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They pushed through the swinging door to the old kitchen, and she wrinkled her nose. She’d done nothing here yet, and the cracked linoleum and rusted sink rebuked her.
They reached the back door without speaking. Ryan pulled the door open, stepped onto the back porch, and frowned at the stack of wood and construction rubbish piled against the wall.
“I know,” she said quickly. “It shouldn’t be there.”
“It’s a hazard.” His tone was uncompromising.
“I ordered a Dumpster last week. I don’t know why they haven’t brought it yet.” It was yet another of a long string of things that had gone wrong recently.
“Do you want me to call them? They might move a little faster at a request from the fire department.”
“No.”
He was just being nice, she reminded herself. She didn’t need to bite his head off.
“I’ll take care of it,” she added more evenly. “They promised me it would be here days ago.”
He nodded, scribbling something on a sheet and then handing it to her. “This just confirms that we’ve spoken about it. If the situation isn’t remedied in a few days, we’ll have to cite you.”
“Don’t worry.” Her lips were stiff. “It will be.”
He studied her for a moment and then gave her that slightly lopsided smile she’d once yearned to see.
“Don’t look so worried. This is just a formality. I’m sure you’ll take care of the problem.”
She forced a return smile. “Thanks.”
He stepped off the porch. “My name and number are on the form. If you’d like me to get after the trash company, just give me a call.”
“I can manage.”
She could do whatever she had to do, despite the addition of Ryan Flanagan to the list of factors complicating her life since she’d taken on this project.
Her daughter’s future depended on her success with the building. She couldn’t count on anyone else for help—not her family, not her in-laws, not God.
A fierce wave of maternal love swept through her. That didn’t matter. For Mandy, she could do anything.
Ryan piled into the truck behind his older brother, Seth, heart pounding as it always did at the shrilling of the alarm. He glanced at his watch. Six-thirty. Fire could have caught people asleep at this hour of the morning.
Seth, taking his new rank of lieutenant very seriously, was listening to the info coming in on his radio.
“Three-fourteen Delaware Street. Isn’t that the place you inspected yesterday?”
“Yes.” Ryan’s nerves clenched. “Woman and a child in residence. A deaf child.”
He hadn’t gotten their images out of his mind yet. Laura McKay, with that mop of wiry dark hair springing out around her grave, determined face. Her daughter, Mandy—brown curls, her mother’s dark eyes, and those two hearing aids in her small ears.
“What did you find wrong?”
“Trash on the back porch that should have been in a Dumpster. That’s it.”
He should have called the company about that, even though Laura McKay had told him not to.
“That meshes with what the caller said—a blaze on the back porch.” The siren wailed as they took the corner. “We’ll attack from the alley. You and Dave can do the entry.”
He nodded. Seth was giving him the rescue. Nice to know his big brother had that much faith in him, even though their new relationship of lieutenant to firefighter sometimes rubbed both of them the wrong way.
Of course, if the posting to the arson squad he’d applied for came through, it would eliminate the problem. He’d have a different boss, a different job. He hadn’t told anyone about it yet, not sure himself how he felt about the change.
He pushed the whole business from his mind. There wasn’t room to think about anything else when he went into a fire scene.
They shrieked up the alley, the backs of the buildings a little seedy here compared to the polish of the historic district in the next block. Seth leaned forward, probably assessing what they had to deal with.
Seth’s caution was a good quality for a lieutenant. All Ryan wanted to do was get in there and make the grab. His body itched with the need to move.
A bystander in robe and slippers rushed up to the apparatus. “I’m the one called it in. There’s a woman and kid live there—they didn’t come out.”
Ryan pulled out his hand ax as his feet hit the ground. Dave Hanratty was right behind him, both of them fully geared up with masks. Flames licked at the wooden porch, but the building’s brick walls would slow the blaze down.
He nodded to Dave and together they charged toward the door. A couple of quick hits, a kick, and they were in.
Smoke billowed through the downstairs, and a smoke alarm wailed relentlessly. If Laura heard it, why hadn’t she gotten out by now?
