Flashover. Dana Mentink
two months. What am I supposed to do for two months?”
He smiled. “Here’s an idea. Take a vacation, like normal people do. Relax, learn to knit or something.”
“I’m not a good relaxer.”
“Don’t I know it. Give it a try, it might grow on you.”
“I’d rather follow your book of rules. You’re always up to something fun.”
“Not all of us eat, sleep and breathe our jobs, V.” A beep sounded from his PDA. He checked the screen. “That’s my wake-up call. Time for me to split. I’ll come back and see you soon. Try not to drive your nurses crazy.”
“I might not be here when you come back. Maybe I’ll check out tonight.”
“Not for a few days, I think.”
“Couldn’t you talk to the doctor? Tell him…”
“No way, cousin. Lie there and take your healing like a grownup.” He stood and stretched his stocky arms. “Oh, I talked to Doug. He says it’s going to be hard to prove.”
Doug was the department’s fire marshal. “What is?”
His eyes widened. “Didn’t they tell you? I figured the chief would have let you know.”
“She isn’t even speaking to me right now.” She frowned. “Tell me what?”
“The fire wasn’t an accident. Looks like you’ve got an arsonist on the loose.”
Nick hesitated only a moment before he knocked on the door. “There is a complication.”
His boss frowned slightly. “Tell me.”
“He got out.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. I made it look like an accident as you suggested. He refused to tell me where he’d put it. After he was unconscious, I used a candle and waited until it lit the place. If it was anywhere in there, it’s ashes now. The problem is fixed.” He stood his ground, flinching slightly at the frown that grew on the other man’s face.
“But there is the matter of Cyril’s friend. It’s possible Cyril passed on my merchandise to the man and he told the firefighter, isn’t it?”
Nick nodded. “It crossed my mind. Should I take care of them?”
His boss rolled his eyes in thought. “For now, concentrate on finding Cyril and do what is necessary to find out if the girl knows anything. Don’t kill her yet. It will draw too much attention.”
Nick frowned. Finesse was not his strong suit. “What should I do if I find out the girl really does know? Or Moe?”
A slight smile crossed the boss’s face. “If necessary, I’m sure you will prove resourceful enough to handle it.”
Nick returned the smile and closed the door behind him as he left.
THREE
Ivy endured the remainder of the evening with bad TV, worse food and people trailing in and out feeling sorry for her. What’s more, she began to feel sorry for herself.
“I went into that building, risked my life and my career for nothing. No victim, no rescue, and come to find out it’s arson.” Probably some guy trying to collect on the insurance, though what a junk hole like that could be worth was beyond her. The futility of the whole thing pained her.
When the doctor came in to see her in the early morning, she pounced. “I want to go home.”
He looked over the top of his glasses. “A few more tests, I think. A day or two to rest.”
“No. I want to get out of here now.”
He sighed. “I’m not going to tie you up and keep you here, Ms. Beria. It’s your health. If you want to go, go, but it’s against my advice. Come back on Tuesday for a recheck of those burns. Keep your shoulder immobilized and stay out of trouble.”
“Right.” She grabbed the hospital phone and dialed Tim’s number.
“I’m going home today. Can you give me a ride?” After a quick call to her mother to fill her in, Ivy pulled on her clothes.
Tim watched with an amused grin as a nurse pushed a mortified Ivy in a wheelchair out to the curb. He opened the passenger-side door for her.
She dove out of the wheelchair before it stopped rolling and hopped into the truck, buckling up gingerly around her injured shoulder. “Thanks for taking me home.”
“You’re welcome, but I’m still not sure it’s a good idea. Your mother has another plan.” He was careful to keep his eyes on the road as they continued on.
She stared. “What are you talking about?”
“Your mom called and told me when you got out to bring you to her place so she can take care of you.”
“You have got to be kidding me. Did she think I would go for that?”
“No, but she made me promise to ask.”
Ivy laughed. “You can’t say no to my mother, can you?”
“She reminds me of my mother. Every time I go over there she tries to feed me.”
“That’s a good sign that she likes you.”
“Nah, I know she does that to everyone from the mailman to the pest-control guy.” He waited a beat. “Antonio called, too.”
She blinked. “I’ll bet he’s having a ball in his new department. Heard through the grapevine he and Denise Williams are an item now.”
Tim was uncertain how to respond. He knew how much Antonio hurt Ivy by leaving her, but God forgive him, he couldn’t be happier that the man was out of the picture. “He asked me to tell you he called.”
“I’ll bet.”
He was wrong for you, anyway, Tim wanted to say. Charming, macho, great to look at, but did he know you like I know you? Did he take the time to learn everything, Ivy? He doubted it. Anybody who knew Ivy wouldn’t throw her away like Antonio had.
Ivy remained silent until he guided the truck into the apartment parking lot. Tim opened the door for her and she eased out of the passenger seat. The complex featured an old brick facade, covered by a vigorous scalp of climbing clematis.
They entered the lobby just as a slender young man with dark hair was trying to exit. He screamed and scrabbled past them and down the steps.
Ivy jumped back at his sudden movement, crashing into Tim. She stumbled, but he caught her, holding her against his front for a moment.
Ivy cried out in pain.
The skinny man ran into the yard and folded himself under a picnic table, covering his eyes.
“It’s okay, Moe,” Ivy said. “I’m sorry we surprised you.”
Tim still held her gently, her head tucked under his chin, enjoying the soft feel of her hair on his face. “Is that Moe? I’ve heard you talk about him. He has a bit of trouble talking to people?”
“Yes. His mother said he has something called Savant Syndrome. People that have it have delays in social reaction and communication, but they can be geniuses in other areas.” She rubbed her shoulder. “He’s a genius in his own way, even though his communication skills are poor and he’s afraid of people. One time I was trying to find a number and he recited the whole C section of the phone book. From memory.”
“Wow. I can’t even remember my own cell number half the time.” Tim peered at the figure curled up under the table. “Are you okay, Moe? Do you need some help?” When he received no answer,