Flashover
Her mother.
The thought hit her like a slap. It wasn’t the first time she wondered how her mother felt about her chosen profession, especially after what happened to Sadie. She’d never said a word to discourage Ivy’s career choice, as much as it pained her. It must have been awful for her mother to get a call that her surviving daughter was caught in a fire.
Guilt gave way to another emotion. An anger swelled up inside her and spilled out.
Two months away from the station? Maybe more than that if things didn’t heal right. She punched her good hand into the blankets. “Well, God? What are you doing up there? You are supposed to take care of your children,” she hissed at the ceiling. “Look what happened to me. And what about Sadie? Haven’t we had enough in this family? You’re nothing like a father.”
She quickly wiped the tears away at the sight of her mother barreling through the door. Juana Beria took one look at her and burst into hysterical sobs, tears running down her plump brown cheeks.
“Oh, Mama. Please don’t cry. Anything but that.”
Her mother’s tears continued, unchecked. “When I think…When I imagine…”
Ivy closed her eyes. “Please, Mama. Don’t.”
It was messy, emotional, and the whole situation left Ivy completely exhausted.
“I brought you some clothes. The doctor says you’ll be here for a few days. I’ll go to your apartment and get you some more things, a nightgown and some books to read. I’ll bring them first thing in the morning after you’ve rested,” Juana Beria said, her round face still damp with tears. She looked to her son, who had joined them. “Roddy, you’ll take me, won’t you?” Though she had a license, Juana refused to drive anywhere since her husband had passed away five years prior.
Rodrigo, Ivy’s brother, patted his mother’s hand. “Sure, Mama, sure. I’ll pick you up in the morning. We can bring her stuff over and then I’ll take you home. Let’s go.” He shot Ivy a look of aggravation that made her smile. Anything that upset Mama was something to be avoided at all costs, and Ivy had done her share. With Ivy laid up, Roddy would shoulder the emotional burden of the latest family drama for sure.
She’d owe him, and he’d definitely collect on the debt. When the room was empty, she tried to sleep. The pain in her shoulder wouldn’t let her. She wished she could take a shower and wash away the acrid smell that clung to her hair and skin.
A small tap sounded on the door. The tall, brown-haired man stood hesitantly, his wide shoulders filling the doorway. Tim poked his head in. “Hey, Ivy? Are you awake?”
She sighed, feeling like smiling for the first time since she’d entered that burning building. “Hi, Tim. Come on in. Has the Beria family train departed yet?”
He laughed softly. “Yes, I think so. It’s just me at the moment.”
“Good, someone rational to talk to. Come sit down. I think I remember seeing you at the fire scene, or did I dream that?”
“No dream, it really was me. I heard the call on the scanner so I broke some land-speed records and hightailed it over. Got there just as they were pulling you out. I don’t mind telling you I never want to see that again.”
He settled his long frame into a chair and she held out a hand for his. They’d been friends for years, since before she went into the academy. Maybe that’s why we get along so well, she thought. He wasn’t part of that intense firefighter brotherhood; he had his own perspective on things. He wasn’t your typical hero type, either. No, that was Antonio all the way. Thinking about Antonio made her cringe with humiliation.
Tim squeezed her fingers. “Are you okay? In much pain?”
The floodgates opened. She began to cry rivers of hot tears. “My shoulder hurts and I’m going to be out two months. Strong is really mad at me, too.”
His brow crinkled. “Why?”
She took the tissue he offered. “I disobeyed orders and stayed in the house.”
He was silent for a moment. “Oh, I see.”
“You’re not surprised, are you?”
“You do have a tendency to throw caution to the wind, Ivy.” Then he said what she most needed to hear. “It will be okay. You’ll heal and you’ll go back to doing what you love.”
She turned her tearstained face to his. The sunlight framed him, the asymmetrical smile and messy thatch of hair, outlining his strong chin. “Promise?”
He stroked her hand. “I promise. And I’ll even help you work on throwing ladders to get back in shape.”
She laughed. He was the most dismal failure at throwing ladders she’d ever seen. Stronger than she was, but not very coordinated. Ironic, since he was a gifted athlete. She often told him it was a good thing for public safety that he’d avoided fire suppression, instead becoming the fire district’s computer guru. He was a willing helper, though. As long as he didn’t start up his God talk, they got along great.
