In Love With The Firefighter

“Make fun of me if you want, but this place will make me a pile of cash. Think about it, Kevin. You can only fight fires for so long, and the real estate business is a great fallback plan.”

Kevin shrugged. “Fighting fires is in my blood. If I ever get too old to do it, I’ll hang around the station and bore the young guys with stories about how we used to do things back in my day.” He grinned and scratched Arnold’s ears while he talked. “Maybe they’ll let me toss my walker in the back of the truck and drive them to the fires.”

Charlie leaned against the wall. “You putting your name in for a promotion? When the chief retires in a few months, everyone will probably move up a notch. Might open up a lieutenant’s job for you, maybe even captain.”

“Thought about it,” Kevin admitted. His older brother was already a lieutenant with just a few more years than Kevin on the department. “How about you? Are you applying?”

“No thanks,” Charlie said. “I’m happy to stay out of paperwork at the station. Leadership is a whole lot of responsibility.”

“Fighting fires is a responsibility,” Kevin said.

Charlie shook his head. “Not the same thing. When you’re an officer, the place owns you, body and soul. And I’m not interested in being owned by anything.”

“Or anyone?”

Charlie laughed. “Definitely not. I’m in the rental business for the foreseeable future. Pretty women, ugly houses.”

“Give me a few days and this one won’t be ugly anymore,” Kevin said. He hoisted Arnold into his truck, got in and backed out of the driveway. Charlie waved as he pulled away, and Kevin wondered how his friend could choose selling houses instead of aiming for the top job at the fire department.

CHAPTER FOUR

JANE OPENED HER front door, stepped out of her shoes and dropped her purse on a chair in the living room. Her feet hurt and she was starving, but it had been a good afternoon. Several small paintings and a few gift items had sold, and she’d also enlisted Nicole to rearrange the displays in the front windows of the gallery. Business was picking up on the waves of spring sunshine, and she had a lot to hope for in her future—more than she’d even admitted to her best friend.

“We could order a pizza,” Jane said. “I think I could eat the entire thing myself.”

“No way. I’ve been here five days, and I haven’t cooked once,” Nicole said as she took off her shoes and left them by the front door. “Either I’m living a dream, or I’m being a lousy friend.”

Jane wandered into the kitchen with Nicole right behind her. She took a can of cat food from a lower cabinet and smiled at her houseguest. “You’re not a lousy friend. You’ve been busy moving in and helping me build my art empire.”

“You look exhausted,” Nicole said, giving Jane a long look. “And I like cooking.”

“I’m thrilled to have you here, but I’ll make you a deal if it’ll make you feel better. I’ll feed Claudette, and you make dinner for us two.”

“Deal,” Nicole said.

Nicole took a skillet from a rack near the sink while Jane found a clean bowl for her cat. It was nice having someone else in her kitchen. As much as she loved owning and running her gallery and living a peaceful life in a seaside town, the loneliness hit her every night when she came home. Having Nicole living with her gave her someone to talk to.

Someone she should confide in. Soon.

As Nicole sliced vegetables, Jane peeled back the metal lid on the can of cat food. Claudette circled her legs, excited about her evening meal. Without warning, the sight and smell of the wet food hit Jane like a wave of filthy water. She put her hand to her mouth, nearly retching, and dropped the can on the counter. It rolled, crashing loudly into the stainless steel sink.

“What’s the matter?” Nicole asked, rushing over. “Did you cut yourself on the lid?”

Jane shook her head and gripped the edge of the counter, fighting nausea. She heard a chair scrape the kitchen floor and felt Nicole pressing her into it.

“Jane, say something,” Nicole said. “Do you need a cold cloth or a drink?”

“I’m all right,” she protested. “The cat food smell just got me there for a minute.”

Claudette danced around the chair legs, sniffing the air, and then jumped into Jane’s lap. Nicole grabbed the cat and set her gently on the floor. She wound through Jane’s legs and tickled her bare feet.

“She’s hungry,” Jane whispered.

“She can wait a minute. What’s going on with you? You’ve smelled cat food a million times, and if I know Claudette, she’s been eating the same kind of food since we were in college. She knows her own mind.”

Jane sat back and took a deep breath. “I’m okay now. It was a passing thing.”

Nicole put the food in the cat’s bowl and set it on the floor on the far side of the kitchen. She grabbed a chair and pulled it close to Jane’s.

