Finding Fire (4 page)

As they reached the clearing, Watson stopped
short and bent over, wheezing. "I need to catch my breath." He spun
around and butted his head into Randy's solar plexus, throwing all
his weight into the lunge, and took off.

Randy found himself on his butt, struggling
to take a breath. "Fuck!" He clambered to his feet and managed to
shout for Kovak before racing across after Watson. Dammit, he
wasn't going to lose this creep. His longer stride overtook the man
just as they reached the end of the clearing. He grabbed him by the
collar and spun him around.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"
He pushed him into the nearest tree. "Maybe I'll just tie you up
here and bring in the dogs. You're obviously no use."

"Detweiler! Where are you?" Kovak's voice
came from the other side of the clearing.

"Over here!"

"Found her. She's all right. Just
scared."

Randy turned his light back toward the
house. Kovak emerged from the trees, a young girl cradled in his
arms. A weight lifted from Randy's shoulders, one he hadn't been
aware he was carrying. He shoved Watson. "Move it. You're going
straight to jail. No passing Go, no collecting two hundred dollars.
And since you asked, I'll even read you your rights." He prodded
and shoved his prisoner back to where his partner waited. The two
men flanked Watson. Randy put a death grip on Watson's arm.
"March."

Randy heard Kovak singing a familiar
lullaby. By the last verse, they were back at the cars. Kovak
entrusted the child to the paramedics and shoved Watson at Mac and
Grady. "Take him to the station. We're right behind you." He spun
on his heel and marched to Randy's truck, a satisfied smile on his
face.

"We got him, partner," Kovak said. "But can
I be the bad cop next time?"

"No problem," Randy said and turned on the
ignition.

*****

An hour passed, then two. Frustration turned
to anger, anger turned to worry. Half a dozen times, Sarah picked
up the phone, then put it back. If Randy needed to be alone
tonight, so be it. But she vowed this would be the last time he
shut her out.

The telephone rang and her stomach flipped
at Kovak's voice.

"Oh, God. Has something happened to
Randy?"

"No, no. Randy's fine. We had a lead on the
kidnapper, and I dragged him away from the track. Things happened
pretty fast, and we've been preoccupied. The suspect's in custody.
Randy's fine, but cleaning this all up will take a while. Tons of
paperwork. He'll be late, and he didn't want you to worry." His
voice was grim.

She feared the answer, but asked anyway.
"Did you find Amanda?"

"That we did. And another one. They're both
okay. Gotta get back to work. Randy said not to wait up."

She clenched the handset. It was all she
could do to control her voice. She forced a lightness to her
response. "Thanks. I'm sure everyone will be relieved."

"You're upset," Kovak said. "Look, I've
known Randy a long time. He builds walls. He's not a talker. This
was a tough one for him."

She might have known she couldn't fool
Kovak. "Thanks for calling," she said before her voice gave way,
and she broke the connection.

She stood holding the phone for a long
moment. The lump in her throat disappeared, and a cold fury
suffused her. How dare Randy blow her off and have Kovak call? He
could put the phone on speaker and talk while he filled out the
damn paperwork. It was called multitasking.

She shook it off. Getting
angry was not the answer. Randy loved her. He just hadn't figured
out how to let her into the cop part of his life yet. She'd have to
help him. Tomorrow, she'd insist they talk it out. Right now, she
would take a long, hot bubble bath. One of
her
coping mechanisms.

Steam filled the bathroom as Sarah ran the
water. One of the luxuries of being married to a very tall man with
a custom built bathroom was a tub she could lose herself in. She
poked through the cabinet for candles and arranged them all around
the tub ledge. After slipping out of her clothes, she pulled the
box of matches from a drawer. The flickering glow of the candles
and the soft popping of bubbles soothed her.

Sarah climbed the three steps to the tub and
lowered herself into its enveloping warmth, felt the tension flow
out of her body. She concentrated on slowing her breathing, and did
some of the relaxation exercises she'd learned at the support group
sessions after her kidnapping. Memories of those days were buried
deep within her, but she could remember how Randy had blamed
himself for her abduction. It hadn't been his fault. Pine Hills was
usually a quiet town. On a normal day, Randy would deal with petty
theft, malicious mischief, kids getting drunk. Even though whatever
had happened to Amanda was nothing like her own experience, she
could understand how Randy must have felt.

