Edge of the Heat 1
By Lisa Ladew
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons or
organizations, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2014 Lisa Ladew
PROLOGUE
May 7th, 1983
Westwood Harbor
What the hell was he thinking? He was a stupid idiot sometimes, and this was certainly one of
those times. What was he going to do with her?
Hide her for now.
She was 15, lovely, and just beginning to show. He had done the math and she could be
anywhere from 4 months to 6 months along. She swore it was 4 months. He didn't trust her to know.
She wasn't the sharpest knife in the drawer.
Knives. Again he asked himself did he have the guts to kill her? He had to do something. If
anyone found out about this it would ruin his career. Damnit! Once he figured a way out of this mess
he was done with the teenagers and little girls forever. 19 year olds were legal and could still look
and act pretty young.
No, he didn't have the guts to kill her, especially not with a knife. Until he could find someone
to do it for him or figure out another way, she would have to stay here.
He gave her the news. She was visibly relieved. Does your mom know? No, I ran away. Does
anybody know? No, I was too scared. Good. What did she need? Books, lots of books. And food. He
could do books and food. But he wasn't touching her again. She was ruined now.
What about a doctor? He would find her a good doctor once it was time for the baby to be
born. Until then, he would get her a multivitamin and she would be fine. She was young and healthy.
She didn't argue. She felt fine.
September 13th, 1983
Westwood Harbor
The baby is coming.
He rushed home, frantically trying to finalize his plan. This baby could not be born. Maybe
she was wrong. Her stomach was huge, and he didn't understand how she could stand it, but by her
estimation she was still a month early. By his, she had to be at least 2 or 3 months early.
Maybe the baby was so early it would die.
But then he'd still have to take care of her.
The only plan he had right now was not much of a plan at all.
Home. She was right. The baby was coming. She wanted to go to the hospital. He told her he
had a doctor coming.
In the kitchen, he mixed up a cocktail of Heparin, Warfarin, and some aspirin thrown in for
good measure. Way more than anyone should take at one time. All anticoagulants, in the hope that she
would bleed to death, and the baby would bleed to death. What would he do with the bodies? He
didn't know yet, but that wasn't important right now.
He coaxed her into taking the pills. They would relax her and help with the labor. The doctor
told him to give them to her. Where is the doctor? He is almost here.
She took them, trust and relief in her eyes.
2 hours later, he couldn't take it anymore and left the small house. She was yelling, over and
over for a doctor. He had the music turned up, hoping the neighbors wouldn't hear.
When he returned, 3 hours after that, hoping to find bodies, he found nothing. Not even a blood
trail. The front door stood open.
He sat down, and waited for the ax to fall.
Chapter 1.
As Emma fell off the roof, her body braced for impact. Her mind tried to turn her around so
her feet were the first to hit, but there was no time for that.
She felt the impact on her upper back. It was monstrous. It created a massive, slamming shock
wave that swallowed her whole. Agony ripped through her for a split second.
And then she knew no more.
***
4 days of my life gone - 1 for each story I fell.
Even now, sitting in this uncomfortable Westwood Harbor General Hospital bed, listening to
the beep, beep, beep of her own heart on the monitor, it felt hard to imagine that the 4 days before
yesterday didn't exist in her memories.
Not paralyzed - the doctors said. You need to rest - the doctors said. No visitors - the doctors
said.
She knew she wasn't paralyzed because in the vision
(The Vision of Her Future Husband)
she was standing.
That's how she thought of the vision - it should be capitalized in writing and spoken in
reverential tones if said aloud. Like The Queen or My God. It seemed that important to her. This fall
she had just taken off of a roof outside a brick tenement seemed ... inconsequential, except that it had
given her this vision.
She would recover, she would heal, she would go back to work. And at some point in her
future this event would happen and she would have finally found her soul-mate. The man that would
give her children and be her family, and love her forever and never, ever leave. The man that would
make up for a dead mother, a non-existent father, a missing sister, and a stolen childhood.
Her brain kept pulling back to the fall, wanting to relive it over and over again. She knew that
wasn't important though - the vision was. So she lay her head back against the pillow and recalled the
vision again in every detail:
It was night-time. Orange light filled the sky, barely enough to see by. Something burning.
Candles? A man stood in front of her. He was taller than her by at least a few inches. He looked
down into her face, his eyes threatening to spill tears. His hair and skin were dark, his jaw strong.
His features were mostly hidden in the darkness.
His strong hands were grasping her upper arms almost hard enough to hurt. His voice,
husky and strained, broke and cracked as he said:
"I thought you were gone.
I thought I had lost you.
With God as my witness I swear I will never let you go again."
He fell forward onto her chest and slid down her body. He grabbed her around the waist
and squeezed her in a bear hug. Now his sobs did come.
In the vision, tingles danced up and down her spine, radiated outward along her back, and
wrapped around her body.
She felt ready to explode with love and happiness and ... relief? Her own tears slipped
down her face and she hugged his head to her middle, with the same amount of force he was using.
Here the vision ended. If she tried hard she could recreate the tingles, although not as strong
as they had felt as she opened her eyes for the first time in 4 days. If she concentrated enough, she
could regain some of the emotions of happiness and love for a few minutes before they faded.
I want to live in that vision forever, she thought.
I wonder if ... - her thoughts were interrupted by movement at the doorway.
Stupid nurses, they can't leave me be for 10 minutes ...
But it wasn't a nurse. It was Jerry, her partner. Her face broke into a smile immediately. The
smile hurt, but she didn't care. There was no one else in the world she wanted to see right now except
her partner.
"Jerry," she whispered. It hurt her throat and her back to talk.
"Shhhh, don't speak," he said, as he walked to her bedside. "I can't stay long. The doctors
don't know I am here, but my pretty little nurse got me in. I just had to see you and make sure it was
true - that you are going to be OK."
He raised his hand but it faltered in mid-air, like he wasn't sure if he should touch her. He
settled for lightly caressing the back of her left hand.
"Jerry, what happened, was anyone else hurt?" She could barely get out the words, but she had
to ask. The only thing she could think of when she wasn't reliving the vision was the "accident" and
the doctors wouldn't tell her a thing. They didn't want to "get her excited." They probably just didn't
know anything and didn't want to admit it.
"Nah, Frankie picked that asshole up by the scruff of his neck and one of his legs and heaved
him in the window head-first. Screw his c-spine." Jerry chuckled a little bit at this memory, but as his
eyes lit back on Emma, looking impossibly small and fragile in the hospital bed, the smile withered
quickly.
He leaned in a bit and said "One of the crew, a new guy - Craig something, actually climbed
down the drainpipe to get to you."
"What?" Emma felt the pull of every muscle in her face as her eyes widened in surprise.
"Yeah, good thing too, because it took the rest of us clowns way too long to find the door that
led out to that alley. By the time we got down there he had your airway open and was screaming for a
board."
"Did I ... stop breathing?" Emma forced the air and the words out.
Jerry broke eye contact and looked at the TV high up on the wall.
He doesn't want to tell me. Holy crap, I could have died.
Emma twisted her hand around and grabbed Jerry's. She couldn't totally feel his hand in hers,
but she could see with her eyes that she had it. She tried to squeeze and show some strength.
"Jerry, I can take it. I need to know."
"Yeah, he said you did. He said when he got down there you weren't breathing at all. He said
he was scared to move you, because we all saw you fall on your head. But he had to risk it to get you
breathing again. And he did a great job. I tracked him down two days ago at Firehouse 18 and asked
him to show me what he did. You were crumpled up with your head tucked forward, laying mostly on
your stomach. He put an arm under your armpit, then up your chest so he could hold the front of your
face and then his other arm went on your back, holding the back of your head, and he turned you
slowly around as a unit till you were totally on your back. He used his legs to move your lower body
at the same time. He showed me on a CPR dummy. It was primo. They should teach it in school."
Emma lapsed into thought. She could see it in her mind's eye. They hadn't brought a board up
for the druggie because even thought it was reported as a fall from a building, they didn't see anyone
splattered on the sidewalk as they pulled up in the ambulance. They were motioned inside and up the
stairs by people who didn't really know what was going on. How were they supposed to know that
the man fell out of a window and landed on a roof-overhang that was four stories up?
That assumption had almost gotten her killed!
If they had just brought a board with them, the first thing they would have done would have
been put his sky-high ass onto the board and strap him down, and then he never would have had the
chance to struggle and she never would have gotten knocked off the roof.
One look at Jerry told her he was probably thinking the same thing. His lips were pressed
tightly together in a pained little line. He was the one who had said "nah, we don't need the board,"
when she had wondered aloud if they did. She shoved that thought away - she was just as responsible
as him. She could have brought a board anyway. No use blaming anyone but herself and that never
went well.
Instead, when they saw the naked druggie on the roof and figured out that he had come from a
window above them, they had sent one of the engine crew to the ambulance to get the board, and by
the time he got back, she was the one who needed it.
She didn't know what happened to the druggie they went there to help, but her guess was he
had to wait for a second ambulance.
What a trip to think that she had been carried on a board in full c-spine. She had probably
used the board and collar 1000 times in her 8 years on the job - no probably more like 3000 times.
Fell off your toilet? On the board. Hit in the head with a baseball? On the board. Car accident at 9
miles an hour - not even enough to trigger your airbags? You too - on the board. That way you can't
sue us every time you get a twinge in your neck and think you are on your way to being paralyzed.
She could see it in her mind's eye: first a hard cervical collar would have been put around her
neck, then three or four of them would have kneeled on one side of her and grabbed her clothes and
body. 1, 2, 3 - and they all would have turned her as a unit. No doubt Jerry had been at her head, not
trusting that job to any cop or engine crew. Someone else would have slid the board underneath her
and then they would have rolled her back. The orange foam head blocks would have been velcroed
down on the board to keep her head still, and all the straps would have been fastened. Then they
would have picked her up and carried her out to the ambulance.
Her, Emma Hill, former Army Medic, Westwood Harbor's E.M.S Employee of the month 17
times, never taken a sick day, never been hurt on the job, never even been poked with a needle,
recipient of the 2009 National EMS Award of Excellence where she got to shake President Obama's
hand, had been knocked off a roof and almost killed in the line of duty, all because she hadn't brought
up a long spine board to a call when she should have.
Half her mind was ashamed, and the other half kept clamoring about something important. She
closed her eyes and laid her head back so Jerry wouldn't talk for a couple of seconds and give her
time to think.
What was important about this?
The VISION!
If I had not almost died, I would not have had my vision. This IS important. I can't let my
shame cloud this. I was meant to fall off that roof. I was meant to see those things. I know what it
means. It means ...
But here, her mind betrayed her, and turned inward on itself so she heard no more of that
thought.
Jerry must have thought she was asleep, because she felt him slowly pull his hand from hers
and heard him try to tiptoe away from the bed. She let him go. She wanted to catch the rest of that
thought. She wanted to re-play the vision in her mind again. She wanted to dream about what it meant
and how her life would be different
(so much better)
when she met that man.
Again, her mind started tugging at her. She felt sluggish, like her brain was filled with sand,
and she supposed that was an after-effect of falling four stories and landing on your head. Her brain
wouldn't stop though. Something danced just out of her reach. The harder she tried the less of it she
could grasp.
Damnit!
She slammed her fist into her thigh. Wait, her hand was still exactly where Jerry had left it.
She had told it to slam into her thigh. She slowly curled her fingers into a fist. There, see, she could
move; she just had to move slowly and deliberately. But she would heal, she knew she would.
Hopefully quickly. She wasn't going to meet the man from her vision in this hospital.
Wait, what if he is in this hospital? What if he's one of my doctors or nurses and I haven't
even noticed him? What if I'm so busy dreaming about the vision I fail to live it?
On some level, Emma knew this was silly. The future is the future, and if her vision foretold
the future, which she was sure it did, then she was on her way to the future right now, and everything
she was doing was right and taking her to that future.
But on another level - the level in which Emma usually operated - she was certain that she
was already on the wrong path. She should be up and rehabilitating, or examining everyone who came
into the room, or writing down every detail of the man in the vision so she would know him when she
saw him. Something!
Emma felt herself slipping into sleep. Her fool body was betraying her again! There was work
to be done, but she was going to sleep. Her brows knit together. Her lips clamped down on each
other. She willed herself to stay awake, but she was exhausted. Her mind slipped into a troubled
sleep where her dream-self chastised her over and over again for her weaknesses.
Chapter 2.
Craig Masterson watched Firehouse 18 from the small coffee shop across the street. If he
were sitting at one of the tables on the sidewalk he would be able to hear the tones that signified that
particular firehouse was receiving a call, but he didn't want to be seen by anyone in the firehouse.
Luckily, no one in this coffee shop knew him yet, so he just read his newspaper in a flimsy
chair by the window. His disguise, if you could call it that, was very light - just a baseball cap,
sunglasses, and a fake mustache. His clothes were dark and loose. There was no hiding his large
frame and larger muscles, but he did his best.
A family; Dad, Mom, and baby in stroller walked by the window. The baby smiled at him.
His eyes tracked the family until they were out of sight. His brain tried to take him on a short
guilt trip but he didn't go. He knew he'd quit this dirty business in a second if he ever got a second
chance at that kind of happiness, so he didn't need to go there right now.
He forced his eyes back to the firehouse. If that engine didn't get a call soon he would have to
abandon this coffee shop and wait somewhere else. He'd already been here for 2 hours.
As if he conjured a call with his mind, the large white bay door finally started rolling up. He
held his breath, hoping the captain didn't just order the engine to be washed or something.
Nope, behind the big truck he saw half the crew scrambling into their gear, but the driver was
already in his seat and had the engine on with the lights flashing.
Good. Finally.
The engine pulled out onto the street and turned right, lights flashing and siren wailing. Craig
waited until he could no longer hear the siren. He left his newspaper on the table and walked outside.
He walked around the block before crossing the street towards the firehouse.
The doors were locked and the big door closed, but he had the password for the small door
that let into the bay and the door to the kitchen. As far as he could tell, they did not monitor when this
door was accessed, and there was no video monitoring anywhere on the premises. Of course not.
Who would break into a firehouse?
Who, besides him? As soon as he was in he headed straight up to the chief's office. The chief
should have his offices downtown, but he had a soft spot for this firehouse. It was his old stomping
grounds; where he worked his way up
(extorted his way up was probably more like it)
from firefighter to Captain before being promoted to Assistant Chief and then Chief. That
worked out well for Craig. He would have had a much harder time breaking into the office if it were
downtown.
The Chief was currently on vacation. His office was empty, and probably locked. But Craig
had a key. He had stolen it from the Chief himself the day before he went on vacation, pickpocketing
the entire keyring right off his belt, and then throwing the keys he didn't need down a sewer grate.
The locksmith was scheduled to come tomorrow to change the locks, so this had to be done
today.
Craig unlocked the door and eased his way into the room. He padded to the computer and sat
down, checking his view of the street out the window. Good, he had a good view down the street in
both directions. Please let the call be a long one, he internally chanted.
Craig turned on the computer. Of course a password was needed. He pulled a password
cracking CD out of his jacket pocket and inserted it in the drive, rebooting the computer. As it started
back up, his fingers worked the magic his oldest friend taught him last night. Voila! He was in within
30 seconds.
I owe Hawk a beer.
Now to access the network. He had several firefighters usernames and passwords and his
instructions were to just pick one. But he wouldn't. What if his intrusion was discovered somehow
and that man or woman was fired? He could not stand to be responsible for someone losing their job
who didn't deserve it. So he set himself to the much harder task of accessing the network with the
Chief's own username and password. This could take a while. A drop of sweat trickled down the
middle of his spine, chilling him. If Hawk knew he was doing this the hard way he would get an ass-
chewing.
Hoping to avoid an ass-chewing, or worse, mission-failure, he checked his watch. 18 minutes
since the Engine had gone out. He got up and turned on the radio so he would hear if they gave an all-
clear, returning-to-station signal.
Back in the chair, he tested the network. Was there a lock-down on the number of password
attempts he could make before the Chief's account would be locked? There didn't seem to be. Out
came the second CD in his pocket. The screen filled with numbers and letters. Every possible
password filled the square for a moment.
His software was good, the best his employer could buy, and within 6 minutes he had the
password. Still no word from Engine 18. Perfect.
Craig poked around in the files. He did not know everything he was looking for, and he didn't
know what kind of cloaking techniques the Chief might use. He found a few files he wanted and
transferred them right away to his zip drive. They would take 4 minutes to transfer. A folder marked
Business caught his attention. He double clicked the folder, his eyes rapidly scanning the contents.
Craig pumped his fist in the air and yelled "Jackpot!" He quickly copied the entire folder to his flash
drive. 6 more minutes. Craig's feet drummed the rug. He badly wanted to get up and do a little victory
dance, but he needed to check the rest of the files before Engine 18 headed back.
For the second time that day his thoughts seemed to summon reality. The radio crackled.
"Engine 18, 10-98."
"Damn! Damn damn damn damn damn!" Craig swore a blue streak and frantically scanned the
rest of the files and folders. Nothing else jumped out at him so he closed everything but what was
being copied. His eyes watched the folders drifting across the screen. 4 minutes 54 seconds. Hurry!
He could only pray the Engine was farther than 5 minutes away. If he got caught up here he would
never get another chance and the entire mission would be jeopardized. Not just his part in it, but all of
it. That could not happen. This was too important.
Craig jumped up and paced the rug. His nervous energy ate holes in his normally calm
exterior. He triangled from the rug to the window to the computer again and again.
54 seconds. Thank you God.
The rumble of a diesel engine crept through the window pane. Damn! Craig ran to the window
and peeked out. Engine 18 was pulling past to reverse in.
Back to the computer, he put one hand on the mouse and one hand on the flash drive. 9
seconds, 8 seconds ... Craig willed himself to take a deep breath. 1 second. The little hourglass just
spun and nothing - done! Two mouse clicks and a swift yank later Craig was sprinting to the hall. He
locked the door from the inside and closed it. As quietly as possible he strode purposely down the
hall and the steps, trying to decide if he should go out the kitchen door or pretend like he came by on
his day off to get something.
I guess it depends on if anyone catches me or not.
He could hear the backup warning beeps in the engine bay. No one should be out of the
vehicle yet. If he could just make it to the kitchen before anyone got off the truck he would be golden.
As he entered the kitchen door, the backup warning sound cut off. Sit down and act like he
was supposed to be here or hoof it out the door? He decided to take his chances and run like a scared
dog.
Out the door he went, softly pulling it shut behind him, then turning right and paralleling the
building away from the bay. At the end of the building he stayed straight through the grass and to the
sidewalk. He shoved his hands in his pockets and strolled away from the firehouse, feeling light.
A breeze picked up and something tickled his nose. His hand raised up to brush it away.
His fake mustache!
Craig raised his face to the sky and laughed, letting loose some nervous energy. An angel was
looking out for him, keeping him on the move and not in the firehouse kitchen trying to explain away a
fake mustache he forgot he had on.
Chapter 3.
At exactly 4:45 a.m., Emma walked into the ambulance bay for the first time since her
accident, smelling gasoline and lysol, and grinning from ear to ear, a piece of watermelon gum tucked
inside her cheek. She loved her job and her co-workers and her crazy city. She loved the druggies and
the jumpers and even the gomers that should be calling a cab, not an ambulance.
She had missed her job fiercely every second of her three week rehabilitation. The last week
had been the worst. She felt well enough to get back to work, but no one would let her. She didn't
have a thing to do and frequently found herself wandering around the city on foot, looking for
accidents or ill homeless people - anything! All of her friends had been working 12 or 24 hour shifts
plus overtime, as usual, or sleeping off the effects of a crazy, coffee-fueled shift, so none of them had
any time to do anything with her. Not even Jerry. She felt partly guilty that her absence created some
of the need for so much overtime and partly pissed that her friends had been so busy without her.
Smooth Em, you are a real fruitcake, you know that? If the tables had been turned you
would have been doing nothing but working and sleeping too.
But none of that mattered now - she was back to work! She punched in, checked the beat sheet,
and headed straight over to ambulance 17.
Jerry wasn't there yet, so she grabbed a clipboard and started the pre-shift check.
She had determined the ambulance was in tip-top shape- all supplies were on hand, all
blinkers worked, gas was at full, and there were no blood stains or puke smells- when Jerry finally
showed up.
"EM!" he shouted as soon as he saw her. He ran across the bay and picked her up, spinning
her around. She laughed down at his shaved-bald head and said "Put me down you dink, before you
throw your back out. Nobody wants to see you cry again."
"Hey," he growled. "I didn't cry. I watered my beard."
Emma giggled. "You don't have a beard silly."
"Seriously Em, I am so happy to see you. I didn't know you were coming back today. I thought
I had another shift with Sam and I've been dragging my feet all morning. I can't stand listening to him
all day!" Jerry gushed on and on without taking a breath.
Emma had never had to work with Sam - he usually worked nights but was pulled to days
because they had been so short-staffed last month - but she had heard the rumors. Sam was dirty.
That's one of the reasons he liked to work nights. He had no problem looking the other way when the
lazy or dirty cops, of which Westwood Harbor seemed to have way too many of, pocketed guns or
drugs or beat people up instead of helping them. Emma had never seen a cop beat anyone up
(anyone but herself)
or take something they shouldn't, but she heard it happened. She also heard that some
firefighters and paramedics looked the other way or helped for a piece of the action. Emma couldn't
imagine doing this in her wildest dreams, and she hoped she never saw it. She liked her world sweet
and rosy.
"Oh man, how many shifts did you have to do with him?"
"All of them! He was my partner the whole time you were gone!
"Did he, you know, do anything?"
"Nah, he was clean as a whistle with me, of course."
Emma nodded, knowing that Jerry would never put up with it if anyone sworn to uphold the
law actually broke it in front of him. She wondered if she would have the courage to blow any
whistles if she saw something corrupt happen. Or would she just bury her nose in her work and
pretend it didn't happen? She didn't know, but although she hoped with her full heart she was brave
and strong, sometimes she suspected the opposite.
"Come on Jer - let's hit the road before I have to do the whole welcome back thing with
anybody else."
"Right-O Captain!" Jerry climbed into the driver's seat and Emma into the passenger. They
had been partners for 5 years, and Jerry always drove for the first 5 hours with Emma as the lead
paramedic, and Emma drove for the second 5 with Jerry as the lead paramedic. They were both
qualified firefighters too, but they rarely worked the firehouse. Working paramedic was their mutual
preference.
They got along as well as she had ever gotten along with anyone in her life. They'd had a few
fights, but they always made up swiftly and completely. Which is more than Emma could say for any
other man she'd ever known. Whenever she thought about this, she always figured it was because it
wasn't a romantic relationship. There were less triggers. Less emotion. Plus Jerry was a seriously
cool guy and he genuinely liked and respected women in general, and her in particular. Which was
also more than she could say for any other man she'd ever known.
Jerry backed the ambulance out of the stall and drove up the concrete ramp to the exit. When
he hit Front Street he took a right. Emma grabbed the radio and said "Unit 17 10-8"
"Unit 17 10-8, 10-4," came the reply. And then "Unit 17 10-Whiskey Bravo." 10-Whiskey
Bravo was not an official code, but the dispatcher, Wanda it sounded like, was probably saying
welcome back. That's the kind of welcome back Emma could handle. One from a distance with no
hugging and expressions of condolences.
"10-4 central, thanks."
"That fucker Sam, he wanted to trade off who drove first every day. Can you imagine?" Jerry
complained. Emma didn't mind. She let Jerry's words wash over her like a warm breeze. She settled
in to her chair and smiled, thrilled to be listening to Jerry and sitting in this chair. She watched people
look at them from the sidewalk and waved at any children she saw. The light traffic on the paramedic
radio sounded like a serenade to her. This was her place.
When Jerry took a few breaths, she said "Hey, let's get some coffee and chill somewhere. I
have something to tell you."
She hadn't told anyone about her vision yet but she wanted to. She could still see it as clear as
day in her mind and she still felt that urgent feeling every day, like a fish hook in her brain, that she
should be doing something about it. Unbelievably, she hadn't met one dark-skinned and dark-haired
man since her accident who was tall enough to be the man in the vision. Sometimes she was scared
that he had been standing on a stool in the vision, and so she actually had already met or seen him, but
she had dismissed him because he didn't seem tall enough. That's why she needed to tell Jerry. His
analytical brain would pick this thing apart for her.
Jerry looked at her with his eyebrows raised. She looked back, stoically. His face broke into
a wide grin and he shouted "yeeeehaw! I am so glad you are back!" He gunned the ambulance, did a
u-turn at the next intersection, and headed towards their favorite coffee place.
The Pink Lady was a small building added in to the parking lot of a warehouse in the
industrial area next to the harbor. It was no place for a coffee shop, except for the steady flow of
working men through the area, all day long. And no other coffee shop had a chance down here. Three
had tried and never had so much as a single customer. If only their owners had had the smarts to
actually visit their only competition they would have realized why.
Jerry pulled up to the Pink Lady and smiled at the counter girl at the window. "Hi Heather,
can I get my usual today?"
"Sure, and how about Sam?" Heather asked.
"Oh no sister, I don't ride with HIM no more!" Jerry cackled and leaned back so Heather
could see.
"Emma's back! One tall espresso to GO and one tall coffee with two creams and two sugars -
got it," Heather flipped two cups in the air and sashayed over to the work station. Jerry watched her
appreciatively while she worked. Heather had bleach-blonde hair down her back where strands of it
tucked into her sparkly, skimpy bikini. Fit and tight, she looked like she belonged at crossfit, instead
of working the coffee shop. But she could do both. All the "girls" who worked at the Pink Lady got
paid much better than most coffee shop workers. They were being paid for their body and their
attitude towards the customers as much as they were for their coffee-making skills. Most men who
worked in the area got coffee at least twice a day from the shop, just for the pleasure of talking to
these ladies.
Emma watched Jerry ogle Heather and laughed silently to herself. Men are so silly. She didn't
mind that Jerry liked to come here. The coffee was good, and all the girls were no nonsense - most of
them working their way through college. No catty bitches here, which was surprising when you
thought about it.
A certain group of "socially-active" moms had fought to get this business shut down last year.
A law had even been passed stating all baristas must wear clothes, or some equally ridiculous thing.
But the business still ran and thrived. Emma didn't understand how and when she had asked Jerry
about it he had just laughed at her like he did when he thought she was being naive and said
"Kickbacks, baby, kickbacks. The powers-that-be in Westwood Harbor care a lot more about how
much money the Pink Ladies have than what they wear." Emma didn't understand it. She knew her city
was supposed to be very corrupt, but she'd never seen it. Well, except for the crapola that Norman
always seemed to get away with.
Jerry handed her a coffee, pulling her attention away from her ex-husband and back to the here
and now. They parked the ambulance with a view of the bay. The radio stayed mostly silent. The city
sat calm and quiet with most of its citizens still snuggled in their beds.
"So what's up Em?" Jerry asked.
Emma sat silent, hands between her knees and eye on her boots, feeling shy and a little
anxious. She gave herself a good mental shaking. Come on Em, you aren't ever living in hiding
again, remember? Jerry is your friend and he's not going to make fun of you.
"While I was unconscious, I had a-a vision. I saw something that's going to happen to me. I
want to tell you about it because I need to talk to someone about it."
She sneaked a look at Jerry and saw him gazing at her openly. He hadn't even raised an
eyebrow. He just waited. Bless him.
She recounted the entire vision and tried to explain the incredible feelings that were attached
to it. The peace, the love, the contentment, the relief.
When she was done she took a deep breath and smiled, still looking at her boots. Wow did
she feel better. It was like telling a deep, dark secret.
"OK." Was all he said.
Anger flared in her for a brief second. She stuffed it down and took a deep breath. No shizo
feelings for you today Em - he isn't being a jerk.
"You probably don't understand why this is such a big deal to me Jerry, but it is. I can't make
you feel what I felt or see what I saw or know why this is important, but I need you to trust me that it
is a huge deal."
