One Fine Fireman (12 page)

Chapter Ten

S
OMETHING WET WAS
sliming Pete’s cheek. He opened his eyes, then squinted them shut right away. A bright shaft of light from above had nearly blinded him. And what was that black slippery stuff all around him? He tried to struggle to his feet, but he kept sliding around in the mud.

The mud
.

Memory flooded back. He’d been running through the woods, away from the sneaky-looking men who’d shown up at the warehouse, when the ground had disappeared from under him and everything had gone black. He must have fallen into some kind of hole, like a trap.

His heart raced. Where was he? Where were those men?

He lifted his head and listened. Should he try to climb out of the hole? Was it safe? What would Robin Dareheart do if he saw a bunch of creepy men with red plastic containers that smelled like gasoline?

Robin Dareheart probably wouldn’t have run. At least he’d grabbed Hagrid, although he’d had to leave his bike behind. Maybe it was a good thing Hagrid hadn’t wanted to get in the saddlebag he’d brought.

“Hagrid,” he whispered. “Are you here?”

Then he remembered. Halfway between the warehouse and the woods, he’d heard a shout, then a sharp
pop
.

Hagrid had wormed out of his arms and raced back toward the warehouse, barking like a maniac. Terrified, Pete had kept running until he reached the woods, then kept on, going in wild zigzags, until blackness had swallowed him up.

He gave a sob.
Hagrid
. Hagrid must have gone back to attack those men, scare them away. He’d probably gotten shot. That
pop
must have been a gunshot, right? He was probably lying dead outside the warehouse while those horrible men set it on fire. The building was probably burned to a crisp by now and Hagrid, poor brave Hagrid . . .

A sharp bark made him jerk. That sounded like . . . Was Hagrid still alive?

“Hagrid, shh!” He spoke in a loud whisper that hopefully wouldn’t carry too far in case the men were still out there.

Quick little scrabbling sounds came from overhead, followed by the thump of running footsteps. Oh no, the men were after Hagrid. He had to get out of here, had to help . . . He made his hands into claws and dug them into the muddy sides of the hole. The light wasn’t too far above him, just a few feet. If he could grab onto a tree root or something . . . He craned his neck at the opening overhead. Something was blocking the light. He squinted.

A furry white head peered down at him and gave a soft bark. The footsteps were still coming after him.

“Hagrid! What are you doing, boy? Run and hide. Hide!”

Then another figure appeared next to the dog. “Pete, is that you?”

Kirk.
Dizzy with relief, Pete slid back down to the bottom of the hole. “I’m down here. Are those men still here?”

“The firemen? Yep, they’re here, but they’re a little busy.”

“No,” said Pete, but it didn’t seem worth explaining right now. “I’m kind of stuck down here.”

“So I see. Hang tight, I’ll get a rope. You okay for a few more minutes?”

“Oh sure. Take your time.” Now that Kirk and Hagrid were here, all fear left him. Kirk disappeared, but then his mother knelt next to Hagrid, the sunlight making a red halo out of her hair.

“Pete! Are you hurt?” She’d obviously been crying; he could tell from her voice. And he felt horrible all of a sudden. He’d snuck out of school, broken the rules, been shot at, nearly gotten Hagrid killed.

“No,” he said in a thin voice. He hadn’t felt like crying until this very moment. But now . . . “I’m not hurt. And I’m really sorry, Mom. You can ground me. I don’t mind.”

“Oh sweetie. You look pretty grounded already.” She went for a laugh, which partly worked.

She’d made a joke. His mom, who must have been freaking out, had tried to make him laugh. Tears sprang out of his eyes. He wiped them away, getting mud all over his face.

His mother sneezed.

“Mom, you’d better get away from Hagrid. He’s making you sneeze.”

“Not yet. We’re fine for now, me and Hagrid.” He saw a movement up above that looked like a pat on the dog’s head.

“You’re going to have to take a bath when we get home,” he said.

“I have a feeling I’m not the only one. Just how muddy are you?”

“About as muddy as the giant slug in the Cave of Torment.”

“Wow! But sorry, I don’t think we have a bathtub big enough for the giant slug.”

Another joke! Everything was going to be okay. And then Kirk was back, and he knew for sure that everything would be fine.

“Okay, buddy. Time to show off your climbing skills.” A rope, knotted at the end so he could easily grip it, slowly made its way down the hole. “You can tie it around your waist or just hold on.”

