Nightwatch (2 page)

“This is the sister of the property owner,” Mitch explained as the deputy restrained the panic-stricken woman. “Maybe she can wait in your car? Try to get control of herself?”

“Sure. No sweat. Sheriff Allgood's wife rode along with him. She can look after this lady for us.”

Nodding, Mitch paused for only an instant before returning to the tasks at hand. His heart was heavy. He could certainly identify with the hysterical woman but he didn't dare give in to his personal feelings.

What he needed to do right now was concentrate on his job so he'd have less time to dwell on the loss of his friends.
Or on the fact that there were probably three new orphans in town
, he thought, clenching his teeth. How could a loving God have let any of this happen?

“Forgive me, Lord,” he whispered as he gazed at the scene of destruction through stinging eyes. “And while
You're at it, help us all accept life without Rob and Ellen if they are truly gone. It's not going to be easy. Especially not for those kids.”

D
ozens of people continued to mill around the disaster scene, speaking mostly in whispers—awed, curious and yet horrified.

After wrapping Timmy in a gray blanket one of the bystanders had given her, Jill crouched, held the boy's hands, spoke softly and continued to try to comfort him. It seemed he either didn't hear her or had no intention of paying the slightest attention. Perhaps a little of both.

Pastor's wife, Becky Malloy, was perched on the open tailgate of a nearby pickup, cradling sleepy, eighteen-month-old Megan. Elderly Miss Violet Hanford, another member of both the fire department auxiliary and Serenity Chapel, rocked and soothed five-year-old Paul inside the cab of the same vehicle.

Timmy was most likely in shock rather than ill, Jill kept assuring herself. Nevertheless, as soon as one of the EMTs was available she intended to ask for professional advice.

In the meantime, there was nothing to do but keep an eye—and a hand—on him to make sure he didn't bolt. She figured she could have caught him if he'd tried
to run under normal circumstances, but as emotionally overwrought as he was tonight, she wasn't sure he wouldn't be able to elude her if he wanted to.

Suddenly, his brown eyes widened. She felt his thin fingers tighten around hers. There was so much smoke in the air she wasn't sure if she was seeing tears of sorrow or if his eyes were watering because of the constant irritation.

She returned the squeeze and chanced a smile. “What is it, honey? Would you like to go sit in the truck with your brother? I'm sure it's much warmer in there.”

Tim moved his head back and forth so rapidly his shaggy, uncombed brown hair swung like her little lapdog Mugsy's fur did when he shook himself after a bath.

Concerned, Jill leaned closer. “What's wrong? Tell me how I can help you.”

Instead of answering, the boy tore his hand from hers and threw the coarse blanket off his shoulders. For an instant she was afraid he intended to flee. Then, he launched himself at her and wrapped both arms around her neck. The force of the unexpected tackle knocked her onto her back pockets in the dirt.

Timmy immediately scrambled aside, grabbed her wrist with both hands and tried to haul her to her feet. Although he wasn't speaking, she could hear whining, shuddery noises coming from deep in his small chest.

“It's okay,” Jill said. “You didn't hurt me. I'm fine.” She got up and began to dust off her jeans with her free hand. “See? No problem.”

Still, the little boy wasn't pacified. Instead of continuing to face her, however, he ducked behind her legs.
That was what finally made her realize someone else was approaching. She recognized the puffy-eyed, disheveled woman as the one who had attacked Mitch earlier in the evening and braced herself to counter the same kind of irrational behavior.

It was the lost expression on the woman's tear-streaked face that softened Jill's attitude and caused her to offer proper condolences. “I'm so sorry. You're Natalie Stevens, aren't you? I'm Jill. We met in church. Your sister introduced us.”

“What have they told you?” Natalie rasped. “They won't let me go closer to see for myself and they won't look for Ellen either. I've been all over the airport. Nobody's seen any sign of her.”

“I don't think it's wise to discuss things like that in front of the children, do you?” Jill continued to soothe Timmy by slowly, gently stroking his hair.

“What? Oh. No, I suppose not.” She began to pace and rub her hands together, never straying far before turning and repeating the tight circuit. “I can't understand what happened. Ellen almost never set foot in the office at all, and she certainly wouldn't think of working on a weekend. She can't have been in the office when it caught fire. She simply can't have.”