"But it was just like a dream right? Do you think it's actually going to happen to you?" Jerry
spoke evenly and Emma knew he was keeping incredulity out of his voice with effort, so as not to hurt
her. He knew damn well how sensitive she was after 5 years of working with her.
She took another deep breath, looked him square in the face, and said "It is going to happen - I
know it. And he will be the man I marry and love forever. My soul-mate."
The conviction in her own voice bolstered her confidence. She was doing the right thing,
sharing this. It was time to stop being ashamed of who she was, tied up in layers of her own thinking.
"Oh boy Em, I didn't even know you were interested in getting married again. I thought
Norman had ruined you forever." Jerry said, his body leaning towards her and his eyes conveying
sympathy.
Emma thought for a moment about what role her hateful ex-husband played in her vision and
her future.
"None!" she said loudly, emphatically.
Jerry looked startled. "None?"
"Sorry Jer - I was thinking out-loud. Norman won't be able to scare this one off. It doesn't
matter what he tries. This one is for real and he is strong-minded enough to give Norman what-for. He
won't believe anything Norman says."
"How do you know that Em?"
"Because, in the vision I had a full and complete sense of him. It's hard to explain, but I knew
him. I wasn't just reacting to what he was doing."
Emma saw the confusion in Jerry's eyes and tried a different tactic.
"Jerry, when you think of me, what do you think of?"
Jerry thought for a second. "Well, I think of my friend who always has my back, who is the
best damn paramedic I know, who thinks too much and is too hard on herself, who has a hard time
letting go but is still more fun than anybody else I know."
Emma nodded. "That's how I feel about you too. And when I see you or think of you, a sense
of fully knowing who you are and your relationship to me fills my senses - almost like how I can think
of a strawberry and know what it would look like, smell like, taste like, and feel like."
Jerry looked at her thoughtfully and grinned ever so slightly.
"That's how I felt about this guy in the vision. I knew who he was. I knew how he felt about
me. I knew how we got along. I had a picture in my mind of who we were together. I know he
wouldn't fall for any of Norman's crap."
Jerry played with his coffee cup. "Well, what makes you so sure this is going to actually
happen? It could have just been a, I don't know, a dream or something."
Emma had been waiting for this question. This was the important question. Because this was
what she had never shared in 23 years with anyone. She had tried to block it from her memory many
times, but it wouldn't go.
"When I was 7, I went to Winton Elementary. One day at recess I was hanging upside down
from the monkey bars by my legs, and Xander Tay ran by and pulled my hair hard. He didn't let go
and I fell on my head. I lost consciousness. I was only unconscious for a few minutes, but when I
woke up I knew something. I had seen something while I was out."
Emma bit her lip and looked down at her shoes.
"I was surrounded by teachers and the school nurse and principal were there. They had taken
all the kids inside and called an ambulance. I told the teachers what I saw. I told them that Mandi
Paulson was run over in the street by a blue car in front of the school. I screamed at them to go and get
her. They hushed me and said she was fine and she was inside and I needed to lay still and relax. I
doubted myself and I did what they said. The ambulance came and the paramedic said I needed to be
watched for a concussion but I didn't need to go to the hospital - things were different back then - and
so the nurse took me to her office to wait for my foster parents. I was kept home for three days."
Emma stole a glance at Jerry and he wore a horrified expression on his face. He knew where
this was leading.
When I got back to school, everything was different. The teachers wouldn't look at me or talk
to me. The kids started saying I was weird, although no one said why I was weird. Mandi Paulson
didn't come back to school."
Two tears rolled down Emma's face. She didn't bother trying to hide them or keep them in or
wipe them away. She cried sometimes. And she didn't care who knew it.
I never asked what happened to Mandi because I knew. The only thing I didn't know was
when it happened. In a couple of days word got back to my foster parents what had happened, and
they took me back to social services. They didn't want me anymore.
"Oh Emma," gasped Jerry.
"It's OK. They weren't great parents anyway."
Jerry barked a laugh.
"Did you ever find out for sure what happened to Mandi Paulson?"
"Oh yes. When I was in high school I did some digging into it. I found the newspaper from the
day after my accident. Mandi had been hit by a blue nissan in the crosswalk in front of the school
while crossing to walk home. The driver of the car was never found. She was pronounced dead at the
scene."
Emma took a deep, shaky breath and leaned back in her seat. She didn't feel lighter, or better,
or any other stupid cliche, but she was glad she had told him. Now to see what he thought.
Jerry gazed openly at her, with his eyebrows scrunched, thoughtfully chewing on the inside of
his cheek.
Chapter 4.
"Unit 17."
The radio barked out their call sign and both of them jumped. Emma grabbed for the radio.
"Standing by."
"Respond to 1460 Wilson St., Unit 1208. Life Alert Call. No contact with patient. No further
information given."
Emma was glad to do something and get some distance from the story. She hated people
feeling sorry for her more than anything.
Jerry shifted into drive and pulled out onto the street. There was no traffic, so lights and sirens
weren't needed just yet. Emma felt that familiar rush of adrenaline that she lived for. It had been too
long!
It took them 3 minutes to get to 1460 Wilson St. They were the first unit there. On a call like
this, one engine and one cop car should be coming by too, since nobody knew what they were actually
going to find.
The building was a large, well-taken-care-of condominium complex called Wilson Towers.
Jerry parked in front of the entry doors and they jumped out, Emma grabbing the aid bag. They went in
the lobby and took the elevator to the 12th floor.
At 1208 they stopped and knocked. No answer. Jerry tried the door. It was locked. He
knocked and called, knowing he would get no answer.
Jerry took the radio off his belt and called dispatch. "Central, get on the line with life alert
and tell them the door is locked."
Central dispatch came back and said that the person inside had pressed the life alert button,
but wasn't saying anything. The woman who lived here was an 84 year old woman, and lived alone.
Life alert was trying to contact her son now.
Emma knocked on the door again and tried to think of what to do. Someone inside could be
dying, and they shouldn't stand out here with their thumbs up their butts doing nothing. The door was
metal, and solid without even a peephole. There was no way she would be able to break it in.
Noise at the end of the corridor caught her attention. It was two cops. She scanned their faces
quickly and was relieved, like always, to see neither one was Norman. Now that he worked in the
Vice unit, she almost never had to see him on calls anymore.
Both the officers were women, one young and blond - probably 25 or so- and one closer to
Emma's age of 30 with a broad smile and a long, thin scar on her right cheek.
"Party in the hall?" the older one smiled.
"We can't get in and the lady inside isn't answering, or can't answer," Emma told her. She was
glad to have the police here on this call.
"Is an engine company coming?" the older cop asked. "They could break in."
"Yeah, this is Engine 18's ward. I will call them." Emma looked at Jerry and saw he was still
talking to central dispatch. She took out her own radio and switched the frequency to Engine 18's
channel.
"Engine 18, are you responding to 1460 Wilson St,?"
The response came back faint and crackly - mobile to mobile wasn't always great reception -
"Yes, we are here, in the lobby."
"Uh, we can't get in the door. You might need tools."
"Roger."
Jerry came back to the door, smiled broadly at the two cops, and addressed them all. "The son
says he is out of town and can't come with the spare key."
"Let's knock on some doors and see if anyone else has one." Emma suggested.
They all spread out and started knocking on neighbor's doors. Emma knocked and knocked but
got no response. She looked down the hall and saw that Jerry was talking to a neighbor but the two
cops were already picking different doors. Past them, the elevator opened and several firefighters in
full turnout gear started to get out. She could tell at the distance that Frankie was in the lead.
Oh great - these are the guys that were there when I fell off the roof.
She knew the next few minutes would be uncomfortable but it was better to get it over with.
She started walking back towards 1208 when Frankie spotted her. "Emma!" He yelled and
started running towards her, his boots pounding loudly on the carpet.
She smiled. Frankie was a good guy. He always had time for a quick chat and a smile.
He ran up and slung an arm around her. "Hey Blue Eyes, I am so glad you are ok! I was sick to
death when you fell off that roof. So what do we have going on here?"
Emma laughed and filled him in. Frankie always razzed her about her blue eyes. Sometimes
he called her "husky girl" even though she was quite slim. Her eyes were the color of a husky's eyes
though, and her most striking feature.
Jerry and the cops came back to 1208 and relayed that no one on the floor that answered their
door had a key or even knew this lady.
It wasn't really Emma's call whether or not to break the door down since they didn't know if
this was a medical call or not. One of the cops was actually in charge of the scene until they knew
what type of call it was. Emma bet her money on the older one. She turned to her and asked "What
should we do?"
"Give me a minute," she said and walked a few feet away, radio in hand.
Jerry nudged Emma and pointed at one of the firefighters. He was standing at the far end of the
hallway, ax in hand, helmet under his arm, chatting with one of his crew members.
Emma looked and her breath caught in her throat. There were so almost 1000 firefighters plus
400 firefighter/paramedics working in Westwood Harbor, and no one could keep track of them all.
She only knew a handful of them by name, and only had ever been on a call with less than half of them
probably.
She remembered this one from the call where she had fallen off the roof. He had caught her
notice even then, even when there was no time for that kind of thing. This time, standing around like
they were, she had all the time in the world to look her fill.
Oh boy was he hot. Handsome. Smokin. Emma was used to being around hot men - practically
all the firefighters could qualify as hot with their broad, open faces and short-cropped hair and no
facial hair and muscular bodies - if you were in to that kind of thing. Which Emma most certainly was.
She hadn't been too into men lately though. Something about her loser ex-husband spoiled men for her
for a long time.
Her thoughts were interrupted by an elbow in the ribs. "Close your mouth Em, it's not
ladylike," Jerry whispered to her.
Emma slammed her mouth shut with a pop. Ohmigod was she drooling? She leaned against
the wall, trying to look nonchalant, and turned her head, but kept her eyes on this new guy in Engine
18. That time at the roof call had been the first time she had ever seen him. They normally shared
several calls a day with Engine 18 so he must be new. He didn't look like a rookie though. He was at
least 25, but probably closer to her 30. He had a confident air about him, like he had been on a 100
calls just like this before. His turnout gear was worn in and smoky, certainly not new. That didn't
mean anything though - he could have been issued someone's old or practice set.
His standard haircut was just a little too long on top, like maybe he liked to wear a faux-hawk
on his days off. His hair was not quite blond, but not brown either. His eyes were a bit hooded and
very kind-looking. She couldn't see his body under all that gear, but she was sure it was drool-
worthy. They always were. He stood at least 6 feet tall, which put him about 4 inches or more taller
than her. Which was perfect.
Emma started thinking she should look for an excuse to head down the hall a little bit and
eavesdrop on him when Cop #1 came back over and said "the desk Sergeant says to break in."
Perfect. Let's see big boy wield that ax.
Jerry rubbed his hands together and practically jumped up and down. "All right!" He put two
fingers in his mouth and whistled, loud and startling. "Hey guys, get your butts over here, we need
you!"
The group of 3 firefighters looked up and started to saunter over to meet them and Frankie.
The new guy moved like a cat with a small smile on his lips.
Emma was still staring at him, and his eyes locked with hers. His small smile broke into a
wide grin, revealing to-die-for dimples. Emma remembered something. She gave him a small smile
and quickly turned to Jerry. "Wait, you said a new guy was the one who climbed down the drainpipe
and saved me - is that him?"
"Yep, that's him. He's a super nice guy. His name is Craig."
Aw man, Emma knew this was coming, but she still wasn't prepared. Her plan was to take a
trip over to Engine 18 after she had worked up the courage and get this guy off to the side and tell him
thank you, in private, before she had to see him out on a call. But that was all screwed to hell already.
Damnit!
Emma's mouth went dry. She felt like she couldn't breathe. She hated being needy in any way,
it always made her feel so anxious. She also hated being indebted to someone. That was the absolute
worst!
Breathe Em, breathe she reminded herself, and purposely took a deep breath. The three
firefighters were right there already, but Craig was blocked from her vision by one of the others.
Frankie told them what the score was and one of the men produced a huge, wicked looking
crowbar. If they needed to pry cars apart that was probably what they used.
He stuck the crowbar between the door and the jam and started to work it. The door was
tough, but it was no match for that crowbar. Craig put his ax down and grabbed the end and they put
all their weight on it. The latch popped free, but there was a deadbolt. They repositioned the crowbar
and did it again. This proved a bit harder but they worked, worked, worked it.
Emma hoped there was really someone in need in that apartment, because this door would
never recover.
Finally the hole around the deadbolt was big enough that one of the men just stuck his hand
inside and unlocked the deadbolt. He swung the door open and looked inside.
"Doc!" he yelled.
Emma and Jerry knew that meant a medical. Emma shouldered their aid bag and in they went
at a jog.
An older woman with short white hair and a heavily-lined face lay uncomfortably on the floor
in a large pool of urine. Her face was turned towards them, and her left eye was looking at them, but
she said nothing. Her right eye drooped almost shut, and her lips were down-turned on that side.
Emma thought she noted deep embarrassment in they woman's good eye. Emma walked straight to her
head and kneeled, speaking clearly. "It's OK ma'am, we are going to get you straightened up in a jiffy.
Can you speak?"
Peace fell upon Emma. She took charge of her scene and her patient, and within 10 minutes,
the woman was loaded on a gurney and headed down the stairs with a firefighter at her head and her
feet. Emma had forgotten about the new guy for a while. Until this patient was safely in the hospital,
all of that was put aside.
Which was good, because if she felt halfway to 'in lust' already and that was something she
didn't have time for.
***
Emma joined Jerry in the ambulance, picked up the radio, and stated "Unit 17, in service."
"10–4 unit 17"
"Jerry, we should head over to engine 18."
Jerry swiveled his head slowly on his neck to look at her with an exaggerated mask of
incredulity on his face.
"Why Emma Hill, I do believe you have a crush."
"No, it's not that, I just never got a chance to thank him and him till I do I will feel awkward
anytime I see him." Emma did want to see him again but she didn't want Jerry to tease her about it.
And she was telling the truth. She would feel awkward if she did not thank him.
Jerry eyed her for a moment longer and then nodded, put the ambulance in gear and headed
toward Firehouse 18.
When he parked in front Emma jumped out and walked in the open truck bay before he could
say anything else. They must have seen her coming from inside because she was already being buzzed
in. She walked through the door and turned right towards the radio room. Frankie was inside. "Hi
Frankie, thanks, where's the new guy?".
"Check the kitchen, I think he is on lunch duty."
Emma turned around. Her nose led her to the kitchen. Bacon frying. Yum.
Entering the room, the first thing she noticed was the very broad back bent over the stove.
Double yum. That was him for sure. She stopped and studied him, being careful to keep her mouth
closed this time. His blue T-shirt hugged his obviously muscular back. The muscles in his shoulders
danced with his movements. His waist tapered perfectly into his blue uniform pants. His butt - oh my
goodness was it perfect - swayed slightly back and forth as if he were dancing to a tune only he could
hear.
Wow, he is handsome even from the back.
Emma swallowed, trying to get her throat to say words. Her mouth opened but nothing came
out. Excuse me? Pardon me? Hey you? Yo handsome? What in the heck should she say?
He must've felt her eyes on him because he whirled around quickly, pointing a piece of toast
at her like a gun. When he saw her he relaxed and smiled. Those disarming dimples sunk into his
cheeks. His face was all man, but the dimples gave him a little boy look that made you think he could
do no wrong.
Emma felt her knees weaken a little bit. What in the hell is going on with you sister? He's
just a man! You've seen handsome men before! Get a hold of yourself!
"Uh, hi, uh, you, uh," Emma stammered.
Ugh. She wanted to slap herself in the face. She was never tongue-tied around men. But then
she wasn't attracted to very many men either. Spending most days of her life with tons of handsome
men, all of whom were just normal people, did that to her. Looks didn't impress her anymore.
Besides, her ex-husband was one of the most handsome men she knew and also one of the biggest
jerks on the planet.
"Hi, Emma right?" He strode towards her, big legs eating up the distance between them in
nanoseconds. She put her hand up, intending to shake his, but he kept coming. He leaned in for a hug
and actually picked her up off her feet and squeezed her, twirling her around once and setting her back
down where she started. His scent: warm cologne, bacon, and pure, clean man, enveloped her.
Emma gaped up at him.
He chuckled, "Sorry, I know we haven't even met yet but I feel like I know you already."
"Frankie has told me all about you, and I spent some time praying that you would recover
fully, and of course I have already had my lips on yours." Redness crept into his cheeks at that
admission but he didn't look away.
Emma's eyes widened and her mouth tried to open wider. It was already open as far as it
could go though.
"Oh, ah, nobody told you I gave you rescue breaths?"
She managed to shake her head no.
"Yeah, uh, well, once I got you turned over and your airway open, you still weren't breathing.
I didn't have an aid bag or a mask so I, uh, I just uh ..."
He trailed off, still gazing in her eyes. Emma almost forgot what he was saying. His dark baby
blues were so blue and big. His eyes had the innocence of a 2 year old - incapable of telling a lie. He
put his mouth on hers?! That was unheard of these days! With diseases and lawsuits, you never, ever
put your mouth over someone else's mouth. You always used a mask or a barrier.
But he didn't have one. And he didn't want to wait for one. He would have done the same for
any of his brothers here in the engine company. That rule didn't necessarily apply to others in the
business.
In her mind, his lips closed over hers. She shivered.
"Oh, ah, I'm totally clean you know. I don't have any Hepatitis or anything." She heard him
suck in a nervous breath and hold it.
Oh man, he thinks I'm worried about getting something from him because I haven't said a
frickin word yet! Emma, say something! She screamed inside her own head. Mentally, she slapped
herself across the face.
"Um, Craig, right?" She forced a smile and took his hand in both of hers. "Thank you so much.
You saved my life. I owe you big time."
His shoulders relaxed and the smile
(and those dimples, dear lord!)
reappeared. "No way, you don't owe me anything, anymore than that lady you saved today
owes you anything, amiright?" He tipped a wink to her and headed back over to the stove top.
She chuckled, "Yeah, you are right, I guess."
He turned back around, two plates in hand, and put them in front of two opposite chairs at the
table. "Sit down and have some lunch with me."
She eyed the plates. BLT sandwiches. Yum. She eyed Craig. Bigger yum. "Ok." Emma smiled
and pulled out her chair.
The radio squelched and the tones started. Craig stood up and eyeballed the radio speaker.
"Damn," she heard him swear under his breath. "Engine 18, respond to smell of smoke. 402
Westwood Blvd." He turned around and put a finger on each stove dial, manually checking to be sure
they were off. "Sorry, I have to go. I'd love to see you again soon."
He rushed into the hallway and a moment later, she saw the big, red engine pull out onto the
road with lights flashing.
Chapter 5.
"So how did it go yesterday, anyway?
What? Emma was jerked back to the here and now by Jerry's question. They were headed to a
school out of their district for a possible sprained ankle, Code 1 - no lights or sirens.
"You know, with firefighter hot and heavy. How did it go?"
"Oh, it went fine. I said thanks."
"Yeah, and then what?" Jerry looked knowingly at her.
"And then nothing. He had to go out on the call."
"So you were in there for all that time, and all you said was th-"
"Hey Jerry," she interrupted him, "Did you know he gave me mouth to mouth?"
"Um, yeah, he mentioned it. Didn't I tell you that?"
"No, you most certainly did not. I thought I started breathing again after he opened my
airway." Emma scowled at him and crossed her arms.
"Yeah, well, you were breathing by the time I got there. irregular breathing, but breathing. And
some oxygen got you all regular and comfortable again."
"Oh." She lapsed into silence. Boy, she should have seen the long tunnel and the big light. But
maybe her heart hadn't stopped beating so she hadn't technically been dead. Maybe you only see the
tunnel when you are actually dead for a little bit. Not breathing for 30 or 40 seconds doesn't make you
dead. Maybe you only get a glimpse of the afterlife if you are dead.
Abruptly she sat straight up in her seat and strained against the belt, gasping a small "oh" of
surprise.
"What Em, what's wrong?"
"My vision Jerry, I forgot all about my vision!"
And she had. Yesterday afternoon she had reveled in being back at work, enjoying each
adrenaline rush and code 3 and patient interaction. When the day was over and she had relived each
call at least once her thoughts had stolen to her talk with Craig. That one she replayed 4 or 5 times,
berating herself each time for her horrible conversation skills. This morning, she had even started to
think of ways to get them over to Firehouse 18 to see if he was working. There had been no call for
Engine 18 yet, or she would have jumped it.
"Your vision? What about it?"
Oh yeah, Jerry didn't know she had been lusting after Craig for 24 hours now, so he also didn't
know why the relationship she had been fantasizing about with him would never happen now. Should
she tell him?
"Nothing. Nothing. I was ah, just being silly."
Jerry peeked over at her and said "Come on Em, spill it. What's going on? Does this have
anything to do with the sexy new guy?"
She laughed. Jerry knew her too well. "Ok, Ok, I guess I worked myself into a little crush for
the new guy because I wasn't thinking of my vision."
"I knew you would like him! Hell, I'd like him if I were a straight woman. He seems like a
helluva nice guy and I'm no expert, but I can tell by the way you and those cops were looking at him
yesterday that he is easy on the eyes."
Emma felt jealousy flare in her brain and a little pain beat in her chest at the thought of the
cops looking at him. Especially the young one. No wait, especially the older one. She was about to
demand to hear all about it when logic reasserted itself.
"But it doesn't matter Jerry, he's cute, but he's not the man in my vision."
"Yeah, so?"
"If he's not the man in my vision there's no reason to pursue him - the man in my vision is the
love of my life. And that's what I want. Love, family, security."
Jerry's brow creased and he frowned.
"But Em, he's just a cute guy. You don't have to marry him. I haven't seen you have fun with a
guy in ..." He trailed off.
Emma knew what he was thinking. She never dated. And Norman, the only man she'd been
with since Jerry knew her certainly hadn't been fun. He had been all hot body, hot passion, and then
100% abuse. They had only been married for 8 months, and 7 years later he still acted like he owned
her. He still put the word out that she was a slut, a whore, and his so if anyone ever did show an
interest in her it wouldn't last long.
"Well, Em, I don't think I've ever seen you have fun. And besides, how do you know this guy
isn't the guy from the vision?"
"Because he has light skin and light hair!" Weren't you listening when I told you about the
vision?"
"Of course I was - I guess I just missed some of the details."
"The man in the vision had dark skin, and dark hair."
"Dark like what - black?"
"I don't think so. His skin was really dark but his facial features didn't look black. Maybe he
was Indian or Mexican or half something? Like President Obama," Emma said and smiled.
"Maybe it is President Obama - Emma Hill, yes we can," Jerry finished in his best Obama
impersonation, including a leer and an eyebrow waggle.
Emma giggled. "Yeah you goof. Don't call me once I've kicked Michelle to the curb and
moved into the White House."
"Oh I'll be over for dinner every night!" Jerry stopped the silliness and asked "So if it's not
this guy - what are you going to do? Be celibate until your vision guy shows up?"
"Yeah like that's hard? I've been celibate for 7 years now."
Jerry gave a low whistle of appreciation. "7 years? That's like a lifetime. Why would you do
that to yourself?"
"Ah you know, every time I got involved with a guy after - after Norman, he always got to
them and told them horrible stuff or threatened them. They never stuck around. They never called
back. They wouldn't take my calls. One guy wouldn't even talk to me afterwords. That was Sam, you
know the cook at Cafe Rio? I don't know what Norman said to him but it must have been awful
because I went to his work once and tried to get him to talk to me and he wouldn't look at me or say a
word. The owner finally threw me out and told me never to come back. Eventually I just stopped
trying to date."
"Did Norman like, spy on you?"
"Maybe. I don't know. Maybe he just has a lot of ears on the ground, being a cop and all."
Jerry lapsed into a serious-sounding silence where he chewed on his bottom lip and furrowed
his brow.
"Em, I love you, and I never want to see you go, but one thing I've never understood - Why do
you stay here in this nasty city? Why not move somewhere new and start a new life where Norman
can't ruin it? I know you have the money, and I know you have the guts."
"Lotsa reasons Jer - you gotta know. Westwood Harbor isn't exactly the nicest place to live
but you don't move either. And this is my home. I grew up here. And ..." here she trailed off,
wondering if she should share her biggest secret ever, the one that hit the first head injury secret out of
the park.
Jerry pulled into the school zone and drove as slow as possible, probably trying to finish this
conversation before they had to get out.
"And what?"
Emma sighed. Jerry was her best friend. He knew almost all of her secrets. If anyone should
know this secret it was him. For the 100th time in the last 5 years she said a little prayer of gratitude
to herself that she had never told Norman this.
"And, I have a twin sister and I don't know who she is and I don't know if she lives here, but if
she does, and I move, I may never run into her." Emma pushed every word out in one quick, shaky
breath.
"Twin sister!" Jerry exclaimed, pounding on the steering wheel once and pulling himself up
and out of his seat. Emma watched her feet. She wasn't sure if she was glad or not that she had shared.
Jerry had a tendency to overreact to things and be loud when she wished he would be quiet.
"You have a twin sister and you never told me?" Jerry asked incredulously, as he pulled in
front of the school and put the ambulance in park. Emma glanced up and saw a woman walking
towards them from the front door.
"Yeah Jerry, I do. I don't know who she is or how to find her," Emma's nostrils were flaring
and her cheeks flamed red. She didn't want to talk anymore. "We were split up and put in two
separate foster homes when our mom died giving birth to us and I haven't been able to find her in my
whole life. But maybe someday she'll find me if I stay here." Emma opened her door and jumped out,
grabbing the aid bag from the compartment behind her seat in one fluid movement.
Emma practically ran up the sidewalk to meet with the woman and find her patient, leaving
Jerry behind.
Chapter 6.
Emma finished giving her narrative to the nurse at Westwood General and turned over patient
care. She wheeled her gurney out in the hall and started for the exit doors.
"Um Em, can I talk to you for a sec?" Jerry sounded quite and a little timid.
"Of course," Emma said, but she didn't slow down.
"Hey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to piss you off back there."
Emma let out a deep breath. "You didn't piss me off. I'm sorry - I didn't mean to be so
sensitive."
"Great! Then we are best friends again!" Jerry threw an arm around her neck and gave her a
noogie with his free hand.
"Damnit Jerry! I hate it when you do that," Emma growled, quickly zig-zagging the gurney to
avoid hitting an old man in a wheelchair. The nurse pushing him down the hallway gave them a
scolding glance and moved to the far side of the hallway.
Emma pulled her scrunchy out of her strawberry blond hair, raked her fingers through it, and
reworked the ponytail at the base of her skull, trying to steer the gurney with her hips.
As they passed the receptionist on the way out of the E.R., someone called to them, "Hey,
paramedics, hey you." They turned in unison and saw a young man in blue scrubs waving them over.
"Oh man, what now," Jerry mouthed quietly. Emma pushed the gurney against the wall and they went
to see what he wanted.
"Hey you guys gotta take Dr. Mishra on a ride-along," blue scrubs said.
"Says who?" Jerry blurted out aggressively.
Blue scrubs eyed him warily, "Not me man, Dr. Mishra told me to get him a ride-along and I
called your dispatch and they said you were here and to tell you to take him out."
"Did they call us by name?" Jerry demanded.
"She said a bald guy and a cute blond," blue scrubs stammered.
"Well that's obviously not us," Jerry growled, getting in blue scrubs' face. He jerked a finger
at his head. "I'm not bald, I shave this. And she's strawberry-blond and hot, not cute," jerking his
thumb at Emma.
Emma laughed then got between the two men, backing Jerry up.
"Sorry about him, he hasn't had any coffee yet. Where's Dr. Mishra?"
"Oh, ok, I'll page him right now," blue scrubs picked up the phone, keeping his eyes on Jerry.