“My hands are really muddy.”

“Then tie it around your chest, under your arms. No hurry, Pete. Take your time, tie a good knot. That’s right. Good job.”

Kirk’s calm voice made all the difference. Pete wasn’t nervous at all as he tied the knot.. He felt a little goofy dangling from the rope as Kirk hauled him up. He used his feet to hold himself off the sides of the hole. As his head cleared the opening, the first thing he felt was Hagrid’s enthusiastic, joyful licking of every inch of his face. Next came his mother’s arms, scooping him up tight, never mind the mud all over him. And then the unfamiliar, reassuring weight of a strong male hand clapping him on the back.

M
ARIBEL COULD BARELY
stand to hear the details of Pete’s adventure. A rescue ambulance came and paramedics checked him out and wrapped him in a blanket. Even though it was eighty degrees outside, her son kept shivering. Shock, they said. Luckily, they didn’t feel a trip to Good Samaritan hospital was necessary. She stayed with Pete, sitting close to him on the tailgate of the rescue ambulance, and listened to the details of his story. He’d planned to stash Hagrid in the garden shed behind their house. Since she never did anything resembling yard work, it might have worked, if Hagrid had never barked or ventured outside during daylight hours.

“Honey, I wish we could keep Hagrid. I really do. But—”

“I know. It was stupid. I don’t care anymore. I mean, I care, but I’m just glad he’s alive.”

They both glanced over at poor Hagrid, whose ear was being swathed in ointment by Fred, who’d spread out a blanket on the grass to tend to the dog. The fire was now a smoldering shadow of its former terrifying self, and the firefighters were putting away their equipment. A few of the fire engines had already left, but the San Gabriel crew was still there.

“He’s a great dog,” said Maribel softly. “You were right, Pete. He’s special.”

Pete nodded wearily. She wanted to throw up at the thought of everything he’d gone through—gunshots, arson-witnessing, getting knocked unconscious. She put her arm around him, wondering how she was ever going to let him out of her sight again.

Captain Brody walked over to them and surveyed Pete with sober charcoal-gray eyes. “Pete, the arson investigators are going to want to talk to you. Are you okay with that?”

“Why?” Maribel asked in alarm. “He’s just a kid.”

“But he’s a smart kid. If he saw something that might help locate the arsonists, we might be able to lock them up so they don’t do anything like this again. We might not even know it was arson if Pete hadn’t seen as much as he did. These are dangerous people, professionals probably hired by the owners when they couldn’t find a new renter It’s not only arson, but attempted murder.”

The blood drained from Maribel’s face. She hadn’t thought of it in those terms. “And Pete’s the witness? But he didn’t see anything. And they didn’t see him, did they, Pete? Just from the back while you were running into the woods?”

Pete’s eyes were wide with fright. “I don’t think they saw my face.”

“Don’t worry, they’ll never know his name. He’ll be protected.”

“Yes, he will be,” said Kirk, stepping to Brody’s side. His face looked grim and angry, his eyes like chips of quartz in a wall of granite. “I’ll make sure of that.”

Maribel was so glad to see him, she forgot that no one else knew they were—well, in love—and clutched his hand to her heart. “Kirk, where’ve you been?”

“Trying to figure out what happened. I’m guessing Hagrid went after the bastard—excuse me—who shot at Pete. Some gasoline spilled on his ear and a spark must have landed on it. That’s one lucky dog.”

“Brave too,” said Captain Brody. He knelt on the blanket next to Fred and looked Hagrid in the eye. Hagrid gazed back with soulful brown eyes. .

“Good dog,” said Brody finally, reaching out to scratch Hagrid’s uninjured ear. “You did good. But you know that. I hear you were a helluva rescue dog.”

Hagrid gave a soft yip and licked at Brody’s hand.

“His ear isn’t too bad,” said Fred. “As long as it doesn’t get infected, he should heal pretty quick. It’s going to scar up though.”

“Hear that, pup?” said Brody. “A battle scar. All the girls will love you.”

Hagrid’s intelligent gaze traveled from face to face, but always went back to Brody. He must have recognized the top dog in this pack of firefighters.

Brody scratched the dog under the chin, making his eyes close in bliss. “We’ll have to make sure you’re well taken care of, won’t we?”

Pete piped up. “He doesn’t want to go to Colorado. He’s a California dog.”

