her nightgown, shivering and whimpering and fighting the why-me pity party.
Lord, I hate being alone.
She didn’t want to have to call for help. As horrible as this was, the pain was only about a six on her ten-point pain scale. But when she hadn’t felt pain above a level of four in several months, it was agonizing.
She laid her head down on her arm as the water continued to lap over her hand. She would just stay here with her head down for a while. If she didn’t try to move for the next hour, it would be just fine.
You asked me to go back into another fire. It’s haunting me. Please don’t let me be sick. I’ll cry. I’ve cried enough these last couple years.
The doorbell rang.
She raised her head too fast and got caught by the dizziness.
Lord, You have a sense of humor in Your timing.
Arranging something like this was just like God—send her help and be polite enough about it to let the doorbell ring ten minutes after she was out of bed instead of while she was still hiding under the covers.
Cassie forced herself to straighten and reach for the robe on the back of the door, whimpering as she lifted her arm higher than it wanted to rise. If help was here, she couldn’t ignore the fact she needed it.
She made her way to the front door and looked through the security view hole.
Rachel O’Malley. Cassie had not even had her on the list of possibilities. She was wearing a Red Cross jacket. There was no sign of Jack.
“Just a minute.” Cassie worked to release the locks, then eased open the door. “Hi, Rachel.”
“Jack called me.”
“He didn’t need to do that.”
“Jack did.”
Cassie blinked, then smiled. “Yes, I suppose he did.” Ever the protector, Jack had looked more than a little frustrated last night at the idea he was leaving her home alone. Recruiting his sister fit something he would do.
Rachel nodded to the towel and the wet gauze. “It looks like you could use some help.”
“I could and thanks.” Cassie had learned long ago to set aside her independent streak that made accepting help difficult. She stepped back to give Rachel room in the crowded hall. “Would you do me a favor and start the coffee while I finish getting dressed? I’m dying for a cup.”
“Glad to.” Rachel locked the door behind her.
Cassie turned back toward her bedroom, already feeling better just knowing someone was around with two good hands. “You saw Jack?”
“Yes. I just left the site of the house fire,” Rachel called as she headed to the kitchen. “Both Cole and Jack were there.”
Cassie sorted through her closet for something to wear as she listened to Rachel move around the kitchen. She really liked Jack’s sister. They met for the first time at a rescue. A trench had collapsed on some utility workers, and Jack had been one of the men working through the night to get the pinned men free. Rachel had been invaluable that night. She’d arranged for sandwiches and coffee to be brought in for both the crews and reporters. She had spent hours talking with the wives of the guys trapped, listening, reassuring.
Cassie had spent most of that night looking at the smiley face painted on back of Jack’s fire coat, serving as his eyes for how the ground was shifting as he worked deep inside the trench being shored up. It had put Cassie in a position to be able to relay comments from one of the trapped men to his wife and back. She’d also served as a relay for a very long conversation between Jack and Rachel over baseball games, recent movies, and Jack’s habit of leaving stupid jokes on her answering machine. It had been very clear by the end of that conversation that Jack and Rachel were very good friends. She’d envied them that closeness.
Cassie finally chose sweats and a loose blouse she could button and slowly dressed. She needed an ice pack for her left hand; it throbbed in time with her heartbeat.
She headed to the kitchen and found Rachel crouched down looking through the refrigerator.
“You’ve got eggs and cheese. Would you like an omelette?”
Cassie nudged a chair at the table out with her foot. “Fix me toast and yourself an omelette. I want company for the breakfast I’ll pretend to have.”
Rachel cast her a sympathetic glance. “Would crackers help the queasiness?”
“Please. There may be a box in the pantry.” Cassie spread out the towel she carried and reached for the burn cream left out from last night. “Did you ever play Kick the Can when you were a kid?”
Rachel opened a tube of crackers and brought them over. “Sure. Why?”
“Ever miss the can and kick concrete by mistake?”
“Oh m y, yes. Feels like that?”
“A lot like it. The kind of hurt that just circles and keeps coming back in waves.” Cassie studied the blister on the inside of her thumb. “I’m so glad the house was empty.”
“Jack rescued the teddy bear you were gripping when they found you. He asked me to see what could be done to get it cleaned up before it was returned to Tina.”
“That was nice of him.” Cassie nibbled on a cracker. “It struck me as probably a favorite stuffed animal given where I found it. Could you hand me an ice pack?”
Rachel opened the freezer. “Oh, Cassie.”
“I know; I’ve got a few.”
“Seven is more than a few.” Rachel retrieved one of the ice packs and brought it over, along with the first cup of coffee. “I can see how your hand is doing, what about your arms?”
“Not bad. Stiff.” She carefully settled the ice pack into her aching hand. She sipped the coffee as she watched Rachel fix breakfast for them both. She had to give Rachel credit. The odds she was here for more reasons than the one she had given were high, but she was starting with the practicalities. “Feel free to tell me the rest of it. Cole was there. I’ve got the feeling Jack wasn’t the only one who suggested you come by.”
