“We got her. Medics are working on her.” He rubbed a hand through sun-shot brown hair and soot rained down. “The chief’s commanding the scene. Everything’s under control.”
He knew she would want to know the bottom line. Everything under control. She took a deep breath, thankful she was able, and said a silent prayer for Betsie.
Liam pulled a penlight out of one of his many pockets. “All right, Sean, open up and let me see those shiny teeth.”
Sean giggled and looked at Hunter. “I don’t have any in the front.”
“I know, ace. Come on, now. Let Liam have a look at your tonsils. He wants to make sure you’re okay.”
Sean obediently opened his mouth. One of the dangers of a hot fire was breathing in the smoke, not from lack of oxygen—it was obvious Sean was thinking straight—but from the danger of swelling.
“Okay, Fiona, I think his throat looks good for now. They’ll check him again in the E.R. just to be sure.” Liam took a look at the cut on Sean’s arm. “I’ll patch this up with some gauze, but I think it’s going to need S-T-I-T-C-H-E-S.”
Sean flicked accusatory blue eyes up to meet his cousin Liam’s. “I can spell. I’m in the first grade.”
Fiona laughed and ruffled Sean’s black curly hair. Thank God he was okay. He was still her little spunky, funny boy. “It’ll be fine. You’ll have a war wound to share at show-and-tell tomorrow.”
One of the paramedics rolled the gurney toward the ambulance. Betsie was buckled on it. Danny walked alongside, carrying an IV bag as the other paramedic breathed for Betsie with a bag valve mask—she’d inhaled so much more smoke than Sean. And she’d been so brave, getting him out.
Could Fiona survive if fire took another person that she loved? She watched as Danny helped load the gurney and slammed the door of the ambulance with her friend inside. All around her people were in motion. Firefighters tried to stop the flames from spreading. Cops directed traffic around the scene. Emergency medical personnel treated minor casualties.
She spun around. “I have to get Sean to the hospital.”
“I’ll drive you. I’m off duty all day.” Hunter dug in his pocket for keys.
Fiona pulled away, shook her head. “I need some time.” They’d been friends since childhood. He knew her, better than most of her family, probably. He would understand why she needed to get away from this.
She took Sean’s hand and started for her car, making it about three steps before she remembered that her keys were in the storeroom at The Reading Nook. She took a deep calming breath through her nose and blew it out through her mouth—in her opinion the one good thing she’d learned in labor and delivery class. She turned back around.
Hunter’s slow smile spread across his face, showing that one dent in his left cheek. He held out his keys to her. “Take mine.”
Sometimes he knew her so well she wanted to punch him. Instead, she snatched his keys and gave him a quick hug. “Thanks.”
“No problem. But hey, didn’t you tell me yesterday you were prepping for Garden Club? I can stick around if you want and we’ll trade back tonight.”
Garden Club. She’d completely forgotten it. She chewed the corner of her lip. “I owe you already. If you have to deal with Garden Club I’ll owe you dinner.”
“Especially if Mrs. Davenport shows up. She always brings lemon squares and I hate lemon squares.”
Fiona laughed, for real this time, and lifted her son into her arms—grateful, so grateful—to be standing here with him in the sun. Her eyes locked with Hunter’s. “This…just brings back so many memories, you know?”
“Yeah.” He did, if anyone did. He was the one who’d been there for her in the days after Jimmy died. He was the one who’d continued to come by, when even her family thought she should be beyond it. He grieved for Jimmy, too.
She put Sean in and buckled him in. “I thought when the fires stopped after Jimmy died that it was over. Now we’ve had two in two weeks.”
“We’ve had other call outs in the past two years. What makes you think these are different?”
She shrugged. “A feeling, I guess? We’ve had brush fires, fires started by faulty heaters. A fire from a cigarette left in the bed. Not this kind.”
He narrowed his gaze. “Did you get your hands on incident reports, Fiona Cobb?”
“My uncle is the fire chief. My dad is the police chief. This kind of stuff is Sunday dinner conversation. Come on, it’s not that hard.” She walked around the front of his truck.
He walked to the near side and stood opposite her. “I don’t know if this fire’s different. But I promise you, I’ll find out.”
She nodded, her throat tightening, threatening to close up on her. But she managed a small smile for his sake.
If the arsonist was back, Hunter was going to be right in the line of fire.
* * *
Hunter walked Mrs. Davenport to the front door of Fiona’s bookstore. She was the only one of the ladies of the Garden Club who had run the gauntlet of emergency vehicles to get to The Reading Nook. He suspected she’d come more for the gossip than gardening club. News of the fire had spread more quickly than the flames. Fiona’s phone had been ringing like crazy.
At the door, Mrs. Davenport turned back to him with a sudden crafty gleam in her eye. “You should probably take that plate of lemon squares over to Fiona when you leave here.”
He had to smile at her transparent maneuvering. “Thanks for stopping by, Mrs. D. I’ll be sure to let Fiona know you were thinking about her.”
With one more pat on his shoulder, she was out the door. She’d been his third grade Sunday school teacher. And when his dad had lost his job, he’d caught her leaving bags of groceries on the front porch. He would never forget her kindness. If one of the challenges in a small town was that everyone knew each other’s business, maybe that was also one of the blessings.
A haze of smoke lingered over Fiona’s cheery tables of books. It would be a while before things were completely back to normal, but Fiona would manage. She always did. She kept everyone coming to the bookstore for one activity or another, even using the empty apartment upstairs for scrapbooking. The little store was a hub of activity in their small town, with Fiona its warm center.
“Hunter, you in here?” A gruff voice called from the back room. Mickey Fitzgerald walked into The Reading Nook through Fiona’s office. The fire chief headed toward the counter, taking off his helmet and rubbing his gray hair with one flat hand. Coordinating the effort between the Fitzgerald Bay firefighters and the volunteer companies that rolled when they sounded the alarm was a complex job. But today’s effort had been successful. “Liam told me you were helping out Fiona while she’s at the hospital with Sean. Is he okay?”
“Thanks to Betsie’s and Fiona’s quick thinking, he’s going to be just fine. Can I do something for you, Chief?”
“I’d like to get your opinion on something if you have a minute.” Fiona’s uncle, still strong and fit enough that he sometimes filled in when they were short a man, was uncharacteristically subdued. “B-shift will be on tomorrow and I want you up to speed. I know the cops are going to be taking a look at this, but firefighters know fire.”
“Sure.” Hunter followed Mickey down the block and into the back door of the Sweet Shoppe, the one he’d torn down just a few hours earlier to get to Betsie.
Black sooty water dripped off every surface, the stench of smoke and fire permeating the rooms. Hunter looked around the small shop. The firefighters’ fast attack on the fire had not only saved Betsie’s life, but also saved the rest of Main Street.