Chapter Twenty-Four
A loud thud brought Rachel’s head up from the floor where it was becoming easier to stay.
Whether it was help arriving or the ceiling beams starting to fall, she couldn’t tell.
Around her, sizzling sounds like frying bacon filtered from all the outlets, and even with the collar of her crewneck sweater over her face, her nose and throat burned.
Her eyes were on fire. She had to work just to draw in air.
Then came a shattering of glass. She lifted her heavy head again and turned toward the windows on the opposite side of the room. Daylight outlined the shape of a firefighter in a helmet, mask and full turnout gear. The thing in his hand must have been an ax.
“Mick?” she called out, her voice sounding strange. But it couldn’t have been him. As chief, he didn’t have to climb ladders, at least not regularly, and after she’d put herself in this situation, he had no reason to volunteer.
“Rachel?” a muffled voice called out.
Its owner climbed in through the office window and dropped to the floor, where Rachel had let the dispatcher know she was trapped after a test of the hot doorknob told her it wasn’t safe to go into the hall.
“Over here,” she said and then dissolved into a coughing fit. She tried to shift to a crawling position, but her limbs were heavy, uncooperative.
The firefighter said something else she couldn’t make out but then crawled along the wall, brushing hands over the carpet in broad sweeps. In the space of the broken window, another first responder appeared, backlit by daylight.
As the first one reached her, Rachel peeked over her sweater collar. It wasn’t Mick.
“Ma’am, we’re going to get you out.”
Though still garbled, she understood the voice this time, and it turned out to be a feminine one. Felicia. The firefighter shifted her onto her side and started pulling her toward the window. Rachel flailed her arms to make the woman stop.
“I have to…get…boxes—” She couldn’t help breaking into another round of coughs.
“Sorry, ma’am. There isn’t time.”
“No! I have to—”
Ignoring her pleas, the firefighter dragged her toward daylight. Near the window, she hoisted Rachel off the floor and put her through the opening headfirst. Mick was on the ladder, set against the frame.
She jerked again as the first firefighter tried to shift her into Mick’s arms.
“Stop fighting,” he call out in a muffled voice. He shifted her around so that she was in front of him on the ladder, facing the house, and leaned his body heavily on hers, his thigh pressing into the back of her leg. “You’ll make us both fall.”
She continued to fight, her chest tight with desperation. “But we have to get the boxes… I found—”
“We have to get you out. That’s all.”
“No!”
He pressed tighter into her back until she finally slumped forward. Then he started descending again. She had no choice but to move with him. Felicia followed right behind them, an ax still in her gloved hand.
Once on solid ground, Mick wrapped his gear-covered arm around her shoulder and half guided, half dragged her over to the squad truck.
Another crew member wrapped a Mylar blanket around her shoulders and covered her nose and mouth with an oxygen mask, securing it with straps.
Mick and Felicia seemed to have vanished.
The first responder turned out to be veteran firefighter and certified paramedic Brice McMillan, his words at first seeming garbled to her though he wasn’t wearing a mask.
“We’re going to take good care of you, Rachel,” he said in a calming voice while directing her to sit on the skirt of the truck. “Let’s get your vitals and let me check for injuries before the ambulance arrives.”
“I’m fine,” she tried to say through the oxygen mask.
“Even so.” Brice tucked in the ear tips of his stethoscope. “We won’t let anything happen to Chief Hoffman’s daughter.”
A sob escaped her before the man could even bring the chest piece close to her.
Several hundred feet away, flames shot out the roof of her childhood home that had served as both prison and sanctuary to her.
Firefighters trained massive sprays of water on both sides of the house, the hoses dousing her memories and the truth.
They were only focused on the exterior now, as though trying to contain the blaze and prevent it from spreading to the garage.
They appeared to have conceded what was called an interior attack.
Her chest heaved under the weight of it all, her already sore eyes burning even more as tears blurred the scene all around her.
Mick suddenly reappeared in front of her, his helmet and mask probably back on the fire truck, his dark hair soaked, and worry etched in his features. Though Brice had stepped away, giving them space, he lowered his voice.
“You okay?” He paused and took two long breaths before continuing. “You’ll have to go to the hospital to get checked out.”