“Stairs.” He pointed with the ax. “Apartment on the second floor.”
They hit the steps running, their footsteps thundering on the wooden treads. No flames had reached this area, but the smoke was the danger. Smoke could kill.
He reached the second-floor landing a step ahead of Dave and raised his ax. Before he could swing, the door opened.
Laura stumbled toward them. The little girl in her arms was partially covered with a blanket, but her small face was pinched with terror.
He reached for the child. The woman tried to hang on to her.
“I’ll take her—” Her words died in a fit of coughing.
He grabbed the little girl, ignoring her frightened wail and the mother’s protests. This was no time for politeness. He passed the child to Dave, who started back down the steps with her.
He grabbed Laura’s arm. “Is there anyone else in the building?”
“No.” She tried to pull away from him. “You scared Mandy. I could have carried her out.”
When it came to stubborn, this woman took the cake. He yanked her to the stairs. “Tell me about it later. Right now we’re getting out.”
Luckily she’d shoved her feet into shoes, so he didn’t have to worry about her getting cut up. He hustled her down the steps. The front door stood open now, and together they rushed out into the fresh morning air.
The paramedic unit had already pulled up to the curb, and the crew from the secondary tank truck was wetting down the adjoining buildings.
He took Laura straight to the paramedics—his sister Terry’s team, thank goodness. Terry was the best. She was already checking out the little girl.
Mandy struggled to get away from Terry’s hands, reaching toward her mother. Laura dropped to her knees on the wet pavement, coughing, and swept her child into her arms.
The lump in his throat might have been from the smoke, but he didn’t think so.
Thank You, Father.
He suspected Dave was saying the same prayer. Any day they got people out safely was a good day.
“You need to let us check you out.” Terry’s voice was gentle but authoritative as she peeled the little girl away from her mother.
Laura nodded, but Mandy took one look at him and began to wail again.
Quickly he stripped off the mask and helmet and squatted next to her. “Hey, Mandy, it’s me.” He pulled off his gloves so he could sign his name. “Ryan.”
The wailing stopped and the child’s dark eyes widened, some of the fear leaving them.
“This is just my mask.” He had to gesture to make up for the signs he didn’t know. “See, Terry is going to give you one, too.”
Mandy clutched her mother’s hand, but she let Terry fit the oxygen mask on her face.
Terry glanced up. “Thanks, Ry. We’re going to take them both to the hospital.”
“I’m all right—” Laura began, but the words were interrupted by a fit of coughing.
“Just to check you out,” Terry said gently. “Don’t worry.”
“Listen to my sister.” He gave Laura a reassuring smile. “Trust me, she knows best.”
She nodded, clasping the little girl close as he and Terry helped them into the rig. “Thank you,” she murmured, and the door closed.
He watched the unit out of sight. They’d be all right. He and Dave had gotten to them in time.
He turned back to the building. A sense of relief went through him. Thanks to their fast response, the crew nearly had the blaze out already. By the looks of things, the damage probably wasn’t going to be severe.
Still, thinking about the job Laura was trying to do, he felt a pang of sympathy. She’d already had her hands full. Now, it looked as if her life had just gotten a whole lot tougher.
Laura trudged up the stairs to the second-floor apartment, following the yellow beam of her flashlight in the darkness. The staircase looked like Mount Everest at the moment. Apparently the doctors had been right about the effects of smoke inhalation.
I’m fine. That’s what she’d kept repeating to the doctors all day so they’d let her go.
Mandy was spending the night at the hospital. Just to be on the safe side, they’d said. She’d stayed there, too, until her daughter fell asleep. She’d been tempted to go to sleep herself in the vinyl chair next to Mandy’s bed.
But she kept thinking about the building. How bad was it? She’d been told the fire department had doused the flames quickly, but no one had told her how severe the damage was. She hadn’t been able to sleep for thinking about it. Finally she’d known she had to see for herself.
