I Never Thought I'd See You Again: A Novelists Inc. Anthology (35 page)

“She was too sick,” Rebecca went on. “She’s permanently disabled now and hardly leaves the house.” She was silent for a moment. The air conditioner hummed. Next door, a lawnmower started up.

“We haven’t seen Jason in two years. The move was hard on him as you can imagine. Starting in a new middle school, adjusting to the divorce, still missing his sister.”

Katy had adored her little brother and he her. Cassie remembered him at Katy’s memorial service. He’d looked shell-shocked. He hadn’t even spoken to her, but had looked right through her. Like the rest of Katy’s family, Cassie hadn’t been allowed to contact him. She’d wanted to tell him how sorry she was. She’d had fleeting thoughts of somehow taking Katy’s place in some way, hanging out with him, or seeing a movie. It hadn’t taken long before she realized how ludicrous that was. No one could take Katy’s place.

“He made new friends eventually. Not the kind of friends that were a good influence, though. First it was drinking. Smoking. Then it was pot. A few minor brushes with the law. Probation.” Rebecca sighed. “Then my former honor roll child dropped out of school.”

That must have been especially hard for Rebecca to accept, Cassie thought, since Rebecca was a teacher.

“Drugs. Arrests. Violence. Anger. So much anger. I couldn’t reach him.” For the first time, Rebecca’s voice broke. After a moment, she gatheredI was pretty sured fas herself. She glanced around the living room. Did she notice the 9;, whframed photograph of Cassie anen she’

A
USA Today
bestseller, Kathryn Shay has been a lifelong writer and teacher. She has self-published eleven original romance titles, thirty-six print books with the Berkley Publishing Group and Harlequin Enterprises, and one mainstream women’s fiction with Bold Strokes Books. She has won five
RT Book Reviews
awards, four Golden Quills, four Holt Medallions, the Bookseller’s Best Award, Foreword Magazine’s Book of the Year, and several starred reviews. Her novels have been serialized in
Cosmopolitan
magazine and featured in
USA Today, The Wall Street Journal
,
a
nd
People
. There are more than five million copies of her books in print, along with hundreds of thousands downloaded online. She lives in upstate New York with there the whole time.dI wantither husband and children.

“Hey, Gallagher, I hear your cutie’s subbing on the Rescue Squad tonight. You gonna bunk with her?”

Riley looked up from a copy of
The Heart of Hidden Cove
, a magazine produced by the husband of a firefighter he liked. “Say one word against Jane and I’ll deck you, Decarlo.”

“Ha! You and who’s army?”

The retort was accurate. He’d need a battalion to subdue Rocky Decarlo,
the Rock,
a hulk of a guy, with hands like baseball mitts and a body as big as the trunk of a tree.

Riley snorted back. He liked Rocky and knew the guy was wholly supportive of the women in the department. Besides, Jane Phillips could take care of herself. That trait was one of the many things he loved about her. Really, he’d been crazy about his childhood friend, turned high school sweetheart, turned fiancé for literally half their lives.

The magazine article on Hale’s Haven, a camp for the kids of firefighters and police officers that was held every summer, kept his attention until she walked into the kitchen.

Rocky greeted her with a big hug. “Wish you were on this shift more often, Phillips. We’d rather look at your beautiful face than Gallagher’s ugly mug.”

“Yeah, I can understand that.”

Janie wasn’t drop dead gorgeous and they both knew Riley was, but they joked about it. He dug her dark, short sassy hair, chocolate brown eyes and her 5’8” sturdy build. Also, Jane possessed an inner beauty which he’d seen when she was a gawky nerd in high school and he was a star football player. He’d fallen hard in that tenth grade science lab and was still madly in love with the woman.

She glanced over and winked at him. “Hi, hotshot.”

“Sweetie.” He smiled, grateful all over again that she was part of his life’s work.

The only thing he cared about as much as Janie, his mother, and a sister who’d given him two beautiful nephews was firefighting. He scowled. Too bad one of the boys was named after Riley’s degenerate father who’d once been his idol.

The captain of the rescue squad, Nick Evans, walked in. “Gallagher, your fan club’s outside. They came right from school.6">

“Yeah, that’s why they keep bugging us.”

Ever since House 7 had gone on a call at an elementary school to put out a simple fire, the kids had rallied around Riley because he’d found a couple of little ones hiding in a closet and carried them out. He’d told them to stop by the fire station anytime — and they did.

A staticky voice crackled out from the P.A. “Fire on First and Liberty. Rescue Squad 7 and Quint and Midi 7 go into service.”

It was like somebody turned on a switch. All teasing evaporated and the men and women assigned to the three trucks in the house bolted up from wherever they were and met in the bay; the smell of gasoline and smoke was strong.

Three feet from the rigs, eleven sets of turnout boots and pants waited for them on the concrete. Riley kicked off his shoes, tugged on his boots and pulled up the bulky blue pants, securing them with yellow suspenders. Just before he hopped on the truck, he caught a glimpse of Janie heading toward the Rescue rig.
Be careful,
she mouthed.

He nodded to her.
You, too.

They were lucky that way, having vowed not to worry about each other on the line. But it was easier to dismiss the danger she put herself in when she worked at her home firehouse and out of his sight.

A shiver skittered through him, a feeling something bad was going to happen today. Shaking if off, he noticed the kids out on the pavement. “Sorry, guys,” he called out. “Next time.”

Open-mouthed, they watched him climb on the truck, where his turnout coat and self-contained breathing apparatus, commonly called SCBA, awaited.

Adam Langston, another firefighter on the Quint, drove the truck from the bay at high speed on the mild April night.

