Chapter 2
The bell above the door jingled cheerfully as Jackson and Liv stepped into the cozy café on Main Street. The familiar scent of freshly brewed coffee and sizzling bacon greeted them, warming their spirits on the chilly morning.
After leading Liv to his usual booth by the window, Jackson slid into the red vinyl seat with a contented sigh, while she settled in across from him. As she perused the menu, the restaurant began to fill with the hustle and bustle of morning commuters and locals alike. The air buzzed with lively conversation, punctuated by the clatter of plates and the hiss of the coffee machine.
At a nearby table, a group of elderly gentlemen gathered for their daily coffee klatch, their laughter echoing off the walls as they swapped stories and debated the day”s headlines. A young couple sat in a corner booth, stealing glances at each other over steaming mugs of coffee, their laughter mingling with the soft strains of a classic tune playing on the jukebox.
Behind the counter, the waitress—a curvy, middle-aged woman with a no-nonsense demeanor and a heart of gold, hurried back and forth, taking orders and delivering steaming plates of breakfast. Her banter with the regulars was quick and friendly, her warm smile lighting up the room as she greeted each customer by name.
“I love this place. Waverly Junction at its best.” As Liv placed her menu down, the waitress approached with a warm smile, her pen poised over her notepad.
“Well, well, well, if it ain”t our favorite fire captain and a lovely lady I don”t think I”ve had the pleasure of meetin” before,” she greeted with a twinkle in her eye. “The usual for you, Jackson?”
Jackson grinned and nodded. “I guess I’m that predictable, Betty. And for the lady, a cup of your finest coffee, please. And?—”
“I’ll have two eggs over easy with bacon, an English muffin, plus a small glass of juice please,” Liv ordered.
Betty’s eyes widened in recognition. “My goodness, it’s been a long time! Olivia Everhart? You’re Charlotte and Chuck”s oldest daughter?”
Liv”s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Why, yes, I am. How did you...?”
Betty chuckled knowingly, tapping the side of her nose with her pen. “Your resemblance to your mama is uncanny.”
Liv couldn”t help but laugh at the revelation. “Well, it”s nice to meet you, Betty. And I must say, the smell of pancakes is making my mouth water. Can I change my order?”
Betty beamed with pride. “Well, darlin”, we do our best to keep the folks of Waverly Junction well-fed and happy. Now, if you”ll excuse me, I”ll get your orders in right away.”
As Betty bustled off to the kitchen, Jackson turned to Liv with a grin. “You don’t come in here?”
She shook her head. “I usually work the night shift unless I’m on a case. And there is nothing like my mom’s breakfasts.” Liv rolled her eyes playfully. “Mr. Favorite Fire Captain, I think we started some town gossip.” She looked around and saw some eyes on them.
“Hmm, I’ll take it. Maybe people will chill a little. Is there a male version of a spinster? I’m forty-two. I get lots of requests.”
Liv laughed. “You realize, a century ago, I’d be fourteen and promised to you.”
He laughed heartily, then his eyes focused on her. “You don’t have to tell me…but I’m going to be nosy. I need to ask. We’re all curious about how you got started specializing in arson investigation.”
“We?” Her sculptured eyebrow rose. Her deep and expressive hazel eyes held a quiet intensity.
“Station 3. And before you think it’s coming from only the guys, the women are curious too.” Jackson pierced her with his green eyes.
“So, you agreed to this breakfast so you could interrogate me?” She cocked her head, some of her auburn hair falling from the tight bun she wore.
Jackson”s smile faded, replaced by a subtle smirk as he arched an eyebrow. “Are you always so direct?”
Liv met his gaze with a playful glint in her eye. “Well,” she replied, her tone dripping with suggestion, “I find that being direct tends to... get results.”
A flicker of heat passed between them, igniting a tantalizing tension that hung heavy in the air. Then Liv went on, “When some firefighters find out I’m a fire investigator, they’re skeptical and dismissive of my abilities. I apologize, but I get defensive.”
Jackson leaned back as if he was resigned to her choice to tell her story or not. She chose to share it.
“I was ten when our fathers were killed in that house fire. I grew up in a family of firefighters on my dad’s side. Three uncles in three different jurisdictions. Sunday dinners and the holidays were filled with stories. And I have firefighters in my extended family too. Fred Lamply is like an uncle to me and my sisters.”