“Talk to me,” Nicole commanded.

Before she could say a word, Jane’s tears betrayed her. “I was planning to tell you, but I wanted you to get settled in first.”

Nicole put an arm around Jane’s shoulders. “Tell me what? Oh, God, are you sick? What’s wrong?”

Noticing the worry in her friend’s eyes, Jane tried to smile. “I’m not sick. At least not permanently.” She sucked in a deep breath. “I’m pregnant.”

It was the first time she had said the words aloud. Jane hadn’t spoken of it to anyone, even after her doctor confirmed it several weeks ago. It was her secret, the new life growing in her body. She hadn’t even told her parents, though she knew she couldn’t conceal it from them much longer. They lived an hour away, and she was surprised her mother hadn’t already figured out there was something going on, just from her voice over the phone.

“I wondered,” Nicole said.

“You did?”

“There were just a few things that didn’t seem...right.”

“You can say that again,” Jane said, sniffing and swiping at her tears. She’d already accepted the change her life was taking. A baby. For the past few weeks, the thought had come over her like sunshine through a window. Exciting, warming, but illuminating, too. How was she going to manage a baby along with her gallery? Was she ready to be a single mother? Or a mother at all?

Jane had found her own peace and joy about the child, but her emotions overwhelmed her as she tried talking about it for the first time. It was liberating but frightening, and she choked back sobs. Nicole jumped up and came back with a box of tissues.

“It’ll be okay,” Nicole said.

Jane wiped her eyes while Nicole rubbed her back and didn’t ask questions. “I’m not crying because I’m sad,” Jane mumbled from behind her tissues. “Having a baby isn’t a tragedy.”

“Of course not,” Nicole assured her. “And you’re not alone. I’m here. And Claudette will be a wonderful babysitter while we’re at the gallery.”

Jane laughed and wadded up her tissues. She looked at her friend’s sincere, supportive smile. “What am I going to do?”

“Be a wonderful mother.”

“I hope so,” she whispered. “At first I was stunned. Couldn’t believe it. But then I realized there was only one thing I could do. Be excited that I’m getting a wonderful and unexpected gift.”

“Can I be Aunt Nicole?”

“Of course. I’m an only child, so you’re the only aunt my baby is going to get.”

Nicole nodded and waited silently, hands on her knees.

“You know you want to ask,” Jane said. She would have been dying to ask if the tables were turned.

“Ask what?” Nicole said. “I’m here for you, and that’s all I need to know.”

“The father.”

Nicole got up and poured two glasses of water. “You only have to tell me what you want to tell me.”

Jane took a long, soothing drink. There was no reason to keep the truth from Nicole. Perhaps her best friend could help her figure out what to do.

“Charlie Zimmerman,” she said. “Realtor, firefighter, baby daddy.”

Nicole sucked in her lower lip but didn’t say anything.

“I’ve known him for five years. We’re friends,” Jane said swiftly. “He’s funny and attractive...but I didn’t think he was interested in me other than my status as the kid sister of the fire department. And then...”

“Then?”

“Stupid Valentine’s Day,” Jane muttered. “What a dumb holiday. It should be outlawed. It just makes single people feel unworthy and couples feel like they have to come up with some magical present or date. And then sometimes you go on dates you never would have accepted if it weren’t Valentine’s Day.”

“True,” Nicole conceded. “I spent it watching my favorite movie and drinking wine by myself this year.”

“Under the Tuscan Sun?”

Nicole nodded. “I swear I’m going to run away to Italy one of these days.”

“I wish I had been there watching it with you,” Jane said. “I wouldn’t have ended up single and pregnant.”

“So you went on a date with Charlie on Valentine’s Day?”

“No. We both had dates with other people.”

Nicole leaned back. “This is getting interesting.”

Jane laughed. “It’s not funny.”

“I’ll be the judge of that. Right after I get our dinner cooking.” She stood and turned on the burner. “You need to eat, and I’m happy to listen and cook at the same time.”

Jane watched Nicole scoop ingredients into the pan, and the aroma reminded her she was actually hungry. The sick feeling from the cat food was long gone. Poor Claudette. She might need to switch to dry food for a few months. And when the baby came along...how would an aging house cat, set in her ways, adjust to the change?

How would she adjust to the change?

“He doesn’t know,” Jane said as Nicole stirred.

