Chapter 2
Parker
Ijolted upright, awakened by the sound of a nurse's sneakers squeaking as she ran down the hall.
Damn, it’s been a long week. I must have dozed off.
The recent storms kept my firehouse busy most of the week.
Rubbing my hands over my fresh fade and across my face, I tried to wipe away the exhaustion.
After a week of rescuing people from electrical wires that had fallen on cars, trees that crashed through houses, and routine medical calls, I was called to a two-alarm fire in Pelham Manor.
We arrived just in time before the roof started to cave in.
Being the Fire Captain meant that it was my responsibility to rush inside before anyone, while the rest of my team controlled the fire from the outside.
I would always carry the weight of my team.
It was my job to make sure they returned home to their families.
I hadn’t expected to find a woman consumed by a nightmare.
She thrashed and whimpered in her bed as the flames crawled up the walls of the bedroom.
I woke her as gently as I could. Pain was written all over her tear-streaked face.
Whatever she was dreaming about had her trapped in its clutches and I fought it to let her go.
The look in her eyes had done something to me; terror freezing her in time.
I had seen this type of look before—some nights, that look was all I saw, except they weren’t tear-filled hazel eyes, they were blue.
We didn’t have much more time before the flames took the bedroom too, so I lifted her into my arms and carried her towards the side door that wasn’t being blocked by the flames.
It was only when we emerged into the crisp night air that she began to scream. The sound still haunted me as we rode back to the station.
The fire investigator, James, interviewed me about what I observed when arriving at the scene.
I noticed the pour patterns on the floor the moment I set foot into the home.
That observation, combined with how quickly the house was swallowed by the fire, led me to believe there was foul play involved.
The heavy smell of smoke lingered in the air as we ascertained the damage. Nothing would be salvageable.
When we reached the backyard, James and I used our flashlights to survey the area for any additional information we could add to our reports. My eyes caught on an orange duffel bag behind a bush near the house, completely untouched by the fire.
Pulling on his gloves, James unzipped the duffel bag and found a tin of gasoline, zip ties, and a piece of folded paper.
I released a low whistle. Something in the milk ain’t clean.
This new evidence confirmed my suspicion that someone had intentionally started that fire.
James had given me a somber look before unfolding the paper.
When he turned it toward me, it was a photo of the woman I had carried out tonight, her face pressed against another woman, smiling so wide you could see most of their teeth.
I used my phone to snap a picture as he placed a call to the 49th precinct. This was no mistake—whoever left this bag here clearly had bigger plans.
From working with James over the years on various calls, I knew that sometimes, in these types of scenarios, the arsonist lingered around the scene to see the results of their destruction.
I made sure to stay alert as I jogged back to the truck and drove to the station.
I called Sharon, a nurse who owed me a favor at Johnson Medical.
My growing suspicion led me to believe I needed to see the woman, to make sure she was okay.
I persuaded myself into thinking once my eyes landed on her, this incessant need to fix things would go away.
Then I could leave the rest up to the police.
In truth, I had way too many close calls lately; while I knew I couldn’t save everyone, it didn’t mean their deaths didn’t weigh heavily on me.
Finding that bag stirred up old feelings that I wasn’t ready to unpack.
I saved her, that should have been it—I did my job.
That was how I ended up dozing off in a hospital waiting room chair with a crick in my neck.
The woman in question, Evelyn Howard, had been in and out of consciousness.
I hadn’t expected to be here this morning waiting for three hours, but then again, that nagging feeling told me I couldn’t leave without seeing her first.
Rising from the chair, I walked over to the nurses' station that was still occupied by Sharon. The barely five-foot Panamanian woman stood behind the desk with her glasses propped on her head, a single black braid hanging over her shoulder, while she squinted at the chart she was holding.
“Lose your glasses again, Shar?”
Sharon had been there for me after a bad call, and we’d been friends ever since.
Rory broke his leg while venting a roof on a job and scared the daylight out of the squad a few years ago.
We had all been gathered in the waiting room after we brought him in, and I was barely holding my composure.
When I slipped into the stairwell, I hadn’t seen her sitting there until after I’d slammed my fist into the wall.
There was panic in Rory’s voice over the radio.
He thought this was it, but we got him out.
I wasn’t prepared to have any other outcome—that didn’t mean the whole ordeal didn’t shake me.
My heart had been jumping out of my chest the whole ride there.
She didn’t say anything. She just flipped my hands over and assessed them.
The skin of my knuckles had split, and blood seeped out.
Quietly, she took my forearm and led me to an empty examination room.
We talked and got to know each other a bit while she cleaned and bandaged my hand.
She had taken good care of Rory, and had never failed to give me a stitch in my side from laughing since.
Sharon rolled her eyes, letting out a huff, “I gave up the search ten minutes ago! I can’t be bothered.”