Fred Lamply was the current chief of the Waverly Junction Fire Department. Jackson’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard.
“After my father’s death, I grew obsessed. I needed to learn the science behind fire behavior. My mom, trying to protect me and my sisters, wouldn’t talk about how he died. But I needed to know. I left Waverly Junction, headed to Purdue University and earned a degree in forensic science.
“After graduating, I was hired as a forensic analyst, specializing in fire investigation for the Waverly County Fire Department. I was a perfectionist. I grew more and more bitter when people didn’t work at the level I expected. It grew toxic. I blew up friendships.
“I looked to my blue family. My mom was deputy chief of Waverly County PD, Charlotte Whittaker. She worked under her maiden name. I decided not to waste my other legacy. I took the test and made the Waverly County PD. After solving a set of school fires, I caught the chief’s attention. I earned my silver shield and was assigned to the detective bureau.
“Six months ago, there was the building bombing in the county.” She pressed her lips together.
Jackson’s lids grew heavy. “It destroyed a nail salon filled with patrons. No one survived.”
She looked somber and nodded. “The chief made it official. I earned my gold shield—arson/bomb squad in the Waverly County PD.” She wrapped her hands around her mug.
“Did you ever consider going through the fire academy?” Jackson asked, his voice colored with empathy and curiosity.
“Once I was in blue…” She looked down.
“Chief Chuck Everhart left quite a legacy.” Jackson looked as though he was reaching for her hand but stopped and instead grabbed another sugar packet.
Her father died attempting to save others. A man who didn’t let his rank stop him from jumping right in. It was a connection that ran between them.
As they sat across from each other in the cozy café, she blurted out, “I think I would have applied to the fire academy if I hadn’t alienated my firefighting friends.”
“Would you still like to?” Jackson’s eyes twinkled.
Liv”s eyes widened, but she quickly regained her composure. “Are you serious?” After inhaling deeply, she exhaled with a calm smile, acknowledging the waitress as she placed their meals in front of them.
A flurry of excitement threatened to bubble over within her, fueled not only by the professional opportunity he presented but also by the undeniable attraction she felt. But she quickly reined in her emotions, drawing upon her stoic nature to maintain her composure. She understood the weight of this decision and the sacrifices it would entail, both personally and professionally.
With a calm voice that belied her racing thoughts, she replied, “Can I think about it?” Her gaze locked with his, searching for any hint of disappointment or impatience.
To her relief, his eyes softened, and he nodded in understanding. Pulling out his phone, he scrolled through his calendar, a gesture that felt strangely intimate. “Our next group rolls through next week,” he informed her, his tone gentle.
“I”ll let you know tomorrow,” Liv decided, her resolve firm as she met his gaze head-on. “I need to consider the commitment involved, talk to my partner, the other detectives and my boss. If he gives me the okay, then I need to clear my schedule.”
The clatter of cutlery and the hum of conversation around them seemed distant as Olivia contemplated the chance he was giving her, the possibility of a future she had never dared to imagine. Tomorrow, she would tell him her choice.
As Liv considered his proposition, a mischievous glint hinted at a playful spark beneath her composed exterior. “You know, Jackson,” she began, her tone teasing, “I”ve never been one to make snap decisions, especially when it comes to life-altering offers from handsome strangers.”
Jackson chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that sent a shiver down Liv”s spine. “Well, Liv,” he countered with a wink, “consider me your not-so-handsome fairy godfather, here to grant your wishes.”
A coy smile tugged at Liv”s lips as she leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “And what if my deepest desire involves more than just professional growth?” Her gaze locked with his, daring him to rise to the challenge.
Jackson”s eyes sparked with a mixture of amusement and something darker, more primal. “Oh, Liv,” he replied, his voice low and husky, “I”m all about fulfilling desires.”
* * *
As Jackson and Liv ate,the familiar buzz of the diner filled the air around them. More customers began to trickle in, some stopping by to chat with Jackson in his role as fire captain, while others greeted Liv with friendly smiles and nods of recognition.