“I assumed. When he sat with us at the bar, I thought there might be something between you.” She turned and held a large spoon in the air. “But I had no idea.”

“I have to tell him.”

“You do,” Nicole agreed. “But not tonight.”

Jane laughed. “No, not tonight. But it’s not the kind of thing you can hide forever. Not that I’d want to.”

“And what do you think he’ll say?”

“I have almost no doubt about it. He’ll ask me to marry him.”

“That jerk!” Nicole said, grinning. “And everyone thinks those firefighters are such heroes. Everyone except me, of course.”

“That’s exactly the problem. He’ll offer to do what he thinks is the right thing without a second thought.”

“But you’d have second thoughts.”

“Of course I would. I’ve known him a long time, and he’s no fan of commitment. Dated one girl after another, never staying with anyone for long. He would only marry me out of obligation, and I don’t want to be someone’s obligation. I’m worth more than that.”

* * *

FOLLOWING POLICE ORDERS, Charlie and Ethan waited behind the shelter of the fire truck while several officers entered the dilapidated home in a neglected section of Cape Pursuit. Far from the eyes of tourists, it was a five-minute ride from the fire station. Calls to the Dune Heights area of town often ended in a refusal of treatment, and domestic violence calls left Charlie and his fellow firefighters with the sick feeling that someone needed their help but wasn’t going to get it.

“I hate these calls,” Ethan muttered.

Charlie nodded. Everyone hated seeing drunk guys threaten their wives and families. His father would have cut off his own arm before threatening his wife and son. He would also have given that arm to have more years with Charlie’s mother, who died far too young of breast cancer.

“Maybe it’s a false alarm,” Charlie said. He listened closely for any sounds coming from the house. “It happens.”

Ethan blew out a breath and leaned against the truck. The midday sun flashed off the chrome pump. Charlie peered through the open middle of the truck, where the pump operator usually stood. Both he and Ethan wore full turnout gear and smelled like smoke. The Dumpster fire behind a fast-food restaurant in town hadn’t taken long to put out, and they were returning to the station when the call came in. The rest of their crew had returned to the station to grab the ambulance, but Ethan and Charlie went straight to the scene. The massive pumper truck was stocked with first aid and rescue equipment.

“I’d take a false alarm,” Ethan said. “Police only came to my house once when I was a kid, despite my parents constantly drinking and fighting. It wasn’t a false alarm that day.”

Charlie knew Ethan had a tough background. Instead of letting it destroy his life, he funneled every ounce of pain into doing the right thing. He fought fires, saved lives and never touched alcohol. He went along to the bar with his friends, and he drove them all home every single time. The eight-passenger SUV he owned probably cost him a fortune in car payments and gas.

“My dad spent the night in jail and it educated him for quite a while about his drinking limit.” Ethan took off his helmet and ran his fingers through his damp hair. “I can’t believe some days they’re both still alive.” Ethan shrugged and sat on the chrome step on the side of the truck. “Well, I don’t see them much even though they live right up the street.”

Charlie sat next to him and rested his elbows on his knees. It was hot on the shiny chrome bumper, blistering in his turnout gear. A cool shower at the station sounded like heaven, but he and Ethan would stay and sweat it out, hoping for the chance to help.

A police officer stepped around the front of the truck, and Charlie and Ethan jumped to their feet. “You better come in here,” he said. “We took out the husband in cuffs, but the wife could use some attention.”

Charlie hoisted the medical bag on his shoulder, and he and Ethan trudged up to the house behind the cop. The front steps had a missing board and one of the numbers over the front door was missing. A faded outline of the number two indicated where it had been. Still wearing his helmet, Charlie ducked out of habit as he went through the front door.

A woman sat on the only cushion left on a decrepit couch. She held a kitchen towel to her head. Charlie knelt in front of her and quickly snapped on the gloves his partner handed him. “I’m Charlie,” he said gently. “I’m a firefighter and I’m here to help you. Can I look at your injury?”

He heard Ethan talking with one of the police officers, asking if there were any other injured people in the house. The room looked like a battlefield. A table was overturned, a window was broken and there was a sizable hole in the wall above the couch.

The woman looked warily at Charlie. He took off his helmet and set it next to him on the floor so she could see him better. He opened his hands and held them in front of her so she could see there was nothing in them. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said.