Rachel pushed down bread in the toaster. “We need to talk. But we can do it while we eat.”
Cassie conceded the inevitable. Cole wanted more information about her suspicions of whom she had seen. Her hope she wouldn’t have to think again about the fire last night was unrealistic. At least Cole had sent someone who would ask the questions with some gentleness. “About Ash?”
Rachel looked over, her expression grave. “Jack.”
“Did you watch this one burn down too?”
Jack turned to face Gage. The insolent tone and the dig at him— there was no attempt to hide it. Jack wished the man would just take a swing at him.
Gage liked to use words and he was very effective with them. He had eviscerated Jack with the article he had written after the fire that had killed Tabitha. Jack figured he had that one coming, but in his world a fight finished the matter. Gage was never going to let it die.
Jack turned his attention back to the hose he was draining. “What do you want, Collier?” Since he decided on his own to see if there was any sign of Ash, Jack was in the doghouse with Cole. There hadn’t been, and Cole was annoyed both at his seeking out of a potential suspect and his delay in conveying what Cassie had said. Jack had accepted the rebuke. What he planned to do if Ash had been there was an interesting question that, looking back, Jack was glad he had not faced.
He was now being kept out of the burned-out house for the more serious cleanup. Jack thought it was childish on Cole’s part, but he wasn’t in a place to complain. It was a crime scene now. He didn’t mind the basic tasks of cleanup—the heavy lifting and constant bending— but the wet gloves made him clumsy as he worked, and with an audience Jack found that annoying.
Gage set his foot on the bumper of the rescue squad. “Lincoln Park, Ash Street, the Assley fire…”
Jack forced himself not to react as Gage started naming off the locations of suspicious fires over the last several weeks. He was braced to be asked how many more fires there had been. Cole would kill him if he said anything to a reporter.
“Rachel is worried about you.”
Jack rapped his knuckles on the concrete as the wrench he was using to loosen the hose connector slipped. In one short sentence Gage could shake him up.
Rachel, worried about him and talking about it to Gage.… This he did not need. “I’ll speak to her.”
“I’d appreciate it.”
“Getting tired of hearing my name?”
Jack caught a glimmer of a smile as Gage lowered his foot, then turned to leave. “I only use inside sources when I can’t find a direct one.”
Jack silently apologized for his assumption that Gage had been prying at Rachel to get details about the fires. “Talk to Cole.”
“Already have,” Gage replied. “He was unusually chatty today too.”
Jack narrowed his eyes. Cole had voluntarily spoken with a reporter? That was not like him at all.
Being somewhat out of the loop went with being in the doghouse, but not being shut out of something newsworthy. Rachel had been at the scene. Jack started worrying again about why. He had taken her answer that she had come looking for him at face value, and he should have realized a phone call would have answered his page to her.
Rachel had been here. Now Gage showed up. Something was going on Jack didn’t know about.
Gage stopped, then looked back. “By the way, where is Rachel?”
Jack would prefer to keep Cassie’s name out of the equation, but Gage could get an answer with just a page to his sister. “Cassie’s.”
“Really? Brave lady to go into a house fire after what happened at the nursing home.”
Jack heard the reality of Gage seeking out Cassie, knew it was inevitable. Other news organizations would have found her by now. Add going into another fire with her history and it was a good human interest story, something reporters craved around the holidays. “Gage, be kind.”
Gage took offense at the veiled threat, but then Jack had intended him too. If Gage stung Cassie in a tough interview, Jack was going to return the favor. Someone had to protect her and he’d just elected himself. Jack set aside what he was doing to stand and face the man.
“Something between the two of you?”
Jack went to the heart of the matter. “She’s one of us.”
Gage finally nodded. “Fair enough.”
“The arsonist wrote the word
murderer. “
Cassie felt cold just saying the word.
Across the kitchen table, Rachel circled her coffee mug around her napkin. “Red spray paint. Sweeping letters. He spent some time in the room before he torched it.”
Cassie pushed aside the plate that held her toast and reached for the crackers again. The nausea was back with a vengeance.
“Cole thought it was important for you to know.”
Not only that, but that he needed to send Rachel over rather than wait until he could come later—it was an extraordinary step. Whoever she had seen at the fire was that angry.… Cassie forced aside the implications. “You said we needed to talk about Jack.”
“Have you ever known Cole to be afraid?”
“No.”
“He is now.” Rachel’s hand shook slightly as she lifted her coffee cup.
The arsonist was clearly dangerous, he was escalating, and Jack had fought the six fires.… Cassie froze. “Jack—he’s the common factor to the fires.”
“Who did you see, Cassie?”
She wished she could answer that question. The truth was painful. “I honestly don’t know.”
C
ole, I want back in.”
Cassie closed his office door, shutting out the startled looks of the inspectors, arson investigators, and firefighters she’d surprised as she came striding through the building. She had rushed the words before she lost her nerve to say them.