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Through The Fire
Sharon Mignerey
TO: AL CRANE@CSSENTINEL.ORG FROM: COLLEEN MONTGOMERY@CSSENTINEL.ORG Boss, I'm finishing my article about the Vance Memorial Hospital fire. No fatalities, although several people, including firefighter Lucia Vance and visiting wildfire expert Raphael Wright, were treated for smoke inhalation. I'm trying to stay unbiased–Lucia's a friend–but she's under investigation for disobeying orders, and I think Chief O'Brien is casting suspicion on her to cover himself.Word is he has some hefty debts. Raphael is only too willing to help clear Lucia's name–romance is brewing. It seems as if the Vances are being targeted…but by whom, and why?
“I came over to see how you were after yesterday’s fire, and to show you something. This was in yesterday’s paper.” Colleen handed Lucia a clipping she had pulled from her purse.
Lucia read the large ad. “‘Let fire come down from Heaven and consume you, for our God is a consuming fire.’”
“I checked, and nobody knows who paid for this. But I think this is related to the fire at the hospital.” Colleen raised a hand. “And I knew this was a Bible verse even if I couldn’t figure out which one, so I called Pastor Dawson and found out it’s actually two verses. So, whoever bought the ad was sending someone a message, don’t you think?”
FAITH AT THE CROSSROADS: Can faith and love sustain two families against a diabolical enemy?
A TIME TO PROTECT–Lois Richer (LIS#13)
THE DANGER WITHIN–Valerie Hansen (LIS#15)
THROUGH THE FIRE–Sharon Mignerey (LIS#17)
IN THE ENEMY’S SIGHTS–Marta Perry (LIS#19)
STRICTLY CONFIDENTIAL–Terri Reed (LIS#21)
HEARTS ON THE LINE–Margaret Daley (LIS#23)
SHARON MIGNEREY
lives in Colorado with her husband, a couple of dogs and a cat. From the time she figured out that spelling words could be turned into stories, she knew being a writer was what she wanted. Her first novel garnered several awards, first as an unpublished manuscript when she won RWA’s Golden Heart Award in 1995, and later as a published work in 1997 when she won the National Reader’s Choice Award and The Heart of Romance Reader’s Choice Award. With each new book out, she’s as thrilled as she was with that first one.
When she’s not writing, she loves enjoying the Colorado sunshine, whether along the South Platte River near her home or at the family cabin in the Four Corners region. Even more, she loves spending time with her daughters and granddaughter.
She loves hearing from readers, and you can write to her in care of Steeple Hill Books, 233 Broadway, Suite 1001, New York, NY 10279.
Through the Fire
Sharon Mignerey
Special thanks and acknowledgment are given to Sharon Mignerey for her contribution to the FAITH AT THE CROSSROADS series.
As thou hast believed, so be it done unto thee.
—Matthew 8:13
To Susan Litman, editor extraordinaire
My thanks to:
Carol Steward for answering dozens of questions about Sam Vance (Finding Amy, LI#263 8/04). I hope I did justice to Lucia’s big brother. For those thousand and one things I didn’t know about firefighting and firefighters, Sue Richardson, Fire Fighter Paramedic (Colorado Springs), and Joe Whitensand, Retired Fire Chief, were generous beyond call. The good stuff is all theirs and the mistakes are all mine. Celeste Mignerey and Paul N. Black, Ph.D. filled in all those little details about safety and precautionary systems in large buildings and hospital settings. As always, you two are an awesome resource, and I couldn’t have done this without you. Robin, Steve, Denée, Karen G., Amy, Daniele, Danica—my amazing first readers and critique partners. You guys are the best.
My fellow authors in this series, Lois Richer, Valerie Hansen, Marta Perry, Terri Reed and Margaret Daley. You each made this wonderful journey one to be remembered. Blessings to each of you.
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Rafael “Rafe” Wright—He saved Lucia’s life once by being in the right place at the right time. Was the gorgeous smoke jumper also the “right” man for her?
Lucia Vance—The female firefighter was tired of being coddled and protected by her family. She felt secure with Rafe, but his nearness also stirred feelings for love she’d thought long buried….
Neil O’Brien—Was there more to the battalion chief’s animosity toward Lucia beyond his accusations that her father the mayor got her her job?
El Jéfe/The Chief—His name kept coming up in investigations. Was he somehow connected to Baltasar Escalante, the drug lord whose body was never recovered following his plane crash?
Dear Reader,
I suspect I’m not the first author to write to you that writing a novel is easier than writing a letter to you. Letters should be personal, and since we haven’t met, this one cannot be as personal as I would like. Even so, thank you for choosing this book where you’ll spend a few hours escaping into a world where hope prevails.
That sense of hope…of faith, even…is my favorite thing about romance novels. Whatever challenges characters face within the pages, they move forward in faith, hoping things will work out. That moving forward in faith is the reason why I chose the particular Biblical quote that I did. “As thou hast believed, so be it done unto thee.” Matthew 8:13.
For any of us embarking on a new endeavor or going through a difficult time, it may be hard to predict a successful outcome. If you’re at all like me, you’d love the certainty of a happy ending. For me, that’s where faith steps in, where I do my best to move forward as though the thing is already done. It’s the same for Lucia Vance and Rafael Wright in Through the Fire. They can’t be certain the challenges they face will be successfully overcome—all they can do is move forward in faith.
Again, thanks for choosing this book.
Blessings to you and yours, always,
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
PROLOGUE
“It’s really quite simple, Neil. I own you.” She held the condemning papers up for him to see as though he somehow wouldn’t have recognized his own signature on copies of the promissory notes. “You borrowed money, and I bought the loan from that rather unscrupulous man you’ve been doing business with in Cripple Creek.” Turning the papers around, she glanced through them, then folded them back into neat thirds. “Such a lot of money.”