“Did you see Mitch? He brought me in.”
Tim nodded. “Yeah. I was supposed to help him with some software stuff tonight but he said he’s coming back here when he’s off to check on you.”
“He looked kinda funny in the chopper.”
Tim looked away. “Funny? In what way?”
They were interrupted when the nurse came in to check her bandages and inform them it was time to take her for a CAT scan.
Tim stood and bumped into a rolling cart in the process. “Well, I’ll just get moving then. Call me if you need anything, Ivy. I’m really glad you’re okay. I’ll pray for you.”
She almost told him not to bother, but he’d already gone.
She watched the clock and dozed on and off until almost eight, when Mitch arrived with a huge bouquet of daisies in hand. “Hey, V. How is the patient?”
“I’m okay.” She eyed his silk shirt and black jeans. “You didn’t have to get all dressed up for me.”
He dropped a kiss on her forehead. “I didn’t. Actually I’ve got another thing tonight.”
“A girl?” She was hopeful. He’d been so lonely since his long-term girlfriend left him for an anesthesiologist. He could use someone to talk to and share his need for adventure.
He handed her the flowers and settled into the chair. “Nothing too wild. A college friend of mine is passing through and we’re getting a bite to eat. Charlie’s coming along.”
Charlie Gregor was the chopper pilot who flew the helicopter for Mitch’s crew. She fingered the white petals. “That’s good. Thanks for the flowers.”
“You’re welcome. Doc says he expects a full recovery.”
“In two months. What am I supposed to do for two months?”
He smiled. “Here’s an idea. Take a vacation, like normal people do. Relax, learn to knit or something.”
“I’m not a good relaxer.”
“Don’t I know it. Give it a try, it might grow on you.”
“I’d rather follow your book of rules. You’re always up to something fun.”
“Not all of us eat, sleep and breathe our jobs, V.” A beep sounded from his PDA. He checked the screen. “That’s my wake-up call. Time for me to split. I’ll come back and see you soon. Try not to drive your nurses crazy.”
“I might not be here when you come back. Maybe I’ll check out tonight.”
“Not for a few days, I think.”
“Couldn’t you talk to the doctor? Tell him…”
“No way, cousin. Lie there and take your healing like a grownup.” He stood and stretched his stocky arms. “Oh, I talked to Doug. He says it’s going to be hard to prove.”
Doug was the department’s fire marshal. “What is?”
His eyes widened. “Didn’t they tell you? I figured the chief would have let you know.”
“She isn’t even speaking to me right now.” She frowned. “Tell me what?”
“The fire wasn’t an accident. Looks like you’ve got an arsonist on the loose.”
Nick hesitated only a moment before he knocked on the door. “There is a complication.”
His boss frowned slightly. “Tell me.”
“He got out.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. I made it look like an accident as you suggested. He refused to tell me where he’d put it. After he was unconscious, I used a candle and waited until it lit the place. If it was anywhere in there, it’s ashes now. The problem is fixed.” He stood his ground, flinching slightly at the frown that grew on the other man’s face.
“But there is the matter of Cyril’s friend. It’s possible Cyril passed on my merchandise to the man and he told the firefighter, isn’t it?”
Nick nodded. “It crossed my mind. Should I take care of them?”
His boss rolled his eyes in thought. “For now, concentrate on finding Cyril and do what is necessary to find out if the girl knows anything. Don’t kill her yet. It will draw too much attention.”
Nick frowned. Finesse was not his strong suit. “What should I do if I find out the girl really does know? Or Moe?”
A slight smile crossed the boss’s face. “If necessary, I’m sure you will prove resourceful enough to handle it.”
Nick returned the smile and closed the door behind him as he left.
THREE
Ivy endured the remainder of the evening with bad TV, worse food and people trailing in and out feeling sorry for her. What’s more, she began to feel sorry for herself.
“I went into that building, risked my life and my career for nothing. No victim, no rescue, and come to find out it’s arson.” Probably some guy trying to collect on the insurance, though what a junk hole like that could be worth was beyond her. The futility of the whole thing pained her.
When the doctor came in to see her in the early morning, she pounced. “I want to go home.”
He looked over the top of his glasses. “A few more tests, I think. A day or two to rest.”
