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She motioned Jake inside as she stepped toward the other bedroom.
The door stood open, a huge fathead of some basketball player dominating one wall. A small unmade twin bed sat in one comer; pajamas and tennis shoes littered the carpet.
"Zeke?" she called.
From the open closet a head emerged. Two big brown eyes, popped wide, met her gaze.
"Zeke?" she asked, softening her voice.
"Yeah?"
Eva released a pent-up breath of relief. "What are you still doing inside? Don't you know there was a fire next door?"
He crawled out, a small Matchbox car rolling as he emerged from the depths. "I don't wanna get in trouble."
Zeke looked about eight years old with closely shorn hair, gorgeous chocolate skin and-Lord help her- the cutest dimples she may have ever seen. "Trouble smouble. No one stays in a burning house."
"Y'all put it out," he said, shuffling toward her.
His feet were bare, and he wore only a pair of faded athletic shorts that clung to his small hips.
Jake appeared at her shoulder. "Jesus. He was in here the whole time?"
"Yeah." Eva toed the tennis shoes toward Zeke, nodding her head for him to slip them on. ''Chief is gonna freak. Who was supposed to clear?"
Martin appeared in the room, looking like a thundercloud. "I did. Front door was unlocked and I came in each room. Even opened the closets. Never saw him. Cleared it and locked the front door, you know, outta courtesy." Martin glowered at the boy, who studied the shoelaces he'd just tied sloppily. "Young man, why didn't you answer me when I called out?"
The little boy didn't look up. "'Cause you're a stranger, and I ain't supposed to talk to strangers."
Eva slid her gaze over to meet Jake's laughing eyes. She tried not to smile, but her lips twitched in spite of herself.
Martin grumped. "Soshe'snot a stranger?"
"She knew my name," Zeke said, shrugging thin shoulders. He looked up and tilted his head. '"Sides, I seen her on the field trip. She let us climb on the fire truck."
"Pfft," Martin said, turning around and trudging toward the front of the house, muttering under his breath things no eight-year-old needed to hear.
"Come on, Zeke. We need to call your grandmother," Eva said.
"No. She's gonna whoop me. I ain't supposed to be here. I faked getting on the bus."
"You'll have to deal with those repercussions. Even without a fire next door, you put yourself in danger. Small boys cannot stay home by themselves." Eva placed a hand on his shoulder and steered him toward the front door.
"I'm gonna get a whoopin' either way, I guess," the boy said, his shoulders slumping.
"Maybe not," Eva said, glancing over her shoulder at Jake, who watched the boy with a grin. She was about to go on about how Zeke could have been injured or even killed, but then when she looked back at the forlorn boy, who wagged his head, looking resigned at dealing with his grandmother, she zipped her lips.
"Oh, I'm gonna get it, all right. Big Mama don't forget. But I'm glad you saved me anyway."
Eva pressed her lips tightly to keep from laughing. Damn, the kid was cute.
Eva turned the child over to Chief Blume, who stood with Glory and Kiki.Glory renewed her waterworks after clutching Zeke tightly and groaning about how stupid the boy had been.
Eva slid the on-scene report into the binder filled with preplans for all the municipal buildings and businesses in the small town and then decided to help the rest of her team put away the gear. She'd just grabbed her accountability tag when Cole sauntered up, grinning like a kid at a fireworks stand.
"Well, looka' here. If it isn't the hottest firefighter I've ever laid eyes on."
"You don't get around much. Not surprised, since you're such a mama's boy,” Eva returned, lifting her eyebrows, silently inquiring whether her favorite cop wanted to keep going toe-to-toe with her.