“All I know is that they found the children in the main part of the house,” Jill said. “The firemen got them out safely before that started burning, too.”

Although the other woman didn't seem to be paying attention, Jill continued, “Don't you worry. We'll take good care of your niece and nephews until the proper authorities get here.”

“Fine, fine.” Natalie sent a distracted glance toward the pile of bent, scorched tin and ashes that had been
the Pearson Products business office and began mumbling to herself as she wandered away. “Ellen can't be dead. I won't believe it. It's a mistake, that's all. A big mistake.”

Timmy was still clinging to Jill's knees and trembling. She bent and wrapped him again for warmth before lifting and balancing his light weight on one hip.

Hugging her neck, he took a shuddering breath, buried his face in the folds of the blanket lying against her shoulder and began to weep.

Tears were a good sign, Jill realized, because that meant he was probably moving beyond his initial anger and shock. Instead of trying to get him to stop crying, she held him close and let him grieve, praying for the right words to eventually help soothe his pain and the wisdom to know when to speak.

She ached for this little one. For all of them. At times like this, when her heart was open and most empathetic, she was even better at relating to emotionally needy children.

Jill knew for a fact that Ellen Pearson had been a sweet person, a loving wife, a dedicated mother. Assuming everyone's sad assumptions were correct, Ellen had not meant to leave her dear ones. She had merely been caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Jill's own mother, however, had made a conscious choice. Mama had turned her back on her only child and had walked away—forever—without so much as a wave goodbye.

 

By the time several hours had passed, Mitch was mentally and physically exhausted. The engine crews had managed to preserve most of the factory and all of
the separate warehouse but had lost the fight to save the home and business office. That was considered a good result under such difficult circumstances. As far as Mitch was concerned though, they had failed.

He'd grown close to the Pearsons when they'd moved to town a few years back and had started attending Serenity Chapel. He'd coached Timmy and Paul on the church T-ball team and had often envied the family's closeness.

Standing at the edge of the ruins, he was wiping his sweaty, gritty brow and remembering happier times when a hand clapped him firmly on the shoulder.

“We did all we could,” Chief Longstreet said. “Even with the extra units from all over the county and everything we had in town, it was a tough fight.”

“There's no chance Rob and Ellen managed to get out?” Mitch asked, unwilling to let himself believe his friends were really gone.

“Don't think so. Looks like the initial explosion blocked the office exit. If they were in there, they probably never knew what hit 'em.”

“When we first got the call, I thought a plane had crashed. It's clear that didn't happen. So, did a gas leak start all this?”

“Could be. I've asked for investigators from Little Rock to come and look things over, just in case.”

Shivers shot up Mitch's spine. “In case of what?”

Jim Longstreet gestured at the ground in the distance. “You've probably been too busy to notice but I spotted a few odd things. See the way some of the rubble is fanned way out from a central area? That doesn't look right to me.”

“We all heard a blast.”

The chief nodded. “True. And if this turns out to be an accident, I'll be happy to put that in my report. But until we can pin down a cause I'm going to keep needling the sheriff and anybody else who can give us some answers.”

He concentrated on Mitch. “Look, I know these folks were good friends of yours. Why don't you go on back to the station and let the fresh crews finish mopping up? Things like this are tough enough when the victims are strangers.”

“I can still do my job.”

“I know you can. But we have plenty of extra help here now. I'll make it an order if I have to.”

“I want to stay and see for myself first.”

“Sorry. I'm not letting anybody except the coroner poke around in there until there's been an official investigation. Sheriff Allgood is gonna leave deputies to guard the site 24/7.”

Mitch removed his helmet and raked his fingers through his damp hair. “This has to be accidental. Everybody loved Rob and his family.”

The chief snorted. “I sure hope you're right.”

 

Jill was waiting with Becky and the children when she saw a familiar figure approaching. She asked the pastor's wife to mind Timmy while she stepped away to speak privately with Mitch.

“I'm surprised you're still here,” he said.

“We're waiting for someone from Children and Family Services to take custody of the kids.” Reaching toward his hand, she stopped herself before they actually touched. “How are you doing?”

“I've been better.”