“Morning, Jackson!” called out Joe, a local mechanic, as he passed by their booth. “Heard you had quite the fire to deal with last night. Everything alright?”
Jackson nodded, taking a sip of his coffee. “Yeah, Joe, we managed to contain it pretty quickly. No injuries, thank goodness.”
Meanwhile, a group of elderly ladies sitting at a nearby table waved enthusiastically at Liv as she caught their eye. “Morning, Olivia,” called out Mrs. Jenkins, the town”s resident gossip and the bakery owner. “How”s your mama doing? Heard she”s been under the weather.”
Liv nodded in response. “She”s doing better; thank you for asking, Mrs. Jenkins. Just taking it one day at a time.” She leaned into Jackson and whispered, “She had the sniffles. Bought some cold medicine at the pharmacy, where I assume they bumped into each other.”
As the morning wore on, more familiar faces stopped by their table, each exchange filled with the easy camaraderie that came with living in a small town where everyone knew each other. Some shared news and updates, while others simply offered a friendly nod or wave as they passed by.
“In Waverly Junction, where everyone knows our names,” Jackson hummed the Cheers theme. He didn’t want the breakfast to end. There was something about Liv Everhart.
* * *
Olivia parkedher car in the familiar driveway of the old Victorian home in Waverly Junction where she grew up. The house, with its towering gables and intricate woodwork, had always been a place of comfort, but today, it was a place to have a serious conversation.
She found her mother, Charlotte, in the back garden, hands covered in paint and eyes sparkling with determination. The retired deputy police chief had found a new project in her plan of refurbishing their family home.
“Mom,” Olivia began, her voice steady despite the butterflies in her stomach. “I”ve been offered a chance to go through the fire academy.”
Charlotte”s brush stilled mid-stroke. She turned to face her daughter, her expression a mix of pride and concern. “The fire department is very physical, Liv. It”s not like your regular workouts.”
“I know, Mom.” Olivia met her mother”s gaze head-on. “I”m not worried. I can handle it.” Her workouts were just as challenging as the workouts of the group of firefighters who worked out at the gym she went to.
A silence fell between them, heavy with fears and memories. Finally, Olivia broke it. “Is this because Dad died in a fire?”
Charlotte sighed, setting down her paintbrush. Her voice was barely above a whisper when she spoke. “I can”t lose a child that way, Liv. I learned to relax when you joined the police department.”
Olivia maintained, “Mom, it’s the academy. It will build credibility for me.”
Her mother’s brows furrowed. “Is someone giving you a hard time?”
She swished her jaw. “No, not at the moment, but you know how people can get. Competitive. I’m a woman. Pick an excuse.”
Charlotte wrapped an arm around her oldest child. “I understand, Liv. Now tell me how this all came about?” Her eyebrow rose.
Olivia hesitated, then confessed, “I had breakfast with Jackson Reynolds. We bumped into each other at the scene of the shipping company fire. We were talking, and he asked if I wanted to give the academy a shot.”
Charlotte”s eyes narrowed slightly, detecting the slight blush on Olivia”s cheeks. “I had a feeling after the burn center dedication, you might seek him out. I figured you’d want more information.” A knowing smile played on her lips.
Olivia shifted uncomfortably, trying to hide her growing attraction to Jackson. “It”s nothing like that, Mom.”
“Honey, you were only ten,” Charlotte replied gently, her voice full of regret. “It didn”t seem right to burden you with that information. Jackson was at least twenty-one when they died. He was in a different position.”
Silence filled the room as Olivia grappled with her mom’s point of view, her mind whirling with unanswered questions and feelings. “Mom, what aren’t you telling me?”
She stared at the swing hanging from the tree in her backyard where she spent hours with her dad.
Charlotte went to the garden sink and scrubbed her hands clean. She walked into the house and returned with a large binder of clippings. “You can share this with Jackson.”
* * *
Jackson stepped into the solitude of his office, shutting the door behind him. The room was a sanctuary—a place where he could think, remember, and sometimes grieve. He dropped heavily into his chair, his head falling into his hands. A book sat in the desk’s corner: Congratulations, You’re an Officer. Many of the pages were already dogeared. But his new title and command wasn’t what had him tied up in knots.
