The Family Man. Melinda Curtis
returned from Russia, the team had fought a huge fire in Garden Valley, Idaho, and things had changed.
Logan had been baby-sitting some of NIFC’s Incident Command team when they’d been trapped by a fire on a steep slope. NIFC, short for National Interagency Fire Center, coordinated fire crews and resources in the United States when a fire outgrew the capabilities of a local fire district. The incident commander, Sirus Socrath, who went by the Hot Shot name of Socrates, had bounced down the slope toward the advancing flames like a rag doll, breaking his arm. Logan had slid after him in the hopes of saving him, only to take a tumble and break his own leg. They’d waited out most of the fire in a cave until Golden showed up and saved Logan’s ass, cracking his own ribs and noggin in the process.
While Logan and Golden were on the mend, Spider took over the team. Shortly thereafter, he’d started giving Logan nothing but his own dark brand of bullshit. Logan was finding it increasingly hard to ignore his friend’s digs, increasingly hard not to plant a fist in Spider’s grinning face.
“Our team is watching the line here.” Golden banished any hope of recreational action at the ski lodge, eliciting a series of muffled grumbles among the team. “They’re sending the Snakes,” he added, meaning the Snake River Hot Shot crew from Pocatello, Idaho.
The groans weren’t held back at this news. Three-quarters of the Hot Shots were single and under age thirty-five.
“Let’s do what the boss says,” Logan called out to his team even as the wind whistled past him from a new direction. “Spread out and make sure this beast doesn’t jump our line.”
“Come on, let’s go help the Snakes, Golden,” Spider was saying, disregarding Golden’s command—that they get back to their jobs. Then he turned to Logan with that infuriating grin of his. “To look at you, Tin Man, I wouldn’t think you’d be so heartless and give up so easily. It’s been a long winter for some of our crew.”
“Shove it, Spider,” Logan said through gritted teeth, trying to rein in his explosive temper even as it burned its way through his veins, trying to force his feet in the opposite direction, away from the challenge Spider continued to flaunt in his face.
Neither effort worked. His body shook with nearly uncontrollable energy.
“I’m just saying you’re colder than ever,” Spider continued, a mild smile on his face, as if he were making a joke Logan was too stupid to understand.
Before Logan realized what he was doing, he had Spider by the straps of his backpack and his face pressed almost into Spider’s. “I said, shove it!”
Hands yanked Logan back, away from Spider and his taunts. Then Golden dragged him farther down the road, away from the others. But the anger came with him.
“Damn it, Tin Man.” Jackson looked him square in the eye before lowering his voice. “Logan, what the hell happened to you? Your temper was never as bad as this.”
The anger was choking, making it impossible for Logan to form a reply. How he wished he could rid himself of it.
The person he’d been closest to in the world, his twin sister, Deb, had known how to ease his anger with a word. But she was gone. And Logan hadn’t been able to honor her request and be a guardian for her two girls. While Logan was lost in grief, Deb’s slimy husband had taken them and disappeared. It was probably for the best, considering Logan’s temper, lifestyle and upbringing.
Still, Logan had never imagined that doing the right thing would tear him apart.
“I’M SORRY, ma’am. There’s no answer.”
Thea thanked the operator and hung up the pay phone at the gas station on the outskirts of Boise. Things didn’t look good. Hannah was insisting that her uncle lived in Silver Bend, Idaho. There was a listing for Logan McCall; however, the guy never answered his phone. Thea had been trying to call him every four hours since they started on their trip. Now they were less than two hours away from Silver Bend and the twins’ uncle was nowhere to be found. Just like their father.
Which meant they’d come all this way for nothing.
“Thea! Thea, come quick!” It was Hannah, standing over by the gas station’s rusty garbage bin. She looked okay. Her white T-shirt was a little dirty, but…
Tess. Where was Tess? Thea’s heart stopped until she caught a glimpse of Tess’s head bobbing up in the Volkswagen. Nevertheless, Thea ran over to Hannah.
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
Hannah pointed at something between the garbage bin and the brick wall. “There.”
“Are you okay?” Thea struggled to catch her breath, more from the scare that something had happened to Tess or Hannah than the run.
Hannah bobbed her head. “There’s something back there. I think it’s a puppy. I think it’s stuck.” She’d stepped back and pointed behind the bin.
“Let me look.” Thea put her head near the wall and looked into the narrow gap. All she could see was a pile of greasy rags stuck between the brick wall and the bin’s corner wheel.
“Hannah, there’s nothing—”
Something whimpered beneath the rags, interrupting whatever protests Thea had been about to voice. Still, it could be a rat or something equally nasty back there.
“It’s a puppy, Thea,” Hannah repeated stubbornly. “I think it’s stuck.”
Ooohh-ooohh-ooohh. It was a weak dog’s cry for help.
There was no mistaking it now. Thea didn’t think rats whined like that when they heard people.
“All right, we’ll get it out.” But how? There was no way Thea or Hannah could wiggle their way into the narrow opening between the trash bin and the wall. Thea gripped the cool, rusted metal and tugged.
Nothing budged. Hannah set her feet against the wall and pushed the trash container.
The bin groaned forward, maybe an inch. The dog’s pleas for help became louder.
“What are you doing?” Tess had come over from the car, and stood with her arms crossed in familiar, obvious disapproval.
“We’re saving a puppy.” Hannah grunted with the effort of pushing and talking at the same time.
“We’ll be done that much faster if you help, Tess.” Thea stepped back and looked at the imprint of the metal bin on her hands. It figured that the trash bin was full and as heavy as an elephant.
Tess rolled her eyes and seemed about to refuse when the dog whimpered again. Then she, too, was pushing on the bin.
In the end, the gas-station cashier, a reed-thin teenage boy, came out to help them push, pull and tug the bin away from the wall enough so that Tess could slip back and pick up the bundle of rags.
“Be careful. It might not realize you’re rescuing it,” Thea cautioned. All she needed was for the dog to bite one of the twins to cap their string of bad luck.
Tess backed out of the gap and handed the bundle to Thea. It either had to be a puppy or a small dog, as it seemed no larger than a cat.
“Someone’s wrapped it like a mummy,” Thea noted as she knelt and carefully peeled away the rags from the dog in her lap. The more she unwrapped, the stronger the unpleasant smell of urine.
The dog was crooning to them now, a constant, weak complaint. He didn’t snarl or move to escape when the final layer was lifted. He just blinked up at them in the bright March sunlight.
“That’s harsh.” The gas-station cashier turned up his nose in disdain before returning to his duties.
Thea agreed, angling her head to the side in an effort to avoid the stench. Whoever had done this to the little dog had been unspeakably cruel.
Hannah reached down to pet him.
“Don’t,”