"Emma, I don't want to do a ride-along," Jerry whined. "I don't want some jerk doctor in our
ambulance telling us everything we are doing wrong."
"Well we gotta, so just be cool. I'll call dispatch and see how fast we can dump him."
Emma went out to the ambulance and called on her cell. She was holding for the dispatch
supervisor when out walked Jerry with a handsome, dark-skinned man. He was a bit taller than Jerry,
with short, jet-black hair. He looked like he was probably of mixed-race, possibly half-white and
something else. Indian? Maybe. His eyes were dark and alert, cataloging everything as they walked
along. A small smile played at the corners of his mouth as he listened to Jerry. He threw back his
head and roared a hearty laugh, showing perfectly spaced and colored teeth. Not one cavity in that
mouth. His body was slim and he looked very professional in his tan pants, white dress shirt, and
black shoes. She thought he looked like Benjamin Bratt from Law and Order, and she thought
Benjamin Bratt was sexy as hell. What is this? Two sexy men in two days? Maybe that fall had
messed with her hormones or something.
"Yes, this is the dispatch supervisor, may I help you?" a woman's voice rang in her ear. Emma
hit the green end call button without taking her eyes off the doctor.
That's him. The man in my vision. It must be. Electricity tingled up and down her spine. She
flipped down the mirror and checked her teeth and hair. Ugh! She hadn't put any makeup on this
morning. What was wrong with her? Well, no time now.
Should she get out? Should she stay here? Wait for him to come? Her brain swirled in
confusion and anxiety. Too late! Jerry was walking him past the ambulance to her door. Her breathing
quickened and she saw stars float in front of her eyes.
"Em, this is Dr. Mishra, Dr. Mishra this is the best paramedic you'll ever meet: Emma Hill."
Jerry said through the open window. He was slightly behind the doctor and Emma noted he wrinkled
his nose. She ignored it, not wanting to think about what that meant.
Emma forced a smile and tried to speak.
"Doctor, uh, hi," she finally got out.
He put his hand through the open window and flashed her a heartbreaking smile, "Call me
Reece."
"Reece, uh awesome, uh. Hi." Emma grasped his smooth skin and pumped his hand lightly.
His hand was warm and delicate, and rather small for a man's. She sucked in breath hard, trying to
clear her thoughts.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jerry cock his head quizzically and knit his brows
together. She knew she was making a fool of herself and she wasn't sure how to fix it. Her mind was
racing but she couldn't capture one thought.
"Emma, what a lovely name for a lovely woman." Reece pressed the back of her hand to his
lips briefly. His speech was crisp and clipped and his accent was slight, as if he had come to
America as a young boy.
She dropped his hand and looked at Jerry. "It's my turn to drive."
"Oh, ok, well, not for 30 minutes, but whatever."
She slid over to the driver's seat. She couldn't be lead paramedic, making decisions and trying
not to kill people with Dr. Mishra - no - Reece watching her.
Reece opened the passenger door and climbed in. He sat in the passenger seat. Jerry watched
him, eyebrows raised.
"Reece, buddy, ride-alongs sit in the jump-seat in the back. You can walk through the middle
there."
Reece looked over his shoulder into the back of the ambulance. Emma studiously looked
straight ahead at the wall of the hospital. "Well, certainly not Doctor ride-alongs?" he asked with
arrogance in his voice.
"Yes, doctors, lawyers, the President of the United States when he courts Emma - all ride-
alongs sit in the back. Paramedics only up here."
Reece didn't move. Emma wasn't looking at them but she could feel the tension. Did he want
to sit next to her? What was he doing?
Reece swung back around to face Jerry. "Well perhaps I should not ride along with you."
"That sounds like a great idea. I'll call dispatch and get you another ambulance," Jerry retorted
back swiftly.
Reece sniffed, apparently knowing when he was beat. "OK. I will sit in the back then."
***
They cruised the area in silence for a bit. Emma could tell that Jerry was irritated with Reece.
She knew he would get over it soon. Jerry didn't hold grudges.
Reece leaned towards the opening between the back of the ambulance and the front and
shouted over the noise of the diesel engine, "Did the President really ride in your ambulance?"
Jerry snorted laughter. "No, but he would sit in the back if he did."
Emma let out the breath she didn't even know she had been holding. It seemed things were OK
again between the two men "It's quiet, let's go get some lunch," she suggested.
"Awww man, why did you have to say the Q word Emma, you know better than that! Now all
hell is going to break loose," Jerry whined and threw his hands in the air.
Emma glanced towards the back, eyes wide. Why did Jerry have to be such an ass
sometimes?
"Shut up Jerry, that's just superstition," she scolded.
"Yeah well, it's good superstition. You never say the Q word until you are home," Jerry
grumbled.
"Ok sorry, let's stop at Nan's Ok?"
"Sure," Jerry agreed sulkily.
"Uh, Reece, are you OK with a bite to eat?" she yelled over her right shoulder.
"Sure," Reece yelled back.
Emma drove to Nan's, a quiet hole in the wall in the industrial area. They liked to eat here
because the food was quick and plentiful.
"Unit 17, 10-7X-Ray on Mineral St," Jerry relayed their status to dispatch and they headed
into the restaurant, Jerry and Emma both checking their portables to be sure they were on.
Sliding into a booth, Emma held her breath again as Reece slid into the booth next to her. She
wanted to be able to look at him, but instead she was almost touching him. Her brain was working
overtime, analyzing his every move. Did he like her? Did he even notice her? Did he know how
nervous she was? Was she acting weird?
"So where in the hospital are you going to work?" Jerry asked Reece.
"I'm an anesthesiologist. I float between the E.R. and the surgical center."
"So why do they want you to go on a ride-along?"
"I am being considered for the Surgical Ward Director position when Dr. Faust leaves in 1
month, so I have to experience all aspects of the hospital, including ambulance care."
"You don't look old enough to be a medical director, what are you 35?" Jerry demanded.
"36 actually," Reece answered proudly. Emma thought he missed Jerry's aggressive stance
this time.
"That's amazing," Emma said, hoping to defuse any more arguments. Reece beamed at her.
"Emma, you should come and see me at the hospital. I could show you around my department.
Maybe we could get lunch and make a day of it," Reece said.
Jerry raised his eyebrows. Emma ignored him. Inside she danced a little happy dance. "I
would love to Reece."
Emma noticed a waitress heading to their table just before she heard the explosion. She was
looking at the waitress and saw her lose her balance and start to tip their plates before the noise
registered in her ears. Her senses went on high alert and she grabbed Reese's head, pushing him under
the table and throwing her body on top of his, lacing her hands around the back of her head. She
opened her mouth and started to yell to Jerry but Jerry was also on the move already. The window
they were sitting next to imploded and shards of glass rained down.
Emma and Jerry looked at each other under the table, eyes wide. Jerry jumped up and ran over
to help the waitress. Emma lifted her head and looked around. The room was eerily silent. All the
customers were under their tables and a small girl across the room looked to be screaming. Emma
couldn't hear her.
Emma pushed at Reece, trying to get him to move out of the booth. He pushed back. She stood
straight up on the bench seat and climbed out onto the table and jumped down.
"Anybody hurt?" she yelled, raking her eyes around the room.
She couldn't hear herself. All she could hear was a high-pitched screaming in her ears. She
ran to Jerry. He helped the waitress to her feet and pushed her lightly towards the kitchen.
"Jerry, I can't hear!" she yelled to him. He looked at her and pointed to his ears, then shook his
head.
Our ears. Oh God don't let our eardrums be exploded.
Emma grabbed her radio mike and pressed the button. "Central, this is Unit 17. There has been
an explosion near Nan's on Mineral Street. My partner and I can't hear anything so you won't be able
to talk back to me. We are heading out to look around and see where it came from. Send fire engines
and ambulances, everything you have available." She spoke smoothly and steadily, willing herself to
stay calm. Adrenaline coursed through her system, but she had learned long ago to keep it contained.
She looked around the room once more. Everyone was still under their tables, peering out at
her and Jerry. No one was asking for help. They were not needed here.
Jerry waved his hand in front of her face and pointed towards the door. She nodded.
Emma ran to the table where Reece was still kneeling underneath it, his face lined with fear.
She grabbed him by the hand and pulled him out. He half-heartedly tried to pull away but she
held on tight and hauled him out, pulling him towards the door. If this was a mass casualty scene, they
would need all the help they could get, and a doctor was a good start.
Once outside, she looked right and left swiftly. An acrid, chemical smell filled her nostrils.
The unnatural silence pressed in on her heavily.
Directly across the street was a parking lot, and on the far side of the parking lot a red brick
building had smoke pouring out of all of its windows. Glass littered the parking lot below. People
were already milling about in the street and Emma didn't know if they came from the red brick
building, or another.
Jerry was at the ambulance grabbing their aid bag and long board. She ran up to him, still
gripping Reece's hand tightly. She grabbed Jerry and pantomimed talking on the radio then pointed at
him and mouthed "did you?" He shook his head no.
"Central this is Unit 17, explosion is at the red brick building near the parking lot on Ridge St.
We are heading over."
Jerry was already sprinting across the parking lot. Emma pulled Reece across the street.
When she stepped on the sidewalk on the other side he came to life and ripped his hand from hers.
She spun around, eyes wide. He looked at her defiantly and shook his head no. She stared at him,
mouth open. He shook his head again and his lips formed the word. He chopped his hands back and
forth in front of his body, an ugly sneer planted on his face.
Fine.
She whirled around and started running. She ran as fast as she could, glad to burn some
adrenaline.
Once in front of the building she hesitated. They didn't have gear, they actually weren't
supposed to be going inside of an explosion scene without proper gear and without backup. But Jerry
was already inside, and people probably needed help in there. Fuck protocol. She ripped the door
open and ran inside.
Chapter 7.
Emma pushed the gurney into the ambulance and climbed in after. Her shoulders sagged with
exhaustion. Jerry closed the doors behind her and headed up to the driver's seat. They had three
"walking wounded" and one woman with a possible broken leg. It had been 14 hours since the
explosion.
They were still working in silence, although hearing was returning to Emma slowly. It had
been challenging to work the scene without their hearing, but they had done their best. Since they
were first ones on the scene they had been in charge of cataloging the severity of the wounded and
getting the worst ones shipped out every time an ambulance showed up. All in all, they had 54
wounded. No one had been dead on scene, but Emma had personally placed 4 people in ambulances
that she didn't have very high hopes for.
6 hours ago, dispatch cleared them to go home, but since no one in their chain of command had
given them an order to leave they stayed. The explosion was a mess of burnt, maimed, and terrified
victims, and neither of them would be able to rest until it was clear. These 4 victims were the last of
them. The only people left at the scene now were the firefighters picking through the building, trying
to figure out what happened.
The drive to Westwood General Hospital was completely silent. The woman in the gurney
cried silently into her arm. Her best friend had been badly injured.
Emma and Jerry dropped off the four victims and headed back to base without a word. The
ambulance needed restocking on every piece of equipment in it but the night time supervisor offered
to do it for them. Emma gave him a sweet smile of thanks and plodded to her car. Jerry caught her
right before she got in and gave her a long hug. It was 7 in the morning and they needed some sleep.
Hopefully it would come without nightmares.
Jerry gave her a piece of paper with something written on it. "John says we take today off.
De-briefing tomorrow at 8 a.m. here." Emma nodded and got in her car. First order of business when
I get home is to throw away this uniform, and then take a shower.
She barely made it out of the shower before sinking down into her bed and falling into 16
hours of dreamless sleep.
***
Emma arrived at the Critical Incident Stress Debriefing at 7:30. Her step was light and her
mind happy. She had attended two of these before, and they really helped to get out any lingering
horrors that she didn't even know her mind had grabbed onto.
Paramedics dealt with more horror every week than most people did in a lifetime. Most
incidents rolled off their back like water off a duck, but some stuck around. Big incidents where
multiple people were hurt or killed and where the paramedics worked too long under intense stress
almost always lodged somewhere in their brains.
She walked into conference room A and started coffee. Paramedics and firefighters love their
coffee. She felt the whoosh of air as the door opened behind her and she turned to see who her fellow
early bird was.
Craig Masterson walked in the door. Emma sucked in her breath. Boy, he is handsome, she
thought. He looked at her and smiled, showing perfect dimples in each cheek. Emma felt her knees
weaken. Those dimples did her in. An image of a fresh-faced baby with those dimples and wispy,
strawberry blond hair flashed in her head. She felt her cheeks flare red. What in the world did that
image mean? She plastered a smile on her face and said, "Hi."
Craig's smile widened and those luscious dimples deepened. "Hi Emma, how are your ears?"
Did she hear him right? Her ears? Her right hand stole up and touched her ear. "My ears?"
"Yeah, has your hearing returned?"
Oh man, her hearing! What was wrong with her? She couldn't even keep a thought in her head
when this guy was around! "Oh, yeah. Yes, thanks, I can hear OK now. I still have some ringing and
you sound a little muffled, but I can hear you."
"That's great." He crossed the room and stood in front of her. "Hey, I just wanted to tell you
that you did an amazing job at that scene. You and your partner worked that scene like mass casualty
experts, even though neither of you could hear a thing. I was a little in awe of your expertise."
Warmth flooded Emma's face again. This guy was constantly making her blush! She barely
remembered him even being at the scene. She was sure he had been there, but she couldn't remember
interacting with him. She remembered barking orders at several firefighters over and over again
throughout the day and night, but not noting who they were. "Oh, ah, thanks. Just training I guess."
"Hey now, don't sell yourself short. Your focus and knowledge and authority were clear.
Training can only give you so much of that."
Emma felt warm at his compliment. She had long ago given up trying to prove herself in this
man's world, figuring her work would speak for itself. And here was a man who said it did, very
well. "Thank you," she said, putting her hand on his muscular shoulder. "I really appreciate that."
"Of course, you deserve it." He flashed her one more fresh-faced, all-american-quarterback
smile and asked, "Is there coffee?"
"Yes! Sit down and I'll get you some." She turned and busied herself with two cups of coffee,
glad to look away from his drop-dead gorgeous face and body for a bit.
She brought two coffees and some creamers and sugar to the table and sat down across from
him.
"So did you guys ever figure out what caused the explosion?" Emma asked.
His face darkened. "Um yeah, we have some leads, but I'm not supposed to say. Hopefully the
Chief will share today what they think happened."
Emma's heartbeat quickened. That didn't sound good. Why did he look so mad when he said
that? She opened her mouth to ask but then the door opened and two more firefighters filed in.
The newcomers said hi and went straight for coffee. Emma checked her watch. 10 minutes
until the debriefing started. People should be coming in quickly now. The door did continue to open
and shut until about 45 fire rescue personnel filled the room, talking and laughing. The police would
have their own debriefing.
Jerry came in almost last and planted a quick kiss on Emma's cheek. When he saw Craig
across from her he smiled widely and yelled a greeting.
When the brass finally showed up with the psychiatrists the room was overflowing and loud.
The Chief, a large man with a huge handlebar mustache, stood at the front of the table and
motioned for quiet.
"All right everyone, this is too many people to work with, so we are going to split you into
two groups. Where's our lead paramedics?"
Emma and Jerry raised their hands.
"Ok, Hill you're with me, Mansko, you're with Assistant Chief Stein.
Jerry stood behind the assistant chief.
"OK, we are splitting you up - Everyone on this side of the room, you go to Conference Room
C. Everyone else, move these tables to the side and pull your chairs into a big circle.
As the other group filed out, Emma noticed that Craig was supposed to go to Conference
Room C but he didn't, he stood up but started pulling the tables to the side. His arm muscles flexed
underneath his form-fitting uniform shirt and she felt her insides go all gooey. What is wrong with you
Hill! Shape up! She chastised herself mentally for her ongoing, unwanted attraction to this man.
When they all started sitting down, Craig chose the chair right next to her. Again, her heart
fluttered a little at his attention.
Chief Turner grabbed a chair and turned it around backwards, in his characteristic "one of the
guys" way. "OK group, the first thing I want to say is 'great job'. You men and women did the city
proud yesterday. You worked all day and all night without complaint and I have never, in all my
years, seen a team do a better job. So thank you."
An awkward silence filled the room. If they had been a football team, maybe they would have
cheered, or clapped, but they weren't a football team, and people were hurt.
"First round of business," the chief continued, "We have 49 wounded. 28 ended up at
Westwood General, 12 were taken to St Mary's, and 9 went to Kaiser."
Emma noted the 49 wounded. Her chest tightened and she dug her fingernails into her palms.
Did 5 people really die, or were his numbers off?
"Of these 49, 38 of them have already been released and 11 are still receiving care in one of
the hospitals."
He stopped and took a deep breath.
"4 men and 1 woman died after arriving at the hospital. I am going to read their names and I
need to know if anyone here knows them."
Emma's felt pain in her palms and forced herself to relax her hands. 4 half-moon shapes
remained etched into the meaty part of each from her nails. She took a deep breath, trying to calm
herself. She saw death every day, but it never stopped bothering her. Those people had been mothers,
fathers, husbands, wives, sons, daughters, friends. And now they were gone. What she really wanted
to know was what caused the explosion.
Chief Turner read off the 5 names and looked around. No one in the group indicated they knew
one of the dead.
"Ok, let's have a moment of silence for these fine people whose time on this earth is done."
The group bowed their heads together. Not a word was spoken.
After a few moments the Chief went on. "The investigation into the explosion is ongoing.
Early reports indicate that a pipe bomb was planted at the scene."
A bolt of sensation shot through Emma's chest at the words "pipe bomb." A few gasps
peppered the room.
Emma jumped to her feet. "Planted? Planted by who?"
"Calm down Hill, sit down please. We don't know by who. Once we finish our investigation it
will be turned over to the police department."
Emma sank back into her chair. A pipe bomb? Why would anyone plant a pipe bomb in a
factory that made baked goods? The thought made her sick to her stomach. 49 people hurt, 5 dead, not
because of a stupid mistake, but because of malice. Because of evil. Because whoever would do that
surely was evil.
Emma only half heard the rest of what the Chief had to say. Her mind was turning this
information over and over again. All she could think of was what had happened. Had she seen or
heard anything that could be evidence? Was there any way that she could help bring the perpetrator to
justice?
Emma was not aware of Craig on her left, watching her intently. She had forgotten he existed
for a few short minutes.
The Chief stopped talking and people got up and started milling around. Emma looked up,
trying to figure out what was said - what they were doing now.
Craig touched her arm lightly. Tingles exploded from the spot and she jerked her head around
to look at him. "Hey, want to be my partner?"
"Partner, what?"
"We are supposed to partner up and do some exercises now," he whispered so nobody would
hear that she hadn't been listening.
She smiled gratefully. "Yes," she whispered back.
"Ok, let's take our chairs over into that corner."
They picked up their chairs and went to the corner. Emma felt shy, awkward. This seemed so
intimate. Intimate. She would love to get intimate with this man. Her mind flashed to her vision. She
felt almost sad that it had happened. Why couldn't Craig be the man from her vision? Or why couldn't
she have had no vision and met Craig and been free to like him. Oh well, it would probably just end
up like every other man she had tried to date after Norman. Horrible. No, she needed to stick with the
plan, the vision - that's the man who would be her rock, her superman, and give her the life she
desired so badly. Mom, dad, a white picket fence, two kids, one cat, and one dog. A family who ate
dinner together every night. No one ever disappeared or died or ...
Dr. Morgan, the psychiatrist, interrupted her thoughts.
"Ok, everyone is going to share with their partner the worst thing they saw, and the hardest
decision they had to make, and how that made them feel. Then switch and the other person shares the
same thing."
"Do you want to go first?" Craig asked.
"Sure. Ok, well ..." Emma took a deep breath and thought hard. She knew this would be
difficult, but she knew she needed to get it out too. "The worst thing I saw was the man who was
sliced through the neck by the flying piece of metal. It was a clean slice but so deep. Almost to his
spine. His friends were holding pressure on it when I got there, but when I saw the size of the puddle
of blood around him, my mind signed his death warrant against my will. That was also the hardest
decision I had to make. He was unconscious and his femoral pulse was barely there. The guy with the
piece of metal sticking out of his chest was at least talking. And the woman who lost her feet? She
was talking too. And by rights, I should have sent both of them on an ambulance first. Their chance of
survival was greater, but time was still of the essence, you know?"
Here Emma started to cry softly, making no noise, but the tears ran down her face freely. She
hated to cry in public, but she knew it had to come out. If it didn't, it would eat her alive. That's why
they did this. So less rescue workers committed suicide or became alcoholics after incidents like this.
She looked at Craig. The compassion in his eyes was obvious. He gently took her hand in his.
She thrilled at the touch, even under all her emotion. He nodded slightly, encouraging her to go on.
"But he wasn't dead! And I couldn't live with myself if he died while waiting for an
ambulance, so he went first. Luckily we got another ambulance in swiftly and I found a firefighter to
drive it to the hospital so the two paramedics could both be in back and those other two could go
together. They were both still talking, last I saw them."
She stopped and took a deep breath. Someone was standing behind her. It was Dr. Morgan.
He pulled up a chair and asked "Emma, how did that make you feel?"
Emma looked down at Craig's hand holding her hand and drew strength from his presence.
She sucked in a breath and said "I don't know if I felt anything on scene. I didn't let myself feel
anything then."
"So how did it make you feel when you got home - when you got a chance to think about it, or
how does it make you feel now?" Dr. Morgan prodded.
"Terrified!" Emma whispered fiercely. "It's horrible to have to make decisions about who gets
care first. It's scary to know that whether many people live or die could rest squarely on your
shoulders."
The tears started coursing again. Dr. Morgan nodded at her and stood up. "Emma, I know it
hurts, but you don't need me. The healing is in the feeling, and you are doing a great job. Please don't
think I am heartless when I leave, but I need to root out those who aren't feeling anything." He patted
her on the shoulder and went to the next group.
Craig watched him go, then scooted his chair next to Emma's and put his arms around her.
Emma felt completely enveloped in his manliness. He was so big and strong and his arms felt like the
safest place to be in the world. He wasn't judging her. Something broke inside her and she started to
sob, as quietly as she could. She wished the room was noisier. She hated the thought of people
looking at her and watching her cry, but she couldn't help it. She had been strong, and now she needed
to heal, like the doctor said.
Craig held her with one arm and smoothed her hair back with his other hand. He murmured
comforting words into her ear. They stayed that way until she was done. When she got every last tear
out she scrubbed her eyes and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. Somehow, tissues appeared.
"Thanks," she whispered, and laughed a little, trying to hide her awkward feelings.
She turned in her chair a little and scrubbed her face and blew her nose. She knew she looked
frightful now. Good thing she had already decided Mr. Handsome Firefighter was off limits or she
would be horrified.
She snuck a peek at his face and again, all she saw was compassion. That made her feel
better.
"So your turn, what was your worst moment."
"The woman with the shrapnel in her thigh, did you see her?"
"Briefly - Jerry evac'ed her," Emma said.
"She looked just like my mom," Craig said almost too softly to hear.
"She looked just like my mom, and I ended up carrying her out of there and into the hospital."
"What? Why did you carry her?" Emma asked.
"Because she wouldn't get on the board, and she screamed holy hell anytime anyone suggested
it or tried to put it near her. Finally, Jerry told me to see if I could get her to do it. I thought 'she looks
like my mom, so maybe if I treat her like my mom, I can get her to calm down.' So I sweet talked her. I
told her that she was doing real good and that I knew it hurt like hell and we had to get her to the
hospital so they could give her some painkillers. She wanted me to give her painkillers but we don't
have any so I just kept talking to her real soft like I did to my mom at the end and finally she calmed
down enough that she said she thought she could hop to the ambulance. No way I was going to let her
hop, but when she climbed up and leaned on me I just picked her up. She was all bandaged but blood
squirted out all over me anyway. I didn't care about the blood, but I could see her face go gray. I told
her 'You just hang in there Linda and I'll get you to the hospital.' I carried her to the ambulance and put
her down on the gurney and went to the hospital with her. She held my hand the whole way and cried
when I told her I had to leave to go back to the scene."
Emma felt like crying all over again. Her heart hurt for this big, strong man who was really
just a soft teddy bear inside. "What do you mean, how you talked to your mom at the end?"
Craig's lips pressed into a thin line. "My mom died of stomach cancer 3 year ago."
She grasped his hand, like he had grasped hers. "Oh Craig, I am so sorry."
"Thanks." Craig put his head down in his hands. He didn't move or make a sound. Emma put
her other hand on his shoulder and laid her head over his.
"She had her leg amputated."
Emma lifted her head. "What? Your mom?"
"No, Linda. I went to check on her yesterday and her leg was gone. She cried again when she
saw me. I brought her flowers, and she joked about getting a bionic leg.
His head dropped into his hands again, and this time Emma heard a strangled sob come from
him.
"Oh Craig, it's OK."
Her heart broke open for Linda and for Craig and for Craig's mom. She put her head down on
his again and cried silently into a tissue.
She felt a presence again and looked up. Dr. Morgan was there. "OK?" he mouthed.
She nodded and put her head back down.
Craig started to stir. They looked at each other and both smiled.
Emma felt as close to Craig as she felt to Jerry.
"That was nice of you to go visit her."
"Thanks."
They both looked around the room and saw people in various poses just like they had been in.
Men hugging men, women hugging women, and the Fire Chief holding a burly man's hand while he
talked.
"Anything else you want to share?" Emma asked quietly.
"Nah, that was the worst of it for me. I feel better now."
"Me too."
Dr. Morgan stood up from where he was and clapped his hands - break time everyone. Finish
up and take a 30 minute break. We will all meet back here at 10:00.
***
There were more exercises after break, and Emma's good feelings towards Craig only
intensified when he stood up and told the group the most "heroic act he witnessed" was the way
Emma and Jerry pulled the whole scene together and got the seriously wounded out swiftly and
expediently. She also learned that the man with the big slice in his throat actually lived and was
awake and talking. She said a silent prayer of thanks to whoever was listening for helping her to make
the right decision that day.
Instead of breaking for lunch and returning, they had a long second half and then everyone was
released for the day. Jerry, seeing them in the hallway after finishing up with his group yelled "Emma,
Craig, let's get some lunch!"
"Ok, where?" Craig yelled back.
"Anywhere but Nan's!" came the reply.
***
Jerry finagled them all into walking to his favorite Italian place, 2 blocks away.
Sitting in the booth, waiting for their food to come, Jerry asked Emma "So what the hell ever
happened to Dr. Jerk, anyway? I never saw him at the scene anywhere."
Emma knew this question was coming but she was still unprepared. She knew what Jerry was
going to say when she told him.
"He wouldn't go to the scene," Emma said, looking him straight in the eye.
"What, he wouldn't go? What do you mean he wouldn't go?"
"I mean I pulled him that way and he said no and that's all I know. I went to the scene."
"That cowardly, no-good, piece of crap, jerkwater-"
Emma interrupted him. "Look Jerry, he's a surgeon, not a rescue worker, you can't expect him
to respond like we do."
"He's a doctor, why are you defending him?" Jerry almost yelled.
"Who are we talking about here?" Craig asked.
"Some doctor who has the hots for Emma," Craig explained. "He was with us at Nan's when
we heard the explosion but apparently he never came to the scene."
Craig sat back in his chair, big arms crossed, but he didn't comment.
"Are you defending him because he asked you out Emma? Why would you want to go out with
him? He's a jerk! You deserve somebody better than that for sure." Jerry's volume went up with every
word.
Emma's patience broke. It wasn't Jerry's business who she dated or was interested in. And he
should know! He knew about the vision! He was supposed to be supportive of her! "Yeah, like who
Jerry? There's not a line of men around the corner waiting to date me in case you haven't noticed," she
spit back.
Jerry's face was turning red. "Well how about Craig? He's a nice guy. He could date you."
"He doesn't want to date me Jerry!" Emma was mortified that he would even make that
suggestion right in front of Craig.
Craig uncrossed his arms and sat forward, "Well, yes I do."
