me a quick figure-eight spray to cover the attack team. We won’t have long.”
Adam knew his firefighters were in full protective gear, yet he harbored more angst than usual. It wasn’t that he was ever complacent about this job. It was simply an uneasy feeling that he didn’t recall having experienced since ducking snipers and dodging IEDs, explosive devices buried in the ground overseas.
A quick glance proved that Sara was suited up in a bright yellow turnout, too, her sky blue eyes trained on the action. Was her mere presence enough to unsettle him? It never had been in the past, although considering the trauma she’d recently endured he figured he might have developed a heightened sensitivity.
Adam huffed in disgust. He was a decorated marine. A combat veteran. He’d guided men in battle and now commanded crews of paid firefighters and volunteers without hesitation. But one pretty volunteer EMT was enough to give him pause? That was not only disheartening, it was embarrassing.
Someone in the background began to cheer. Adam saw why and started forward to intercept his rescue team. The elderly woman supported between the men was unsteady but conscious as they handed her over to paramedics, then turned and headed for the second apartment.
Sara was gesturing and seemed to be trying to tell the medics something. When they ignored her, she turned toward Adam and waved her arms overhead. “There won’t be anybody in that other unit,” she shouted, approaching. “Vicki moved there right before we left for Texas.”
Of course. That was why Sara had appeared agitated. Vicki’s untimely death was still fresh in her mind and this had been her cousin’s new home. Those kinds of community ties always hit hard and in Sara’s case the effect would be even worse.
By the time she reached his side and stopped, he was already on the radio. “Be advised, that second unit is reported to be unoccupied.” He was about to order them to withdraw when he heard another cheer arising from the crowd.
His crew had reappeared and were supporting the thin, limp body of a man. Adam frowned. Had a thief or arsonist been trapped by his own crime? It sure looked that way. He took a step toward the firefighters to see if he recognized the victim.
Sara grabbed the sleeve of his turnout coat so firmly she was impossible to ignore. He whirled, frowning. Her face had lost most of its color. Her always-expressive eyes were wide and filling with tears. Her lips trembled.
Expecting her to say something, he was jolted when she released him with a cry and began to run toward the rescuers instead.
* * *
Sara covered her mouth, smothering a wail. Unless her mind was playing tricks on her, she knew this victim. She and Vicki had met and befriended twenty-something Rodrigo Salinas while in Texas on their recent, ill-fated mission trip. The trip that had taken Vicki’s life.
Gently cupping the unconscious man’s cheeks in both hands, she raised his face to get a better look. It was Rodrigo, all right. Unfortunately, the rescuers had reached him too late.
A firm grasp on her shoulders pulled her back as paramedics moved in and took over. Sara knew it was Adam. They’d been friends for so long that she could sense his presence without even looking.
“You know this guy?” Adam asked.
She nodded and met his dark gaze. “Yes. From Texas. He was part of the missionary project Vicki and I...”
“What’s he doing in Missouri?”
Good question, Sara thought. Moreover, why was he in Vicki’s empty apartment and why was it now on fire? What in the world could he have been up to?
“Good job, guys,” Adam told his men. “Was that the last victim?”
“Yeah. He almost made it to the front door before the smoke got him.” One man had removed his air mask and was coughing. A blackened smudge traced its outline on the sides of his face. “Looks like Miss Bessie was the only one to make it out alive.”
Bessie Alt? Of course! Sara took a sharp breath and coughed as a result. Had she been so upset by the involvement of Vicki’s apartment and the discovery of an unexpected victim that she’d missed keying in on such a vital detail? That was inexcusable for a firefighter, even a part-time volunteer like herself.
One glance at Adam told her he was clueless. His words confirmed it. “We’ll take care of this, Sara. Go back to the rescue squad and get some O2 to clear your lungs before you end up sick.”
“No. Listen to me,” she shouted over the surrounding noise. “I know Bessie Alt’s medical history. She has a lot of breathing problems.”
“Okay.”
“Oxygen.” She saw Adam tense when she pointed toward the duplex with her whole arm. “There must be tanks of compressed oxygen stored in there. H models, I imagine. The big ones.”
“Everybody back!” Triggering emergency evacuation protocol with continuous high-low siren blasts he shouted, “Clear the area. It’s gonna blow!”
Sara’s mind was racing ahead. The instant she was certain Adam got the picture she turned on her heel and jogged through the police lines toward the ambulance.
“The fire department’s bailing, Vince,” she told the closest paramedic. “You need to load up and get out of here.”
The shake of his head and slow laying aside of equipment confirmed the original suspicion that it was too late for poor Rodrigo. Sara gently touched Vince’s arm. “At least you tried.”
“Yeah. We got to him too late.”
“I’m sorry.” She sought to comfort him—and herself. “I guess it was his time to go.”
He dipped dark brows and scowled at her. “That why you let your cousin drown, Sara? Did you figure her time was up, too?”
As unfair as his accusation was, Sara had heard whispers far worse since returning to Paradise. And she’d learned the hard way that rebuttal was futile.
She turned from him and started away, continuing until she had put a large sycamore trunk between her and the burning building. As she peered past the tree she could see engines backing up, repositioning. Only the aerial with the snorkel nozzle stayed where it was, presumably because it could shoot water from a long way off and still be effective.
Adam remained closer to the blaze than anyone else, shouting directions and gesturing. Her heart swelled with pride as she watched him. So brave. So capable. And so blooming hardheaded. What did he think he was doing? Didn’t he have a lick of sense? Just because he’d survived roadside bombs as a marine, that didn’t mean he was bulletproof.
She cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted at him. “Adam!”
He didn’t respond. Considering the noise of the motors, pumps, sirens and yelling, plus the hiss and roar of the fire itself, chances were good he hadn’t heard a word.
Every nerve in Sara’s body was firing and misfiring. Her wobbly knees might have dropped her on the spot if she hadn’t leaned against the stout tree. If only Adam would give ground!
What was the matter with him? Wanting to do good was one thing. Unnecessary
