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“Lord….” He coughs. “The smog, sometimes.”
“Yes.” I won’t miss that. The words almost slip past my lips, and I snap my mouth shut.
“Has Cole had any big calls lately?”
“No. There’s not much action in Meadow Bay. It’s quiet. Not much crime. Or fires. It’s basically Mayberry.”
He chuckles. “My wife grew up in that type of environment.” He glances at his watch. “Someday, we’ll have to travel there and play tourist. I’m sure my kids would love Gertrude and her ducklings. They’re still talking about that story.”
“Yes.”
“Here’s Langley.” He motions to the limo. “Are you sure you don’t need a ride home?”
“No, I’m good, but thank you.” I wave and turn on my heel toward the parking garage. The guilt of lying to him is too much to spend time in an enclosed space and not slip up and say something. And then be stuck with him for an hour’s drive through traffic. No, thank you.
I tuck my purse under my arm and march along the sidewalk as a police siren flares to life, and a motorcycle cop swerves in and out of traffic on its way to some emergency. Yeah, I won’t miss any of this. The traffic. The street lights. The smog. The mile-long trek to an open parking spot. Sore feet. By the time I’m in my car, I’m confident working at Blanche’s is where I belong. At least I can wear tennis shoes.
Chapter Forty
Cole
The sirens blare as Vargas drives the firetruck through a red light. We’re all packed inside in full gear as we race to a housefire on the other end of town.Thankfully, the other end of town is five minutes away.
Kameron points to a vehicle on the side street whose driver doesn’t appear to be paying any attention.
“Got it.” Vargas tightens his hands on the steering wheel as he preps for defensive maneuvers. At the last second, the car slams on its brakes and rocks back and forth until it settles into place.
“Close call.” I unpeel my hands from the dash. If it was a bigger vehicle, I might not have braced myself to avoid breaking my elbows. But that car would’ve been scattered off in the other direction the second we hit it.
“Yeah.” Vargas frowns. “People need to pay attention. We’re in a giant truck with flashing red and white lights.”
“And sirens.” Kameron frowns at the vehicle as we go past.
In the distance, plumes of smoke rise above the skyline, and adrenaline courses through my veins. We don’t have a lot of fires in a town this size, so each one is significant.
“Yes, that too. You’d think people would notice.”
“Talking on the phone, probably.” Kameron eases back into the seat, relaxing his shoulders a bit while the other drivers pull over on both sides of the street to give us full access to the road.
Not that we aren’t prepared. We set practice fires. We participate in monthly drills. And last year, we assisted with wildfires up north. The temperatures were already blazing, but then we added full gear and a raging inferno; it wasn’t the most pleasant experience in the world.
“Hang on. We’re turning.” Vargas flips on the blinker and makes a wide turn onto the street.
At the end of the road is the Hampton’s house. The two-story building is a typical home with a two-car garage and a fenced-in backyard, set in a quiet part of town. It looks serene–except for the orange flames dancing above the roofline.
When Mr. Hampton heard a loud boom in the laundry room, he called 911 immediately on his way out of the building. He’s standing on the sidewalk with three of his neighbors, pointing to the area that’s on fire. The men nod and step out of the way, letting us pull into the driveway.
The second Vargas has the truck in park, and we pile out, each reporting to our assigned duties for the mission. I grab my ax and jog to the men while the guys get the gear ready. “Tell me what you know. You were the only one inside?”
“Yes.” Owen nods and crosses his arms over his chest. His face is marred with dark circles and deep furrow lines. “My wife is out of town, and the kids are all in school.”
“Are you sure? Neither of the kids sneak back home?”
“No, they don’t ditch school.”
“Pets?”I study the structure. Only one side of the house is on fire; the remaining portions of the appear in good shape.
After slinging the ax over my shoulder, I watch Vargas hook up to the fire hydrant. The garage is the closest building to the area currently on fire, which puts a decent ½ block between the fire and the next home in question.