"What?" Emma and Jerry both turned towards Craig in unison.
Craig looked straight at Emma and said "Emma, would you like to go out on a date with me?"
Chapter 8.
Emma hurried to get ready for her date. She just returned home after a 12 hour shift and now
she had less than 30 minutes. She didn't dare tell Jerry that she was going out on a date with Reece
tonight. She knew he would hate the idea like he hated the doctor. Jerry was like a big brother to her,
and she didn't like to disappoint him. He was the closest thing she had to family.
She had said yes to Craig, awkward as she felt about it, but before they went on their date she
knew she had to discover if Reece was the man from the vision. If he was, she would cancel with
Craig. If he wasn't, well, there was no harm in having some fun until she met the man from the vision,
was there?
Jumping out of the shower, she quickly blow-dried her hair so that it cascaded down her back.
She usually never spent any time on her hair, opting instead for the scrunchy pony-tail look, but
tonight was important.
She was even going to put on makeup. Normally, she wore nothing but a little mascara to
accentuate her light blue eyes. Her eyes were so startling they generally carried her whole face and
she just looked funny if she made up anything else, or at least that's what she thought. But tonight she
would do the works: light powder, a little blush, and some pale pink lipstick.
She finished up with the only little black dress she owned, and some low pumps and she was
out the door. She was scheduled to meet him at Antoine's in 6 minutes. Oh Lord she was never going
to make it.
***
The hostess took her right to Reece's table. He saw her from across the room and jumped up
to pull out her chair. He looked very handsome in his dark suit that fit him perfectly. He looked every
bit the part of affluent doctor, while she felt a bit like an impostor in this very expensive restaurant.
Jerry just didn't understand. Some people were the type to drop everything and run into a
burning building, and some people weren't, doctor or not. She was sure that Reece played the hero
very well in a controlled medical environment. She didn't begrudge him his refusal to run into a
building that was belching smoke out every window at all after seeing him here. He was a gentleman,
not a crazy brute, and that's what you had to be in order to do what she did and what the firefighters
and cops did every day. A little bit crazy, a lot aggressive, with a pinch of foolishness thrown in.
Doctors have to be more arrogant than crazy, more self-assured than aggressive, and definitely never
foolish. You couldn't blame a doctor for having a different heart than a rescue worker. Emma wished
Jerry could get that.
"I was so glad to hear from you Emma. Thank you for calling me and suggesting we meet for
dinner. I must again insist that you are letting me pay, like a proper date?" Reece said as she sat
down.
"Yes Reece, that would be wonderful, thank you. I'm not sure I could afford the food here
anyway," Emma spoke softly, almost whispering. She was really out of her element here.
"You order anything you want, I can afford all the food here," Reece told her proudly.
"OK," Emma opened her menu and took a look.
"You look beautiful this evening. I love your dress. Black looks good on you and brings out
your fabulous eyes."
Emma laughed, "Everything brings out my eyes."
"Yes, they are rather remarkable. Do they run in your family?"
Emma hesitated. How did they already get on the subject of her family? "I don't know. I don't
know any of my family."
Reece raised an eyebrow and said "oh? How is that possible?"
Emma sighed. "I'm sorry, it's not something I like to talk about."
"Oh, OK, I am the one who is sorry. I didn't mean to bring it up. Let us move on. Let us talk
about pleasant things."
Emma smiled gratefully. "Thank you for understanding. Yes, pleasant things."
Reece leaned forward, "Perhaps after our dinner I can take you by the hospital and show you
my department like I promised you. I received word yesterday that I will be declared the new
Outpatient Surgery Medical Director, so it is truly my department now."
"Wow, Reece, that is amazing! Congratulations!"
"Thank you. I take great pride in my medical career. Your partner was right about one thing. I
will be the youngest medical director Westwood General has ever seen."
"Amazing."
They were interrupted by the waiter. He placed drinks on their table and held his pen over his
pad.
"I ordered you a red wine earlier. Why don't I just order you my favorite?" Reece asked.
Emma thought that was a little presumptuous, but heck, who knew if she was going to like
anything here anyway. She sipped her wine and nodded her assent.
"2 Crabes mous frits," Reece said to the waiter, and then dismissed him with a wave of his
hand.
That was a little weird. Emma thought. I didn't know people did that in real life.
Reece started in talking about his department and how many doctors would be working under
him and the fact that he wouldn't have to ever do patient care again and about what his plans were for
adding more staff as soon as possible.
Emma nodded in the right places and listened a little listlessly. She wanted to be interested,
she really did, but she just wasn't. Reece didn't seem to notice.
The food came and Emma tried it. It was seafood of some sort. It wasn't bad. She didn't really
like red wine so she drank more of her water than anything.
Reece had his napkin in his lap and finished off his third bourbon while he was talking. His
hands were animated, but seemed off to her. She was almost mesmerized by his hands. They didn't
match the inflections in his voice. They seemed to be telling her something totally different than what
his words were saying. If only she could figure out what it was ... Her attention waned.
***
"So shall we go?"
Emma jerked alert at the sound of his question. Reece's steady drone of facts and opinions
about everything he did every day and all the people he worked with had put her into a kind of trance
and she didn't even realize it. What a bore she was being! What was wrong with her? Here she was
out with this handsome, successful man and she couldn't even keep her mind on what he was saying!
"Um, yes, certainly." She stood up, noticing that the check was already at the table.
Reece put his arm around her and walked her to the door. Once outside, he steered her
towards his sleek, black Audi at the curb. He opened the passenger door and motioned for her to get
inside. Hesitantly she stepped in. She didn't know where they were going.
Reece ran around the front and climbed inside the driver's door. He ran his hand over the
dashboard lovingly. "This little baby cost me $340,000."
A little bolt of disbelief rippled through Emma's chest. An involuntary gasp escaped her lips.
He spent $340,000 on a car? Emma wasn't hurting for money, but if she had $340,000 she certainly
wouldn't spend it on a car. She would buy a home with it. Or donate some of it to poor kids at
Christmas and set up a soup kitchen for all the homeless she saw every day and give it to families
with no money for even food who were trying to feed babies. She knew people spent that kind of
money on cars all the time - or even sillier purchases, but it wasn't part of her everyday reality. She
couldn't understand it.
Reece must have taken her gasp as a compliment. He chuckled. "Yes, but she was worth every
penny." He started the car and pulled out into traffic.
Emma gasped again, internally this time, at his aggressive style of driving. "She" was a sports
car, no doubt about it. Emma grabbed her seatbelt and put it on. She noticed Reece wasn't wearing
his. She thought to herself how he seemed to really put away the bourbon at dinner. She didn't notice
how many he drank, but she thought she remembered at least 4 of them disappearing down his throat.
What have you gotten yourself into Em? When did you become stupid? Internally, she weighed her
options.
Thankfully, the hospital was close. He pulled into the parking garage. "I get my own parking
spot," He remarked proudly, not noticing the relief on her face.
They parked in his spot and headed for the door. He always walked about a half step ahead of
her. Emma thought maybe that was her fault. She wasn't used to wearing heels. She followed him
down the long hallway towards an elevator. They got inside and he pressed number 4.
Leaning towards her he winked and said, "Now you get to see where the magic happens."
He smelled good. So far Emma wasn't sure how she felt about this date, but he was definitely
attractive. She hadn't felt any fireworks yet, but that didn't mean anything. He certainly didn't turn her
stomach.
The elevator doors opened onto a nurses station. There were three nurses sitting at the station,
all intent upon their work. One looked up, and quickly looked back down again when she saw them.
Reece strode to the station and addressed the closest nurse. "You there, who is the attending
right now?"
You there? thought Emma. Isn't this his department? Doesn't he know these nurses?
The nurse looked up, and Emma almost took a step back at the obvious animosity in her eyes.
She looked like she was trying to burn a hole through Reece's forehead. "Dr. Fadley," she said, her
voice strangely neutral, empty of any emotion whatsoever.
Emma looked at Reece, wondering what he would think of the nurse's heated look, but he
wasn't looking at the nurse's face. As he talked to her, he looked slightly over her left shoulder. How
strange.
Reece gave the nurse some instructions and then took Emma's hand, pulling her down the
hallway. True to his word, he gave Emma a full tour. She saw his brand new office - huge, with a
view of the city - and he took her through the entire post-op ward. Emma noted that every time he
passed a nurse he did not say high or acknowledge her presence. Weird, she thought again. She was
starting to feel a headache coming on. She almost never got headaches, but when she did she was very
careful about them because she had migraines as a teenager and she never wanted to experience those
again. She thanked Reece for the tour and asked if he could drive her back to her car so she could
head home and get some rest.
***
Back home, in a warm bath she carefully unpacked her impressions of the evening. She so
wanted to like Reece - so wanted to believe he was the one, but the evening left her unsure of
anything.
She sighed and slipped deeper in the relaxing water. Well, she guessed she would still be
seeing Craig on Sunday afternoon. Her spirits picked up a bit just at the thought of Craig. He had
asked her what kind of stuff she liked to do on dates and she had said - oh, something fun, like biking
or hiking. He had smiled then and told her he had "just the thing" and told her to dress as if she were
going hiking.
She wondered what he had planned. It sounded like fun already, whatever it was.
She sighed, and sunk down deeper into the bubbles, till only her nose and the top of her head
were above the water.
Chapter 9.
Norman Foster eased open the front door and slipped into the living room of the drug house.
No one even looked up, which was how he wanted it. On his way through the main room he grabbed
Lydia out of her chair. She was floating for sure, head lolling and eyes mostly closed. When he
grabbed her hand she came out of the chair in a fluid motion, like he had really grabbed a balloon on
a string.
He pulled her through the hallway to the room in the back of the house. He unlocked the room
with a key on his keyring and pushed her in before him. She went straight to the bed, knowing that's
where he wanted her.
This room was the heart of the house. This is where "cops-in-the-know" came to relax.
Norman coined that phrase. It described any cop he liked who was willing to do what he wanted him
to do. No women cops were allowed to be "in the know" though. They were too shifty. You couldn't
rely on them not to break down and squeal the first time some fed came sniffing around. The only
women he wanted to deal with were the women he fucked in this room. And when the fucking was
done, he was done with them.
The room was larger than the living room - big enough for a king size bed off to one side, plus
a desk and a couch. Jeffries was already here, sitting on the couch, smoking what was probably an A-
bomb, heroin and marijuana mixed in a cigarette, and watching TV.
Norman grunted in his direction. Jeffries waggled his fingers in greeting.
Norman walked to the desk and pulled out the RF detector. He swept the room for bugs,
paying particular attention to the TV and the computer. Clean. Good.
"Strip," he told Lydia.
She lifted her shirt over her head and he felt himself stiffen. She was young, probably under
20, and was still a chipper - not quite an addict, although he didn't give her more than a month or two.
She still looked good and took care of her hair and body and didn't have any scars or marks. Her
breasts were perky and perfect. He walked over and grabbed one. It felt hefty in his hand. He slid his
fingers to the nipple and pinched. "Pants off."
In a cat-like motion she laid back on the bed, pulling her nipple out of his reach, and lifted her
legs to one side, sliding her pants down and dropping them on the ground. She didn't have to be told
to roll over. Norman didn't have sex facing women. He only looked at the back of their head. Well, at
least not since Emma.
Norman unbuckled his pants and pulled out his dick, rolling a condom on it quickly and then
sliding into her in one motion. He grabbed a big handful of her hair with one hand and worked single-
mindedly towards climax.
"She's dating again," Jeffries said.
Norman only grunted. If 'she' was who he thought it was he wanted to finish this before he
heard any more of the conversation.
Norman worked harder, staring at Lydia's ass, and putting all his focus on the sensation of sex.
He was in a hurry now. Yes. He stiffened with his release and ground his teeth together. He pulled out
and headed to the bathroom to clean up.
Norman unlocked his personal cabinet and pulled out a clean wash cloth. He soaped it up and
washed down every part of his body that had touched Lydia. She didn't look dirty to most people, but
he knew she was. Every woman he had ever met except for Emma was dirty. He could see it,
seemingly just under their skin, like a waxy layer of dead cells.
He checked his dark hair in the mirror. Perfect, as usual. He knew he looked good. Women
seemed to fall all over themselves to talk to him when they first met him. Emma once said he looked
like a scary Hugh Jackman. He wasn't one to judge if other men looked good or not, but he took it as a
compliment. He swiped his thumb over each eyebrow, smoothing it down and dried off.
When he came out, he saw Lydia was waiting to see if he wanted anything else. Good girl.
"Who is dating again?" he asked Jeffries.
"Emma, she is dating some doctor at Westwood General."
That fucking cunt. Who does she think she is? Hasn't she learned her fucking lesson yet?
Norman balled his hands into fists and paced the room. Now that he was a Captain it was harder for
him to go out roughing people up himself. What was he going to do this time? When he made Assistant
Chief, and was done with all this bullshit she was going to marry him again and legitimize him. She
just didn't know it yet. He knew she would come around if he just put a little time and sweet talk into
it. But she couldn't go ruining that by finding some guy before then.
"Who is Emma?" Lydia asked from the bed, slowly and haltingly.
In two big steps Norman was on her. He slapped her across the face. "Shut up bitch! This isn't
your business. Get your clothes and get out of here."
Lydia shrank back but he saw the truth in her eyes. Some bitches needed to be slapped or they
thought you didn't like them anymore. She was one of them. Daddy must have slapped her a lot. She
grabbed her clothes and ran to the door.
"Oh Lydia," he called, liltingly.
She turned back, a hand holding her cheek. He tossed her a tin full of powder. It hit her on the
shoulder and bounced to the floor. She scrabbled over to it and grabbed it, holding it to her chest with
her hands. She glanced at him once more and opened the door, rushing out into the hallway.
He locked it behind her and started making plans. Emma needed another lesson. One that
would finally sink in.
Chapter 10.
Sunday morning Emma slept in, trying to recover from her long shifts of the week. Just
yesterday she had worked 16 hours and had two cardiac arrest patients. Those were difficult if the
ride to the hospital was long, because CPR took a lot out of everybody.
When she finally got moving she walked to her favorite cafe and ordered breakfast. A
leisurely breakfast with no one talking to her was a treat she did not get to enjoy often.
Her mind kept turning her towards her date. Her excitement put a spring in her step and
happiness in her heart.
When 3 o'clock finally loomed closer she got ready. She wore her best exercise clothes,
which were also hopefully a little sexy. Form fitting lululemon pants and tank plus new running shoes.
She pulled her hair back in a high pony and put on some light makeup. She appraised herself in the
mirror and nodded. This was much more her look than that little black dress.
Just before 3 she ran outside to be ready and waiting for Craig on the sidewalk. A large teal-
blue F150 was parked in front of her house and he was sitting in the driver's seat.
Her whole body suddenly flushed warm. She wiped her forehead in case she was sweating.
She had forgotten he was an early bird like her.
He got out and ran around to open the passenger side. Emma's eyes slid hungrily over his
body. She never had seen him in civvies before and he looked amazing. His natural firefighters chest
filled out his clean, blue, logo-less, tshirt perfectly, his biceps stretching the sleeves mercilessly.
Emma wasn't sure, but the t-shirt looked ironed. She grinned at the thought. His cowboy jeans
certainly had a crease down the front of them, and his hiking boots were immaculate. This was her
kind of man too. A solid wall of a man who worked with his hands and made you feel safe just by
being there, but who still paid attention to details.
"Hi," she smiled at him when she got to the door.
"Hi," he smiled back and those dimples slid into view. "You look great!" he gushed. "Do you
do yoga?"
"Sometimes. I go to a class down the block when I have time, and sometimes I do a little to
help me sleep after a bad shift." Emma climbed up into his passenger seat.
He nodded. "I do some too. I hurt my back 2 years ago and the doctor wanted to do surgery but
I found a chiropractor who helped me and she recommended yoga, so I went to some classes and then
I didn't even need the surgery." He shut the door and leaned in to the open window.
"That's so great!" she said. "Most guys I know won't even try it. Like it's a woman's sport or
something."
"Well, I did feel a little uncomfortable the first few times I went to the class because it was
mostly women, but once I figure out how hard it was I didn't feel weird anymore. Women are just
smarter than men, that's all."
He smiled that charming smile at her again and she felt like melting. That smile made her want
to just skip the date and head back to her house with him in tow. She wanted to club him over the
head, pull him into her den and do naughty things to him until one of them had to go to work again.
Craig ran around the front of the truck and Emma pinched her leg, hard, through her yoga
pants. Get a grip on yourself Em. She was afraid her dirty thoughts would show right up on her face
and he would think she was some kind of freak.
Craig got in and fastened his seatbelt. Emma did the same. "Here we go," he growled in his
deep, sexy voice and she smiled.
"Where are we going?" Emma couldn't keep the excitement out of her voice.
"Somewhere fun," he answered.
"Oh, somewhere fun, huh? I'll be the judge of that," she challenged, with a teasing lilt to her
voice, turning in her seat a little to face him.
"Ok, you're on," he teased back. "I know we only have an afternoon date, but how about if you
don't think it's fun I'll buy you dinner. If you do think it's fun, you buy me dinner." He glanced toward
her with that dimple-lined smile in full effect.
"Wait, so all I have to do to get free dinner is not have fun this afternoon? I'm not sure how to
feel about that." Emma chuckled. "But you're on! You seem pretty darn sure of yourself."
"Oh you'll see. You are gonna love it, and then I'm going to get myself some free lobster
tonight," Now he was practically gloating.
"Hmph, what's to stop me from saying I didn't like it even if I did and getting free ... something
even more expensive!" They both laughed at her inability to come up with something more expensive
than lobster.
"Oh I'm not worried, you're an open book Emma Hill. It's pretty easy to tell what you are
thinking by looking at your face. What's that expression? You wear your heart on your sleeve."
That wasn't the first time Emma had heard that her expressive face was like a screen,
broadcasting out every thought in her head for the world to see. But she had a few tricks up her
sleeve. If she was aware of it she could stonewall with the best of them. Her big issue was most of
the time she wasn't aware of it.
"That's what you think Mr. Craig Big-Shot Masterson," Emma's teasing smile and light tone
betrayed her words. "I can leave the men guessing if I want to."
Craig glanced at her again with warmth and admiration in his gaze. "I believe it Emma, how is
it someone like you isn't taken already?" As if realizing what he said Craig's mouth immediately
dropped open and he stammered "Uh, I mean, well, I didn't mean, uh."
Emma laughed. "That's OK Craig. No offense taken. I guess I'm not the only one who doesn't
have a filter sometimes."
Craig looked relieved and gave her a sweet smile that only made one dimple appear.
"Actually, I was married once, but it was such a horrible experience that I haven't really dated
much since."
"Really, how long ago was that?" Craig asked.
She scrunched up her nose and said "Can you believe almost 7 years now?"
"You haven't dated in 7 years?" His head whipped around towards her and his mouth fell
open.
She laughed at him. "Well, I've dated here and there but my ex-husband always chased the
guys away so I finally quit trying.
"What, is he a fighter or something? How did he chase guys away?"
Emma was actually glad they were having this conversation. This is something she'd never
done before. She should mention this to Reece too. Maybe she should try to head off Norman-
problems before they got started.
"No, he's not a fighter, he's a cop." After a short pause she added, "and not a very nice one."
Craig took his eyes off the road long enough to look at her again, his eyes dark and hooded.
She had never seen him look like this and she didn't like it. He looked mean.
"Who is he?"
"Norman Foster. Do you know him?"
Craig's hands jerked on the wheel and the big truck swerved a little bit in the lane. He quickly
corrected and stared hard at the road. Emma could tell his jaw was clenched hard. A muscle in his
jaw jumped. She imagined she could hear his teeth squeaking as he ground them together.
A ripple of worry shot through her. "Do you know him?" she asked again quietly.
"I know of him. You're right, he's not a very nice guy. How in the world did you end up
married to him?"
Emma wasn't sure how their light, airy teasing had ended up like this. Did all men have this
dangerous side to them?
"We were young. I was very naive. Heck, I still am naive, I know it. I like to believe the best
in everyone. It makes life easier sometimes, you know?" She looked at him but he was still looking at
the road with his jaw on lock-down.
"He was a completely different person when we dated. He was the sweetest man I had ever
known, and then when we got married, within 24 hours - while we were on our honeymoon - he
changed. I saw his true personality. The next 4 months were pure hell, and 4 months later we were
divorced."
Craig looked thoughtful at this information. "So he's a sociopath," he said speculatively,
almost like a statement of fact, like he wasn't talking to Emma at all.
Emma just wanted this conversation to be over. She hated the thick atmosphere in the truck
now. She wanted to have fun, not talk about Norman. "Well, I don't know if he's a sociopath or not,
but it's possible," she said with an air of finality, "but I don't want to talk about him anyway."
Craig's expression cleared, just like that. "Right! No ex-husband talk allowed," he called in
his teasing voice. "Besides, we are here."
Emma looked around. With the tension of the last 5 minutes of conversation she hadn't noticed
where they were - the airport service road. "Oh my goodness, are we going to the Bahamas?" she
cried with mock excitement.
He looked at her with something like fear in his eyes and she collapsed in a fit of giggles.
"Ha ha, you got me. No silly, we are going here." He pulled into a culdesac in front of a
warehouse that backed up against the far side of the tarmac.
"Sky Adventures," Emma read off the sign out front. "Sky Adventures, what is this? I'm not
going skydiving Craig."
He threw back his head and laughed. "You'd be surprised Emma. Just trust me OK?"
Emma's breath quickened. She really didn't want to jump out of a plane, and she didn't want to
go in this warehouse and be ganged up on by a bunch of people trying to convince her to do it.
Craig ran around to her side and opened the truck door while she was ruminating. Now she
felt double stupid. She could open her own doors. He took her hand and smiled at her and pulled her
gently. "Seriously Emma, trust me."
She took a deep breath and slid down out of the seat. "Ok."
Craig opened the warehouse door for her, and beckoned her inside first. As she walked in, her
nervousness instantly turned 180 degrees into hard excitement when she saw the clear tube that ran
from floor to ceiling with the man flying around inside. "We're going to indoor skydive?" she turned
on him and grabbed him by the shirt, peering into his face, almost shaking him.
Craig chuckled. "Yep, sound like fun?"
"I have always wanted to do this, I just never did. I didn't even know we had it in Westwood
Harbor!" Emma was bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet like a happy 4 year old.
"Yeah, it's a quiet operation. They mostly do training and drills. I'm friends with the owner so
I come out and play sometimes. He cleared us 2 hours this afternoon. It starts in about 10 minutes."
2 hours of flying. Emma was over the moon excited. How much fun this was going to be!
Craig introduced her to Hans, the operator, and Steve, their instructor. Steve got them suited
up. Emma's loose suit fit easily over her tight yoga outfit. Once they had helmets and eye protection on
Steve gave them a briefing. Craig already knew what he was doing, but Emma learned the most
important things were to stay relaxed and arch her back. She could do that.
When their briefing was done they had to wait 2 more minutes for the guy inside the tube to be
done. Emma watched him closely, trying to pick up pointers. The big tube, or vertical wind tunnel,
was easily big enough for 3 of them to lay down end to end across all ways. The floor was a metal
mesh or net that the air blew through. The entire outside was clear plexiglass so people could watch.
The guy inside was about 5 feet off the ground, making it look effortless. He was doing somersaults
and flipping his body every which way. She didn't care if she could do that, but she sure was excited
to fly.
Steve signaled to the guy and he dropped to the floor, giving a thumbs up. Emma was ready.
Craig told her go ahead, enjoy herself.
Steve stepped in first, and held his arms out, signaling Emma to jump in the way he had
showed her. Her body tightened with anticipation and she willed it to relax. She took two deep yoga
breaths, and fell-jumped in the door into Steve's arms.
Wind whipped by her, lifting her body and twisting her face. She felt like she were thrust into
a hurricane. The sound in the tunnel was huge, making conversation impossible. She immediately
tipped forward and thought she was going to end up on the floor, but Steve caught her and positioned
her. He pushed down on the small of her back. She arched and relaxed as much as she could. She
stabilized a bit. He let go of her with one hand and gave her a thumbs up with the other.
Steve moved her around the floor a bit while she got used to the flying sensation. She could
imagine this was exactly what it was like to fall to Earth from an airplane, just with no view. Emma's
heart sang with joy. What an incredible experience! Her whole being concentrated on relaxing and
arching and flying, and her thoughts were still and quiet. Nothing existed but her and the wind.
Steve positioned her arms and hands a bit farther apart and she felt the difference that made
with her balance. He poked her leg and she knew that was the signal to relax. She was trying to hold
herself in position, but she needed to relax and the position would happen naturally.
Steve showed her a way to tip her hand and suddenly she was veering right. She tipped her
hand back and stabilized again. Amazing! She tipped the other hand and veered left and Steve came
with her, pulled off his feet a bit as he wasn't expecting it. She saw him laugh and put his legs out.
They both floated up 4 feet higher, with him holding on to her suit.
Emma's senses were flooded with wind and liberation. She wanted to fly forever. She had
never felt like this before and was amazed at the giddiness.
Steve pulled them back to the ground somehow and stood again. He motioned for her to dip
her head and she did a headstand, feet flying upwards. That was amazing! She laughed and gave him a
thumbs up when she recovered. He showed her more tricks and eventually she was able to fly straight
up to the ceiling and back down again with precision control.
Steve gave her the sign for finished and pulled her towards the door. He pushed her feet down
and she stood up and walked out to the waiting area. It felt strange to be on solid ground, like she
didn't belong. Her smile felt like it was going to split her face in half. She ran up to Craig, waiting at
the outside door and threw her arms around him in an exuberant hug.
"Did you see me?" she whooped.
"You are a natural. It must be all that yoga you do. I wasn't able to flip until the third or fourth
time I had done this."
She gave him a big smile and sat down on the bench. "Let's see what you got."
Craig gave her a thumbs up and dove in the door to the tunnel, immediately flying up out of
sight. She ran to the plexiglass and peered up at him, laughing. He had some moves and Steve didn't
even spot him, he just stood to the side and watched.
After he showed Emma every move he had Steve came out and asked if she wanted to tandem
dive with him.
After a short safety briefing Steve brought her in, floating her across from Craig who was
practically holding still waiting for her.
Craig grasped her hands and Steve let go. They were pushed up towards the ceiling and Emma
laughed again. This was amazing. Craig smiled at her and pulled her closer. He leaned in and kissed
her on the cheek. She wasn't expecting it and it only heightened her excitement. Who knew you could
kiss in a vertical windtunnel? He smiled again and moved in and kissed her full on the lips this time.
Wind screamed in her ear. She was so surprised this time she didn't kiss him back, her mouth
dropping into an O of surprise. He laughed and she moved in this time - too fast, mashing their faces
together. She started laughing so hard she lost her arch and started plummeting towards the floor,
pulling him with her.
She recovered neatly, still laughing, but that was it, she was done. She dropped to the floor
and walked out into the waiting area, plopping into a chair and giggling madly.
Craig dropped down too and followed her. When they could hear again a little and her giggles
had tapered off he said, "We still have 10 minutes, do you want to use them?"
She started laughing all over again at the sound of his voice, shaking her head no.
"Goofy," he said, but he was still laughing a bit too.
***
After they had taken off their gear and said their thank yous and goodbyes, they walked out to
the truck.
Emma was still giggling here and there. The funnies had gotten ahold of her and wouldn't let
go. All she had to do was think of their faces mashing together and she was off and laughing
hysterically again. Her stomach hurt.
Craig took her hand and leaned back against the truck, watching her giggle, a patient smile on
his face.
Her giggles tapered off and she peeked up at him, trying not to laugh.
"Do you always laugh at your dates?" he asked.
"Only when they kiss me while we are skydiving and our faces become one," she snorted.