She lowered the towel and Charlie didn’t flinch when he saw the bloody mess on the side of her face. Although he’d seen worse at fire scenes and car accidents, the wounds inflicted by a person’s supposed loved ones always seemed to be the ugliest.

The police officers had left the room so Ethan and Charlie could help the victim. Ethan snapped open an ice pack and handed it to Charlie. He stood back, letting Charlie take the lead because he was the first person to talk to the patient. Charlie heard the ambulance’s siren approaching. “A few of my partners are coming, and they’ll take you to the hospital.”

“What makes you think I’m goin’?” the woman asked. Her lip quivered when she spoke.

“You need to,” he said gently. “Your cut needs a few stitches.”

“I don’t know.”

“I’ll go with you,” Charlie said, hoping he’d gained some of her trust. Ethan could take the truck back. He could wear his heavy turnout gear just a little longer. He placed sterile gauze on the open wound on her temple and held the ice pack over the bandage. She didn’t object. Her dirty hair, streaked with gray, had already stuck to the drying blood on the side of her face. Charlie was afraid she’d crumple if they tried to pick her up.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Karleen,” she said.

“Hey,” a loud voice yelled in the adjoining room. Charlie glanced up in time to see a massive bearded man staggering into the living room. He was shirtless and disheveled. “You can’t take my brother to jail just for beating up this—”

Charlie stood and shielded the woman on the couch, and Ethan moved swiftly and pinned the large man against the door frame. He fought back, and a lamp crashed to the floor, but Ethan was almost as large and had the advantage of a thick suit of turnout gear. Charlie wanted to jump into the fight, but his first duty was to protect his patient, so he stood his ground. Ethan was winning anyway.

At the sound of the scuffle, two cops rushed back into the living room and were followed by Tony Ruggles and his father, the fire chief. When the assailant saw he was outnumbered by six men ready to fight, he backed off.

“I ain’t going to jail, too,” the bearded man said. “I was just sayin’ it ain’t right to take her word over his. She’s just as drunk.”

Charlie turned to Karleen, keeping his body between her and the other man.

“Can we go?” the woman whispered to Charlie. “I need to get away from him.”

He offered her a hand. “Ready when you are.”

As Charlie helped his patient out of the house and into the back of the ambulance, he mentally reviewed any rental properties he owned that were empty. He’d do anything it took to help Karleen find a new home. Even though he’d never be half the man his father was, he could try.

CHAPTER FIVE

NICOLE AWOKE TO the sound of sirens. Wailing sirens. She lay awake listening for a moment and then drifted into a dream that was her worst nightmare—a startlingly realistic memory of her brother.

* * *

TALL, HANDSOME ADAM. He was blond and green-eyed like her and had the gift of long limbs and broad shoulders. The last time she saw him, he was boarding a plane in Indianapolis to go out West for his summer job with the forestry service. He already wore the T-shirt with the fire insignia on the front and one large word on the back: FIRE.

In the dream, he smiled and waved to her and her parents as they stood in the area just before the airport security line. They watched him navigate bag check, walk through the metal detector and head off to fight flames and save lives. He turned and smiled at her one last time.

* * *

NICOLE AWOKE AGAIN, sweat drenching her nightshirt. She had never seen him alive again.

The sound of noise in the kitchen, clanging pots, metal on metal, had awakened her this time. She pulled on a thin robe and headed toward the clamor.

Claudette lay curled on a kitchen chair, watching Jane pour coffee into a large thermos. The tabby cat kept one sleepy eye open, and Jane herself was wide awake and zipping around her small kitchen.

“Sorry to wake you up,” Jane said. She screwed the lid on the thermos and filled another, smaller carafe.

“You’re making coffee at one in the morning?” Nicole asked. Her dream still made her feel disoriented, almost as if someone was going to knock on the door and deliver the news that was every family’s nightmare.

“Fire down the street, and it looks like they’ll be there awhile.” Jane opened the cabinet over the sink and pulled out two sleeves of disposable white cups. “I’m taking the guys coffee.”

Jane was already dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt. Although it was early May, the nights on the Virginia coast were still chilly.

“Can I help?” Nicole asked.

“Spare blankets. I keep them in the closet outside the bathroom, bottom shelf. Would you grab three or four? And you could throw on some clothes if you want to help carry this stuff.”