“Any sign of other survivors?”

He shook his head slowly, sadly, his sober expression accentuated by the smudges of black ash on his face and the aura of loss that hung over him like a storm cloud.

“I'm so sorry. I talked to Natalie Stevens after she tried to beat up on you. She's a basket case.”

Mitch huffed. “Yeah. A lot of us are.”

He started coughing so Jill waited for him to quiet before she asked, “Why aren't you still working?”

“The chief is sending me back to the station early. It wasn't my idea. I just wanted to check that you were okay before I left.”

How typical of him
, she mused, touched by his concern. “I'm fine. I am looking forward to getting home and washing some of this smoke out of my hair, though.” To her delight, that comment made Mitch chuckle cynically.

“Yeah. Right. Me, too,” he said, raising his hand to swipe at the grime on his cheeks. “I guess I got a little dirty, huh?”

“A
little?
” Jill chanced a smile. “You look like an urchin and smell like a smoked ham.”

“Thanks. You look nice, too, lady.”

She sobered. “Sorry. I shouldn't have teased you like that. Not now.”

“It's okay. Cops and firefighters have ways of coping that seem strange to civilians. So do E.R. doctors and nurses. We're always kidding around, even in really bad times. If we didn't, I don't know how we'd stay sane.” He turned away as more coughing racked his body.

Jill took the chance he wouldn't mind and patted him lightly on the back. “Are you okay?”

“I will be. I always am.” She saw him look past her
and zero in on the truck where Becky and the children waited. “Call me later and let me know how it goes with the kids, will you? I'll be at the station.”

“Sure.”

She yearned to give him a hug of consolation the way she had the boy but subdued the inappropriate urge. She and Mitch were merely good friends. He'd made his position clear at the outset of their relationship and she was in total agreement. She'd lost her mother at a young age and, just when she finally thought she'd gotten her life back on track, the love of her life had been killed in a freak accident. Twice was enough. Given Mitch's dedication to his dangerous profession, she was not about to open her heart to him and chance losing another loved one. As far as she was concerned, remaining alone was far better than risking a broken heart.

He bid her goodbye and walked away. Watching him go shouldn't have been so hard for Jill but it was. She knew what was wrong. She cared far more deeply for the valiant fireman than was wise.

 

Jill had greeted her exuberant little house dog, Mugsy, and was heading for the shower to try to wash the smell of smoke from her long, blond hair when her phone rang.

She almost let the answering machine take the call, then decided it might be important. “Hello?”

“You made it? You're okay?”

He didn't have to announce who he was. “Hi, Mitch. Yes, I'm fine.”

“Why didn't you call me like you promised?”

“I was going to. I just walked in the door.”

“Oh.”

Sensing poignancy underlying his simple words her heart fell. “Did they find what you were afraid they would in the ashes?”

“We don't know anything for sure. Nobody does. Since neither Rob nor Ellen have surfaced, we have to assume the worst.”

The sadness in his voice cut her to the quick. “I'm so sorry. I know you were close to the whole family.”

“Yeah.” She waited patiently while Mitch cleared his throat and prepared himself to go on. “I was just wondering about the kids. How are they doing?”

“Probably better than you and I are. Paul and Megan were sound asleep and Tim was only sniffling a little when the social worker finally showed up. She said she was going to take them straight to the county hospital to be checked out. I haven't heard anything more.”

“Do you expect to?”

“Probably not tonight. I did put in a good word for myself, though. There's a chance they'll place the kids with me, at least temporarily, especially because I'm not fostering any other children right now.”

“That's good news.”

Jill knew he was deeply concerned so she tried to sound reassuring. “I'll stay in touch with the powers that be and make certain the kids are happy and well cared for no matter where they're sent. I promise.” She smiled at the telephone as if it were Mitch's friendly face. “We should be celebrating the fact you saved all three of them, not fretting about a system that's only in place to
keep
them safe.”

She chose not to elaborate about some of the less than ideal foster situations she'd found herself in while
growing up. Mitch already had enough to worry about. She wasn't going to add to his burdens.

“How soon do you think we'll know?” he asked.

“I'm not sure. A lot depends on whether or not their parents had made prior arrangements with relatives or close friends in case of emergencies.”