He grinned, flashing those killer dimples at her. Suddenly she felt very serious. This was the
most fun she had ever had in her life. This man was awesome. She leaned up against him. "Let's try
that again, here on solid ground." Her voice was a serious whisper.
He leaned in and their lips touched gently. He tasted like cinnamon and smelled like hickory
wood. Fire started in her belly and whipsawed through her body, every nerve alert. She pushed
forward, hungrily tasting more of his mouth. His strong arms circled her waist and pulled her to him.
She could feel every inch of his amazing body pressed up against hers.
She pulled back, gasping for breath. He gazed into her eyes and said "Emma Hill, you are one
extraordinary woman."
She blushed at the compliment and looked down, not sure what to say or do. No man had ever
said anything like that to her before.
Craig put a hand to her chin and lifted it, lowering his lips to hers again. Emma closed her
eyes and surrendered to the kiss, her body melting in his strong hands, her mouth fusing to his soft lips
with a gentleness she had never known.
He pulled back this time and whispered in her ear, "You owe me dinner."
***
The ride back to Emma's house was full of giggles and silliness. All Emma could think about
was how much she liked this man. How good he was to her. What a kind person he was. She pushed
all thoughts of the vision away for now. She was enjoying herself so much she didn't want to think of
it.
After they got changed and cleaned up at her house, they headed out to her favorite dinner
restaurant, Sicilian's.
Emma had her usual, the double spaghetti with the large meatball, and Craig had shrimp
scampi. After dinner they danced, alone on the dance floor to jukebox music. Emma relished the feel
of Craig's body against hers. He danced with grace and ease, his hands engulfing hers. Had she found
a perfect man?
***
Craig drove her home. She was silent for most of the drive, wondering if she should invite
him in. She hadn't had sex in 7 years. 7 years! Was it really that long? What happened to her life?
How did she end up this boring workaholic who hadn't been touched by a man in almost a decade?
Craig was silent also. He seemed at ease, but Emma wondered if he was also thinking about
where tonight could go. She snuck a sidelong glance it him. He looked good, he smelled good, he
acted good. I wonder how he is in bed? Is he a good guy in bed too? Or does he get a little wild?
Wild I bet. He's definitely a gentleman, but he's also all man. Emma's cheeks colored at her
thoughts. She'd only had sex with 2 men in her whole life. Norman, and her boyfriend in the Army.
She'd been too scared in high school - too scared that she would get pregnant and ruin her chances of
creating a good life for herself. Too scared that she wouldn't be able to escape the poverty and misery
of the foster care system.
At Emma's house, Craig got out to open Emma's door, but she was already standing. She
waited for him and smiled up into his handsome face. He put an arm around her and walked her to her
door.
On the doorstep he faced her. "I had a wonderful time today Emma, I sure would like to see
you again."
Before Emma could respond, he leaned in, pressing his lips softly to hers in that gentle way he
was so good at. Her eyes closed automatically. His masculine smell teased her, pushing her over an
edge. Emma's entire being ached for more, more, more.
But no, he broke contact with her lips and pulled away, smiling at her. "I'll call you
tomorrow." He turned and walked down the steps to his truck.
Emma watched him get in his truck and lift a hand to her. She managed to wave back,
screaming inside her head "Stay! Stay with me!" but she never said it out loud. She couldn't bring
herself to.
Emma entered her house and crumpled onto the couch, hugging herself. She ached for him for
just a minute, but pushed the feeling aside. It was a first date. He was a gentleman. She felt elated in a
way that she never had before. This was almost as good as the feelings the vision had given her.
Oh yeah, my vision.
Emma's mood darkened immediately.
I wish I could just forget I ever had that vision, and just date Craig.
As much as she wanted to do that, she knew it would only end in disaster. She remembered
the pull of the man in the vision and it was stronger than Craig's pull.
(Wasn't it?)
With my luck, I'd date Craig, fall in love with Craig, marry Craig, and then meet the man in
the vision and my marriage would be ruined in an instant.
Emma grabbed a pillow and pouted a little. Again she wished the vision had never happened,
but it did, and she knew what it meant for her life. Craig was not the one for her.
Her phone buzzed on the table. She picked it up. A text from Craig.
"Working tomorrow?"
"No," she texted back.
"Want to get some exercise with me? Hiking at Soldier Hill?"
Emma almost cried. He liked her too. A lot. That certainly complicated matters. And he was
so sweet and nice, and strong and capable and funny, and sexy, don't forget sexy - everything she ever
wanted in a man. So why couldn't she just go for it again?
Emma dug her fingernails into her palms until it hurt.
What can some hiking hurt? It's not like he's asking me to get married.
Emma sat, fingernails still spearing her palms, mind spinning at mile a minute. What could
some hiking hurt? Nothing. But it wasn't a date.
"Sure. Meet you there. Time?"
"2 p.m.?"
"OK"
Chapter 11.
Craig pushed into the building, feeling like he was walking on air. That Emma was something
else. Sweet, kind, funny, pretty, strong, smart. Women like her were hard to find.
He walked down the hallway towards Hawk's apartment, but detoured at the last minute. He
needed to recover from the date a little bit. His life was not all sweetness and light right now, and it
just wouldn't do to walk into Hawk's place in his current mood. Besides, he had serious news to
share.
Norman Foster. The thought of that corrupt bastard touching Emma took the bloom off his
rose. He could not believe that Emma had been married to him. He also couldn't believe he didn't
know that already. Hawk couldn't have known either, could he?
But he and Hawk should have known, if indeed the marriage existed. They were FBI, part of a
special task force called the Anti-Corruption Unit, or ACU for short. Craig was working undercover
in the fire department, Hawk directed the operation, and they had a few other counterparts working
undercover in the police department, the prosecutor's office, the governor's office, and even in the
state's legislative offices. The corruption in Westwood Harbor was widespread and went all the way
to the top. Something about the city made it a hotbed for dirty operations.
Their crew had been working on this operation for 28 months now. Some arrests had been
made already, but the worst of the corruption was too well guarded and impossible to get to from the
outside. So they decided to get on the inside. Most of they task force officers had gone to special
training and the FBI arranged lateral transfers for them directly into the worst departments in the city.
Craig relished the fact that he was working as a firefighter. Before he went to the FBI
academy he had taken the firefighters test in his home city of Seattle, but he had never been called for
an interview. The competition was steep. He could have kept trying or tried in another city but
decided to go to the FBI academy instead. And now he was getting to work as a firefighter anyway.
Norman Foster was top on their list of suspects, for worse things than even simple dirty cop
tricks. Sure, he probably kept a few guns and some drugs he should have turned in. He probably
roughed up suspects weekly. But they had eyes on him for possible murder, extortion, smuggling,
accepting bribes and major ties to the mob. Norman Foster was a walking Goodfella.
As far as they could tell his first few years on the force had been quiet. There were no reports
of him doing anything wrong, and indeed much corruption at all in Westwood Harbor before 2007.
But something had happened in 2007 and since then Norman had been loosely tied to an ever
increasing amount of horrible offenses.
Feeling sufficiently brought back to earth with his musings about Norman Foster, Craig turned
around again and pushed open the door to Hawk's apartment. Hawk was in the center, behind the
rows of computer monitors. His eyes tracked Craig's movements into the room.
Craig walked over to see what Hawk was looking at. 6 of the monitors showed empty rooms,
2 showed people sitting around doing nothing much, and 2 showed white body outlines in different
rooms. These last two were the FLIR cameras. The FLIR cameras showed thermal heat signatures of
anything that gave off heat, even through walls. They used FLIR cameras instead of electronic bugs
when the people they were spying on were likely to sweep for bugs. The cameras were mounted
outside the buildings, sometimes in trees or on other buildings, and no one noticed them.
He put down the flash drive with all the information from the Chief's office on it. Hawk would
do the best job figuring out what the files really meant.
"Anything going on?" Craig asked.
"Nah, you're late." Hawk replied.
"Yeah, I was on a date with Emma Hill."
Hawk raised an eyebrow and turned towards him. "You are dating?"
Craig knew this wasn't going to be easy.
"If we are going to be here for a few years trying to finish this mission I am going to have to
live a normal life," he said.
"You could compromise the mission."
Craig huffed out his breath. Hawk had a one track mind. "Or I could help it. Just dating
someone is not going to compromise the mission."
"What if she wants to see where you live?"
"So what? My apartment is normal. All the apartments are normal but this one. We just won't
come in here."
Hawk lapsed into silence and appeared to think about this. He swiveled in his chair and
watched the monitors for a few moments, then swiveled back.
"If this is about sex ..."
"This is not about sex Hawk, I can get sex if I want sex. This is about being a normal person
for once. I want a family someday, you know."
Hawk's eyes narrowed. Craig knew he liked to act like a robot, but he wasn't. He wanted a
family someday too. They both knew that someday needed to come eventually.
"Who is Emma Hill?"
"She's a paramedic." Craig held his breath.
"A paramedic? In your firehouse? What are you thinking?" Hawk yelled.
"Calm down, she's not in my firehouse, she's out of the main station."
"Still, this is a conflict of interest," Hawk growled.
"A conflict of interest? Oh, that's a good one. We aren't proposing a business deal here Hawk!
This won't affect the mission in any way." Craig shook his head and started to pace.
Hawk lapsed into silence again.
Craig thought about keeping the really bad news to himself. But no, this all had to come out
one time. He needed to get it off his chest and he needed Hawk's approval, even if only for himself.
"You haven't actually heard the worst of it though," Craig said.
Both of Hawk's eyebrows shot up and he pursed his lips in a 'just tell me' look.
"She was married to Norman Foster."
"What? Married? When? Are you crazy? She's fucking corrupt then. What are you thinking?"
Hawk crossed the room to where Craig stood. He put a hand on his chest and shoved lightly. "Craig,
if nothing else will fuck up this mission, that will. I forbid you to see her again."
Craig grabbed Hawk's hand and pulled it off him. "Look Hawk, just calm down and listen to
me. She is not corrupt, and I honestly think this can only help the mission, although that's not why I am
dating her. I only found out a few hours ago that they were married. It was 7 years ago, and it only
lasted for 8 months, and they were separated for 4 of those months. She hates him. She is the farthest
thing from corrupt you can imagine. In fact, you would really like her. She reminds me a lot of Lucy."
Hawks face crumpled at mention of Lucy. Craig didn't want to hurt him, but he had to know
what kind of person Emma was. Comparing her to Lucy made it easy.
Hawk walked to the desk with the monitors and his fingers flew over the keyboard. Craig
knew he had already folded.
"I don't understand why we didn't know he was married. There is no mention of it in his
folder. How could that get past us?"
Craig walked over to see what he was doing. "I don't know man, I was gonna ask you the
same thing."
Hawk stopped typing and raised his hand to a monitor. RECORD NOT FOUND was glaring
on the screen. There is no record of any marriage between a Norman Foster and an Emma Hill 7
years ago, or 8 years ago, or 6 years ago. There is no record of a marriage between Norman Foster
and anyone, ever.
Craig studied the screen. Norman Foster could easily be a liar, but Emma wasn't. He knew
she wasn't. Didn't he?
Chapter 12.
Craig was glad Emma was with him. They had met for their hiking date and hiked 2.5 miles
before finding a young woman sitting with her mother on a log, crying. The young woman had broken
her right ankle in a short fall down the side of the small mountain they were hiking on. Emma had
splinted it with strips torn from Craig's shirt and some sticks and then Craig had carried her out of
there. They had just put the ladies in their car and sent them off to the hospital.
As they watched the car drive off Craig looked at Emma and said "boy things are never dull
with you around. I'll just have to call you Trouble."
Emma laughed. "You're trouble, not me."
"Hey, I think I owe you dinner." Craig said. "Want to get cleaned up and go somewhere to
eat?"
"I have a better idea. Why don't I cook for you? I have steak marinating in my fridge right
now."
"You're on."
Now, in the lingering shadows of late afternoon, Craig was glad he had a change of clothes in
his truck. He followed Emma to her house, thinking of how amazing she was. Of course she was a
paramedic, so she was trained for it, but her splint had looked like something out of a book. And it
was completely improvised. He was seriously impressed with her. And he so liked to watch her
work. Her laser focus and sweet bedside manner was admirable. She could have been a doctor. Ah,
but he knew her type - she was smart as a whip but also an adrenaline junkie - inside was probably
too boring for her. He should know her type, he was the same way.
Pulling into her driveway behind her, he noticed a blue sedan sitting a few houses down with
someone in the driver's seat. He thought he remembered that same blocky sedan in that same spot with
someone in the driver's seat the other night when he had picked her up and again when he had
dropped her off. Maybe it was a neighbor. A neighbor sitting inside their car for hours?
He met her at her door, and asked about the sedan. She didn't know. She thought it must belong
to a neighbor because it was there a lot.
"Is there usually somebody sitting inside it?"
"Um I don't know. I never noticed. This is a quiet street. There's no crime here"
Craig followed her inside and she set him up with a shower while she prepped the meat. He
could not stop thinking about the sedan. Why would anyone watch Emma's house? It's possible he
never would have given it a second thought if he hadn't heard the story about how Norman Foster
scared away all her prior dates. Norman Foster was a serious jerk, and a dangerous jerk at that. Craig
bet himself a dollar that if he walked down there he would find Norman Foster in that car.
When Emma took her shower she told him to just relax and have a beer. He opened a beer but
left it on the counter without taking a drink, deciding to do some quick area recon.
Craig walked out the back door and scaled the fence behind her house, cutting through two
neighbor's yards to come up behind the vehicle. He rounded the far block corner and walked on the
sidewalk right next to the car, watching inside. The man was not Norman. He was just sitting there
looking down the road and smoking a cigarette. Craig let out a shaky sigh. He was very glad that
Norman was not out here watching Emma's house. That would have been bad news for Emma.
He walked past the car and cut in front of it, looking both ways, noting both the pile of
cigarette butts outside the driver's window, and the small curled antenna in front of the driver
signifying this was probably a police car. Damn! This might be bad news after all. He noted the
license plate in an instant and looked back the other way. He walked past Emma's house, turned left at
the next block, and scaled backyard fences again to get back to Emma's.
He entered the sliding door and found Emma, her back to him, in the kitchen smelling like
vanilla and strawberries. She was wearing a simple black tank top and red yoga pants that hugged
every curve she had. He wanted to walk over to her and put his arms around her waist and drink her
like a smoothie. He hadn't been this attracted to a woman in a long time. Sure, tons of women could
turn his head and get him to imagine taking them in the sack, but Emma was different. She was fun, she
was smart, she was a hard worker, she was someone that he could happily hang out with and talk to
after the sex was over. Sex. He needed to not start thinking about that. It was hard enough walking
away last night without initiating anything. And today he was in the house. Problem was, she gave off
mixed signals. He could tell she wanted him too, but her body and her eyes also said stay away
sometimes too. She'd been hurt too badly in the past.
Emma was saying something. Craig mentally shook his head and focused on her.
"There you are. Are you any good with a grill?" she asked.
"I am a grill master, first class."
Emma laughed, "Ok get mine fired up on the back patio. I have some meat for you to cook and
I'm making some salad."
***
Craig couldn't remember when he'd had a finer meal or a better night. Steak, salad, beer, and
pleasant flirting conversation with a lovely woman as dusk turned to dark.
Emma interrupted their discussion about why she preferred paramedic work over firefighter
work to use the bathroom, giving Craig some alone time to think about what the cop on the street
meant. Maybe it meant nothing, and another house on this street was being watched. Or maybe it
meant something as bad as Craig was afraid it did. He really liked Emma, and hated the thought of a
crooked cop watching her and ruining her dates for 7 years. He didn't even want to think about what it
probably meant. But he was thinking about it. Every thought boiled his blood. Obviously Norman
didn't think their relationship was over. Maybe Norman needed a little visit.
He was glad they were out on the back porch - the guy in the cop car couldn't see them, and
unless the porch was bugged no one could hear them either.
Bugged! Damn!
He wondered if perhaps her house was bugged. If someone
(Norman)
was watching her, why not listen to her too?
Emma slipped quietly through the open back door. When she saw Craig, her eyebrows drew
together worriedly. He wiped his thoughts and smiled with effort. He'd heard from other women
(Lucy)
that negative thoughts in his head transformed his looks from clean-cut to mean and dangerous
in seconds. He didn't want Emma to see him that way.
Her face cleared. She walked to the couch and sat down, a little closer to him than she had
been, curling her legs under her like a cat.
"Emma, I wanted to ask you something. Do you think there's any chance that Norman could be
watching you?"
She looked startled at this sudden turn of conversation.
"What? Why? You think he is in that car down the street?"
"No, I don't, but he could be. Did you ever wonder how he always knew you were dating?"
"Well yeah, but I just figured that because he's a cop he hears a lot of things. He probably put
the word out that he wanted to hear stuff about me and the other cops told him stuff."
She had a point, it certainly could have been as easy as that. But Craig wasn't convinced.
"Would you mind if I looked for bugs in your house?"
She looked confused.
"Electronic bugs - listening devices - I want to see if he's planted any in your house. He
probably hasn't, but I sure would like to know for sure."
Understanding, and horror crept over her face in equal measure.
"Yes, please do," she whispered.
Craig pulled her to him. He hoped he didn't find anything. This woman was too sweet to have
to live with the implications of what bugs would mean. He caressed her long hair, hoping to calm and
soothe her, but instead found himself fanning flames of desire he had been trying to keep under
control. His body stiffened, and he pulled back a bit, hoping not to give Emma physical evidence of
his desire. She wouldn't be interested in this right now. It wasn't appropriate. He chided himself
relentlessly and turned his mind to desire-withering things: football, Norman Foster, doddering old
men with big ears and noses. The images were swiftly pushed aside by the clean, feminine scent of
Emma, and the feel of her silky hair in his hands, and her soft body pressed against his. He had to
break this contact.
Craig gave her a soft kiss on her forehead and stood up, swiftly crossing the porch to the door.
"I'll be right back," he said over his shoulder.
He went to his truck to retrieve his RF detector, peeking at the sedan down the street when it
seemed safe. A faint glow, possibly from a cigarette, lit up the inside. He gave the RF a once-over to
make sure it didn't say FBI on it, and then he took it in the house.
Emma was watching him from the front door. She opened her mouth, probably to ask what he
was doing with a bug detector in his car, but he held a finger to his lips.
He didn't just want to head off that question though, he also didn't want anyone who might be
listening to know they were going to look for bugs. If the bugs were turned off, they couldn't be found.
He turned on the RF detector, but kept the sound very low. Starting in a clockwise pattern, he swept
the room. Near the far wall, the lights on the detector started flashing. The faint tick-tick-tick sound
could barely be heard, but he didn't need it.
I knew it! That bastard! Craig's blood pressure climbed and his jaw tightened. If he ever got
his hands on Norman Foster there was going to be hell to pay.
He felt behind the large picture of a waterfall on the wall. His fingers found the bug behind the
lower left corner. He held it up and turned around so Emma could see it.
Her eyes were wide and her hands were over her mouth. The blood drained from her face.
Craig put the bug down gently on a pillow on the couch and kept sweeping. In the kitchen he
found another small bug, and in the bathroom, one more. None were on the porch.
He headed into the bedroom with Emma following behind. Her mouth was a grim line, but she
hadn't made a sound during the search. He intended to be very thorough in here.
He found the bug he knew he would find behind the picture over the bed. He kept sweeping
though, just in case. As he got closer to the smoke detector over the door, the RF detector started
sounding again. His heart sank. That monster. He pulled the smoke detector down from the wall and
gently took it apart. What he was looking for was behind the grate designed to let smoke in. He
pocketed it and pulled Emma out to the hallway.
He gathered all the bugs and dropped them in a glass of water on the kitchen counter, then he
pulled Emma out on the porch.
"See this?" he said, showing her the device in his pocket, but keeping his thumb over the lens.
She nodded yes.
"It's a hidden camera."
Emma's lip twisted into a snarl. "That bastard!" she choked out through gritted teeth.
Craig had already thought that exact thought several times, and he was glad Emma knew the
stakes right away. He inspected the camera for any identifying marks. Finding none, he dropped it to
the deck and ground it under his heel.
Emma turned on her heel and ran through the house. Craig followed, worried. She ran straight
out the front door towards the blue sedan. It was no longer parked on the street. Emma whirled
around, fists clenched, eyes wild and searching.
"He's gone! He knows we were on to him!"
"Could be, or could be the man in that car just was done for the night."
"Norman, I know it was Norman!"
"It didn't look like Norman to me, Emma. Could he be having anyone else watch you?"
"Of course he could! He's got a whole department to command!"
Craig slipped an arm around Emma's shoulders. Her breathing was rapid. Craig purposely
took long, deep breaths, hoping to calm her. He felt her relax against him and take her own deep
breaths.
"But would they do it? I can't imagine most cops being willing to watch an ex-wife's house for
hours a day, even if it is for an officer in their chain of command," Craig wondered.
"True," Emma said. "I just don't know! And I don't know why he is watching me anyway!" She
tore loose from his grip and took long strides down the sidewalk, away from her house.
Craig caught up, and grasped her hand, walking with her. "Could he want to get back together
with you?"
Emma looked horrified at the idea. "No!" She went silent for a few moments, thinking. "I don't
think so. He's never said anything."
"But he could - maybe he wants to get back together with you someday, but not now. That
would also explain why he has chased off all your past dates."
Emma's face fell. "I don't want to believe it. For him to still want to get back together with me
7 years later scares me."
Craig didn't say anything. There was nothing he could say. She was right.
They walked in silence for a bit. Emma fumed, but started to calm down after a few blocks.
Craig, lost in his own thoughts was startled by her next question and the vehemence with which she
asked it.
"I just hate it when men aren't what they seem to be! Are you what you seem to be Craig?"
Here we go. Craig hated lying to anyone, but he especially hated lying to Emma. The thought
of it pained his heart, especially since he knew there was a chance she would hate him when she
found out he was lying to her about who he was. He couldn't bear the thought of it.
"What do I seem to be Emma?"
Emma chewed her lip and stopped walking, pulling him around towards her by their linked
hands. "You seem to be a good guy, a nice guy, a decent man who wouldn't hurt anyone if he didn't
have to."
"I try very hard, every day to be one of the good guys Emma." He pulled her closer, noting her
eyes were still sparking with anger. Craig ran a thumb over one of her eyebrows, trying to relax it.
Emma dropped his hand and snaked her fingers into his hair, bending his head down towards
hers. Eyes wide open, fire filling them, she parted her lips, inviting him. He locked his eyes on her
sexy mouth, and bent to her. Her clean woman scent filled his nostrils and drove his lust.
It had been a long time since he'd been with a woman. There had been a few badge bunnies
after Lucy died, but nothing about casual sex was satisfying to him. He might as well masturbate. Plus,
it was easier to disentangle himself after. Emma was the first woman since Lucy that he found
interesting enough to date.
She broke the kiss and looked at him like he was her prey. The look in her eyes thrilled him.
She grabbed his hand again and pulled him towards home.
Once on the porch, she entangled her fingers around his neck and kissed him before they went
in the door. He lifted her easily and carried her onto the couch silently. Her hands and lips were
everywhere as she pulled off his t-shirt and bared his chest. She stared hungrily at him, making a
small mewling noise and pulling him down to her.
Emma moved under him, pushing her body up towards his. She pulled at his hair and bit at his
bottom lip. Desire exploded in his mind and his body at her aggressiveness. He had time to wonder if
he should pull back, if this passion was fueled by her anger at Norman, but then she put her hand
down to the zipper of his jeans and the thought fled. He was hard and ready for her. She palmed him
through his jeans and ran her hand down his length.
The sensation floored him. It had been so long for him. It felt so good he couldn't stand it. He
groaned, unable to think. He bent to her again and kissed a trail down her neck to her chest. She let go
of his erection and grasped his hips, pulling them down. Hard. He mouthed her nipples through her
shirt and watched her squirm under him.
"Craig," she gasped. "I want you."
"I want you too sweetness." The words seemed inadequate. He wanted to be inside her. To
own her body. To be one with her. To meld their very souls.
The thought made him go carnal. He felt like an animal. Like all thoughts were driven from his
body and he was just nerve endings, calling out for release. He ground his hardness into her softest
spot and she sucked in a breath. He propped himself up on his elbows and undid the buttons on her
shirt, spying a lacy pink bra barely hiding unbelievably perfect and lush breasts. She pushed her chest
into him, welcoming his hands. "Craig, craig, love ..."
"Yes sweetness, yes," he whispered back. He couldn't believe his good fortune, here with one
of the most beautiful and amazing women he had ever known, and she seemed to want him as much as
he wanted her. For once, things were going his way. Very much his way.
As if his thoughts of how good things were caused them to go as bad as possible, Emma
stopped and went rigid beneath him. Her face was unreadable, but she seemed on the verge of tears.
He stroked her hair. "Em?"
Her shoulders shook. She was silently crying.
"Oh Craig, this isn't a good idea. I don't know what I was doing, I am so sorry."
He sat up and pulled her to him. "Sweetheart, don't be sorry, it's OK."
"No Craig you don't understand, it's not OK. I want to love you but I can't. I won't. I have been
leading you on by going on dates with you. I should not be dating you." Anguish filled her eyes and
voice.
Craig was confused by her words, but didn't want her to think that he cared if she wasn't ready
for anything physical with him.
"Shhh, it's OK. I don't mind at all. I just want you to be happy, to feel comfortable," he told
her, trying to hug her to him.
"You should go."
He wanted to stay and comfort her, and was surprised by this declaration.
"Really? We don't have to do anything Emma, we can just sit and talk or watch a movie. I will
never pressure you. We are both adults here. I'm not expecting marriage or anything."
He wondered if she was seeing someone else and that's what this was about. It seemed pretty
unlikely with everything that had happened with Norman in the past.
She crumpled forward hiding her face. Again her shoulders shook. He just wanted to cradle
her in his arms and comfort her like a child. He hated seeing her like this. He thought there was much
more to this woman than he could begin to know, and this part may not have anything to do with
Norman.
"No, you should go Craig. Before I do something I regret. It's complicated. I don't know how
to explain. I don't want to hurt you, but I shouldn't be here with you right now either."
"Ok Emma, if that's what you want." Craig, hurt, moved to the door. Just know I am here for
you any time, and if you need anything - anything at all - you call me first, OK?"
She grinned a sad grin at him. "Thank you."
Chapter 13.
Emma watched Craig drive away from her bedroom window. Only when she could no longer
see the light from his car did she let out the tears. Great, wracking sobs threatened to tear her breath
from her. That was the hardest thing she had ever done in her life. Way harder than divorcing
Norman.
You weren't in love with Norman anymore once you asked him for a divorce, an inner voice
told her gently.
That was it. That was the reason for everything. Craig was so gentle, and so good, and she
was afraid she was falling in love with him. It couldn't be. It couldn't happen. He wasn't her dream
man, because he wasn't the man from the vision, so what was she doing, going and falling in love with
him? This voice in her head was harsh and unstoppable. Emma, you are a complete idiot and jerk
for leading that sweet man on.
What could she say? Nothing. She was an idiot, and she was a jerk.
What was she going to do now?
Her sobbing reached a fevered pitch. Some inner critic wondered if the neighbors could hear
her. Even that thought didn't quiet her. Damn the neighbors. My life is a mess. It's my mess and I can
cry if I want.
Emma hugged the wall to her bedroom, where no one would be watching her that night. She
fell on the bed with her clothes still on, and cried until she fell asleep.
***
Emma awoke at 4 in the morning, disoriented, wondering what she had forgotten. Work! Her
eyes were grainy and swollen. She pulled herself to the bathroom. She didn't need to be at work for a
few hours, but it would probably take a while to get her looking decent, so she got moving.
In the shower, she made a decision. She was calling Reece today. Maybe she hadn't given him
the benefit of the doubt before. Maybe they should do something other than go to a restaurant. Maybe
she should invite him over to her house, or go hiking with him. Hiking. That stung. She had been
hiking with Craig yesterday and they had laughed so much, and had so much fun. Craig. She missed
him already.
