12. Chapter Eleven
“There’s no sign of your man-eating spider.”
Ryker stepped out of the van and turned off his flashlight. Olive didn’t look impressed, but he’d inspected every nook and cranny and come up empty-handed. He wasn’t going to mention that spiders typically stayed out of sight during the day, preferring to skitter around at night. She’d been traumatized enough.
“Thanks for looking. And, for letting me sleep on your shoulder last night.”
His arm had turned numb, and he had a hitch in his side from holding his position for hours, but the feeling of her next to him had been worth it.
“You’re welcome. Be sure to shake out your bags and blankets before you take them back in the apartment to make sure you don’t bring an unwanted visitor inside.”
“Ryker!”
He grinned and held up his hands in surrender. The sun was fresh and cast bright, new light through the trees. It was early enough that he had plenty of time to go home to wash up and change before going to work. Olive pulled the hoodie of her sweatshirt over his head against the morning chill.
“I’m taking Lulu up on her offer to stay on their sleeper sofa until the boutique is opened again.”
“That’s a good idea. Will you be okay driving out of here?”
“Yep.”
An awkward silence stretched between them. He pulled his keys from his pocket and gave them a little jingle to break it. “I have to get to work. Call me if you have any trouble. It only takes me a bit to get here.”
“Okay.”
Slipping into his Jeep, he backed out of the parking space and headed toward the entrance. He wasn’t quite ready to head home. He had time to take a short drive and clear his head. On a whim, Ryker took a right on the road that led deeper into the park.
Taking a sharp curve that led to the edge of the park, he slowed down when he spotted a tendril of black smoke coming from the trees. There weren’t any camping spots or public picnic areas back there that would explain a fire.
He parked, noticing a tipped-over bicycle partially hidden in the underbrush. Grabbing his first responder backpack and emergency radio, he got out of the Jeep to take a closer look. Three bicycles were sloppily camouflaged with piles of leaves and brush. Empty soda cans were scattered nearby, along with crunched potato chip bags and candy bar wrappers.
Voices filtered through the trees, male, adolescent, hushed. Ryker stealthily followed the sounds until the trees opened into a clearing, revealing three boys tossing debris and sticks into a small fire. They were twelve, maybe thirteen. Old enough to know better.
The boy closest to him had a small blowtorch in his back pocket. He plucked something from a bag and tossed it into the fire while the smallest boy stepped back and chewed his thumbnail, clearly distressed.
“I gotta get home, guys. You should put that out so we can go.”
The other boys ignored him.
“My mom is going to be awake soon. I didn’t tell her I was leaving. I’m going to get in trouble.”
The kid with the blowtorch took it from his pocket.
Ryker made his move. “What do you have there?”
The boys jumped, their eyes widening in fear as he strode in their direction. The boy threw the blowtorch and made a half-turn to bolt.
“You can’t outrun a shifter, son. Stay where you are.”
The boys didn’t move as Ryker stopped in front of them and crossed his arms. All three looked at him wide-eyed and pale faced.
“What else do you boys have? Matches, lighter, flame thrower?”
The quieter boy jerked his thumb toward the one next to him. “Martin has matches.”
Ryker held out a palm. Four small packages of matches and one lighter were quickly deposited into it. He slipped the contraband into his back pocket and then turned to the kid with the blowtorch.
“What’s your name?”
The kid sneered. “I’m not telling you.”
“Shut up, Cal. He’s a shifter. Don’t piss him off.”
Ryker pointed to the kid in the middle. “Don’t swear.” Then to Cal. “Go get that blowtorch and bring it here.”
The boy’s eyes narrowed with distrust and something very close to hatred. Unbothered, Ryker motioned with a jerk of his head for the boy to comply. He did, then thrust the blowtorch into Ryker’s hands.
“I think I’ve found the culprits who’ve been starting fires around here.”
He looked directly at Martin, knowing the kid would crack. Cal got to him first. “Shut up, Martin.”
Martin looked like he might pee his pants. His eyes were glued to Ryker’s face. “Are you going to eat us?”
Ryker could barely hold back a grin. “Not right now.”
None of them looked as if they believed him.