“Brice already said that.”
He blinked over her curt comment but kept talking. “I’ll get word to your friend. It’s Stacy, isn’t it? Then we’ll call the school so that she can pick up the girls. Just give me the number and—”
“I’ll take care of it,” she said in the same tight tone as before.
This time his gaze narrowed, and he took a step forward and lifted a hand as though to touch her shoulder.
She flinched and pulled the blanket tighter around her.
The hurt that flashed in his eyes cut straight through her, but she braced herself against softening to it.
Nothing he could do would make this right.
“Look, I know you’re upset, but—”
She pulled the mask off though Brice had told her to leave it on. “Then why wouldn’t you…listen…to me?”
Breaking off into a coughing fit, she shot a look at those around them. The first responders on the scene were all pretending not to notice them. She tried again in a lower tone but spoke through gritted teeth. “Why didn’t you?”
“What were you even doing in there? You promised.” He searched her eyes, his own wild, frightened. “Didn’t you realize—”
“That I had to find the files…before it was too late?” She paused to cough some more. “I…found them, but we’ll never know what was…in them. They’re gone.”
“What did you expect me to do? Risk your life? And Felicia’s? And mine?”
“Now I don’t have—”
“Did you look at that place?”
His jaw flexing, he pointed his gloved hand at the house, where the second story had already folded into the first, leaving only a shell of the exterior. Even from this reasonable distance, the heat from it spread over her face.
“It’s gone. A total loss,” he said. “And you could have gone with it. You could have…died.”
She shook her head, hearing his words but not wanting to accept them.
Around them other firefighters continued to battle the flames.
And more sirens could be heard in the distance, coming to join the fight.
As the fire had also taken place in daylight, it had begun to draw a crowd as well.
Cars were even arriving from town, drawn by the sirens and the smoke.
After putting the mask back on for a few breaths, she tried again. “You don’t understand. The boxes could have—”
“Rachel, stop!” He shot a look around and lowered his voice, but everyone was already watching them. “You have to stop digging. Even if it could have proven that your dad isn’t guilty of some of the crimes, you nearly died trying to find that proof. Nothing in the box was worth that.”
“We could have gotten the boxes out,” She insisted again with a sigh.
He stepped closer and spoke only for her. “There were multiple ignition points in that fire and near both exits. Someone didn’t want you to get out alive.”
She swallowed and then stared again at the house as a huge column of water poured over it. Had she really come that close to losing her life just to find those answers?
After another round of coughs, she cleared her throat. “Thank you…and Felicia…for saving my life.”
Mick shook his head, not ready to hear it, and leaned close again. “Is your life so worthless to you? Do you want your girls to end up like—”
Her? Mick stopped, his eyes going wide, but she got the message. He was accusing her of trying to leave her daughters as orphans. And he couldn’t have said anything crueler.
“Well, I’m glad you got to play the hero again.
I know you’re still trying to make up for the losses back in Chicago.
But this situation wasn’t the same. Whoever wanted to get to me also wanted those records destroyed.
They’re still out there, and there’s no way to prove they’re guilty. I’ll never forgive you.”
As soon as the words escaped from her mouth, she regretted them, and not just because his head jerked back as though she’d stabbed him in the gut and left him to bleed out. Had she tried to injure him since he’d hurt her?
“Look, I’m sorry. We’re both upset. So let’s…” She didn’t know what she would have said next, but she didn’t get the chance as he held both hands up in surrender and backed away from her.
“You were waiting for me to do something to justify pushing me away. To prove you don’t deserve anything good. Well, I’m glad I could oblige before it was too late.”
“Mick, wait.”
But he didn’t. His shoulders were straight as he marched to the rig and away from her, the back of his turnout coat, with “Mount Isabel FD” at the top and “M. Prentiss” at the bottom, reflective yellow stripes between them, growing smaller with each step.
She wanted to run after him, to tell him…
what? That she wanted him, needed him? But she couldn’t.
She was furious with him, too. For what?
Saving her life? It wasn’t as simple as that, either.
And even if she could go after him in front of all those people, her lungs hurt so much that she wouldn’t have made it across the driveway.