The rational side of her said Randy wanted
to be alone. He'd call it a 'guy thing.' But simply being in
Randy's arms calmed her as nothing else could. His touch brought so
much comfort. Didn't it work that way for him? Couldn't he open up
enough to let her try? Just be there? She wiped her face and soapy
bubbles stung her eyes. Or so she told herself as tears began to
flow. She covered her face with a washcloth until the tears
stopped. She released the drain and toweled off. The satin and lace
nightgown she'd set out to wear tonight didn't seem right. She
grabbed one of Randy's t-shirts from his drawer and pulled it
on.

A rumbling from her stomach belied her lack
of appetite. She fixed herself a mug of hot chocolate and took the
mystery novel she'd been reading to the couch, willing the phone to
ring and trying to ignore its impertinent silence. At eleven, she
gave up and crawled into bed.

Her inner clock told her she'd been asleep
for several hours when she heard the front door open. Eyes closed,
she listened to Randy's familiar routine—hanging up his keys and
shoulder holster, pulling off his shoes. The sound of the
refrigerator door opening and closing. He never played the piano
this late, but he might listen to the stereo. No, the bedroom door
opened. She heard him in the bathroom, then enter the bedroom, and
scrape of the nightstand drawer opening as he placed his gun
inside. A sharp intake of breath and a suppressed groan snapped her
eyes open. She reached for the bedside lamp and switched it on. His
left eye was swollen, and there were bruises forming on his
torso.

"Randy! What happened? Are you all
right?"

He pulled on his boxers, but not before she
noticed he was fully aroused. He was breathing heavily now, and he
lowered himself to the bed without answering.

"Randy. I'm serious. You're hurt. Tell
me."

"I can't."

She sat up and stared at him. "Yes, you can.
You can't keep running away from me. I know you're not used to
having someone around, but I'm here, and you're not getting rid of
me. Talk to me."

"Nothing to say." His voice was rough. "The
creep resisted arrest. He took a little convincing, that's all. Go
back to sleep."

She reached over and stroked his cheek. "Let
me in, Randy. Please. Whatever happened, you shouldn't have to be
alone."

"I can't. Not now."

Sarah didn't need to know the details yet.
For now, she could offer physical release. She encircled his
erection, and he gripped her wrist. "No," he whispered.

"No? But—"

"I want you so much it hurts," he said. "But
I don't think… I can't. It's the adrenaline. I'm afraid of…afraid
I'll hurt you."

"My God, Randy. I'm not going to break." She
leaned into him and pressed her lips against his, forced his lips
apart, probed with her tongue. His tongue met hers, and his kisses
went from gentle passion to wild frenzy. She reached for his
shorts, and he lifted his hips enough to allow her to pull them
away. Even as he kicked them off, his hands found her breasts under
the T-shirt. His touch triggered a surge of excitement, and she
helped him pull the shirt over her head. He covered her body with
his. He kissed, he stroked, he squeezed, as if he needed to touch
every part of her at once. He nipped at her breasts, and she
gasped, but the pain merely heightened her arousal. She met his
needs, matched his desire, raking her fingernails along his back,
tugging at his hair, scraping her teeth on his neck. She couldn't
tell if the guttural sounds came from her throat or his.

Sarah opened herself to him and he entered
in a single, powerful thrust. Tonight's lovemaking was feral in its
lust. Yet she understood, and took him deeper and deeper until he
screamed as he reached his fulfillment. He collapsed on top of her,
shuddering. She held him and bore his weight as he gasped for
breath.

He withdrew slowly, and rolled onto his
back, still panting. Snuggling next to him, she rested her head on
his chest, listened to the pounding of his heart. She ran her
fingers through the silky hair on his sweat-filmed belly. "You
feeling better?"