***
Work dragged on and on. Jerry was his usual happy self, and bugged her constantly to tell her
what was wrong. She didn't say. Couldn't say. Jerry wouldn't understand. On their first call with
Engine 18 Emma held her breath, hardly able to concentrate as the firefighters came up. Craig wasn't
with them. Thank goodness.
When she could slip away from Jerry long enough to make a phone call she called Reece. He
sounded very happy to hear from her. Well that's good at least. She invited him to her house, but he
said why didn't she come to his place instead. Tomorrow night at 8 p.m. At the Coronado building.
She hung up, glad, but with the lead weight still squeezing her heart with every breath. Hopefully by
tomorrow things would look better.
***
Emma entered the elevator in the Coronado building, wearing a breezy blue skirt that swirled
around her ankles as she walked. She always felt feminine and pretty in this skirt, especially paired
with a silk tank and with her hair down and bouncy. It didn't work today. Today, her feet felt as
leaden as her heart had yesterday. While she was getting ready, she kept telling herself to cancel, but
then she kept telling herself not to cancel, she needed to get on with her non-Craig life.
Reece's unit was on the 14th floor. She noticed their was no 13th floor button in the elevator.
That meant Reece was actually on the 13th floor. I guess he's not superstitious.
She rang his doorbell. He was quick to open and gave her a broad smile.
"Emma, I am so perfectly thrilled to see you again," he said, grasping her hand and kissing the
back of it just a little to long.
"Thank you Reece," she said softly. She didn't have the energy for much more than a whisper.
"Emma, you look sad, is there something wrong?"
Emma sighed internally and gave herself a mental slap in the face. Wake up! Get over it!
She forced a smile, "No, sorry, I might just be a little tired."
"Well have a seat, I will get you some wine."
Emma didn't like wine too much, but right now, any liquor sounded good.
She sat down on the couch and put her clutch down on the table, then gratefully accepted her
glass and took several tiny sips. This wasn't too bad.
Reece sat down on the couch next to her, a little too close. Using a remote, he turned on some
music and sat back, putting an arm around her.
Emma looked around the apartment to avoid looking right at him. He was moving too fast. She
felt a bit uncomfortable and thought maybe getting up would help. His apartment was large and
gorgeous. Hard, dark wood covered the floors and walls and wooden shelves were built in from
floor to ceiling between the kitchen and living room. Small wooden statues that looked like idols or
gods from ancient times sat in each cubby of the shelves.
"Wow, you are an art lover Reece?" she asked, getting up from the couch with her drink in her
hand.
Reece caught her around the waist with both hands and pulled her back to the couch, almost
spilling her drink.
Emma's guard went up immediately. What was that? What is he doing? She scootched away
from him a bit on the couch and looked at him, eyes wide.
"Relax Emma, dinner is in the oven, sit here on the couch with me for a bit. We can get to
know each other better before we eat." He waggled his eyebrows up and down once, then again.
Emma felt a bit sick to her stomach. Was he propositioning her? Here on the couch? Before dinner?
Ridiculous thoughts filled her head. Something was different with Reece, and she didn't like it.
Anxiety filled her throat.
She got up again and backed away from him so he couldn't pull her back down. She sat her
drink down on the coffee table and said, "I'll stand, thanks."
More anxiety filled her throat. She hated confrontation, and she dreaded having to tell him to
back off. What was she doing here again?
He stood up too, walking towards her, an evil, teasing glint in his eyes. "Emma, Emma, you
are tantalizing Emma, you really know how to turn a man on."
She backed up again until her back hit the wall. He came right on in, taking it as an invitation.
He put his hands on her shoulders and lowered his face to hers, forcing his tongue between her lips.
Emma was stunned. This wasn't happening. What was he doing?
His hands roamed her body and found her breasts. They squeezed cruelly. He mashed his
groin against hers, and she could feel he had an erection.
That snapped her out of it. She could hurt him badly, she knew ways to do it. She could bite
his tongue off right now and spit it in his face. Instead, she grabbed his right hand with her left and
twisted it harshly backwards, forcing him away from her. Using her other hand, she got under his
elbow and pushed up, hard, torquing his body back and to the ground. She knew it hurt - she'd had it
done on her in self-defense class.
Stunned, he lay still for a second. Then he climbed to his feet, anger flashing in his eyes.
Emma kicked off her shoes. If she was going to have to throw down with this man, her low
heels would only hinder her. She faced him in the stance they had taught her and looked past him, to
the door. Was the deadbolt locked? She didn't remember.
"What the hell are you doing? I know you like it rough, but I don't. You don't get to beat me
up!" Reece spit at her, rubbing his arm.
The words shocked her. "What do you mean, I like it rough? What are you talking about?" she
spit back.
"Your friend, he told me what you like. He told me you like it rough and you like to pretend
that you are the innocent, helpless girl who doesn't really want to have sex, but that's what you really
want."
Emma reeled. This was worse than the tongue in her mouth. What friend would say that about
her? Why would he believe it. This whole evening was surreal.
"Who told you that?" Emma practically screamed at him. She felt like her sanity was flying
apart.
"Your friend, your partner, the man you ride the ambulance with."
"Jerry? Jerry told you that?"
"Yes Jerry," Reece smiled like it was all a big misunderstanding and now they could get back
to business. He took a step towards her.
Emma looked wildly around for a weapon. Reece wasn't that much bigger than her, but he was
still a man, probably stronger with more muscle.
She stepped quickly to her left, back still against the wall and grabbed a vase, brandishing it
over her head.
"Stay away from me," she growled at him.
He stopped.
"I don't know who told you that Reece, but I know it wasn't Jerry. And it isn't true! I don't like
to play sex games and I don't like it rough and I don't want you to touch me!" Her voice rose at the
end. She didn't like the sound of it. She hated feeling out of control.
He eyed the vase and weighed her words. He walked to the couch and sat down. "OK,
whatever you want. Just don't clobber me with that thing."
She relaxed and put the vase back. "I'm going to get my purse from the table and go."
She got her shoes first, and then her clutch, eyes on him the entire time. When he didn't move,
she took a deep breath and headed for the door. All she wanted was to get out of here, and then she
would figure out what happened.
She knew turning her back on him was a mistake as soon as she heard the couch cushions
move. Would this nightmare never end?
She tried to turn, but he caught her around the waist and around the throat, her purse shooting
out of her hand. He squeezed both and pulled her backwards, towards the hallway. She didn't have
enough air to scream. She went dead-weight in his arms, hoping to fall to the floor and pull out of his
grip. All that happened was her shoes pulled off her feet. He kept pulling her backwards easily. He
was stronger than he looked. That was bad news for her.
Through the hallway and into a bedroom he pulled her. Face down on the bed she went, his
entire weight on top of her. He squeezed her throat harder, and groped her ass with his other hand.
Again, she felt his erection against her.
"Your friend also told me that you would fight and pretend you didn't want this, but that you
really did. He said you told him to tell me all this. He said I should choke you until you passed out
because that was your favorite thing. Is it Emma? Do you like to wake up tied to the bed and being
ravished? I bought some new toys today just for you."
Bile rose in Emma's throat. She couldn't believe this was happening. He couldn't really
believe it, could he? He must though. He was a doctor, with so much to lose if he didn't. He must
think this is all an act. But still, what kind of a man would do it?
He wasn't really choking her hard enough for her to pass out yet, she could still get a small
breath when his weight shifted. She was afraid that wouldn't last long though. Adrenaline fueling her
actions, she struggled, but she wasn't able to lift his body weight or get a good hold on him from
behind. Think Emma, damnit, think! Before you pass out! The need to take a full breath consumed
her.
She went slack, limp, hoping he would think she was passed out.
"Good girl," he cooed and slackened his grip on her throat enough so she could drag in a
partial breath. He shifted his weight and lifted his head but his grip slammed down on her throat
again. Emma saw a slim chance and hoped the positioning was right, if not, she really was going to
pass out.
She felt for his face with the back of his head. Yes he was right there! She dropped her head
forward and pistoned it back with every ounce of strength she had. She didn't feel it at all, with the
adrenaline pumping through her system, but the chunk noise of bone hitting bone
(or maybe cartilage - hopefully cartilage?)
was very satisfying. She was rewarded by Reece crying out and letting go of her throat
completely.
Breath. Air. Sweet air filled her lungs. Her throat burned but her lungs sang. She pushed off
the bed, easily rolling Reece's weight off of her this time.
He fell to the floor with a thump. She stood up, hunched over, fingers at her throat, sucking air
into her lungs. He was on the floor holding his nose. Blood squirted around his hands and stained his
expensive shirt.
"You bitch!" he yelled, eyes wide in disbelief.
Emma backed out the door, eyes on him the whole time. She backed down the hall, sucking air
greedily. She didn't stop for her bag, but backed all the way to the door. It didn't open. She chanced a
look at it and twisted the deadbolt. Still no movement from the hall. A snick told her the deadbolt
was open. The door pulled open and she ran down the hall in her bare feet to the flashing exit sign.
Down the steps, bare feet pounding, heart racing. In the lobby of the Coronado she looked left,
then right. Her car was parked in the garage but she didn't have her keys.
Chapter 14.
Craig thought firefighters had the best hours of any job in the world. Work three 24 hour shifts
in one week, and two in the next. Normally, he loved having that much time off but today he wished he
were working a busy shift to keep his mind off Emma. He went to Hawk and offered to watch the
cameras for the day so Hawk could take some time off, or work on other important things.
But still, he couldn't keep his mind off Emma. He watched the 6 monitors, and lightly listened
to the conversations, but for the hundredth time that day his mind moved to Emma. Why had she acted
that way? Like she was never going to see him again. There was finality in her voice and actions 2
nights ago. Was there another man? Did he do something wrong? No matter how he took the situation
apart he couldn't figure any reason for her to be so hot then suddenly cold, as if she had remembered
something, and then throw him right out of her house!
Everyone had a past and everyone had their own demons. If only he could convince Emma to
share hers - maybe they could work through it together. He longed to hold her again and tell her that
no matter what it was, they could work through it - or get through it - together.
Craig looked around the apartment, the batcave they called it, looking for anything to get his
mind off Emma. The large, open room was sparsely furnished. The one wall lined with monitors, a
huge desk, and a few chairs was all they needed and all they had a budget for. They all had
"apartments" in this building with kitchens and beds, even Hawk when he got relief.
This was torture, sitting here, not knowing if he would ever see her again. Well of course he
would see her again on 911 calls, but would he ever see her again as a date?
The door to the batcave opened and Hawk came in, striding purposefully.
"Your files," he began, "the ones you got from the Fire Chief's office? Those are gold. We've
got records of 48 restaurants, 36 other businesses, and 18 hotels that are paying money under the table
directly to the chief to avoid meeting code standards in everything from hiring illegal workers to
room capacity overage and defunct sprinkler systems. Plus, plus, he actually keeps a log of all
disciplinary action he should have dished out but didn't. And, I found one reminder entry that I think
references the big man himself."
Craig swung around slowly, thoughts of Emma blessedly driven out of his head finally.
"You don't mean ..."
"I do mean. Who else would S-E-N period O refer to?"
"Senator Oberlin, hot damn! We're gonna fry him!" Craig yelled jubilantly.
"Well, don't get too excited yet. It wasn't much, and it certainly isn't enough to arrest him for,
much less convict him. But we'll get there, don't worry."
"I'm not worried." Craig muttered. He knew he wouldn't stop until Senator Oberlin was
exposed for the fraud and monster he was. The Fire Chief was small potatoes. The Senator and
anyone
(Norman Foster)
willing to do his dirtiest work was who Craig was really after.
Craig swung back around and watched the monitors again. "Any new information on the
explosion at the factory?"
"Funny you mentioned that. In fact there is something new. That factory was on the list of other
businesses that was paying money to the Fire Chief for some handy looking-the-other way."
Craig turned his chair again and raised an eyebrow.
"And, the name was highlighted in read with a 2 months notation next to it."
Craig's mouth dropped open. "They were two months late? Do you think they were made an
example?"
"Well, there's more to it than that. The owner of the factory, Chuck Nance, has had a lot of
trouble lately. It seems his wife was in a bad accident and a fire started in his home too, gutting half
of it."
"All because he wasn't paying his bribes?"
"Seems extreme, doesn't it? But maybe there's more to this. I've got to do some more digging
and see what ties he may have to Senator Oberlin. It might even be time to break cover and talk to the
guy myself."
Craig turned back to the monitors once more. Hawk was the boss and he could say if he was
going to break cover or not. It might be just the break they needed to get something concrete on the
elusive Senator before he did anything worse. How this guy got off thinking he could order explosions
that killed and crippled over 50 people over something that had nothing to do with them enraged him.
Emma would go crazy if she knew any of this. He remembered how much it upset her in the debriefing
to think that the explosion might have been intentional. Emma. Damn, all roads lead back to Emma in
his mind.
Hawk busied himself with some work on one of the desks, but he still seemed to want to talk.
"I hope we get to arrest the bastard ourselves," he said over his shoulder.
"Who, the Senator? Not me. I'd be too afraid of accidentally shooting him for what he did to
Lucy."
Hawk grunted. Maybe he hadn't considered this before. Or maybe he had, and that's why he
wanted to do the arresting.
They didn't have any concrete evidence tying Senator Oberlin to Lucy's death unfortunately.
All they had was a few texts sent the evening before she died
(was killed)
to Hawk. She had tried to text Craig, but Craig was busy in training 4 states away so she
texted Hawk instead. Craig knew she had to have been really scared, because she usually never
admitted to her older brother that she needed help. She had been sent to Westwood Harbor by her
boss, one of Senator Oberlin's assistants, in order to shut down an office they had there. While she
was working she uncovered something that scared her badly, and apparently was bad enough for her
to die over.
Craig had read over the transcript of those texts frequently enough in the last three years that
he had them memorized. Lucy had been his fiance, and he didn't know who took her death worse - him
or Hawk.
I need to talk to you in person, can you come out here?
What's up Sis I'm pretty busy
Please! I need help Creepy cop threatened me cuz I found something
What? What creepy cop? Threatened you why?
Just come out here please and help me come home. Scared
OK, sit tight, I will call you
No, he's listening
Ok, I'll be there in 4 hours. Where are you?
At my apartment
Stay there. Don't go anywhere text me every 10 minutes. Don't go to sleep
Ok
But Hawk never got another text from her. He broke every speed limit possible from Santa
Bella to Westwood Harbor and made it there in under three hours. He didn't call the cops until he
hadn't heard from her in 45 minutes, and he had to make up a story to get them to check out her house,
but they found nothing once they got there. No forced entry, no Lucy, no nothing.
The next week, her car was found in the Pacific Ocean by some snorkelers. The story was it
had gone over a guard rail on a mountain road outside of Westwood Harbor. No body was found.
Craig had picked apart what they knew and didn't know so many times he could do it in his
sleep. But he was going to do it again. 1) They did not know who the creepy cop was. 2) They - his
cell phone rang, interrupting his thoughts.
"Hello?"
"Craig, it's Emma, I need help, can you come get me at the Coronado?" She sounded
breathless, scared.
Craig stood up and gathered his keys before her sentence was finished.
"Yes are you in the lobby?"
"No the restaurant."
He ran to the door quickly and yelled to Hawk as he was going out it "Going to the Coronado,
not sure why, possibly Norman related, don't think I need backup, will call when I can." and ran down
the hallway, shouldering open the big outside door and climbing into his truck. He reached under his
seat to the gun safe strapped to the floor and took out his sig 239, strapping it quickly to his boot
holster. He would have like to have it around his waist, but he had no other holster on him and
shoving it in his waistband wasn't safe.
He wasn't going to fail this woman like he failed Lucy.
Chapter 15.
Craig was at the Coronado within 5 minutes. He double parked outside and ran in to get her.
He entered the restaurant cautiously, watching all corners of the lobby and noting all the exits.
Emma was standing at the counter on the phone. The host was giving her dirty looks. She had no shoes
on and looked scared, but otherwise ok. "Emma."
She saw him, hung up the phone, and ran to him. He pulled her into his arms. She fit like she
belonged there.
"My truck is out front. Let's go."
She leaned against him and let him walk her there. Only when they got in the truck and locked
the doors did he relax a little.
"Where to?"
"My house."
She looked barely in control, and totally miserable. He wanted to push her for details but
knew that she would share when she was ready. She didn't seem to be hurt, so he was content to wait.
Emma didn't have her keys, so she walked around to the back and used the key hidden in a
fake rock by the sliding door. Just before she opened it she stopped, turning to Craig.
"Can-can we check the house for bugs again?" she whispered in his ear.
He raised an eyebrow but thought it was probably a good idea.
"Come with me to get the detector."
He led her outside and got it, then back in, and they swept the house in silence. Finding
nothing, he poured her some water and led her to the couch.
"Now tell me what happened Emma, why are you so scared?"
The dam broke. She burst into tears. She cried and cried for what seemed like hours, but was
probably only 5 minutes. Craig's heart physically hurt at the sound and he wished for something to hit.
Instead, he gathered her close, smoothed her hair, and whispered sweet things in her ear.
She sat up and wiped her face, making an effort to get herself under control. He waited.
"I was on a date."
A date? What the hell? So there is another man. The thought tore at his insides like
brambles.
"He tried to rape me."
Craig's fists clenched. His jaw clamped. He bit down on his tongue to keep some control over
himself. Now he really wanted to hit something. Specifically, he wanted to pound this asshole into a
pulp.
Emma watched his face closely, fear in her eyes.
"Craig, I'm sorry, it's just this doctor that I've been seeing even before you asked me out."
"It's OK Emma, we were never exclusive," he forced out through gritted teeth. "Here, I am
going to call the police."
"The police?" she asked unsure.
"Yes, you need to make a report if some guy tried to rape you."
"But, he didn't. He didn't rape me. What if, you know, what if?"
"What if Norman comes? Norman won't come. They will send a patrol officer over. Norman
is the Captain of Vice. They don't handle rape cases."
She looked a little reassured but not convinced.
"Did he hurt you?"
Her hands went to her throat. "He choked me." Her eyes dropped to her lap, embarrassed.
"Sweetheart," he lifted her chin, "you have nothing to be embarrassed or worried about. If a
man touches you in any way, uninvited, he is wrong, and you didn't do anything to cause it."
She started crying again. "He said that someone told him I wanted it that way. He said
someone told him I liked to play r-r-rough."
"Who told him that?"
She didn't answer for a minute. Just crying. "He said Jerry did, but I know Jerry didn't. Jerry
wouldn't!"
Craig thought for a minute. Jerry certainly didn't seem the type to do something like that. And
Jerry genuinely seemed to care for Emma as a good friend. Jerry doing it seemed unlikely. "Did he
say he talked to Jerry in person?"
Emma wiped her face again and considered the question. "I don't know. I don't think so."
"Because if someone told him this on the phone, it could have been anyone, just saying he was
Jerry. Does he know Jerry well?"
"No, he only met him once as far as I know. Jerry doesn't like him."
"Ok, and no matter who told him what, he still can't use that as an excuse for rape. We need to
call the police Emma."
"OK."
He called 911 and told the dispatcher to send an officer. He texted Hawk and told him
everything was OK. He considered getting Emma a beer or some wine, but no, that should wait until
after the police came and took her report.
A young officer that he didn't recognize came to take the report. Officer Brooks. He quietly
filled his notebook with details as Emma spilled them.
When Emma stoically recounted the part on the bed where she almost passed out, Craig had to
get up and walk around. He wanted to stay on the couch to comfort Emma but he felt about to bite his
tongue clean through with rage. He got up and paced. This Reece guy needed a lesson in how to treat
women.
"Ma'am you don't seem to have any bruises on your neck."
Emma's fingers fluttered to her throat and felt there. Craig walked over and looked too, turning
on a lamp. He didn't see bruises either, but he did see some redness and blotchiness.
"She will probably have bruises in the morning, but regardless, what does that matter?" Craig
asked the officer.
"I'm just pointing it out. I'll need to take pictures of any injuries, but I don't really see anything
to take a picture of."
The officer got up and went to his patrol car to call in the information. Craig had Emma come
into the bathroom and turned on the lights. He definitely saw redness in here. "Don't worry Emma, you
don't have to have injuries in order to report an attempted rape."
She just looked at him. Her demeanor worried him. She seemed defeated.
The officer came back in and asked for Jerry's number and address. Emma gave them to him
but admonished him again that Jerry wasn't the one who told Reece that, it must have been someone
else. "I know ma'am, but we still need to talk to him."
The officer took his pictures and had Emma fill out some paperwork. His dispatcher called
him on the radio so he went out to his car again. 10 minutes later he came back in with a different
attitude.
"Ma'am, a unit went out to talk to Reece Mishra, and he says that you told him you like it
rough, and you told him you wanted him to pretend like he was going to rape you."
Emma's mouth dropped open. "What, what he didn't I didn't" she sputtered.
Craig put an arm around her shoulders. "He's making that up," Craig told the officer.
"Were you there Sir?"
"No, I wasn't there, but if that's all a man has to say in this town to get out of rape charges then
we must be living in the 1950s back when men could hit their wives and the police would look the
other way!" Craig felt his blood boiling.
"It turns out that Mr. Mishra has two black eyes and a broken nose. He is calling for Ms Hill
here to be arrested for assault on him."
Emma pressed into him, her body shaking. Craig couldn't believe his ears.
"You aren't going to arrest her for defending herself are you?" he demanded of the officer.
"Look, I tell you what, why don't you just admit you might have overreacted a bit," the officer
addressed Emma, "and I'll see if I can get Mr. Mishra to admit the same thing. Just let this whole thing
blow over."
Craig was at a loss. He didn't know what to say or do. He'd never had this result with law
enforcement before. He usually was the law enforcement, or one of his buddies was, and they always
tried to err on the side of justice. That didn't seem to be what was going on here.
Emma spoke up, defeat in her voice. "He has my bag with my keys and wallet. And my shoes.
I just want them back."
The officer smiled. "I'll have the officer bring them over here Ms. Hill."
***
After the police left and Emma had her belongings back, Craig brought her that wine finally.
"Look Emma, I have a buddy who is in the FBI. We need to report this failure of the Westwood
Harbor police department to protect you. He can take your rape case, and he can straighten this mess
out.
Emma shook her head again. "No Craig, I just want to sleep. Thank you for caring, but this is
nothing new. I'm actually not surprised this happened."
"Look, let me just call him. He can come over and tell you what your options are."
He knew she didn't want to, but he also knew if he let this go by overnight, she would never
report it to anyone.
"Ok, but don't bug him, it's late already. If he's busy, he's busy."
"Ok" Craig got up and paced and texted Hawk. "Send Rollins over here. Tell him he's FBI.
Emma almost raped. Police won't take case because asshole wants to press charges too. Need a
report made."
"Roger," came the reply.
30 minutes later, Deniz "Dennis" Rollins knocked on the door. He was a tall, dark, half
Turkish and half Caucasian, and one of Craig's best friends. He cut an imposing figure in the blue suit
he was wearing. Craig wasn't sure what he had pulled Dennis away from, but he hoped it hadn't been
anything he was really going to miss. "Sorry man, thanks for coming," he told him at the door.
"Anytime Craig, I got your back." He turned to Emma.
"Miss Hill, I am so sorry for this predicament you are in. I would like to write up a report on
your case and send it to my boss. It's a big no-no for local departments to downplay violence of any
sort, but especially violence against women and children. Westwood Harbor PD is notorious for this,
and they are being investigated for other cases. I would like to add yours to them."
Emma studied him strangely, and didn't talk for the longest time. Dennis waited calmly. "Can
the FBI prosecute Reece?" she finally asked.
"The FBI will not prosecute a local case, but we can do the report and send it to the
prosecuting attorney. If he wants to pursue a conviction the local police will be nothing more than
investigative officers at that point. They will do any further investigating that needs to be done but
they won't be making any decisions about it."
Emma sat, thinking this over, her eyes crawling over Dennis' face. She seemed distracted. Not
there. Craig wondered if shock was setting in.
Emma tore her gaze from Dennis, with what looked like great difficulty. Craig watched her
turn her head to him, but her eyes stayed on Dennis. Finally, she looked straight at Craig, eyes too. He
smiled encouragingly. She gave a weak smile back and turned back to Dennis, saying, "Ok, what's the
next step?"
Craig sat patiently while Emma and Dennis did paperwork. He listened to the story again and
his blood boiled again. This doctor really needed a lesson in manners. Craig was itching to be the
one who gave it to him.
He refreshed Emma's wine and brought Dennis some water. He wondered how Emma would
feel about him staying the night. He could sleep on the couch. He would feel better if he did.
Dennis stood up. "That's it Miss Hill, thank you so much for letting me take this case. I will
forward it to my boss in the morning and she will send it up to the prosecutor's office.
"Ok, thank you very much, I really appreciate it," Emma replied. "Would you like any water?"
Dennis declined and motioned towards the door.
"How about some wine Agent uh, Rollins."
"No thank you, I have to get back to the office."
"Oh, ok, can I, uh, get your card?"
Craig watched Emma, confused again. She seemed flustered.
"Dennis patted his pockets and looked at Craig for help. "I don't think I have any on me."
Craig wasn't sure what to say either. Dennis didn't really work at the local FBI office, but he
did have ties there and the lead agent would accept reports from any of them. Damn, he didn't think of
this. He'd give her Hawk's number.
"I will write down his number for you Emma."
She looked to Dennis again for confirmation and he smiled and headed towards the door. She
followed.
They said their goodbyes and Dennis made his way to his car. Emma seemed on the verge of
following him. He took her hand and pulled her into the room. "Come relax, it's all done now."
She came with him a short way and then pulled out of his grip. "I need to ask him one more
thing. You stay here, I'll be right back."
And with that she left, leaving Craig feeling very confused. Oh that's right. He wasn't the hero
in this story. Sometimes he forgot he was "just" a firefighter right now.
He watched her run out to Dennis' car and talk to him through the open window. She kept
crossing and uncrossing her arms and pulling on a crease on her skirt. Nervous? Craig hoped she
wasn't telling him not to make the report after all. Dennis shook his head. Emma pasted on a smile and
said a few more words, then came inside.
Craig went into the kitchen to see if he could get her any food. She needed some normalcy. He
pulled some meat and salad out of the refrigerator and made her a plate. His phone buzzed. He would
check the text after he got her settled in.
He took the plate to her on the couch. Her eyes tracked his movements, her face crestfallen.
"How are you feeling?"
"Craig thank you so much for coming to get me. I really appreciate it. I don't know what I
would have done without you."
She sounded on the verge of tears.
Craig went to her, setting the plate down on the coffee table.
"Ah, Emma, it's OK. I would do it again a thousand times. I'm just glad you're OK."
"I don't - " she broke off, crying.
"Shhh, don't speak. It's fine. Just get it all out."
He tried to pull her close. She resisted, body rigid.
"I don't deserve you. I practically threw you out of here the other night," she finished.
"That doesn't matter Emma. That has nothing to do with this. You didn't want to get close or
you got scared or something, but you're still my friend and I am glad to help you."
She relaxed a little at this, but her body was still tense, her eyes still wet.
"Are you hungry?"
She glanced at the food and seemed to consider it. She nodded slightly, and Craig got her the
plate. As she took a few bites he checked his messages - Dennis' name filled the screen.
Dude - she asked me out on a date. I told her no.
Craig's mind reeled. Anger and disbelief battled to get the upper hand. She asked him out?
What in the Hell? Why would she do that? With my friend? Is she that kind of person? He looked
up from his phone to Emma. Horror at what he was probably reading showed plainly on her face.
"Craig, I, uh." There she went stammering again. This night was just filled with Emma tripping
over her words, wasn't it? She didn't seem to have any problem finding words with Dennis though.
Craig leapt to his feet. She was safe. His job was done. He was out of here.