Lt. Tony Ramirez, seated next to him, warned, “Careful, Langston, we wanna get there.”

Sirens blared and horns blew as they rumbled through the April night, the streets crowded with traffic. And Riley did what he always did on the ride to a call. He closed his eyes. Centered himself. Focused on the task ahead. It was one of the many things his father had taught him.
Be prepared. Get into the zone. You need all your wits about you to fight a fire.

In minutes, they arrived at the abandoned clothing store in the center of Hidden Cove. Since it was a one alarm blaze, company seven was the only one called. The Rescue Squad would search the building, the Quint would gain entry and slap water on the fire, and the small Midi’s job was to deal with medical issues. It had recently been replaced with a truck that had a bed area in the back so the paramedics could drive victims to the hospital.

Their battalion chief was also on scene. Mitch Malvaso was the town hero, a top-notch firefighter, and an all-around great guy. He made his way to them from his setup of Incident Command on his department jeep. “One floor building. Fire’s contained to the front, we think. Smoke color says no chemicals are in there which makes sense because the building was a clothing store. But be on your toes. You never know what the Red Devil’s gonna do.”

Another shiver ran through Riley. He ignored it and focused they wouldd fas on the instructions shouted by the officers.

Captain Evans gestured to his crew. “Once the fire’s contained, the five of us will head inside and scour the back.” To the Quint, he added, “The rest of you’ll search the front.”

Though the building was abandoned, Riley knew that every section needed to be thoroughly searched. Since the structure was in the center of town, homeless people might have taken shelter inside. Hell, the fire could have been started by druggies free basing in there. Even the idyllic town of Hidden Cove, an hour outside of New York City, had its share of social problems.

When the Rescue Squad circled around back, Ramirez huddled with his crew. “Gallagher, follow me with the rabbit tool. Decarlo, take the hose in behind him and the rest of you follow
them
.” Langston, the driver, would stay with the truck. Even the paramedics went inside as they were fully certified firefighters.

After he yanked the pry tool off the rig as the others were unfurling the hose, Riley followed Ramirez to the building.

The doors were double-wide and padlocked. “Shit,” Riley said. Someone from behind nudged his arm with cutters. Firefighters never left the truck without a tool. Riley snapped the thick chains, and over the mic pinned to his collar heard the lieutenant speak into his radio. “Door’s chained. We snapped it but the Rescue Squad should know that nobody got in this way.”

Riley put the tip of the rabbit tool — an hydraulic hand held manually operated tool — between the door and frame. He pumped the pneumatic unit so the two interlocking jaws exerted enough force to pop the doors. They opened inward.

Inside the building, they were met with a gray curtain of smoke that they couldn’t see through. The Rescue Squad had a thermal imager for use when the flames were out, but Riley’s group would work blind.

His crew slapped water in the front rooms, which
was
the point of origin. The noise was loud and hissing; he could hear it even through his facemask and helmet. In ten minutes, the fire was doused. Next, two of his guys would take axes to the walls to make sure no flames were hiding.

The lieutenant’s voice came over the mic again. “Gallagher, go down the left hallways with Duncan. Me and Decarlo will take the ones on the right.”

Again over the mic, Riley heard from Evans from the rear. “We’re in the back of the store and searching these rooms. We already found two guys and dragged them out so there
are
folks inside.”

“Make sure you’re thorough.” Malvaso’s voice came next. “We don’t want to lose anybody because of neglect.”

Thinking,
Nobody will be left behind on my watch,
Riley turned left with Duncan behind him. Because of the heat, they dropped to their knees and ran their hands along the wall to find their way. Their progress was slow, but this was how fires were fought.

Jane Phillips was glad she kept in shape. Even so, her arms ached with the weight of the four people she’d dragged out of the building. She was heading back inside when Evans stopped her. “You okay to go in again, Phillips?” he asked. “You been in and out four times.” there the whole time., Gr

“Since I heard you ask Bilky that, I won’t consider it a sexist question, Cap.” Her tone was teasing. She knew Evans was fair and generous to women and had gotten some onto rescue squads.

“Then ladies first, Phillips.” The remark was also made in good humor. God, she loved her job.

Jane led the way through the door, and Evans nudged up to her side. The smoke was lessening, but she still couldn’t see her hand in front of her face. Evans held up the imager. They walked quickly through the sectioned off areas they’d already checked. The rank smell of decay and the stink of smoke seeped in through her SCBA mask.

“There’s an area at the end we didn’t cover, Phillips. Stay close.”

They’d taken only three steps when a loud cracking noise rent the air and the floor opened up. They fell through fast. Before Jane could internalize what had happened, she landed on top of the captain. He hit his head and his facemask flew off. Loss of air made him cough.

When she got her bearings, Jane thrust off the burnt wood that covered them and climbed off Evans. He wasn’t moving. She began to feel around, running her gloved hands along the floor. Finally, she touched metal. “Thank God.”

“What’s going on there, Evans?” The voice came over the mic.

Jane ignored Malvaso’s question and grabbed the helmet, felt the cap’s face and managed to secure the hat and breathing device on him. Then she said into her mic, “Chief, me and Evans fell through the floor. Northwest quadrant of the building. Evans’s out cold. He lost his SCBA but I retrieved it. Oh, wait, he’s moving, coming to.”

“We’re sending ropes and harnesses. Hang on. We’ll be there in minutes.”

It was quieter down here and she heard a moan come from the corner. Jesus, victims in the basement were all they needed. She rummaged around again until she found the imager and scanned the direction the noise had come from. A body was moving in the corner. Quickly checking the rest of the area through the viewer and seeing no heat emitting shapes, she started to move toward the corner. Evans rasped out, “What is it, Phillips?”