Chapter 22
Theo
Cole’s moving before the announcement finishes. “Let’s go! Park, you’re with me on primary search.”
I’m in my turnout gear and climbing into the engine before my brain fully processes the address.
Rachel was visiting Dorothy today. She texted me this morning about making soup.
My chest tightens, but I force it down. Can’t think about that now. Focus on the job.
Engine 47 screams through town, lights flashing, sirens clearing traffic. Cole is in the officer seat, radio to his ear, getting updates from dispatch.
“Fire reported on the main level, heavy smoke visible. Neighbor called it in, says the elderly homeowner might be inside.”
“ETA two minutes,” Cole says into the radio. Then he looks back at me. “Park, you good?”
“Good.”
“Stay sharp. We go in, we search, we get out.
I nod. He doesn’t know Rachel may be there.
Or maybe he does, and he’s compartmentalizing better than I am.
We pull up to a residential building, smoke pouring from its front windows. Not flames yet, just thick gray smoke that tells me the fire’s been burning for a few minutes at least.
Cole’s out of the engine before it fully stops. “Garcia, get a line to the front entrance! Henderson, ventilation on the roof! Park, you’re with me!”
I grab my SCBA mask and axe, following Cole toward the entrance. Front door’s already hot to the touch.
“Forcible entry,” Cole says. “On three.”
I position myself. He counts down.
We hit the door together, and it gives way with a crack of splintering wood.
Smoke billows out immediately, thick enough that I can’t see more than two feet ahead, even with my mask on.
Cole’s voice comes through the radio. “Engine 47 to Command, we’re entering the structure for primary search. Single-story residence, heavy smoke, zero visibility.”
“Copy, Engine 47. Proceed with caution.”
We move in low, keeping to the walls. Standard search pattern—right hand on the wall, systematic sweep of each room.
“Fire department! Anyone inside?” Cole’s voice booms through the smoke. “Call out if you can hear me!”
Nothing.
We move through what feels like a living room. I can barely make out shapes—couch, coffee table, armchair. Smoke’s getting thicker, which means we’re getting closer to the source.
“Kitchen’s ahead,” Cole says. “That’s where the smoke’s coming from. Stay low.”
We push forward. My mask filters the air, but I can still feel the heat building—fire’s close.
Then I hear it—a voice, faint and muffled.
“Help! We’re in the bedroom!”
“I’ve got a voice!” I call out. “Female, sounds like it’s coming from the back of the house!”
“Move!” Cole’s already changing direction, heading toward the hallway. “Fire department! Keep calling out!”
“Back here! Please!”
We navigate the hallway, checking each door. The first room is empty. Second—
“In here!”
Relief hits me so hard I almost stumble.
“I’ve got two victims!” I call into the radio. “Adult female and elderly female, conscious and mobile.”
Cole’s beside me immediately. “Can you walk?”
“Yes,” Rachel coughs out. “But Dorothy’s struggling.”
“I’ve got her.” Cole scoops Dorothy up in a firefighter’s carry. “Park, get Rachel out. We go now.”
I grab Rachel’s arm, pulling her toward the door. She’s coughing hard, barely staying upright, but she’s moving.
Smoke’s even thicker now. I keep one hand on the wall, the other gripping Rachel, retracing our path back toward the front entrance.
“Almost there,” I tell her. “Just keep moving.”
We burst through the front door into daylight. Fresh air hits my face when I rip off my mask.
Rachel collapses onto the lawn, coughing violently. I kneel beside her, checking her pulse, her breathing.
“Paramedics!” I call out. “We need medical here!”
Cole’s already out with Dorothy, setting her down gently. Garcia and Henderson are on us immediately with oxygen masks.
I stay with Rachel while the paramedic checks her vitals. She’s still coughing, eyes streaming, but she’s breathing.
“You’re okay,” I tell her, even though she probably can’t hear me over the chaos. “You’re out. You’re safe.”
Cole appears beside me. “Fire is contained. Kitchen origin, looks like it started near the stove area.”
“Arson?”
“Can’t tell yet. Marco will determine that.” He looks at Rachel, then at me. “You good to get back in there? We need to make sure it’s fully out.”
“Yeah. I’m good.”