"So Emma, like I said, I'm glad you're safe. I'm gonna go now."
And he went.
Chapter 16.
Emma couldn't believe her stupidity. She had to be the dumbest, most thoughtless, foolish,
senseless loser on the damn block.
Why, oh why did she ask Dennis out?
Well, she knew why. Because he was dark skinned and had dark hair and could have been the
man in her vision. But still! Craig had been here! Craig was friends with him. Craig brought him into
her life! And she didn't even have the good sense to wait a week or two if she absolutely had to ask
him out!
What was worse, she didn't even feel attracted to the man. He was OK looking, but definitely
not her type. What was going on with her? This vision was making her crazy!
Emma got up and locked the door, then rounded the house to make sure all the other doors and
windows were locked. Then she sat on the couch cross legged, arms over her head, and rocked
herself, calling herself a new name with every sway.
Loser. Jerk. Idiot. Horrible person. Mean. Simpleminded. Unthinking. Blockhead. Fool.
Senseless.
The list went on until she could think of nothing else. Her heart was sick. Her stomach was
sick.
She wanted to hurt herself. She wanted to pull her hair out by the roots or bang her head on the
table. She felt like she deserved it. That was all she deserved.
And Craig hadn't said a word to her. He hadn't yelled. He hadn't blamed. He had just left. And
now he was gone. What had she done? She pushed away the love of her life, the living, breathing,
sweetest, sexiest man she had ever met for a dream. A maybe. A could-happen.
Understanding crept into her brain slowly. Craig was the man in the vision. Sure, he couldn't
be the actual man she saw, because his hair wasn't the right color and his skin wasn't the right color
and she didn't think his voice was the same, but like she told Jerry, she knew the heart of the man in
the vision, and it was Craig's heart. He was strong and sweet and selfless and would have taken care
of her if she only had given him the chance.
And now she'd driven him away. He'd never forgive her, would he? Of course not, she didn't
deserve forgiving.
Emma's head hurt. She squeezed her eyes shut against the threatening tears. She couldn't cry
anymore. That was a relief she would now deny herself. She didn't deserve to cry.
She pulled at her hair and dug her fingernails weakly into her cheeks. Ohmigod I don't
deserve anything.
Emma slid off the couch and lay on the hard floor. Hard and cold like her stupid heart.
***
After a long night of fitful sleep on the floor, Emma was back at work early the next morning.
She had no good reason not to be there. She wasn't injured. The bruises that had finally materialized
on her throat were small, barely noticeable. Besides, she didn't deserve a day off. She felt dead, dull,
slow-witted. Her head was full of sand, her eyes scraped as she blinked.
She went about her morning checklist with no enthusiasm. Jerry sang a hi to her from outside
the ambulance.
"Hi Jer," she whispered.
They hit the road. Jerry started in on her immediately.
"Emma, what in the world is wrong with you? You look like someone ran over your puppy."
She pasted a pained smile on her face and in a small voice said "nothing Jer."
He looked straight at her for a second, eyes widening. They were passing a McDonalds. He
did a hard right into the parking lot and drove to the farthest stall in the lot.
He put the ambulance in park and turned, swinging his legs over the side of the seat to face her
completely.
"Emma, what in the world is going on? You have to tell me right now. Did someone die?"
Emma couldn't hold back the tears for one more second. Her face crumpled and her hands
flew to cover it.
"Oh Jerry no one died. I'm just the biggest idiot that ever lived," she wailed.
Jerry was at her side in a second, hunched over in the small cab. He held her tight and
smoothed her hair.
"No Emma, you're never an idiot, you're sweet and smart and fine. There, there, get it out."
The damn broke again, and again. The feelings she had tried to turn off all night because they
hurt so badly spilled down her cheeks and broke out her throat. She cried until her throat hurt and
Jerry held her tightly.
When she slowed a little, Jerry picked up the radio and told dispatch they were out of service
for 30 minutes. He locked the doors and said "Come on, lay down in the back and tell me everything."
Emma didn't know where to begin.
She took a deep breath, intending to tell him what she had done to Craig, but instead "Reece
almost raped me," came tumbling out of her mouth. She avoided looking at Jerry. He wasn't one to say
'I told you so', but he had been right about Reece and now they both knew it."
"That rotten bastard. Is he in jail?" Jerry spat.
"No," Emma covered her face with her hands. "He said you called him and told him I like it
rough. I fought him and hurt him and he told the officers he wanted to press charges against me so -"
The back ambulance door opened and Emma broke off, looking up. Jerry was out of the
ambulance, pacing, fists clenched, eyes on the pavement. She could see a vein in his forehead she'd
never seen before.
He stopped pacing and came to the door.
"He told you I called him and said you like it rough?" he demanded through gritted teeth. "That
bastard tried to use me to justify putting his hands on you? I'll kill him."
"Jerry, stop, calm down, I know you wouldn't tell him that," Emma pleaded.
"That's not the point!" Jerry yelled, and he was off pacing again.
After a few laps he stopped at the door again, his words slow and deliberate. "It doesn't
matter if you believe him or not. He still said it. Only a coward would do something like that. And
only a monster would rape women. This man doesn't deserve to be a doctor, much less a head of
surgery."
"He still might be prosecuted. An FBI agent came and took my report after the local PD
wouldn't do it."
"FBI? How did you get the FBI involved? Wait, wait. I want to hear the whole story from
beginning to end. I promise I won't freak out again."
Jerry climbed back in the ambulance and took Emma's hand. "Ok, go."
Emma told it, a shameful blush creeping it's way onto her face at first, beginning with
throwing Craig out of her house and deciding to call Reece and ending with the report to Agent
Rollins. She wanted to share the next part with Jerry too, but she couldn't just yet.
Jerry sat back, thoughtful, anger gone. "Well thank goodness you came to your senses and
called Craig. That man is just what you need Emma, you know that right?"
At this Emma lost it once more. She had an endless supply of tears, it seemed. She put her
hands over her face and tried to push them back.
"I messed that up Jerry."
"You messed it up - when? Didn't this all happen last night?"
"Yes. Agent Rollins? He had dark hair and dark skin."
Jerry didn't say anything for a few moments. Emma wasn't sure if he was in a state of disbelief
at her stupidity, or if he didn't get the connection.
"I asked him out," she whispered.
"In front of Craig?" Now she could tell. He was in a state of disbelief at her stupidity.
"He wasn't right there, but Agent Rollins told him after it happened."
"Ohmigod Emma, what did he do."
"He left. He didn't say anything. He just left."
Jerry gave a low whistle. "Emma, you have got to just forget about his vision. Whether it's
going to happen or not, it's ruining your life right now."
"I know!" she cried, dropping her hands and looking him in the face. "You are right Jerry, I
know you are right! I figured that out last night when Craig walked out of my life and my heart broke
into a hundred pieces!"
Her hands crept to her face again. "I'm such a jerk."
Jerry knelt down on the floor of the ambulance and pulled her hands away from her face.
"You're not a jerk Emma, you're just someone who had been through a lot more crap than most of us
will ever know or understand, and so sometimes your issues seem a little bigger. You can't help it that
you've never had a family, so all you want in the whole entire world is a family. That drives your
whole life and every thought in your head, especially since you've had this vision. That would mess
me up - it would mess anyone up. But I bet you can fix this."
Emma sat, dumbfounded at Jerry's insight into her issues. After a few moments she asked him,
"Fix it how?"
"You have to tell Craig the truth. He's a good guy, he will understand."
The truth. Tell Craig that the only reason she went to Reece and the only reason she asked out
Agent Rollins was because she had some stupid vision that told her one of them could be the love of
her life? But now she knew he was the love of her life and she was so sorry for messing things up?
Would he understand? Would he care?
The thought of telling him why she'd been so stupid caused a quivering feeling in her chest.
The thought of not telling him and possibly never working things out with him caused a weakness in
her legs and made her want to scream.
Jerry was right. She had to tell him. She had to share everything with him and hope he could
understand and forgive her.
She jumped up. "You're right Jerry. I will tell him. Pray he will understand." She stopped and
hugged him. "Thanks Jerry, you're so smart."
"Don't mention it Em. I'm going to call us back in service."
Emma grabbed her phone from the front and texted Craig.
I'm so sorry about last night. I had a good reason, or at least I thought it was a good
reason. Can you talk?
***
Three work days later, and Emma still hadn't talked to Craig. He hadn't responded for 2 days,
but finally he texted her back.
It's ok. It's fine. I don't really want to talk right now.
That response hurt her heart, but at least he had replied. She couldn't bring herself to look for
him at the firehouse. She knew an in-person rejection from him would shatter whatever small sense
she had that things would be OK. Miraculously, she hadn't seen him on a call lately. He must have had
a few days off.
Emma was trying hard to regain some sort of normalcy and keep hope alive in her heart. She
let herself sleep on the bed again, replaying Jerry's words over and over in her brain. She wasn't bad
- she just had a bit more issues than most people. It wasn't totally her fault.
Finally, she decided to write him a letter and explain it all. He might not want to talk to her,
but if he heard the reasons without having to talk to her hopefully he could forgive her. She allowed
herself small fantasies about what his reaction might be. Maybe he would call her and ask her out on
a date. Maybe they would run across each other on a call, and he would give her a small smile.
Maybe he would come to her house and when she opened the door he would take her in his arms and
kiss her like he had kissed her at his truck after the wind tunnel. Or like he had kissed her on her
couch.
With these big dreams in her heart she sat down and poured the whole story onto paper.
She told him about her past. How her mother had died in childbirth and there was no father's
name on her birth certificate, and no one had ever adopted her. Instead she entered the foster system.
Her first foster home had lasted until she was almost 2. She didn't remember it. Her second foster
family had lasted until she was 7. Her foster mom and dad had made all their money with welfare and
payments for being foster parents. They weren't horrible parents, but they didn't really care about her
or the other 4 children they fostered either. After her vision about the little girl that died, that family
had taken her back to social services. They didn't want a girl who was 'weird'. Emma had then lost
contact with Gigi, the oldest girl in the family. Gigi had been 10, and had taken care of Emma, singing
her to sleep, calming her fears, and soothing her hurts. Gigi had been like a real and true sister to
Emma and Emma had never seen her again. She still sometimes cried over the loss of Gigi, 23 years
later.
She shared how she had then bounced around a lot, never staying with a family for more than
2 years. When she was 15, one of the teenage boys, also a foster, in the family she was in had taken to
teasing her mercilessly in the home and at school. One day he pinned her to the ground behind the
shed on the property they lived on and ripped her underwear off. He was touching her all over and
her scrabbling hands found a good-sized rock. She pried it out of the dirt and brought it down on his
skull, then stood over him feeling more helpless than she ever had in her life as he shook on the
ground, blood leaking from his ear. Finally, she started screaming, which brought the family on a run.
She shared how she was kicked from that family and went straight to a home for girls. She was never
charged with anything, but she never found out if the boy lived or died or recovered or what.
She explained how that had been a defining moment in her life, trying to keep too much
emotion out of her words, hoping he would see that these experiences shaped her, but didn't rule her.
In the home for girls she had set out to escape the system. She spent every spare moment in the library
or at her job grooming animals for a veterinarian. She saved $3000 and petitioned to be emancipated
at 16. The court granted it and just like that she was on her own. She had to leave the home within 7
days, and her plan had been to find an apartment, but even with her emancipation letter in hand, no
one would rent to her. On the last day before she was going to be homeless she heard the 1-800-GO-
ARMY commercial on the radio and called it. Yes, the army would take an emancipated 16 year old
as long as she was at least halfway to her 17th birthday.
She was, and so she joined. Boot camp and medic training were easy, compared to living in
foster homes. She made friends, although she never got too close. The boys liked her but she was
scared of getting pregnant, so she held them all at arms length. There was no way she was ever going
back into the system. She wanted freedom, independence, and a real and true family, so she would
wait for the right boy.
Finally, she found a boy who pursued her even though she tried to hold him at arms length. He
was strong and sweet and handsome, and he never looked at any of the other girls who fawned all
over him. He only seemed to have eyes for Emma. She was a working in the emergency room of the
Brooke Army Medical Center at the time. He was a medic attached to an infantry unit, and was often
pulled in to the E.R. to run sick call for the units. They spent many hours discussing getting married
when their tours were over and buying a house and having kids and a dog. If you combined their
savings, they had almost $31,000. They didn't need much to live on in the Army.
Then he got deployed with his unit to Afghanistan. He never came home. Emma had had
enough loss at this point. She pulled in on herself, shunning even her friends.
When her tour was over, she was 21 years old. She felt 51 - maybe 71. Dried up, and ready to
be done with it all. There was no joy or sunshine in her life. She paid for paramedic school and tried
to find a reason to be happy.
Emma thought about whether Craig would want to hear about Norman, and she decided that
yes. He needed to hear every sad detail to truly know her and understand why she did what she did,
and when it was all out in the open, she would never hide who she was again.
Emma wrote about finishing school, returning to Westwood Harbor, and getting a job - then
meeting Norman - how he was a young patrol officer who turned women's heads everywhere he went.
Even Emma noticed him. She didn't give him a second thought though, because he had a reputation of
being a playboy. She had never wanted that.
Well when he set his sights on her she knew it. He was charming, and intensely focused. He
sent flowers frequently. Sometimes he would go out and hand pick them for her. He would monitor
her radio and show up when she was eating lunch, plying her with questions about herself, and then he
would bring her gifts related to the things she loved the most. She felt flattered, loved, cared for, and
wanted. Something she had never felt in all of her childhood. Slowly, she let him in. When they dated
he seemed to good to be true. She had no idea that meant he probably was. He forgave her anything.
He never got angry. The only emotion he showed to her was happiness and love. He was a tender
lover, always putting her needs first. Would she marry him? Of course she would. She was in love
with him. Or with the man he was pretending to be. He brought her happiness.
The evening of their wedding, after it was over, was the first time she saw a flash of the real
Norman. She had danced with him first of course, and then the best man had asked her to dance. She
did, thinking it was tradition. Norman had seemed cold after that, but she didn't know what to think of
it. He'd never said a cross word to her ever.
That night, in their suite, he had argued with her, saying she danced with his best man for too
long and she shouldn't have touched her body to his. She was dumbfounded. She had never heard him
yell before.
Within a month he hit her, just once, a backhand slap across the face because she forgot to
bring home something he asked her to get at the store. She left the house and didn't come back.
He apologized. Said he'd been under a lot of stress at work. Said he couldn't believe he had
done it. He became dating Norman again. She found herself crumbling, but didn't want to become one
of those abused women, but also didn't want her marriage to fail. She had dreamed of marriage and
her own family for so long.
Everything was good for two months, then she came home early one day and found him in her
bed with a hooker. A hooker whose face was swollen and red, like he'd been hitting her while
screwing her. As Emma left, this time for good and forever, she thought to herself that she really
didn't know anything about Norman's past. She'd never met his parents or siblings or even any aunts
or uncles. None had come to the wedding - he'd said his siblings were busy and on the East Coast,
and his mom and dad were sick and not able to travel. But he'd never shared even a story from his
childhood. For the first time she wondered if she wasn't the only one in the marriage with issues.
Norman contested the divorce but the judge granted it anyway. Norman followed Emma for
almost a year, trying to convince her to take him back. She had almost filed a restraining order against
him many times, but that would have gotten him fired. She didn't want that on her conscience.
Finally, he backed off. And the rest Craig knew. When she tried to date after about a year,
Norman ran the men off. Finally she had just given up. She buried her dreams in overtime.
She did, however decide it was time to get healthy. She went to therapy and read books on
how to recover from a childhood like she had. She made a lot of progress, and still went to see her
doctor occasionally to look for new ways to break through the pain of her past.
Craig had to understand - she wasn't asking for pity. Just baring her soul so maybe he could
understand why she did what she did just a little bit.
Then she explained about the vision she had, in which she had seen what she thought was her
future husband, and he loved her. The joy from the vision overshadowed every hurt she'd ever felt.
This was the man who would be the anti-Norman. He would love her always and be who he said he
was and take care of her, and they would have a large family together. That was what she thought
anyway. And the man in the vision had dark hair and dark skin.
So even though she had grown to love Craig, she pushed it aside and kicked him out of her
life. She was still chasing the vision with desperation. That's what made her go to Reece's apartment.
That's what made her ask out Dennis. That's what made her tell Craig no when she really wanted to
tell him yes.
And now, now she realized her folly. She was done with the vision. Whether she ever met the
man or not, the man she wanted was Craig. Life is for living as it happens, and she realized that now.
Emma re-read the letter and almost tore it up. She felt shame burn her cheeks at how messed
up she was. Craig really would not want her now. But no. She straightened her spine and hardened
her resolve. This was her and she had promised herself a long time ago she wouldn't hide who she
really was anymore. If he could read this and forgive her and possible see her again, then he was a
better man than she deserved. But she would work to deserve his love.
She sealed the letter, put a stamp on it, and mailed it to his address.
Chapter 17.
Craig pulled out the thick fire hose and started checking it for kinks. It was a slow day, and he
needed to do something to keep his mind off Emma. He had gotten her letter 2 days ago. He hadn't
read it at first, but the weight of it called to him. He couldn't imagine what she could say that would
excuse her behavior that night. But he got curious. Obviously she was going to try.
After reading the letter he really didn't know what to do. He had liked Emma so much - maybe
he had even been approaching that edge between like and love. She was everything he had ever
wanted in a woman, and so much like his sweet Lucy, the woman he had thought he was going to
marry. But then she rejected him twice. And now the letter. Her past hurt his heart, tore at his soul.
But he had personally seen that although she might have been scarred by it, she wasn't destroyed by it.
She had learned to love and care and find joy again. His admiration for her deepened. But he did still
feel hurt by her rejection, and a little concerned that maybe she wasn't as healed as she thought she
was.
Most of his being wanted to run to her and kiss away every indignity she had ever suffered.
The rest of him was scared. Scared that she might see this man in someone else and push him away
again.
He didn't want to think about it anymore, he just wanted some peace in his aching brain. So he
hauled out another fire hose and went over it even more closely.
Behind him, a large white sedan pulled into the driveway.
He walked over, waving it away, "Hey, you can't park there - you'll block in the firetruck."
Norman Foster got out of the car in plain clothes, badge in hand, large gun on hip.
"This will just take a second," he said, his face a rock.
Craig stopped short, frenzied thoughts filling his head. Norman had no idea that Craig knew
who he was did he? No he couldn't, and Craig wanted to keep it that way. This couldn't be good news
though, for whoever Norman wanted to see.
"Craig Masterson work here?"
Craig sucked in his breath, but cut it off short. What kind of a fuck-up was this?"
"That's me."
An angry sneer crossed Norman's face for a second. He looked Craig up and down, probably
trying to figure out who would win in a fight. Craig put his money squarely on himself, knowing he
outweighed Norman by a good 30 pounds of muscle. Norman fought dirty, though.
"That's you huh? What are you boy, stupid?"
Craig blinked at the insult. Boy? Stupid? What was going on here? Was he about to get a good
dose of Norman's scare tactics firsthand?
Norman shook his head disgustedly at Craig's lack of an answer. "You must be stupid, seeing
as how you are sniffing up my tree."
Holy shit, is my cover blown?
"Your fucking tongue broken?"
Craig wiped his hands on a shop towel and considered his possible answers. None seemed
safe so he kept quiet.
"You really are a stupid idiot. Well let me just lay it all on the line right here."
Norman sauntered forward and jabbed a finger into Craig's chest. "You stay away from Emma
Hill. She don't belong to you."
Emma! This is about Emma! He's still doing this!
"You stay out of her house." Jab. "You stay out of her car." Jab. "You stay out of her life."
Jab. "She's mine."
Craig finally had enough of the jabbing. He grabbed Norman's finger off his chest and yanked
it backwards, hoping to tear some tendons.
Norman's eyes widened and his face contorted. He bent backwards with his finger, trying to
alleviate the pain.
With his other hand, Craig whipped his phone out of his pocket, swiped the screen with his
thumb, and face timed Hawk, holding the phone at arm's length, facing him so Norman couldn't see.
"Emma's not yours." Craig growled, giving one final heave backwards against Norman and
then he let go.
Norman's hand dropped to his gun and he popped the snap on the holster, pulling the gun out
an inch.
Hawk picked up right away. "Go."
"There's a cop here threatening me, I'm going to show him to you."
A finger covered Hawk's lens.
Craig pointed the phone at Norman. "You going to shoot me Officer? What did you say your
name was again? I don't have anything in my hands but my phone and I'm not attacking you, but you are
pulling your gun out?"
Norman looked at the phone and back at Craig. A calm mask dropped over his features.
"Of course not," I was just going to take my holster off. Sometimes I find it intimidates
people." His hands found the buckle at his waist, working it. He walked back to his car and tossed the
holster and gun in the open window.
"I think this might be a misunderstanding. Why don't you hang up the phone and we can talk
about it."
"OK." Craig mimed swiping the screen and put the phone down on the length of hose curled
up in the firetruck, then he crossed his arms and widened his stance and waited to hear what other
gems were going to come out of Norman's mouth. He felt almost giddy over the encounter. Norman
Foster was getting sloppy.
"Look, Craig? We got off on the wrong foot here. I don't want to be your enemy. I don't have
many enemies. Anymore. All I'm saying is I don't think you are good for Emma, and if you know what
is good for both of you, you will leave her alone. She has a lot of issues, you know? I'm just trying to
keep her safe."
"I think I can keep her safe," Craig responded.
Norman's eyes narrowed. "Well, I guess you could try, but she has a lot of issues, you know.
Her addiction, and how she pays for the blow."
Craig's mind spun. He knew Norman was both lying and baiting him, but he still couldn't
believe the lies coming out of this man's mouth.
"Her addiction?"
"You never noticed? You've never seen her head for the bathroom too often? Or just excuse
herself? She does cocaine man."
Craig felt his temperature rising at the words coming out of this monster's mouth. His hands
itched to punch some part of Norman's body. But he needed to know what Norman was going to say
next. And he also needed to stay out of jail tonight. He looked down, hoping Norman would interpret
this as yes or maybe.
"She's asked me for help and I'm trying to help her, but she just keeps getting back on the stuff.
At least the whoring hasn't been as bad lately. When she runs out of money, she fucks the dealers as
payment."
Craig suddenly knew that Norman had been the one who called that prick who tried to rape
Emma. He posed as Jerry and told some stories, and Emma almost paid the price.
Craig couldn't take it for one more second. He roared and rushed Norman. Norman
sidestepped him easily and laughed. He had been baiting Craig, waiting for this reaction. Craig
stopped short, checked his rage with effort, and danced back towards Norman, looking for an
entrance. Norman stood there, and dropped his guard. Craig knew if he touched Norman he was going
to jail tonight, but he didn't care. He just wanted to get his hands on Norman long enough to let him
know how it felt to be on the receiving end of a fist.
He leaned forward, about to take him down, when someone yelled. "Craig don't do it man!"
Frankie was in the bay. Craig hadn't heard him enter but he was here, running towards them.
Chapter 18.
7 days, that's a week. 7 days. 7 days. 7 days. Emma chanted inside her head. It had been 7
days since she had sent the letter to Craig, and she hadn't heard from him. She saw him on a call twice
in those 7 days, but both times they had been too busy to talk, and both times he hadn't gotten close
enough to her for a glance or a smile, seemingly on purpose. She was getting desperate. So desperate
in fact, that she had just volunteered to work the Crystal Creek Wildfire in order to get her mind off
things. Wildfires were back-breaking work with no room for error, and they could go on for weeks.
She knew from experience that if she made it home anytime in the next few days or weeks to sleep,
she would drop into bed so exhausted she wouldn't even dream.
She was driving the big red tanker truck out to the first firebreak - almost an hour drive from
Westwood Harbor, but it took closer to two hours in this monster. The water alone that she was
hauling probably weighed 14,000 pounds. As the road got smaller and more like a switchback, her
thoughts of Craig were pushed to the back of her mind as she wrestled with the big truck. She was
glad to see them go.
She'd been able to see the smoke for the entire drive, and smell it for 30 miles, but now the
road on both sides of her was blackened and still smoking. She was close.
She found her unit and unloaded, putting on her gear. It was early morning, and the air was
still breathable - the fire still low and light. The bulk of the fire would be here in 8 hours or less, and
they were going to try to widen this firebreak and save some homes in a small subdivision on the
other side of the road.
Emma got her orders and headed out with her partners. They burned brush, dug out roots and
small trees, and followed the bulldozers, picking up what they missed. By 3 p.m. Emma was
exhausted. By 8 p.m. she was falling down on her feet. So far so good though, the fire had come to the
edge but hadn't hopped the firebreak yet. They just hoped it was wide enough.
A nighttime crew came in to relieve them. Emma was relieved to head home for the night; they
would need the tanker truck full again in the morning. She drove slowly, eyes heavy, mind still. She
watched the underbrush on the south side of her truck, looking for where the fire ended. Found it - she
noted the mile marker and tried to call it in but had no response. She stopped the truck, both to rest
and to try to reach the scene commander again. Sometimes the radio worked better when the truck
was still.
She had driven about three miles. She turned off the engine and looked at the stars. Man it was
gorgeous out here. It seemed she could see the entire milky way.
"CCF, FF 238," she called, still looking up at the stars. Nothing. That's OK, she could wait
another couple of minutes. If she didn't hear anything by then she would try dispatch.
Emma held her breath, and stretched her head towards the woods. Was that a scream she
heard?
The fire was close, but she couldn't see any burning where she was. She wondered if there
was a house back there. She got out with her flashlight to investigate.
There, that was definitely a scream. She got her gear on, wondering if she would find a
human, or if that was an animal terrified enough to sound like a person.
"CCF 24, FF 238," she called for the scene commander on the radio again. No answer still.
Damnit, was she in a dip?
She switched frequencies, hoping to get central dispatch. "PAP-65, FF 238," she called.
"Standing by," came the reply.
"I am in Vehicle 42, approximately a tenth of a mile west of mile marker 436, and I am
hearing screaming in the woods on the south side. I am heading in to investigate. I am unable to
contact CCF 24."
"Do you have a partner FF 238?"
"Negative."
"10-4, will contact Scene Commander for you. Stand by."
Emma put the handset down and walked into the woods, carrying a pickaxe. She knew it was
possible that she would be told to stand down until someone could reach her on the next transmission,
so she made sure she wasn't there to hear it. Lives could be in danger. She had to help if she could.
She didn't hear any more noises, but tried to head in the general direction where it had been
coming from. She was counting her paces, and had walked for about 1/3 of a mile due south, tying
strips of orange tape to trees every 20 feet, so she could be followed. There wasn't a lot of
underbrush here, so going was easy. The smoke smell was stronger though, and she saw a glow up
ahead. There. Another rough scream. Damn, she was about 80% sure that was an animal. If she were
100% sure she might have turned back. Not because animals weren't worth saving, but because if she
got in trouble, other firefighters would be sent in to save her, and that was dangerous at night.
Dangerous all the time, but worse at night. If a person got hurt because she was saving a wild boar
she would never forgive herself.
Until she was sure though, she had to keep going. "Hello?" she called. "Anyone there?"
Nothing.
Then something. "Help!"
Faint, but definitely human. Oh man, that voice sounded tortured. She picked up her pace.
"Hello, I can hear you, where are you?" she called out.
Silence. Damn.
Ahead she saw what looked like a small building. The fire looked close. Within 100 feet of it
she could tell it was a hunter's shack. Rough walls painted camouflage, only about the size of a large
bathroom. The door was standing open. She approached carefully and shined her flashlight in, but
there was nothing.
"Hello, where are you?" She called again to the south.
Faintly, she heard a cough. She started off in the direction of it. More southwest than due
south. She tied a piece of orange tape and then another only 5 feet away to show her change in
direction.
The fire was getting closer, the smoke was getting stronger, and the woods were getting hotter.
