before giving a thumbs-up indicating the truck was clear. No lives were lost in the fire today.
A wave of relief washed over Ryan as he turned the hose over to the other fireman and headed for the chief to tell him the news. Today had been a good day.
Being a firefighter in a small town meant if someone perished in a fire, you likely went to school with them, or to church—or served on a committee together. Worst case, you were related or in love with the person, maybe planning to marry.
Like Cara. Except she didn’t die in a fire. A madman ended her life. Much like the lunatic threatening Mia might do.
Ryan halted his steps and fixed his gaze on her. Even beaten down by her ordeal she had the same vibrancy in her personality as he remembered from high school. Sure she’d been unstable in so many ways back then, but her longing to be loved by her uncaring father fueled that behavior. Ryan had hoped his unconditional acceptance of her might have been enough. But it wasn’t. Couldn’t fill the ache left by the loss of her mother and an overbearing father.
Eyes fixed on her, Ryan resumed walking. He’d been wrong. So wrong to end things the way he did. Now he didn’t know how to get her to hear him out. He should just walk away with his guilt firmly planted in his gut. She didn’t deserve to relive the day just to relieve his suffering, but he had no choice.
If he had to make her suffer a little more so she’d listen to his warnings before the lunatic behind the threatening letter and the fire struck again, then that’s what he would do.
THREE
A blustery gust of wind kicked up from the north and slid crisply over Mia. Not that she minded the cooling air after the heat of the fire. Didn’t seem to bother EMT Sally Dupree either as she strapped a blood pressure cuff on Mia’s arm. She relaxed and let her gaze drift to Jessie.
Sally’s partner ministered to the pipsqueak of a girl who didn’t stop asking questions about the procedures. Her tone was lighthearted, and she cracked up when the EMT tickled her, but a haunted glaze dulled the sheen of her eyes.
Mia had no desire to laugh after what she’d just survived, not even if it was forced. As a counselor, she knew kids had the ability to recover faster from trauma than adults. Children could also appear to be fine but suffer tremendous emotional scars. She would make a point of telling Jessie’s parents about signs that indicated Jessie had a residual problem.
“Do you know if anyone notified Jessie’s parents?” Mia asked.
“Jessie’s mother died a year ago, but I’m sure someone called Reid, and he’ll be here soon.” Sally frowned and planted her stethoscope on Mia’s chest. “Deep breaths.”
Feeling a kindred connection from the death of a mother, Mia studied Jessie more intently. Her shoulders drooped in defeat and her gaze skittered about as if fearing an attack from an unknown force.
Today’s trauma coupled with the recent loss of her mother could plummet Jessie into a depression. Hopefully Reid parented Jessie better than Mia’s dad had her when her mother died, or the child could be destined for a rocky adolescence.
Sally pulled her stethoscope free and tsked. “We need to get you to the hospital.”
No. Not the hospital!
Her father would be there.
Mia sat up. “I’d rather not go, unless it’s absolutely necessary.”
“Trust me. It’s necessary.” Sally’s somber tone left no room for argument. She summoned her partner on a radio then strapped a mask over Mia’s mouth.
She inhaled the cool oxygen and tried to relax even as pain ripped into her side from the transfer to the gurney and trip into the ambulance. She offered a smile at Jessie sitting on a bench seat below a wall of equipment. Jessie’s eyes mirrored Mia’s emotions, and she returned the smile with an uneasy stare.
After the EMTs secured the gurney and stepped to the end of the ambulance, Jessie jumped down and knelt near Mia’s head.
“Don’t tell anyone I was in the barn,” Jessie whispered in Mia’s ear.
Mia lifted her mask. “You weren’t supposed to be in there?”
“No.” Jessie clasped her hands together and stared at them. “Since my mom died, everybody says I shouldn’t be alone so much. But I like to be alone so I can read.”
Mia was thirteen when her own mother died in a car accident, but that first year after the accident, the constant ache never left her heart. Not to mention living the next five years with a father who blamed her for causing the crash that took her mother’s life.
“Mia, will you promise not to tell?” Jessie tugged on Mia’s arm, bringing her back.
Mia wanted to give this poor motherless child anything she asked for, but she couldn’t. “I don’t need to tell anyone, Jessie. They already know you were in the barn, or you wouldn’t be in here with me.”
“I could say I came in to save you.”
Mia’s counseling instincts shot into action. Jessie was hiding something. Her pained expression conveyed there was much more at stake than her father learning she’d been somewhere she wasn’t supposed to be.
“What’s this really about?” Mia clasped Jessie’s miniature hands.
She shook them free, and her eyes took on a defiant tightness. “I’m sorry about the barn, okay? I didn’t do anything bad. I didn’t start the fire. I was just reading. Wally used to let me read in the barn whenever I wanted to.”
“I don’t think the fire was your fault. It must have been an accident. Maybe electrical.”
“Uh-uh. A man started it.”
“What?”
Jessie trembled. “A really big man drove a truck into the barn. He got out and poured something stinky on the hay. Then he threw matches on it. He said, ‘This ought to scare her.’ Then he laughed and left.” Her eyes scrunched as she rubbed her hands together. “Do you think he meant me? To scare me?”
He didn’t mean Jessie. He meant Mia. This was what the letter warned her about. But who was this man? Had her father hired him? Or perhaps the letter wasn’t from her father after all?
“Jessie,” Ryan called from the open doors. “Are you sure that’s what you saw?”
“Uncle Ryan.” Jessie’s voice held relief. She hopped up and moved slowly toward the back. “Honest, that’s what I saw. You’re not mad that I was in the barn?” She peered at Ryan until his face broke in a warm smile, and he beckoned her closer with his finger. She charged into his arms.
Mia sat up, and her eyes connected with Ryan’s troubled expression. He pulled Jessie tighter and stared at Mia with the implication of Jessie’s words stamped on his face.
The fire was no accident.
Still dressed in his turnouts, Ryan sat on the bench running the length of the ambulance. Even with his boots firmly planted on the floor, he bounced on the seat from the rhythmic