“I’m a firefighter and I’m getting tired of being called over here to put out the fires the three of you keep starting. You’re all smart enough to understand that you might burn the entire park down.”
Cal smirked darkly. Ryker stepped into his personal space, forcing the kid to crank his neck to look up at him. He half expected the kid to start throwing punches.
“You’re the ringleader. I get it. You have a bad attitude, nothing to lose. It makes you feel good to play with fire, doesn’t it? Makes you forget about whatever’s going on at home, at school. Whatever it is that’s got you so riled up.”
“He’s mad at his dad,” Martin sighed. “’Cause he went to jail.”
“Yeah,” the other kid sighed dramatically. “He won’t get out until we’re forty-two.”
“Shut up, Ben!”
An unexpected ache punched Ryker in the chest. He sure as hell knew how that felt. Watching his father get arrested multiple times and then finally put in prison drummed up all sorts of poisonous feelings when Ryker was too young to know what to do with them. Hell, he still didn’t know what to do with them.
“That’s rough, Cal. Sorry to hear that. “
Cal turned in on himself, blocking Ryker’s attempt at commiseration. If not for his uncle Rowen stepping in as a father figure, he might have done stupid stuff to vent his anger, too. And while he felt bad for Cal, it didn’t cancel out the consequences.
“Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to learn how to put this fire out, and then we’re going to the ranger station so you can confess to what you’ve been doing out here. I don’t know what the consequences will be, but I’m sure they won’t be pretty.”
Martin covered his face with his hands. “My mom is going to kill me.”
Slipping off his backpack, Ryker unzipped it and removed a fire extinguisher, a pair of gloves, and eye protection. Motioning for Cal to come closer, he thrust the extinguisher into the boy’s hands and turned him toward the fire.
“Do you know how to use one of these?”
“No.”
“Here’s the difference between you and me. You start fires to deal with your problems. I kill fires to deal with mine. Which one do you think has a better outcome? My way, or yours?”
He shoved the safety glasses on the kid’s face.
“Here’s how I see it. If fire makes you feel better, fine. Play with the flames. But do it in a way that serves your community and your family instead of hurting them. Trust me; it feels better to put out a fire and save someone’s home than it does to burn a park down.”
After a brief explanation of how to use the extinguisher, he turned Cal loose.
“Aim, pull the handle, sweep.”
The boy looked uncertain but did as instructed. A spray of foam shot from the extinguisher hose and landed on the fire. The other boys cheered, which made Cal smile and discharge the foam with more confidence until the fire was extinguished.
Ryker showed them how to stir up the ashes to ensure it wouldn’t reignite. Using the gloves, he had the boys pick up the remaining trash, and then ushered them into their bicycles where they cleaned up the rest of their mess. He followed them as they rode their bikes to the twenty-four-hour ranger station, and waited inside with them until a ranger became available.
The boys sat on a long bench, kicking their feet, hands in their laps, each of them wearing a remorseful look that Ryker was glad to see. Hopefully, this experience would prevent them from repeating their actions. Time would tell.
Cal sat on the end of the bench, face in his hands. He didn’t look up when Ryker knelt on one knee next to him.
“My dad was in and out of jail for most of my childhood. Then he went to prison and that was that. I know it makes you angry and I’m not going to tell you what to do with that anger. But if you want a better outlet, come to the fire station. Someone is always there, and we appreciate an extra hand to help get stuff done.”
Cal didn’t respond, not that Ryker expected him to. He’s put the offer out there and hopefully the kid would use it to his advantage.
He was about to get up when a soft voice stopped him. “Will you be there?”
“I’ll tell you what. If you show up, and I’m not, one of the guys can call me and I’ll come over. Just ask for Ryker Mitchell.”
He extended his hand. To his surprise, Cal shook it.
“See you around.”
Ryker stood, clipped his radio to his waist, and went to the counter to sign some forms.
“I really thought he was going to eat us!” Martin whispered.
Cal grunted. “I can’t wait to get out of this town. As soon as I’m eighteen, I’m out of here.”
A muscle in Ryker’s jaw twitched as he focused on the paperwork. He’d said the same thing when he was that age, and yet, he was still here, doing nothing about it.
He could change that. All he had to do was make a phone call.
Maybe it was time that he did.