“No. I want to get out of here now.”
He sighed. “I’m not going to tie you up and keep you here, Ms. Beria. It’s your health. If you want to go, go, but it’s against my advice. Come back on Tuesday for a recheck of those burns. Keep your shoulder immobilized and stay out of trouble.”
“Right.” She grabbed the hospital phone and dialed Tim’s number.
“I’m going home today. Can you give me a ride?” After a quick call to her mother to fill her in, Ivy pulled on her clothes.
Tim watched with an amused grin as a nurse pushed a mortified Ivy in a wheelchair out to the curb. He opened the passenger-side door for her.
She dove out of the wheelchair before it stopped rolling and hopped into the truck, buckling up gingerly around her injured shoulder. “Thanks for taking me home.”
“You’re welcome, but I’m still not sure it’s a good idea. Your mother has another plan.” He was careful to keep his eyes on the road as they continued on.
She stared. “What are you talking about?”
“Your mom called and told me when you got out to bring you to her place so she can take care of you.”
“You have got to be kidding me. Did she think I would go for that?”
“No, but she made me promise to ask.”
Ivy laughed. “You can’t say no to my mother, can you?”
“She reminds me of my mother. Every time I go over there she tries to feed me.”
“That’s a good sign that she likes you.”
“Nah, I know she does that to everyone from the mailman to the pest-control guy.” He waited a beat. “Antonio called, too.”
She blinked. “I’ll bet he’s having a ball in his new department. Heard through the grapevine he and Denise Williams are an item now.”
Tim was uncertain how to respond. He knew how much Antonio hurt Ivy by leaving her, but God forgive him, he couldn’t be happier that the man was out of the picture. “He asked me to tell you he called.”
“I’ll bet.”
He was wrong for you, anyway, Tim wanted to say. Charming, macho, great to look at, but did he know you like I know you? Did he take the time to learn everything, Ivy? He doubted it. Anybody who knew Ivy wouldn’t throw her away like Antonio had.
Ivy remained silent until he guided the truck into the apartment parking lot. Tim opened the door for her and she eased out of the passenger seat. The complex featured an old brick facade, covered by a vigorous scalp of climbing clematis.
They entered the lobby just as a slender young man with dark hair was trying to exit. He screamed and scrabbled past them and down the steps.
Ivy jumped back at his sudden movement, crashing into Tim. She stumbled, but he caught her, holding her against his front for a moment.
Ivy cried out in pain.
The skinny man ran into the yard and folded himself under a picnic table, covering his eyes.
“It’s okay, Moe,” Ivy said. “I’m sorry we surprised you.”
Tim still held her gently, her head tucked under his chin, enjoying the soft feel of her hair on his face. “Is that Moe? I’ve heard you talk about him. He has a bit of trouble talking to people?”
“Yes. His mother said he has something called Savant Syndrome. People that have it have delays in social reaction and communication, but they can be geniuses in other areas.” She rubbed her shoulder. “He’s a genius in his own way, even though his communication skills are poor and he’s afraid of people. One time I was trying to find a number and he recited the whole C section of the phone book. From memory.”
“Wow. I can’t even remember my own cell number half the time.” Tim peered at the figure curled up under the table. “Are you okay, Moe? Do you need some help?” When he received no answer, Tim straightened. “Should we do something?”
“I’ll try to talk to him. Moe, this is Tim. He’s a friend of mine.”
Moe shot them a terrified look and retreated farther under the table. He mumbled something.
“What did he say?”
Tim shrugged. “Numbers, I think. What did you say, Moe?”
The man’s mouth worked for a second until he muttered again in a louder voice. “M4e2d7s9c3i6z5t5r472cla0n7noe6r5y9r9o7w2.”
Ivy stared. “That’s really, er, interesting, Moe. Do you want to come out from under there? I wanted to ask you something. I thought I saw you at a fire. Was that you, Moe? Were you near a house on Alder Street yesterday?”
He scuttled out the back end of the table, dropping a soda can in the process. With another look in their direction, he snatched up the can and ran.
Ivy sighed. “I check on him once in a while to make sure he’s okay and bring him my cans so he can recycle them. He’ll come home later, I’m sure, because he’s completely addicted to The Song and the Sorrow.”
Tim blinked. “That soap opera?”