Olivia Everhart—smart, sexy, captivating, and linked to his past. Her father died in a house fire, the same fire that claimed his own father”s life. Jackson had known there were Everharts in the area’s fire departments, but they were older than him. He hadn”t made the connection that the female arson/bomb detective in Waverly County was one of Chuck Everhart’s daughters until he saw the Everhart girls at the burn center dedication.
He reached for his computer, his fingers trembling slightly as he typed in the date of his father”s death. The search results filled the screen, and he clicked on the first link—a news report detailing the tragic blaze.
As he watched the video, the memories came rushing back, as vivid and painful as they had been years ago. The flames were monstrous, their red, yellow, and orange branches reaching, flickering, and snapping at everything within reach. Sparks drifted upwards, carried by the brown smoke that billowed from the house in a dark, ominous cloud. Embers glowed amidst the destruction.
“In a distressing turn of events, a significant fire broke out earlier today, engulfing a residential property in the Ashcroft Terrace area. Firefighters from the Waverly Junction Fire Department and Waverly County responded swiftly to the scene after receiving multiple emergency calls.
“The cause of the fire remains under investigation, with initial reports suggesting the flames originated from the kitchen area of the three-story house before rapidly spreading throughout the property. Eyewitnesses reported thick plumes of dark-colored smoke and intense flames emerging rapidly from the structure, drawing neighbors and emergency services to the site.
“Despite the rapid response from the firefighters, they were unable to contain the fire. High winds allowed it to spread to two neighboring homes.
“All occupants of the house were evacuated safely, but not without tragedy. Battalion Chief Chuck Everhart and Captain David Reynolds were killed rescuing two teens from the basement. After the children were cleared from the home, the floors above and the chimney collapsed, trapping both firefighters. A valiant rescue attempt was made to no avail.
“The fire department is conducting a thorough investigation to determine the cause of the fire, focusing on the kitchen area where the fire is believed to have originated. Local authorities have cordoned off the area as the investigation continues, and caution is advised for pedestrians and motorists passing through Ashcroft Avenue. Stay tuned for updates on this developing story as the investigation progresses.”
He remembered the phone call, the voice of the department chief on the other end of the line telling him the news. He was away at the University of Sioux Falls, enrolled in their paramedic technology program, living his best life, never thinking of the danger his father and other firefighters faced every day.
The house, once a symbol of warmth to its family, had become a deadly trap within minutes. As the fire penetrated the walls and ceiling, it sent flames to the second and third floors, ravaging everything in its path. The weight of the destruction careened into the basement where two boys played video games. Two firefighters managed to free them before growing trapped themselves.
On the computer screen, a news clip played, capturing a scene that felt like a distant memory. Two engines, each carrying a flag-draped casket, rolled slowly past a somber crowd and a mile of firefighters from all over. Jackson”s heart clenched as he watched, his breath catching in his throat.
There, standing beside his mother, was Jackson himself, his sunglasses shielding his eyes from the harsh glare of the sun. In his hands, he held his father”s battered helmet, a tangible reminder of the loss.
As the second engine passed, Jackson”s gaze shifted to Charlotte Everhart, dressed in black and holding Chuck”s helmet in her trembling hands. To one side of her stood four young girls, their faces streaked with tears as they clung to each other for support. And there, on her other side, amidst the grief and the heartache, stood Olivia, her expression stoic and resolute as she stared at the casket.
A lump formed in Jackson”s throat as he relived the moment, the weight of his father”s absence settling heavily on his shoulders. Two men, two fathers, lost their lives that day, leaving behind a legacy of sacrifice and bravery that would never be forgotten.
Jackson needed to talk to Livvy. She deserved to know her father’s story from his point of view. He reached for the phone. But before he could dial the arson/bomb unit number, the piercing tones of an alarm shattered the silence, pulling him back into the present with a jolt.
“Attention all units, attention all units. Dispatch to Station 3, Rescue 3. We have a report of a dumpster fire at the corner of Main and Elm, outside the Quik Wash Laundromat. Caller reports the dumpster is filled with dryer lint. Flames visible. Nearby trees also on fire. Please respond Code 3.”
Jackson turned off his computer, ran out the office door and headed to the captain’s vehicle. Climbing into the driver’s seat, he buttoned up his turnout coat and adjusted his helmet before pulling off the apron.