Despite the cold breeze that swept off Pikes Peak on this cold March day, Neil O’Brien felt a bead of sweat slide down his back as he contemplated taking the papers away before choking her to death. Wondering where the originals were, he stared at the woman standing under the pavilion with him, her words echoing through his head.
When he had agreed to meet her at this remote corner of Bear Creek Park, a well-known lovers’ lane for teenagers, he’d had a visceral sense of anticipation. Foolish thought that she might be interested in a man like him—they didn’t run in the same circles. The extra thirty pounds he carried and his thinning hair made him look ten years older than he was. He wished he didn’t mind quite so much.
He looked away from her to the snow beginning to fall. The flakes left little white splatters on the sidewalk. Farther away, the parking lot was empty except for their two cars.
Quite literally, she held the power to ruin him in that sheaf of papers.
“You have nothing,” he said, deciding on a bluff and making a point to look at the documents in her hand. “O’Brien is a common name.”
“Then why did you agree to meet me?” She waved toward the remote expanse of the park to the west, the sleeve of her wool coat riding up her arm enough to expose a diamond bracelet that probably cost more than he earned in half a year. “Here?” She smiled. “Away from work and home and your pretty, pregnant wife?”
Neil stared at her. The antacid he had swallowed just before getting out of the car turned sour in his mouth. Another foolish hope. That he could keep his gambling—and his mountain of debt—from Mary.
“I wonder…does she know about this, Neil?” She tapped a finger against her lips. “A phone call to her—”
“Get to the point. What do you want?”
She opened her purple leather handbag, the designer name discreetly embossed onto the surface, and put the folded papers inside. “Cooperation, Neil, that’s all.”
“What kind of cooperation?” Whatever it took to keep his wife from finding out that he had accumulated gambling debts greater than the mortgage on their brand-new home was worth considering in the short run. In the long run, there was only one way to be rid of a blackmailer—a remedy he would take just as soon as he had the originals of the promissory notes in his possession.
“You want all this to go away?” She pressed the flat of her hand against the purse. “All of it?”
“The debt would go away?”
She tapped her finger against her lip again. “Neil, my dear, Neil. You do understand, don’t you?”
What he understood was that he was being played, and he didn’t like it. And without a big win, he didn’t see a way out, either. She held the winning hand.
“What do you want?” he repeated, shivering as the wind shifted and fine, cold snowflakes blew across his face.
“There’s a certain firefighter in your department who will have a tragic accident that will end her life.”
Another cold bead of sweat trickled down Neil’s back. What she was suggesting was impossible. Murder, like he was contemplating just now, was easy. Murder by fire and made to look like an accident…nearly impossible.
“The poor thing went against the wishes of her family to take on such a dangerous job, alienated herself from her father, worried her mother to death and all those protective older brothers…Why, they were opposed down to the last man.”
The woman was talking about Lucia Vance, Neil realized. Personally, Neil thought she represented nepotism at its finest. Her daddy was the mayor, and her brother Sam was a detective on the Colorado Springs police force. It had been Neil’s goal for the last year to get her kicked out of the department. But deliberately setting her up to be injured—killed—he couldn’t do it.
He shook his head. “That’s not an easy thing to do. If you want her dead, why not simply shoot her?”
Her mouth tightened. “Easier, yes. But then her parents and her brothers wouldn’t understand.”
“What?”
“That for every choice there is a consequence.” She patted her purse again. “Think about it, Neil. All this goes away. Your sweet little pregnant wife doesn’t find out. You’re not ruined.”
“What you’re asking—”
She pressed a shockingly hot finger against his lips, her eyes wide and luminous, making her look like a girlfriend instead of a blackmailer. “I’m not asking.”
When she took her finger away, he shuddered inside his heavy parka.
“A perfect place would be Vance Memorial Hospital, where her mother keeps a vigil over her poor injured father.”
“You can’t be serious.” Mayor Maxwell Vance had been shot in an assassination attempt last November. He was still in critical condition, and Neil knew the investigation had drawn in the FBI. Security in the hospital was tight.
“Oh, but I am.”
Neil shook his head. “It can’t be done. Hospitals have sprinklers and preactionary systems, all designed to prevent even the smallest fire.”
She stared at him as though what he had just told her didn’t make any sense.
“I can see the headline now,” she said. “Assistant Fire Chief Neil O’Brien Ruined.” She smiled again, but her expression was as warm as the icy snow falling around them. “Only you will have died tragically, maybe suicide in your despondence over your gambling. And your wife will be left to raise your child in poverty and shame, all because you wouldn’t do a simple thing.” She paused and shifted the purse on her arm. “A simple thing, Neil, that would make all your troubles go away.”
Wishing he’d had the guts to simply kill her, he watched with his hands in his pockets as she walked away. As she got into her silver luxury coupe, she blew him a kiss. A second later, the car purred to life.
A simple thing. As if there was anything simple about planning a murder that was supposed to look like an accident.
ONE
Last night, Rafael Wright had been too consumed with guilt to pay attention to the hospital room numbers, so he paused at the doorway to make sure he was at the correct one. He knocked lightly on the door before pushing it open. The bed closest to the door was empty, and his good friend Malik Williams lay in the other, raised to a reclining position. The television mounted near the ceiling was tuned to a police drama.
“Hey, you came,” Malik said as Rafe moved toward him.
A bandage at one corner of his forehead covered a gash that had bled like crazy yesterday when he was knocked over by a fifteen-foot ladder when it fell. Last night, Malik had been asleep when Rafe checked on him.