I force myself to stand, to leave Rachel with the paramedics, to go back inside and do my job.
Fire’s localized to the kitchen. Someone already hit it with the hose line, so it’s mostly smoldering now. We spend the next hour checking for hot spots, pulling apart cabinets, making sure nothing’s going to reignite.
By the time we’re done, my gear is soaked with sweat and water. My shoulders ache. My lungs burn despite the mask.
But everyone got out. That’s what matters.
Cole and I don’t talk much on the drive back to Station 47.
We’re both too tired. Too wired from the adrenaline crash.
“She was there again,” he says finally.
“I know.”
“That’s not a coincidence anymore.”
“I know.”
He doesn’t say anything else until we pull into the station bay.
“We’re going to check on her. After shift.”
It’s not a question. “Yeah.”
We finish our post-call duties in silence: equipment check, gear cleaning, and incident report. Routine helps settle my nerves.
My shift ends at six. Cole’s does too. We freshen up and change into street clothes without discussing where we’re going next.
We both know.
***
Jake’s house is quiet when we pull up.
Rachel answers the door, looking exhausted. She’s showered, changed into clean clothes, but her eyes are red, and her voice is rough when she speaks.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” Cole says. “Can we come in?”
“Yeah.” She steps back. “Jake’s in the living room with Tommy.”
Jake’s on the couch. Tommy’s reading his dragon book, oblivious to everything.
“How’s Dorothy?” I ask.
“Staying with her niece across town for a few days,” Rachel says. “Until her house is cleared. Smoke damage throughout, but structurally sound.”
“That’s good.”
Jake looks up at us. “Thanks for getting them out today. Both of you.”
“That’s the job,” Cole says.
“Still. Thank you. I think now’s the right time to announce that I’m going to turn down the research program.”
Everyone goes quiet.
“Research position. They want me there in four weeks.” He looks at Rachel. “I’m turning it down.”
“What? No. Jake—”
“Someone’s targeting you. Or targeting Dorothy, and you keep being there. Either way, you’re in danger.” His voice is firm. “I’m not leaving while this is happening.”
“You can’t put your life on hold because of me.”
“I’m not putting my life on hold. I’m protecting my sister.” He stands up. “Research can wait.”
Rachel’s eyes fill with tears. “This is your career. Everything you’ve worked for.”
“And you’re my family. You and Tommy. That matters more.”
“Don’t make me responsible for your choices.” Her hands shake. “I didn’t ask you to stay. I don’t want you to stay.”
“Someone tried to kill you today. Third time in three weeks.”
“We don’t know that yet!”
Jake runs a hand through his hair. “You think I can fly to Alaska knowing someone’s burning down buildings with you inside them? You think I could focus on fish populations while you’re dodging fires?”
“That’s not fair.”
“None of this is fair! But it’s reality.” His voice cracks. “I already lost Mom and Dad. I’m not losing you, too.”
Rachel stops. We all do.
They don’t talk much about their parents. Car accident, years ago. I didn’t know Jake well enough back then to see how it destroyed him, but I can see the echo of it now.
“Jake.” Rachel’s voice is softer. “You’re not going to lose me.”
“You don’t know that. Three fires. Three times you’ve been trapped. How many more before we’re not fast enough?”
“Can you guys stop fighting?” Tommy’s voice cuts through. “Please?”
“We’re not fighting, baby.” Rachel moves to sit beside him. “Just talking.”
“Loud talking.”
“Sometimes grown-ups talk loudly when they’re worried.”
Jake sits back down. “I’m calling them tomorrow. Declining the position. That’s final.”
Rachel stands up abruptly. “I can’t do this right now.”
She walks out of the room. We hear her footsteps on the stairs, hear her bedroom door close.
Jake looks at us. “She’ll come around. She has to.”
“Maybe give her some space,” Cole suggests. “Let her process.”
“She’s going to blame herself for this.”
“Probably,” I say. “But that’s not your problem to fix tonight.”
Jake nods, looking defeated. “Thanks for coming by.”
“Call us if you need anything,” Cole says.
We head out to the truck.
“He’s really going to turn it down,” I say.
“Unless Rachel agrees to something else.” Cole starts the engine. “But right now? Yeah. He’s turning it down.”
“She’s going to hate that.”
“She already does.”