Dryer lint was dangerous due to being highly flammable. Composed of tiny fibers from clothes, towels, and linens, it could easily ignite. This fire had already ignited nearby trees. He knew it posed a significant fire hazard and a danger to his company.
Under the bright rays of the midday sun, the clatter of the fire trucks echoed through the streets of Waverly Junction. The emergency vehicles maneuvered swiftly toward the heart of the poorer section of town, where a dumpster fire blazed in front of a modest laundromat.
As the fire trucks rolled up to the scene, their flashing lights cast fleeting shadows on the pavement. They traveled down streets lined with storefronts and small businesses, each with its own story to tell. The laundromat, though humble in its appearance, served as a vital necessity for the community.
Two police officers were pouring their extinguishers’ contents into the trees to stop the spread upon their arrival at the scene. The firefighters faced trees ignited like torches and a dumpster fully engulfed by flames. The metal structure glowed. The fire crackled, dryer lint providing an efficient fuel source.
“Two lines. Drown it!” he gave the order. The firefighters sprang into action, their movements honed by countless hours of training.
The chauffeur of Engine 3 connected a large-diameter supply line to the nearby hydrant, ensuring a steady flow of water. Meanwhile, another firefighter pulled a pre-connected attack line from the side of the engine. The heavy-duty hose was designed for aggressive fire attack, capable of delivering hundreds of gallons of water per minute.
With the nozzleman at the helm, they advanced toward the blazing dumpster. Water roared from the nozzle in a powerful stream, hitting the dumpster with a force that sent steam and smoke billowing into the sky. They applied a direct attack method, aiming the jet of water straight at the base of the fire, where it was hottest. The radiant heat was so intense that they could feel it through their protective gear. His lieutenant manned the second hose and sprayed the burning trees.
The metal dumpster hissed and steamed as the cool water made contact with its superheated surface. The firefighters continued their assault, dousing every inch of the dumpster until the last flames were subdued. They used a pike pole to stir the wet debris, ensuring no hidden embers could reignite.
The smell of smoke still hung in the air as Jackson surveyed the scene. The once-flaming dumpster now sat, a charred and twisted mess. His eyes scanned the area, searching for any clue that might hint at the cause of the blaze.
Jackson approached the two Waverly Junction police officers, Officer Faire and Officer Ramirez, who watched the fire company start cleaning up. “Faire, Ramirez, good to see you two here.” He nodded in appreciation.
“Hey, Reynolds. Looks like you got things under control pretty quickly,” Faire said.
“Thanks for keeping the fire from spreading. These small fires can go bad very fast.” Jackson turned in a circle.
“No problem. It”s what we”re here for,” Ramirez said.
Jackson pressed his lips together and blew out a breath. “Did you two happen to see anything before the fire broke out?”
“We got here just as things were heating up. The manager of the laundromat was out front, but she vanished when the flames started getting close to those trees over there,” Faire said.
“Disappeared, huh? Interesting. Well, thanks for the info, guys. I”ll see if I can track her down. There’s always a fresh pot of coffee on in the station.”
Jackson stepped into the laundromat, the hum of dryers and the scent of detergent replacing the smell of burnt metal and smoke. Customers were going about their business, unfazed. He approached the staff, but his questions were met with shrugged shoulders and blank stares.
“No, Captain, that dumpster is for lint only. Got to clean the vents often,” one employee insisted, her eyes darting nervously. “Everyone knows how dangerous it can be.”
But something didn”t add up. It was a cool day, not nearly hot enough for the lint to ignite spontaneously. And, according to the staff and customers, no one appeared to have discarded anything unusual in the dumpster.
Could this have been an act of arson? Or was it, as Olivia referred to the other incident, a “stupidity fire”?
Jackson felt frustrated. He wasn”t getting anywhere.
As he walked back outside, he pulled out his phone and dialed the Waverly County Police Department. If the people here wouldn”t talk to him, perhaps they”d open up to her.
“Waverly County Arson/Bomb Detective Everhart, may I help you?” she answered brightly.
“Hey, Liv, I need your help.” He watched as the last of his team boarded the engine, waiting for him to join them.