She picked up her pace, hoping to get to the person before the fire swallowed him or her.
Another hunter's shack, this one smaller. She swept it with her flashlight. There, on the bare
ground, a man. She could see the wet glint of exposed bone in his thigh from here. "I'm here, I'll get
you out of here, what happened?" she said in one breath, falling to her knees and grabbing her bag.
He was unconscious. But she had found him! She said a short prayer of thanks and positioned
her flashlight so she could see and opened her bag. She had a small aid kit with her. It wasn't standard
wildfire gear, but she always packed and carried one on any special operation. No splints but plenty
of bandages. She ran outside and gathered up some sticks she could use to splint his leg, dropping the
two smoldering ones she found. Damn! The fire was right there. She could hear the crackle and
whoosh of it. Her heart thumped hard in her chest and her forehead went icy cold, despite the sweat
on her brow. She had to get this man out of here within 10 minutes or less or they were toast.
With the sticks and two ace bandages she had him splinted up in less than 2 minutes. She was
glad to cover the bone. It ran through her mind that she hadn't even checked to see if he was still alive.
Her eyes went to his face and her fingers to his neck. He opened his eyes and locked on to hers.
"Water," he whispered. She unholstered the bottle from her belt and held it to his lips. He drank
greedily.
"I'm going to get you out of here. It's going to hurt when I move you, but we have to go fast.
The fire is close."
He searched her eyes, then nodded.
She swept the flashlight over him and estimated his height at 6 feet and his weight at 250
pounds. Damn. She was only about 150 pounds.
"I have to build a travois. It's a kind of sled. It will take me 5 minutes. Stay here. Can you hold
the bottle?"
He held out his hand. It shook. She gave him the bottle and ran outside with her gear,
searching the ground.
There were no sticks long enough to do the job. She eyed the trees closest to her for branches
low and thin enough that she could break them.
That one would work. It's lowest branch was about 4 feet above her head, and only an inch
thick. She ran to it and jumped with all her strength, missing by inches. Damn. She circled below it
and looked for another. Not seeing any she decided to try again. This time she dropped her belt to the
ground first.
She backed up farther and jumped, catching hold with both hands. The branch cracked
immediately and she fell to the ground. The stick was about 10 feet long - it would have to do. Now
to find another. She picked up her belt and pickaxe and started looking.
She walked towards the fire three feet and got lucky. A small tree, barely more than a sapling,
already bending at an angle, but close to 10 feet long. She thrust her weight against it and it gave,
falling mostly over. She put her foot on it and chopped the base with her pickaxe until it was free.
She ran back to the building with her two sticks. Her world had narrowed to the job and she
was barely aware of the fire eating the brush within a few feet to her left. The sweat poured off of
her.
She needed one more stick - actually she needed 4 or 5 more sticks but she only had time for
one more stick. She prayed the night stayed calm. Just one tiny gust of wind towards her and the fire
would be upon them. She coughed at the smoke burning her lungs. She pulled up her kerchief over her
mouth and set to work.
She found one more stick about 4 feet long and positioned her sticks: the two long ones
parallel to each other and about 3 feet apart with the third stick crossing them near one end. She had
duct tape and she got it out quickly, willing her hands to work faster.
A spark jumped onto her sleeve and she smelled fabric burning. Her sleeve was on fire! She
beat it out absentmindedly with her other hand and wrapped tape around where the sticks connected,
over and over.
She felt a sharp pain in her head and smelled hair burning. Damn. She beat her head with her
hand and looked around wildly. The fire had her surrounded. It was everywhere. The roof of the
hunting shack was smoking.
She worked faster, winding the tape around the junctions. She had to be able to move this man
far and fast.
There! That had to be good enough. She grabbed all of her ace bandages and wrapped them
loosely around the sticks making a platform or bed between the parallel sticks.
This had to work. The skin on her neck was blistering from the heat. She tied knots and went
over it all one more time with duct tape at the same time as she dug a circle in the brush around her
with her booted foot, trying to keep the fire off of her. She said a prayer to God. Please help us find
our way and make it out before we burn. Amen.
She dragged her sled into the shack and found the man unconscious again, her water spilled on
the ground. She positioned the sled to one side of him and got on the other side. She pulled the
clothing at his shoulder and hip towards her, lifting his back off the ground. He was heavy, but she
was desperate. He felt like a feather.
She pulled the sled under him and laid him down on it. No time to be gentle. The walls were
smoking now, and the roof was actually burning. Time to get out of here.
Emma didn't have room to turn the sled around so she had to drag it by the wrong end. Please
God, Please God, she chanted in her head.
She got it fully out, and ran around to the front, stepping inside the one stick she had taped to
the two others, praying that everything would hold. She lifted her end and started forward, pawing her
feet into the ground like a mule.
Yes! Everything was holding together. They were moving. Now which way? She looked back
the way she had come. Fire. But everywhere she looked there was fire! Her only hope was to head
towards the road, not further into the forest and not parallel to the road. They would have to go
through the fire and hopefully come out the other side.
She dragged him through the fire. It was slow going. Her boots protected her feet. She
wondered if duct tape was flammable. She looked back and saw everything looked good, for now. He
was still unconscious, but he wasn't sliding off the sled and he wasn't on fire, so that was as good as
she could have hoped for.
Fire pushed in from all sides, even above them. He let out a yelp and she looked backwards.
A burning branch had fallen on his face. She slapped it off with one hand, still moving. Her lungs
were burning. A wracking cough hit her, but still she pushed the sled. They were dead if she stopped.
The air cooled a bit. She sucked in great lung-fulls of fresher air. She looked around - the fire
was still pressing in on them from all sides, but she thought it looked darker up ahead. Yes! They
were going to make it!
She dug in harder and pulled them faster. He groaned from the back. She looked and his legs
were dragging on the ground. She would have to stop soon and pull him up higher on the sled.
She kept going.
She needed to stop and check her compass, but she just didn't have the time. She hoped they
weren't too far off course. The fire was falling away little by little, but it was still close enough that a
small gust of wind could whirl it around them in an instant. Her blood pounded in her ears.
She tried to push harder but she was coming up on the edge of the reserves of her strength.
Pretty soon, she'd be going on nothing but willpower.
She heard a crack behind her. Gunshot? No, a tree falling. She peeked back and saw it. A
monster tree, at least 6 feet around, and it was falling their way. Panic shot through her chest, giving
her energy. She dug in and pushed harder. It fell against another tree and smashed all the branches
down one side of that tree as it fell. Emma heard every branch pop one after another. She hoped that
second tree was solid and not going to fall too. This was an old forest and there hadn't been a fire up
here for decades.
She heard a wild creaking. Oh man that second tree was going too. If it came her way she was
in trouble. She heard the creaks and groans and a final loud ripping sound as it's roots ripped out of
the ground. She pushed as hard and as fast as she could, ducking her head.
The tree crashed to the ground three feet to her right and one of the branches caught her in the
back, forcing a startled shriek from her throat and pinning her to the ground. As she fell she thought
I'm Sorry to the man she was trying to help. Her head hit the ground hard. The forest went dark.
Chapter 19.
Craig drove up the winding mountain road to the Crystal Creek Wildfire watching the stars
through his windshield. There were so many to see up here. He was late, coming in at least an hour
behind most of the crew, but he had only just gotten this assignment. Apparently 4 firefighters had
been hurt as soon as they got there tonight and had to be evac-ed out and more bodies were needed.
This wasn't the kind of job Hawk wanted him doing, but Craig was glad to be assigned. He really
enjoyed firefighting. Maybe someday he'd quit the FBI and be a firefighter for real. He didn't want to
still be working dangerous undercover jobs when he had kids.
The thought of kids made him think of Emma and her letter. He still hadn't called her. He
wanted to but his brain was holding him back. Some hurt, teenage, angsty part of him was still mad
that she had rejected him and asked out his friend in front of him. Quit being a baby. She explained
that decision in her letter. Everyone makes mistakes, he chastised himself. Yeah, he was making a
big one right now by ignoring her. She was simply the most amazing woman he'd ever met, and he
was playing some stupid game with her.
He knew he was going to need to make a once and for all decision soon, and either get over
this completely, or go the other way and reject her. The thought of telling her he didn't want to see her
anymore made his mouth dry and his stomach hurt. But still his brain wouldn't let him swallow his
pride and fully forgive her. He sighed. God he was an idiot.
Thank God Frankie had saved him from killing Norman back at the bay. If he had done what
he wanted to do to Norman, he'd be in jail right now, his cover would be blown, Hawk's cover would
probably be blown, and they would have had to start back at square one. God but Norman was just
the worst kind of man - scratch that. Norman wasn't a man, he was a weasel. Craig still remembered
his weasel face, pinched and angry saying "next time your friends won't be around to save your ass,"
before he got in his car and sped off.
Craig's thoughts were pulled back to the here and now by a blast of hot air dumping in through
the truck window. Now the air felt 15 degrees hotter in an instant. He sniffed and looked around. The
smoke smell was stronger here, and he could see a glow off to the south. It looked like the fire was
only 15 feet away in the woods. Time to get serious about the job at hand so he didn't get hurt. He'd
give his brain 1 more day to sleep on the Emma situation and then he was making some hard and fast
decisions. She deserved that much.
He drove in silence, trying to remember what he'd been taught in training about fighting
wildfires. Ahead, the swirling lights of a fire vehicle made him think he had made it to the scene. But
it was too soon. What the heck?
As he came across the vehicle, it was a tanker, empty, off, and with lights flashing, just sitting
in the road. He parked his truck behind it, got out and called "Hello? Anybody here?"
How strange. He got on the radio in his truck and tried to call the scene commander but got no
answer. He heard the radio in the tanker crackle. He walked over to the tanker. The mic was on the
drivers seat and dispatch was calling. "Firefighter 238, Firefighter 238, answer please." The voice
was strained with worry.
A bolt of worry shot through Craig, making his head hurt. That was Emma's badge number! He
grabbed the mic. "This is Firefighter 465, I am at an abandoned tanker truck in the middle of the road.
What is going on?"
"Firefighter 465, FF 238 heard screaming from the woods almost 30 minutes ago at that
location, on the south side of the road. She hasn't answered since. We don't know where she is. No
one has been able to break away from the wildfire scene yet to check on her."
Craig's stomach lurched and the hand holding the mic shook. "I'm going in Central, send us
some backup. I have a handheld let me test it."
He tried his handheld radio. "Central FF 465 10-18" Nothing. He tried again.
"You are scratchy and faint, but I can hear you 465," came the reply, but Craig could only hear
it from the truck, not from his handheld. Oh well, it would have to do. He as going in no matter what.
He started off at a jog towards the south, but stopped short. As an afterthought he ran back to his small
truck and rummaged around under the seat till he found the flare gun. Just in case.
He ran into the woods at a breakneck speed, not even feeling the branches smacking him in the
face. Every step brought hotter air, like he was running into a blast furnace? Emma was in here? How
could she survive in this? He spotted orange tape around a tree. His heart surged with admiration for
her; she was always so prepared and so careful. His throat clenched at the thought of his sweet Emma
pausing long enough to wrap tape around this tree. Emma please, just be OK. I forgive you. Please
forgive me for being such a jerk. Please be OK. I need you. I'm so sorry.
Just like that, every hurt feeling he had felt, every bad thought that had flashed through his
mind was gone, burnt up like fire in his worry and panic. He would do anything to see her OK again.
When he found her he would fall on his knees and beg her forgiveness. Just please God let her be
OK.
In a flash he understood everything. He knew how desperation had made her do something
outside of her character and that she didn't really mean to do it. She thought it was the way to her
future happiness. He knew right now that she was the way to his future happiness. He prayed inside
his head that he would get a chance to tell her.
He ran faster.
The forest around him was no longer green, everything was orange and hot, like an oven. He
had run right into the fire without even realizing it. The hot air tore at his throat. He pulled up short
and looked around. 4 feet ahead to his left was tape around a tree, burning brightly. Emma's tape.
He squeezed his eyes shut in denial. Opened them again. Nothing had changed. The skin on his
face felt and smelled like it was burning. He walked backwards 20 feet, just out of this part of the fire
to find some cooler ground. He dug down in the dirt and smeared it on his face and hair, hoping to
protect them from the fire.
He looked at the fire in front of him again and shook his head. No. She couldn't survive in that.
Unless she had dug a hole? Or deployed her shelter? His mind grasped at straws - she had to be alive
- had to!
Think damnit think! Should he go in? He'd likely burn up within 50 feet. He should be turning
around and running for the road right now.
He had his fire shelter. He could wrap it around him and just run. No, he'd run out of air. He
could try to go around the fire to the other side. Maybe she was holed up somewhere and needed help.
He heard something to his left. A cracking, straining, ripping sound. A tree falling. More
cracking. A shriek. A woman's scream, then cut off abruptly. His head jerked around, his ears
straining. That had to be Emma!
He took off at a run, flanking the front edge of the fire. His mind filled only with the need to
get to her before the fire did.
His legs pumped relentlessly. He willed his lungs to use the air and his throat not to cough. He
hurdled downed trees like they were lincoln logs.
There, he saw the big tree that had just fallen. He ran to it and jumped on top of it, straining to
see in the meager light. He looked around in a 360 but saw nothing. He pulled out his flashlight and
walked along the trunk of the tree, sweeping first one side and then the other.
A flash of orange caught his eye. Her coat! His heart leaped in his chest. She was so still,
laying on the ground. "Emma!"
He ran to her, pushing through sticks and branches. She was caught under the branches from
the tree that had fallen, her face to the ground. There was a man laying right behind her on his back. A
hunter from the looks of it, with a bandaged leg. With a might yank and a roar ripping from his mouth
he broke the branches from the tree that were covering the two people and tossed them to the side. He
had them free.
He slipped off his gloves and checked the hunter's pulse first, scared to check Emma's.
Thready, barely there. This man was in trouble. Emma had him on some sort of a sled and had been
pulling him to the road.
"Central, FF 465, send me a chopper. I need medical evac," he yelled into his radio.
"Oh honey, you gotta be OK," he whispered, putting his fingers to her throat. Strong and
regular, her pulse spoke to him, told him she was going to live, if he could just get her out of here.
"Oh God," he choked, a sob building in his chest.
"Emma honey, you hold on, my brave warrior, I am gonna get you out of here."
Craig looked backwards at the fire behind them. It was closing in. They were in an oven and
within a few minutes, they would be engulfed in flames. He had to get these two people out of here
and fast. He shouted into the radio again "Central, FF 465, I need two choppers, send them to the
tanker 3 miles west of the scene on Crystal Creek Road. I can't hear you on my radio but get those
birds in the air! I have two patients here, one certainly critical, the other possibly critical.
Craig looked around again and knew what he had to do. There was no choice. He said a little
prayer for Emma's spine and prayed she would be OK when he moved her.
Then he rolled her over. She was unconscious, her eyes and mouth slack. Her forehead and
left eye were purple and swollen where they had hit a rock partially buried in the dirt. His heart
rolled over at the thought of his lovely Emma hurt, unconscious, in pain.
He hoisted her into a sitting position and picked her up under arms, gently placing her over his
shoulder in a fireman's carry. He stepped inside the sled she had made and lifted the handle, bracing
it against his midsection so he could steady her with both hands and not jostle her too much.
He pushed forward, feeling the weight of the sled behind him. Admiration filled him at what
she had made, and what she had done. This woman was amazing. He wanted her to love him, he
wanted her to be all his.
He pushed them out of there, one agonizingly slow step at a time. He had to make it to the
road. There they would be safe. Even if the fire reached the road and jumped the road, they could
hole up in the tanker if they had to.
Craig pushed and prayed and when he reached the road he thought his desperate mind was
playing tricks on him at first. No, there it was. He said a little prayer of thanks and pulled them up the
embankment.
He could hear the chopper coming up the mountain. Relief flooded him. He laid Emma down
as gently as he could on the asphalt and dropped the sled. He grabbed the flare gun from his pocket
and shot a flare straight up. That should help.
He knelt next to Emma and checked her pulse again. Still there. Still strong. He went to the
man on the sled, he still had a pulse too, but his face was ashen. He had to go first. As much as he
would have liked to have gotten Emma on the first bird, he knew the right thing to do was send this
man first.
The helicopter came into view. Craig ran to the truck and got more flares, marking a landing
pad, then he ran back to his patients to protect them from the buffeting winds as the helicopter set
down. The fire had reached the embankment, and the hot winds carried ashes and burning sticks.
The medic jumped out with a board before the bird was all the way on the ground and ran
over to him. Craig pointed to the man. "He's got to go" he tried to yell, but only a small squeak came
out. His throat was raw from breathing the scorching air and ashes.
The medic put the board on the ground next to the hunter and they transferred him onto it,
strapping him down. Craig didn't want to leave Emma but he had to, to help the medic get the man on
board. They carried him swiftly, bending to get safely under the blades.
Craig turned around and ran back as the helicopter lifted off. Emma! He didn't see her right
away. The ground where he had left her was empty. Panic ripped through him again, blacking his
vision.
He saw her, by the truck, she was standing, but bent over and holding her head.
He ran to her, joy flooding him. She was standing! She was OK!
"Emma!" he tried to shout, but his voice sounded small and not his, and didn't seem to carry to
her. She turned to him anyway, dropping her hand, his name forming on her lips in surprise.
Chapter 20.
It was night-time. Orange light filled the sky from the forest blazing beside them. Craig ran
towards her, stopping in front of her. He looked down into her face, his eyes threatening to spill
tears. His hair and skin were smeared with dirt.
His strong hands grasped her upper arms almost hard enough to hurt. His voice, husky and
strained and weak, not sounding like him, broke and cracked as he said:
"I thought you were gone.
I thought I had lost you.
With God as my witness I swear I will never let you go again."
He fell forward onto her chest and slid down her body. He grabbed her around the waist
and squeezed her in a bear hug. Now his sobs did come.
Tingles danced up and down her spine, radiated outward along her back, and wrapped
around her body.
She felt ready to explode with love and happiness and relief.
He had forgiven her.
Her own tears slipped down her face and she hugged his head to her middle, loving the feel
of him.
Craig was the man in the vision all along. Emma couldn't believe it. Her brain felt ready to
burst with joy. She didn't feel her injuries, she didn't feel anything but her own exploding emotions.
It's Craig, Craig is the man in my vision. Sweet, strong, dependable, sexy Craig. How could she
ask for anything more than that? She felt blessed beyond belief, like the Heavens themselves had
opened and set this man down, made especially for her.
She pulled him up, peered up into his face and whispered, "Craig, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry for
what I did."
His face crumpled with emotion. "Don't speak another word of it Emma. I understand why you
did it. And it doesn't matter. You're OK, and that's all the matters."
He pressed his lips to hers, gently. Emma's mouth thrilled at his touch. Her happiness turned
to sweet, sweet wanting. She had turned this man out of her bed once, but now she couldn't wait to get
him back in it, for good.
The whoop whoop of the second chopper filled the air.
He broke the kiss. "That's your ride," he smiled sweetly at her.
"You called in a helicopter for me too? I can drive down; I don't need a helicopter."
"Emma, you were unconscious for at least 10 minutes, you can't drive down. You need to be
x-rayed and I'm sure they will want to watch you overnight for a concussion."
"Well you drive me then!"
"I'm needed at the firebreak. I was on my way up there for the night shift when I found your
truck."
Emma looked downcast. It looked like her celebration would have to wait. Besides, her head
did hurt a little - well a lot.
He lifted her chin with his hand. "I'll be there first thing in the morning. I'll check you out of
the hospital and take you home. Would you be willing to move in with me? I don't want to spend one
more second apart."
Emma laughed. "Move in with you? Maybe you should move in with me."
He leaned forward and kissed her on the ear. "Maybe I should. I promise I'll be there by 8 and
we'll talk then. You go and get some rest.
The helicopter moved in, making any further conversation difficult. When it landed, they
walked up to it together and Craig helped Emma climb in to sit on the gurney.
"I can't wait to see you my love," he said in her ear before slipping out onto the ground,
walking out of the way of the blades and giving the pilot a thumbs up.
My love. Emma touched her hand to her ear, feeling the tingle his breath left there.
She watched as they lifted higher and higher, Craig waving the whole time.
She blew him a kiss, even though she knew he couldn't see it. You are my love too. I love you.
She thrilled at the thought. And our new life together begins in the morning.
Epilogue
Emma blinked heavily. Light flooded the window. She checked the clock on the wall. 10:00!
Where was Craig? Maybe he had come and left because she was sleeping. The doctors had woke her
every 2 hours all night long to be sure her brain wasn't swelling but for some reason no one had
woken her since 5.
The door opened. Craig? She sat up straight in bed, a wide smile instantly on her face.
The smile withered as she realized who it was. Norman.
"What in the hell are you doing here?" She had no patience for Norman today, or ever again.
He looked honestly surprised at her outburst. "Emma, aren't you happy to see me? It doesn't
look like you have many other visitors to speak of."
"No I'm not happy to see you, get the hell out of here. I'm done with you Norman."
"Ahh but Emma, don't you understand, I really just want to be your friend."
"I don't want to be your friend Norman. Leave now or I will have you thrown out."
Norman laughed. "Who is going to throw me out Emma?" He leaned over the bed with an evil
grin on his face. "Your boyfriend?" he sneered, sounding like a two-bit villain in every crappy movie
ever.
Fear spiked Emma's heart. Craig. Ohmigod. Craig!
Emma jumped out of bed and grabbed her only clothes, her wildfire-fighting uniform on a
table in the corner. She ran to the bathroom and locked it, dressing quickly.
When she came out, Norman was gone.
The End
<<<<>>>>
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About the Author
I live in Idaho. I have been married for 18 years to the only man on this planet who will put up with
me (I'm a handful) and we have two amazing boys (10 years old and 1 year old at the time of this
writing). We have a 7 year old husky/golden retriever mix (dog) who is just awesome and gorgeous. I
love computers and the internet. I love my facebook friends. I love books and I love my google nexus.
I only buy ebooks these days - they are SO convenient! I like to walk for exercise as much as
possible, which hasn't been often since the baby was born. Hmmmm, what else do you want to know?
:)
I always, always, always wanted to write when I was a little girl. Stephen King was my favorite
author. I stopped being able to read him when my first son was born though (too many kids getting
hurt). These days you can probably find me reading Julie Ann Walker or H.M. Ward instead. I
published my first book at 41 years old. I'm not sure how it took me so long to do what I really
wanted to do since I was a kid. I love writing and I love interacting with my readers.
Dedication/Acknowledgements
This book is dedicated to my husband, a rock of a man who has supported me for 18 years.
I also would like to thank my facebook friends. My lovely, wonderful facebook (and real life) friends
who banded together to support this book and my career.
And I would like to thank Amanda Harris for helping me with several final details above and beyond
the call of duty. She created the hot cover. Find her here:
Chapter 1 from Edge of the Heat 2
Think Emma, think! Calm down and breathe.
Emma forced herself to take a second to relax and formulate a plan. She was still holding on
to the bathroom door, eyes frantically darting around the small Westwood General hospital room to
be sure Norman wasn’t going to jump out at her from some hiding place. Which was silly, there were
no hiding places in this tiny room. Still, she was learning it was better to be safe than sorry with her
ex-husband, who she knew was a dirty cop, but who also just might be a sociopath.
Norman was probably the one who had bugged her house. He for sure was the one who
chased off every man she had tried to date over the last several years. She was starting to suspect he
was really the one who told Reece she ‘liked it rough’, prompting the scumbag doctor to try to rape
her but pretend she really wanted it that way. And if the horrible feeling she got when he had
mockingly said “Who is going to throw me out, your boyfriend?” was correct, he may have done
something horrible to Craig. She couldn’t be her usual naive and rose-colored glasses self anymore.
Her eyes were open now, at least when it came to Norman.
She took some deep breaths and tried to think what she should do first.
Call Craig.
Yes, call him first. Maybe she would get lucky.
She felt her pockets for her cell phone. She didn’t have it. Maybe she had lost it in the fire last
night. She grabbed the hospital door and whipped it open, intending to go down to the nurses station.
Wait! They are going to give you a hard time about being up. They are going to want to
discharge you and that will take forever. Or worse they will want you to stay. Best if you do this
subtly. Remember you came in on a helicopter last night after being unconscious for 10 minutes in
the middle of a wildfire. Nobody is going to let you just walk out of here if they can help it.
Briefly her mind flashed to the man she had saved, wondering how he was. No time for that
now.
She walked over to the phone by the bedside and dialed the number for the nurses station. A
cool female voice answered.
“Hi, it’s Emma in 412. Did I get any visitors while I was sleeping?”
“No, Emma, none.”
“Ok, thank you.”
Emma broke the connection without replacing the handle and then dialed 9 for an outside line
and Craig’s number.
She sucked in her breath, counting the rings and silently praying he would pick up. After 7
rings his voicemail answered.
She slammed down the phone, biting her tongue to keep from swearing or screaming, she
wasn’t sure which.
What now? Call dispatch and ask where he is.
It was a good idea, but she had to get out of the room before a nurse came in and saw her
looking like she was just going to walk out of here, which was in fact what she was going to do.
She went to the door and opened it swiftly, walking towards the exit without hesitation. If
anyone challenged her she would just keep walking. They weren’t cops, just doctors and nurses.
She made it to the stairs without anyone even looking at her. Yanking the door open and
swiftly stepping inside she sighed in relief. Once she was off this floor nobody would pay her any
attention.
At the bottom floor she looked around for a pay phone. Why weren’t there any around?
Sometimes cellphone batteries die or are left in cars!
The emergency room had pay phones! She broke into a run, feeling like time was already
running out for Craig. She had just gotten Craig back last night. She couldn’t bear to think she had lost
him again already.
She found a pay phone in the lobby and dug in her firefighter’s uniform for a quarter. She
called dispatch. Lindy answered.
“Lindy, it’s Emma Hill. I need to know when the last time you heard from Firefighter 465
was.”
“Hi Emma, how are you?”
The concern in Lindy’s voice was obvious, but Emma didn’t have time for it right now.
“I’m great Lindy, please look quickly, I’m really worried about him.”
“Um well, he hasn’t been heard from on the radio since his in service last night, but the scene
commander already knows that.”
Emma was confused.
“What do you mean he hasn’t been heard from on the radio?”
Now Lindy sounded confused. “Emma, don’t you know that there’s a search on for him right
now?”
Emma’s heart sank. Her worst fears were confirmed.
“No Lindy, what is going on?”
“Well he disappeared last night on the line. One minute he was there and the next he wasn’t.
They’ve been searching for him since 5 this morning. The helicopters are up and everything. They just
called and asked for police dogs, but those are going to take 6 hours to get here from Brickersville.”
“Thanks Lindy,” Emma said weakly. She replaced the handset, but held onto the phone still.
She felt like she was going to fall to the ground in a heap if she let go. She couldn’t get enough air.
Oh Craig, Craig, where are you? What happened?
Emma’s vision went black around the edges. Her life spiraled out of her control in one
sentence. She loved this man and he didn’t even know it. Never would know it if he was … she
couldn’t say it - couldn’t even think it. He was fine, where ever he was - he just needed to be found.
She was going to help search. What else could she do?
***
Edge of the Heat 2 is available on Amazon here:
Document Outline
- Copyright
- PROLOGUE
- Chapter 1.
- Chapter 2.
- Chapter 3.
- Chapter 4.
- Chapter 5.
- Chapter 6.
- Chapter 7.
- Chapter 8.
- Chapter 9.
- Chapter 10.
- Chapter 11.
- Chapter 12.
- Chapter 13.
- Chapter 14.
- Chapter 15.
- Chapter 16.
- Chapter 17.
- Chapter 18.
- Chapter 19.
- Chapter 20.
- Epilogue
- Get The Newest Books
- Could You Help Me Out?
- Stay Connected
- About the Author
- Dedication/ Acknowledgements
- Chapter 1 from Edge of the Heat 2
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