“Is that right?” The captain didn’t seem to think it strange that Pete would speak for Hagrid. “Then again, maybe his work here is done.” Another long moment of communion with Hagrid followed, while Maribel fought back tears. If Hagrid had been killed in the fire, or by the arsonists, would they have found Pete in that old sinkhole?

She held tightly to the lifeline of Kirk’s hand. The warmth of his body, standing so close to her, felt more than reassuring; it felt essential.

Pete, apparently jealous of Hagrid’s newfound dog-crush on Captain Brody, hopped down from the ambulance and knelt next to Hagrid. He kept the blanket wrapped around himself, but Maribel could tell he felt better. She snuggled closer to Kirk and rubbed her cheek on his arm.

“What did you mean when you said you’ll make sure Pete’s protected?” Maribel murmured.

“I’m going to make sure. Personally. I’m going to stay and watch over him.”

“What?”

“Listen to me.” She let him pull her away from the ambulance, out of Pete’s earshot. “The police will probably offer some protection, depending on what the arson squad determines. But it’s not enough. I’ll sleep on your couch. I’ll drive him to school. I’ll check with the school officials about security there. I’ll be his personal bodyguard until the danger’s passed.”

“Kirk! That’s crazy. You’re supposed to be moving to Alaska.”

A stubborn look came over his face, a very Thor-like expression that really ought to be accompanied by a thunderbolt. “Pete might be the only witness to arson and attempted murder. What’s to stop them from trying to finish the job?”

Maribel shuddered. “But they didn’t see him!”

“We don’t know that. What if they had someone on lookout in the woods? We can’t take a chance.”

“But the police—”

“Are perfectly competent. But I’m not going to leave it up to them.”

“Kirk . . .” She wrung her hands together. “You’re scaring me. Of course. That’s it: you’re catastrophizing!”

“Maribel. Look at me.” She did, and the dead-serious look in his eyes sent a chill straight through her. “I’m not catastrophizing. I’m being smart and careful. In fact, it would be even better if . . .”

“If what?”

But they were interrupted by Pete running toward them. “Hagrid might get a special award! Captain Brody says he’s earned it.”

“That’s great, honey. Of course he’s earned it.”

Pete looked from one to the other of them. “What’s wrong?”

“Sweetie, would you mind if Kirk stayed at our house for a little while?”

An exuberant hug around Kirk’s waist, blanket sliding to the ground, was answer enough for Maribel.

“Fine,” she told Kirk. “But we need to talk more about this.”

That stubborn thunderbolt look came back, but he nodded. “What about Hagrid?” He turned to the captain. “Maribel’s allergic. Any ideas who could take care of him for now?”

Brody stroked his stubbled chin thoughtfully. “I’ll take him to the station, see if any of the crew wants to take him home. I’m sure we’ll get some takers. Maybe even a bidding war. When everyone hears his story, they’ll be fighting over who gets to adopt him.”

“What about you, Cap? He really likes you.” Hagrid had torn himself away from Fred’s ministrations and was plastered to Brody’s leg, gazing up at him adoringly.

“Not a good time,” he said vaguely. “Rebecca, you know, well . . . not a good time.” He strode toward Engine 1, Hagrid trotting eagerly at his feet. They watched the dog hop into the fire engine as if he’d been doing it for years. Maybe he had been, in his former career. Hagrid had many secrets, Maribel realized.

“Well.” She took in a deep breath and smiled at her son and her . . . Kirk. “Shall we go home?”

K
IRK PASSED AN
uncomfortable night on Maribel’s royal-purple overstuffed couch. After she’d put Pete to bed, she’d cuddled with him and things had gotten interesting, but neither had felt comfortable going any further with Pete liable to wake up any minute from a nightmare. Which he’d done, later on. Kirk heard Maribel slip into his room, heard the murmur of her voice soothing him, the soft lullaby she sang him. His heart hurt from the beauty of it. Everything he wanted was in that room. Maribel, a family, a bright boy, love, warmth, life. Nothing was going to hurt anyone in that room, he vowed; he’d give his own life to make sure.

The next day, Pete stayed home from school. Kirk had to go back to his house to move the last few boxes out. He called the movers and put everything on hold for a week. He’d have to talk to the police about their take on the situation. How would he know when it was safe to relax? Would he ever feel comfortable about Pete’s safety, especially when he was thousands of miles away? He doubted that would ever happen. He’d have to consider canceling the move to Alaska.