With a groan, he pulled
away and went into the bathroom. When she heard the shower running,
Sarah flung herself out of bed.
Not this
time, buster.
He wasn't running away
again. She crept into the bathroom and saw Randy, arms extended
against the shower tiles as the hot water poured over his head and
cascaded down his body. Opening the glass door, she stepped into
the steamy enclosure and wrapped her arms around his waist. He
flinched, but didn't pull away.

"I'm not leaving," she said.

"Suit yourself, but it's going to get cold."
He lowered the water temperature until they were both covered in
gooseflesh, and she had to clench her teeth against their
chattering, but she wouldn't let go. His breathing slowed, and he
turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. Wrapping
herself in her robe, she followed Randy to the living room. She
watched him pour a whiskey, take it to the couch. Saw the trembling
in his hands.

She poured a brandy for herself and joined
him. "So, it was a rough one?"

"Sarah, please."

"No, Randy. You listen. You can't keep the
ugliness away from me. On the job, it's you and Kovak, but when you
come through that door, it's you and me. I'm not fragile. Can't you
include me? Let me sit with you while you play the piano? Hold your
hand? Massage your shoulders? Something? Anything? Please." Her
voice started to crack, and she hurried to blurt out the rest.
"Don't shut me out. I feel so safe when you hold me. Like nothing
can be wrong. Doesn't it work that way for you?"

He gathered her in his arms. "When I hold
you, it's like the entire universe gets realigned." He gave a deep
sigh. "I'll try to remember. You'll have to remind me when I
forget."

"Count on it. Starting tomorrow." She
snuggled even tighter. "You going to tell me how you got that
shiner? I can't imagine a slimebag really got a clean punch past
you."

"Not exactly."

"So, go on."

"Kovak did it," he mumbled.

"What? Your partner punched you? Why?"

Randy muttered something.

"I didn't get that."

"He said I was acting like a jerk, avoiding
you, and I told him to mind his own business, and—"

"And he caught you totally off guard, I'm
sure."

"Of course he did. I mean, who'd expect his
own partner to whack him one?"

"I'll remember that. No more subtlety for
me. When I need to get through to you, I'll just hit you upside the
head." She rubbed his ear and twisted her fingers through his hair.
"I'm going to have to bake Kovak a batch of cookies tomorrow.
Chocolate-chocolate chip, I think. But I'll take them directly to
his house. No way am I leaving them at the station where you can
enjoy them, too."

"That's almost assault on a police officer,
you know. I could arrest you for that."

She held out her hands. "You want to
handcuff me, Detective?"

"I have a better idea. I think I have some
of that control back."

Afterward, she had to agree with him.

* * * * *

A Summer
's
Eve

an epilogue to
Hidden
Fire

Copyright © 2010 by Terry Odell

Randy and Sarah are back. Cutbacks in the
Pine Hills Police force have increased Randy’s workload, and he’s
looking forward to getting some time off to spend with his wife.
However, despite all of Randy’s detective skills, Sarah still
manages to surprise him, sending their lives down a new path.

* * * * *

For Jason, Jessica & Nicole – you've
enriched our lives immeasurably.

With thanks to my crit group, the Pregnant
Pigs, and to Sandra, my first mentor, who's been there for me since
we played with Duncan and Richie. Thanks for the help, support, and
not-so-idle threats. To Jess, for knowing how to put text onto
Photoshop images. And of course, to Randy and Sarah—real or not,
who refused to go away, even after I'd written them two happily
ever afters. I hope they're happy now.

* * * * *

A SUMMER'S EVE

Randy Detweiler eased his pickup into a
parking spot by the rec center at Pine Hills Park and checked his
watch. Only an hour later than what he'd told Sarah. He gazed at
the pink-tinged clouds above the trees. Barely sunset. He locked
his truck and strode across the parking lot, the smell of barbeque
smoke, grilling hot dogs and burgers telling him he hadn't missed
dinner. His stomach rumbled. Two more minutes wouldn't matter. He
hustled toward the food tent.

As he worked his way down the buffet line,
he surveyed the picnic tables set up on the soccer field. Not as
big a crowd as in previous years. Budget cuts, he suspected. Too
many good people let go in all departments, or their hours cut so
they had to work two jobs. Still, he appreciated the town's efforts
to thank its public servants.