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I looked up from my computer, briefly noting the time and that it was an hour past regular working hours. Karen was pulling on her coat, her make-up redone and looking like she was ready for a night out on the town. I felt a pang of jealousy at how in control of her life she was, and how I could never have that. Not anymore.
“I have to finish transcribing these last few memos,” I said. “It won’t take me long.”
Karen cocked her head and gave me a sad smile that made me feel sorry for myself. “That can wait until tomorrow,” she said. “Do you really want to be late getting home?”
I frowned in confusion, and she only shook her head.
“Listen” she said. “I’ve known you for almost three years now, and I honestly believe that what happens behind the closed doors of someone’s home is their business. So, I’ll keep pretending like everything’s dandy in your life, but you need to stop acting like I’m an idiot, okay?”
I opened my mouth to reply, then closed it again. There was nothing I could say.
“Go home, Andrea,” she said softly. “I don’t want to hear about how you ran into a door when you come in with a black eye tomorrow.”
She placed a hand on my shoulder, squeezed, then turned and walked off. I watched her leave, my fingers shaking slightly against the keyboard. From where I sat, I could see a few of the other employees at their workstations, finishing off tasks that woul
d probably keep them here all night. Some would even fall asleep at their desks. KarpTech never really closed for the night.
I looked at the memo I had half-finished, the cursor blinking at me seductively, urging me to keep at it. Karen was right, though, the work wasn’t urgent. In fact, I didn’t even have to hand it in the next day. The truth was, I just didn’t want to go home.
Yeah, but Dennis will be waiting, and you know what happens when you keep him waiting for too long.
Walking into the door seemed like as best an excuse as any.
Sighing, I shut down the computer, grabbed my purse and made my way out of the office. I pondered stopping on the way home for some ice cream, to celebrate the fact that I wasn’t pregnant.
Then again, I didn’t want to be late.
Chapter 2: Andy
“Andy, upstairs!”
The heat of the surrounding fire was excruciating, and even with the protective gear, I could feel the flames threatening to burn my skin off. The smoke was blinding, and the creaking of the house’s foundations only made the situation worse. I barely heard Bobby yelling at me before a beam crashed down in front of me and sent sparks into the air, forcing me back.
“I can’t get to the stairs!” I heard Bobby shout from somewhere beyond the wall of fire and smoke.
I looked around me, panting as I squinted through the fire. I spotted the staircase a few yards away.
“I got it!” I yelled.
“Hurry up, man,” Bobby yelled back. “This place isn’t going to hold for very much longer!”
It was rare for a fire of this magnitude to disturb the peace in Mansfield, and the fact that I personally knew the family didn’t make it any easier. We had gotten the 911 call only half an hour ago, and the familiarity of the address had left me with a sick taste in my mouth. By the time we had arrived, John and Samantha Klein were already safe outside, with no sign of their son, Peter.
Bobby had been close on my heels when I stormed into the house.
I had grown up with John, had even dated his wife for a while back in high school before she learned that I was probably not the best guy to start a family with. Too much of a thrill seeker, an adrenaline junky since I was four, and definitely not in any way domestically stable. Besides, catching me in bed with her best friend had pretty much ruined any chance of our relationship going much further.
Still, John and I had stayed close. I was his best man at the wedding, shamelessly hooking up with one of the maid of honors afterwards. The two of us frequently volunteered at Mansfield Middle School, coaching baseball when the school’s coach was either too drunk or too high to show up. We enjoyed poker nights at his place, with Samantha civil enough to let me into her house without giving me the finger, and a few innocent football games over the weekends. I was also a regular at their summer barbecue.
So, it was no surprise when he made me godfather to his first born, much to Samantha’s dismay, I was sure. And I loved that kid like he was my own.
That same kid who now was somewhere inside this burning house, scared shitless, no doubt. And hopefully with enough sense to have taken what I had taught him about fires seriously enough to say alive until I could find him.
I shook the thought away and hurried across what remained of the Klein’s living room, praying that nothing else fell down around me or blocked my way up. I took the stairs by two, forcing myself to keep moving despite the flames that licked at me from every corner. Peter’s room was the first door to the left, and as soon as I was on the second-floor landing, I raced inside. The heat was a little more tolerable here, but the creaking of the floorboards beneath my feet told me that it was only a matter of time before the whole thing collapsed.
“Peter!”
Nothing. I quickly scanned the room and dropped to my knees to look under the bed. Stay low and go, buddy. Let’s hope you remembered that. He wasn’t there, and I was slowly beginning to panic. If he was as smart as I knew he was, he probably would have crawled out of the room. That meant I’d have to check the entire second floor, and I wasn’t sure how long the structure would stand.