“Yeah. It comes on every weekday at two o’clock. He’ll be in his apartment watching it at that time, come rain or shine. I usually just poke my head in and make sure he’s all right.”
“What does he do on the weekends when it’s not on?”
“His mother, Madge, put all the old episodes on tape for him. Fortunately, there are plenty of them. He watches the repeats on Saturdays and Sundays. She checks in pretty frequently. She’ll probably call tonight, as a matter of fact. I’ll talk to her about seeing him at the fire. Maybe I was mistaken.” They stepped into the elevator and pushed the sixth-floor button.
“Oh, wait a minute.” Tim poked around in his pocket. “When I came to feed your fish last night, I wrote down a message for you from Madge. I forgot all about it until you mentioned her name.” He pulled out a slip of paper. “She said to tell Moe his friend canceled their meeting. Madge asked if you’d seen him around. He’s a hippie, a little on the odd side, she said.”
The elevator doors opened and let them out into a cream-colored corridor.
“I don’t think I’ve seen anyone like that hanging around with Moe, but I’ve been working overtime a lot lately.”
“I know.” Tim gave her a smile. “If I want to see you, I have to go to the station. Anyway, Madge says Moe’s friend is an okay guy.”
“You and Madge think everyone is okay.”
He laughed. “I think you’re more than okay.”
“Flatterer.”
Seeing the flush rise in her cheeks, he knew he’d said too much. He took the keys from her hand and unlocked the door.
Ivy stepped into her cozy apartment and sighed. “It’s good to be home.”
“Your mom sent over food. I piled it all in the fridge on my way to pick you up at the hospital. She must have been cooking all night.” He handed her the keys. “Call me if you need anything at all. I’ll come by tomorrow to check on you.” Don’t get ahead of yourself, Carnelli. You’ll push her further away. You’ve got a chance, that’s all. A chance. “If that’s all right with you, I mean.”
“Sure. It’s not like I’m going to work or anything.”
Tim wanted to fold her into his arms and kiss the sad look off her face. Instead he ventured back into the hallway. She had almost closed the door when a thought popped into his head and he stopped her. “Hey, Ivy. I remembered.”
“Remembered what?”
“The name of the guy who canceled the meeting with Moe. It’s Cyril.”
FOUR
Ivy endured a sleepless night. It was more the mental acrobatics that kept her awake than her injury, although her throbbing shoulder did not help. She could have taken the painkillers prescribed by the doctor, but she figured that mental toughness was a better way to deal with it.
She couldn’t get Cyril out of her mind. And Moe. What was he doing at that fire? What was the canceled meeting about? She had the oddest feeling Moe knew something about what happened, something he didn’t want to tell. The thoughts finally drove her out of bed.
Before the sun came up, she sat drinking coffee, listening to the fire department traffic on her radio, long before the hallways became busy with the sound of Saturday-morning comings and goings. Someone, her mother most likely, had arranged for a stack of magazines to be left for her with such uplifting content as gardening tips and the top-ten fashion trends of the year. Sandwiched in between the issues was a photocopied article titled, “Dating and the Christian Woman.” Her mother’s scrawl in the margin said it all.
Ivy, honey, since you’re off work for a while, you’ve got time to have some fun. Kisses, Mama.
Her mother had thrown her matchmaking efforts into overdrive since Ivy’s relationship with Antonio went south. She had the sneaking feeling that Mama hadn’t approved of her former boyfriend for some reason. Thinking about Antonio set off a memory.
Structure fire. Three alarms before they’d made it on scene. Her crew was providing manpower, she was new, a probie. The old house was a wreck by the time they got the fire out. The overhaul was nasty, heat trapped in the walls and floors sucking the life out of the on-duty personnel. The call came for them to relieve the attic crew. She found piles of insulation and heavy smoke, blurry figures wielding tools.
Then came Antonio’s voice, loud against the din. “Watch out. Holes cut all over this floor, probie.”
“Right, Cap,” she’d said before she promptly fell up to her waist in a hole. Trapped, unable to raise her arms, she slowly slipped down through to the next floor. Panic, darkness, fear. And then suddenly he was there, catching her by the straps of her airpack and hauling her back up through the hole.
