Chapter Twenty-Six
Finn
Mission City Man Grows Prize-Winning Petunias.
Nine-Year-Old Violin Prodigy Taking Classical Music World by Storm.
Meet the Nurse Who Cared for Preemie Babies for Fifty Years.
I scrolled and scrolled and scrolled.
All of the stories Ulysses had written since coming to Mission City in July. And I found tons of them. Standard ones about crime and politics. Stuff one would expect from a small town.
But also, a huge number of human-interest stories. About people who might’ve otherwise be forgotten in the hustle and bustle of everyday life.
“Watcha doing?” Miriam plopped onto the couch next to me.
I closed the browser on my phone. “Nothing important.”
“If you say so.” She eyed me. “Have you spoken to Giancarlo?”
I shook my head. “His arraignment was yesterday while we were at that accident on the mountain road.”
“Crazy driver.”
“Yeah. Seth said the woman must’ve been going almost a hundred klicks when she crashed.”
“I can’t believe she’s alive.”
“Me either.” Although her injuries were pretty devastating and she faced months in rehab to recover from all those broken bones.
The human body just wasn’t designed to withstand those kinds of forces.
“I mean, I was on shift and so couldn’t have gone anyway.
And we’re down a body because we lost Giancarlo—”
“Yeah.” Miriam sighed. “It’s just…a mess. He got bail, right?”
I nodded. “So he should be around his place. I’ll go by after work.”
“Tell him I think he’s an asshole and I hope he gets his shit together sooner rather than later.”
I laughed. “I can try. He’s more likely to listen to you than me.”
She cocked her head.
“He’s scared of you. I don’t intimidate him.”
“You’re a pussycat.”
“I think that’s my point. When did I become such a soft touch?” I groused.
“Oh, Finn, really? You were always the guy who was going to rescue kittens and escort little old ladies across the street. It’s why you’re such a great firefighter—you do it for the right reasons.” She examined her fingernails. “How’s it going with the reporter?”
My gaze shot to hers.
She both snickered and rolled her eyes. “Jesus, Finn. You’re so damn obvious. You’re trying to keep a decorous distance and act like nothing’s going on while it’s so clear you’re going at it like—”
“I wouldn’t finish that sentence if I were you.” I gave her that look. Pretend-threatening.
She laughed. In my face.
More proof I was just a softie at heart. I pressed my hand to her arm. “It’s complicated.”
“It always is. Do you want to talk—”
The alarm sounded.
We leapt off the couch and headed toward the rig.
Iris was at the wheel today, and we were soon racing toward a warehouse fire in the business district.
I tried to push aside the question of how many more fires we were going to see as we pulled up to the massive blaze.
“Goddamnit.” Miriam cursed as we unloaded.
“Let’s get the hoses—”
Seth ran over, waving his arms. As frantic as I’d ever seen him. “There’s a woman unaccounted for. She works in the back office.”
My heart rate kicked up. “Any chance she got out and wandered away?” Stuff like that happened.
“No. Her car’s still in the lot and no one has seen her. The back’s not on fire yet. I can’t get the door open.”
That he was even trying spoke to his both dedication and stupidity.
“We’ve got the hoses.” Iris joined Miriam, Toby, and several others.
“Marlon, you’re with me.” I gestured.
He didn’t complain—but he didn’t hustle either.
I grabbed the axe, and we headed around to the back. As Seth said, the back half wasn’t engulfed yet—but that was coming.
On instinct, I tried the door.
Nope. Locked.
Grateful the door was wood, I took a few really good swings and was able to pop the lock. So many things could’ve gone sideways by this point—and so many still could. But I had faith we were going to be okay.
Thick, black smoke billowed out as the air provided fuel to the fire. Still, I had to try. I felt my way around until I came to the first closed door. I pushed it open.
Empty office.
I moved to the next door, labeled washroom.
More smoke and the noise from the fire was growing louder and louder.
This door didn’t open as easily, and quickly it became apparent why—someone was lying against the door.
I dropped to my hands and knees and then tried to push the door with my shoulder.
The body shifted. Whoever they might be—they’d be damn sore tomorrow. If they weren’t already dead.
After a couple of really good shoves, I managed to dislodge her enough to maneuver her out. Her dress caught in the door, and I clumsily ripped at the fabric.
Smoke continued to surround me.
Have to get her out. Have to get out. Have to survive.
Marlon gestured that he’d take her.
Between the two of us, we secured her over his shoulder.
He was halfway to the door—with me just a step behind—when a loud explosion sounded.
The whoosh of air knocked me down.
Marlon staggered, but he kept going
A beam crashed within inches of my face. That should’ve killed me.
Except now, my route of escape was cut off.
Marlon turned, waved, and then pushed his way out of the building.
Was that a wave that he’ll be back or a wave goodbye?
Panic engulfed me as my breathing intensified.
I’m not going to die today. I have Mom and Ulysses. I haven’t told the stubborn fool how I feel about him. There’s so much I just haven’t done.
I tried to dislodge the beam.
It wouldn’t budge.
Another crack.
Something hit my head.
Everything went black.