So she’d come. She’d change her clothes and get Mandy’s favorite teddy bear to take back to the hospital, just in case her daughter wakened in the night. And she’d check out the damage to the only asset they had to their names.
Then she could go back to the hospital and try to sleep in that chair, once she knew the worst.
She pushed herself up the last few steps, feeling as if she carried an enormous weight on her shoulders. The apartment door was closed, but not locked. Had she closed it in the flurry of getting out, when Ryan had manhandled her down those stairs? She didn’t remember.
Inside, she swung the light around, half afraid of what she’d see. Her breath came out in a sigh of relief. The apartment was untouched. The acrid scent of smoke still hung in the air, but that was minor in comparison to what she’d been imagining.
Coughing a little, she crossed to the closest window and opened it a few inches at the top. Cool night air rushed in, fanning her face. She’d deal with airing out the rest of the apartment later.
She went through into the bedroom. The closet door was closed, and she pulled it open. Not too bad. The closed door had protected her clothing from the worst of the smoke.
She pulled out a pair of slacks and a shirt, changing quickly. She’d showered at the hospital, and a nurse had provided some cast-off clothing to replace the sooty, smoky pajamas she’d been wearing. She wouldn’t be likely ever to wear those again.
A shudder ran through her. If the smoke alarm hadn’t gone off, if someone hadn’t seen the blaze and called the fire department, if—
No. She couldn’t let herself keep reliving those terrifying moments when she’d struggled awake and run to Mandy’s room. The problem would be to stop doing it.
She crossed the hall to her daughter’s room, her stomach roiling. When she’d run in, terrified, Mandy had been awake, huddled under her quilt, clutching her teddy bear. Why hadn’t she come to her mother when she realized something was wrong?
The bear, Teddy, lay abandoned on the rag rug next to the single bed. She scooped him up and held him close, feeling tears sting her eyes. We’re all right. We’re safe.
She wiped away the tears with the back of her hand. She had no time for crying. The clock was ticking.
In three weeks her prospective buyer would be here to check out the building. The specialist could call at any time to schedule Mandy’s cochlear implant. The two most important things in her life sped toward her.
She had to be ready. She suppressed a flicker of panic.
Okay. Carrying the bear, she started back downstairs. She’d take a quick look at the damage and then head back to the hospital. And tomorrow—
She frowned, swinging the beam of light around the front room of the downstairs. Water from the fire hoses hadn’t mixed very well with the dirt. Would she be able to bring Mandy back here tomorrow? Maybe, if the power company restored the electricity.
If not, that would mean a motel, and how she’d pay for that, she couldn’t imagine. The panic flickered again and was beaten down. She could do this. She’d find a way.
Little as she wanted to, she had to check the back of the building, where the worst damage was. She picked her way carefully across the littered floor, feet moving in the yellow circle cast by the flashlight.
A loud thud sounded at the back of the house. Her heart stopped for an instant and then started thumping wildly. She heard a scuffling sound, then the rumble of a masculine voice, followed by several loud bangs.
The sensible thing was to run out and call the police. She wasn’t feeling very sensible. Instead, rage surged through her. It wasn’t bad enough that she and her child had been forced out of their home by the fire. Now some lowlife was trying to get in and rob them. Well, he’d get more than he’d bargained for this time.
The flashlight beam touched a two-by-four about as long as a baseball bat. Perfect. She grabbed it and advanced on the door to the old kitchen.
Light gleamed from around the swinging door. Apparently her thief had come well-equipped.
Running on anger and adrenaline, she shoved the door open, raising her improvised weapon threateningly. A dark figure stood at the back door.
“What do you think you’re doing? Get out of here!”
He swung around, and her breath caught. Ryan. Ryan Flanagan stood there, a hammer in one hand.
Chapter Two
Ryan lifted his hands. “I give up. Don’t shoot.”
Laura’s heart pounded, as if once the adrenaline started to flow, she couldn’t stop it. “I’m sorry.” She realized she was still holding the two-by-four. It hit the ragged linoleum with a clatter.