Weeks later, she thanked him again. “I was so scared. Being trapped like that reminded me…well…”
“Don’t get all angsty on me, Ivy. I don’t deal with worry well. You’re much more fun when you’re happy.”
They’d had fun all right. Until he’d found more fun somewhere else.
She threw the article into the wastebasket. First, she had no desire to date after Antonio took off with another woman. It had taken all her strength to commit to him in the first place and look where that had gotten her. But had she really loved him or merely been drawn to his macho, fun-loving, larger-than-life persona? She wasn’t sure, and her uncertainty was another good reason to keep to herself. Her sole concern should be getting her job back.
Second, she wasn’t sure she could trust God anymore. She could not stomach giving her faith to such a cruel and indifferent God after what He’d done to Sadie.
She flipped on the TV and settled down to watch something, anything that would take her mind off her troubles. The cheerful lady chatting about how to put some zing into the summer with a snappy new method of faux-finish painting did not engage her. Nor did the old Western or Oregon’s newest morning-news duo. Her mind wandered again to the fire.
She could feel the panic at being buried under the piles of debris, the fear just as tangible as it had been that night. Did Cyril set fire to his own place? Wouldn’t be the first time someone had done such a thing to claim the insurance money. The thought sat in her gut like a live grenade. “When I get my hands on that guy, he’s going to answer for the damage he’s caused.”
The ring of the phone startled her.
Tim’s voice was cheerful. “Hi, Ivy. I hope I’m not calling too early.”
“No, sadly, I’ve pretty much been up all night.”
“Uh-oh. Shoulder hurting?”
“Not much. Mostly I was thinking about Cyril.”
“Who?”
“Moe’s friend. He’s the owner of the house that I nearly died in.”
Tim gasped. “Really? I didn’t put that together.”
“Well, I did, and I’m going to talk to Moe to find out if he knows where his friend might be holed up.”
“Okay, but you’re going to turn that info over to the police when you find out, right? No taking things into your own hands, John Wayne style?”
“Sure, sure. I’ll be good.” She looked at the time. It was only nine o’clock. Still five more hours until she could count on finding Moe in his apartment, ready to watch his favorite soap opera. She tuned back into Tim’s conversation.
“So do you want to come with me to the game?”
“What game?”
He laughed. “Sometimes I have the strange feeling you don’t listen to me. I’m coaching this afternoon. We’re two games away from the play-offs. Why don’t you come?”
She knew what he was trying to do and it warmed her heart, but the last thing she needed was to be around a bunch of happy parents at a Christian high school, cheering for the kids Tim coached three nights a week. “I think I’m going to take it easy today. I’ve got to get my shoulder back in shape.”
“Oh. Okay.”
She felt bad for disappointing him. “Call me after and tell me how it goes.”
“Sure. Take care, Ivy.”
She tried again to pay attention to the TV with no success. Thoughts of Cyril and Moe kept preying on her mind. She had to know what was going on with the investigation. All at once an idea electrified her. The phone was in her hand almost before she realized it.
There was someone who knew exactly what was going on and he was going to tell her.
In spite of the August heat, Fire Marshal Doug Chee was running fast when Ivy found him later that day. Since her phone calls were routed to his voice mail, she decided on the direct approach. The slender, dark-eyed man would run the track every day whether it was a workday or not. Today he pushed a jogging stroller in front of him with his baby son asleep inside. A little umbrella sheltered the infant, and Ivy noticed that Doug kept to the shaded periphery of the track.
Ivy put herself where he’d see her around the next turn and waited.
He puffed up, stride perfect, a gleam of sweat on his brow. When he saw her, he faltered slightly before he waved and called out. “Hey, Ivy. How’s the shoulder?”
“Okay. I need to talk to you, Doug. I tried to call your house, but you weren’t in.”
“Sorry. It’s been crazy busy. I’ve got two more laps before I’ve got to go. I’m taking the baby home to Mary in a bit.” He passed her and continued on.
Ivy stared at him. She knew Doug was driven and the man had a work ethic second only to her own, but she had a feeling he was only too happy to run away. When he came around the second time, she tried again. “Come on, Doug. This will only take a minute.”
He shook his head and sailed on without comment.
By the time he came back the third time she’d decided to play hardball. “You said if there was ever anything I needed, I just had to ask. Remember? I’m asking, Doug.”