as she gasped for air. Her vision blurred as her eyes filled with tears. Slowly she crawled toward the door, wondering what might have started the fire.
She finally made it to the supply closet and placed a hand on the door. Although it was warm, it wasn’t hot.
She pulled it open and black, lethal smoke rolled out. She fell back, racked with uncontrollable coughing. Air. She needed clean air. She was dizzy. Someplace in the back of her mind she realized that she’d done everything wrong.
She should have gotten out and sounded the alarm. She should have never tried to play the hero. The dizziness grew more intense and she fell to the floor, trying to find a breath of air to fill her lungs.
Stupid, Callie, she thought. You’re smarter than this.
It was her last conscious thought.
SHE CAME TO with the wintry morning sun shining in her eyes from a nearby window. She winced against the brightness and reached up to touch her face, finding an oxygen mask covering her mouth and nose.
The hospital. She was in the hospital. How had she gotten here? Who had found her? The last thing she remembered was collapsing on the floor in the hallway at the lab. She yanked off the mask as she thought of the lab. Oh, God, had it burned?
“You’re supposed to be wearing that mask.” The deep, familiar voice came from one side of her and she turned her head to see Sheriff Patrick Martinez seated in a chair next to the bed.
She half rose from the bed. “The lab,” she croaked and then coughed to clear her throat.
“Is fine,” he assured her. “The hallway outside had a little smoke damage, but the lab itself is okay and the nurse just checked your vitals and you’re going to be fine.”
Callie breathed a sigh of relief and flopped back against the pillow. She had a pounding headache but other than that she didn’t feel too badly. “How did I get here?”
“Bobby O’Shea couldn’t sleep last night. He decided to go into the lab and get some extra work done. He found you on the floor in front of the supply closet and dragged you out, then called the fire department.”
Patrick’s blue eyes were darker than usual as he looked at her. “If he hadn’t shown up when he did, you and I wouldn’t be having this conversation right now. I’d be talking to you in the morgue.”
Callie fought a shiver that threatened to walk up her spine. “It was my fault. The minute I saw the smoke I should have gotten out of the building, but instead I foolishly decided to investigate and see where it was coming from.”
“Tell me exactly what happened.” Patrick pulled a notepad and pen from his pocket.
It took her only minutes to explain to him the events that had led to her being overcome by the smoke. She explained finding the fire in the supply closet and opening the door to check it out.
When she was finished he leaned back in his chair and stuck the pad and pen back into his pocket. “The fire was intentionally set, Callie. Who knew that you’d be working late last night?”
“Anyone who knows me at all,” she replied dryly. “It’s not unusual for me to be in the lab late. I’m there most nights until the wee hours of the morning. Surely you don’t think this is about me?”
Patrick raised a dark eyebrow. “Wasn’t it just a week ago that somebody tried to run you down with a car?”
Callie pulled the sheet tighter around her and averted her gaze from Patrick’s. “I still think that was just some dummy on a cell phone not watching where he was going.”
“That’s two close calls, Callie. And that makes me nervous.” He unfolded his long length from the chair and stood. “Needless to say we’re investigating the fire, but to be honest I don’t feel optimistic about learning who might have set it. I’ll keep you posted, okay?”
“Okay. The smoke alarms didn’t go off,” she added.
“We’ll check it all out. You just need to get some rest.”
She nodded and then forced a smile. “Are you crazy with wedding preparations yet?” In two weeks Patrick was marrying Sabrina Hunter, a Ute police detective.
“Bree and I have agreed not to get crazy,” he replied. “It’s just going to be a small wedding without frills or fuss.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” Callie replied. “Oh, and Patrick, last night I was studying the photos from the Mary Windsong death. I’m not convinced we have a marauding bear in the area. I think you might be looking for a murderer.”
Patrick sighed. “I was afraid you were going to tell me that. We’ll talk more later. I’ll be in touch,” he said and then with a nod of his head he left her room.
Restless energy filled her. She wanted out of here, needed to get back to the lab and assess the damage. Other than the headache and the irritating cough, she felt fine. She found the call button and punched it to get the attention of a nurse or a doctor.
Almost immediately a man wearing a white coat and a nametag reading Dr. Westin entered the room. “Ah, I see my patient is awake.”
“And ready to get out of here,” she replied.
“Oh, let’s not rush things. I’d like to at least keep you through the afternoon for observation and we’ll talk about letting you go home this evening if no other symptoms arise through the course of the day. I’ll send the nurse in to get vitals and in the meantime it’s important that you just rest.”
Callie wanted to protest, but she bit her tongue, knowing he was probably right. The doctor left and a nurse came in to take her vitals, then she was once again left alone.
Two close calls in one week. Patrick’s words came back to haunt her. Was it merely a case of bad luck or was it something more ominous?
Del Gardo. The name leaped into her head and brought with it a ball of tension that ached in her chest. He was the number one suspect in Julie’s murder, but more than that, he was the man that wanted Callie dead as well.
“Hey, boss, how are you doing?” Ava Wright walked into the room, the sunshine from the window shimmering in her wavy red hair.
Callie smiled at the fragile-looking woman who worked as a forensic scientist on Callie’s team. Petite Ava might look fragile with her porcelain complexion and big blue eyes, but Callie knew she was tough as nails. She carried with her a bouquet of multi-colored flowers in a glass vase.
“I’m fine,” Callie replied. “And ready to get out of here. Those flowers are beautiful.”
“I thought they would give you something pretty to look at while you’re here.” Ava sat in the chair Patrick had recently vacated, a dainty frown creasing her forehead. “Are you sure you’re okay? Bobby told us that you were completely unconscious when he carried you out of the building. He was scared to death for you. We all were when we got to work this morning and found out what had happened.”
“Please tell everyone I’m fine and should be back to work first thing in the morning,” Callie replied.
Abruptly