Reaching across the desks, I gave her glasses a light tap. She flicked her eyes upward and groaned.
“Has a doctor seen her yet?”
“Actually, Dr. Singh is with her right now.”
“What? Why didn’t you wake me?”
“Cool your jets, big man,” Sharon interjected. “He walked in right before you woke up from your sixth dream. I wouldn't do you like that. This must be important; got you all wound up.”
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I was exhausted, and this situation had me on edge. “You’re right, I’m sorry. It’s been a long week. I appreciate you helping me out.”
Sharon rounded the station, collecting a few more charts before stopping beside me. She playfully shoved me. “Don’t let it happen again!”
I take a seat, and moments later, Dr. Singh approaches the nurses' station with Sharon in tow. She gave me a subtle nod, letting me know I could visit Evelyn’s room.I was overcome with a sense of urgency.
My steps were hurried as I walked down the long corridor to Room 378.
The sound of desperate cries propelled me forward, causing me to break into a sprint until I reached her door.
Evelyn was hunched over the side of her bed, sobbing into a pillow.
Her knees buckled, and I rushed in to hold her up.
Her body jerked in reaction to my arms wrapping around her middle, and I almost let go.
She was warm against me, although her whole body was trembling.
Sobbing in my arms, her wide eyes settled on mine without a flicker of recognition.
My body was stiff as I struggled to form the right words to say, concerned that I’d overstepped.
I wasn’t sure how much time passed, but her cries tapered off, and she lifted her head to face me, an apology already quickly tumbling off her lips.
“I-I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me,” she stuttered.
I couldn’t help but take in how beautiful she was.
I’d noticed the night before, but the situation didn’t allow for more than a brief look.
Those hazel eyes caught my attention again.
I took note of the rest of her as we stood in a slight embrace.
Her skin was golden honey-brown, with dark freckles sprinkled across her nose and cheeks.
She had black hair that fell past her shoulders, curls springing from every direction, framing her face.
Her full lips were positioned in a frown.
I gave her another once over, checking her for any obvious injuries, before realizing that I hadn’t replied. I quickly took a step back from her, breaking the connection.
What the fuck was up with me? I really did need a bed and a week or two of sleep.
“Uh—it’s no worries, Ms. Howard. You’ve been through a lot in the last twenty-four hours. It’s understandable.”
At the sound of her name, she eyed me suspiciously. “I’m sorry. Who are you?”
I noticed she was putting some distance between us, and I held up my hands cautiously.
“I’m Parker Woods, a Fire Captain with the New York Fire Department. I’m who pulled you from your home last night.” Her eyes were apprehensive, but her shoulders appeared to relax.
I took a seat in the chair closest to the door as I geared up to break the news, “Listen, I don’t mean to alarm you, but this fire was intentional. Is there anyone you can think of that might want to harm you?”
Evelyn settled on the edge of the hospital bed. Discomfort and tension radiated off her in waves as she wrung her hands. She released a dry chuckle, and her eyes met mine.
“My sister’s killer...” Her trembling voice sent an unwanted shiver up my spine. “He came back for me.”
Her words stole my breath, and I had to wonder for the second time today: what the fuck had I gotten myself into?
“I’m sure the hospital has notified the police that you’re awake by now. An officer is probably already on their way to take your statement. I would strongly suggest you request to be placed in protective custody.”
Somehow, even with ten years of duty under my belt, I hadn’t expected that response from her. I should’ve known that violence didn’t have a type. It took innocents every day, especially when they looked like Evelyn and me. Discomfort settled in my gut as I looked at her wilted form.
“They can’t help me,” she muttered, head still bowed.
At first, I was sure I misheard her, then it clicked. “What do you mean?”
Her head popped up at the sound of the metal chair scraping the floor when I stood. “Nothing.”
It wasn’t nothing.
“Was there anything else you needed from me?” she sniffed, turning her back to me to pour a cup of water.
Message received.
Reaching into my back pocket, I pulled out one of my cards, placing it on the table before writing my cell phone number on the back.
Clearing my throat, I tapped the card on the table, catching her attention once more.
“Here’s my number. You can always call the firehouse, but if you want to reach me directly, my cell is on the back. The firehouse has resources you can use to get back on your feet. Call me if you need anything. Anything at all.”
A nod was all she gave me.
Turning around, I made my way to the door. Before I could pull the door open, it swung in, revealing a police officer on the other side.
You checked on her.
You did your job.
Leave it to the police.
I left the officer with Evelyn and stepped out into the hall.
Tipping my head to the ceiling, I let out a long sigh.
My bed was calling my name. Once I made it out of the hospital and into my truck, I checked my phone. There was a text from my boy Danny about the poker game tonight that I completely forgot about. Letting out a string of curses, I put the car in drive and started my journey to Brooklyn.
I wouldn't be getting any sleep for a while.