Jane flipped the switch to brew another pot. She glanced up and met Nicole’s eyes. “I’ll understand if you don’t want to.”

Nicole hesitated. She wanted to help. But her dream was still so raw, her damp nightshirt clinging to her and chilling her. She swallowed and steadied her breathing. “I’ll get dressed and grab the blankets,” she said.

Claudette followed her down the hall, winding between her legs and apparently hoping for something interesting to happen. Nicole dressed quickly in jeans and a sweatshirt, slipped into sneakers, and went to the linen closet. She wanted to hurry, but her legs were lead. The door creaked in the nighttime silence and she pulled the chain to turn on the bulb in the closet. Claudette crept stealthily inside, her tail twitching. A stack of industrial-looking rough blankets were on the lower shelf. Nicole pulled out four of them, toed the cat out of the closet, turned off the light and closed the door.

She gathered the blankets in her arms and steeled herself. She was going to a fire in the middle of the night. There would be firefighters, flashing lights, danger. Was anyone hurt? She nearly lost her nerve, but she took solace in the fact that Jane would be there with her. It would be okay. Starting over in a new place meant she had to face the things that were holding her back. But she wasn’t sure she could.

As they went through the front door, Jane lugging the big thermos and cups and Nicole holding blankets, they saw the flashing lights and spotlights of the fire scene only eight houses down the street.

The house on fire was a large one, a storybook house with fancy trim and detailed paint. White with rose, sage and soft gold accents. She’d snapped a photo of it two days ago when she took an evening walk with her camera slung over her shoulder.

Fire trucks with hoses snaking from hydrants robbed the house of its fairy-tale quality. Neighbors gathered, their faces red and white in the flashing lights. Jane walked quickly, but Nicole lagged a few steps behind. Lights were on in houses they passed even though it was the middle of the night. It appeared the whole neighborhood had beaten them to the scene.

But Nicole and Jane had an advantage. They had coffee and blankets.

A small group of people wearing bathrobes and sweatshirts, clothing disheveled and untucked, gathered just outside the fire scene. Nicole stopped, but Jane stepped over a hose and walked right up to a firefighter in full gear. A reflective stripe defined the bottom of his heavy yellow coat. The word Zimmerman flashed in reflective letters across his back. Jane put her thermos on the truck’s silver running board and waited next to Charlie while he listened to a radio pressed against his ear and adjusted gauges on the massive pump on the side of the truck.

Nicole felt like she was in a war zone. She didn’t follow Jane, hanging back and mutely holding on to the blankets. How could Jane be so brave? Not only had she marched up to the scene, but she was talking with the father of her baby. Putting other people’s problems before her own—that was the source of Jane’s bravery.

“Can I borrow those?” A police officer, an older man whom Nicole recognized as the officer who wrote the report on her car, stood at her elbow. “The family would sure appreciate it.”

He took two blankets off the top and cocked his head, indicating she should follow him. She wanted to help, wanted to offer comfort to people whose house had windows broken out, charred furniture on the lawn, smoke seething from the upper floors. She took a breath and followed the police officer, resolving to be strong. Her brother would be in there fighting the fire.

If he were here.

If he were alive.

“Here you go,” the police officer said. He handed a blanket to a woman wearing a nightgown and a man’s coat that was much too large for her. She wrapped the blanket around a little girl and tucked in the folds in front. The girl sat down, the long tails of the blanket spreading around her as if she were on a picnic.

A firefighter came over. Kevin Ruggles. “Any accelerants in the garage or basement? Gas cans, propane tanks, anything like that?”

The little girl’s father shook his head. “No gas cans. We have a lawn service. Nothing else like that.”

Kevin nodded, his helmet bobbing. He pushed his helmet up and nodded to Nicole.

“Thanks,” he said. He turned and trudged back to the front porch where a man in a red helmet was giving orders.

The little girl got up and followed him, her blanket dragging on the ground. Her parents didn’t notice, but Nicole did. She waited, watching. The girl wasn’t in danger. Kevin was talking with the man who appeared to be in charge of the fire scene, and the worst seemed to be over. The girl pulled on the edge of Kevin’s coat and looked up at him. He leaned down and put his ear as close to her as he could manage with his helmet on, listening and nodding. Then he turned the girl around by her shoulders and pointed at her parents.

“Where did you go?” the mother asked, panic and despair in her voice as her daughter approached. “I told you to stay close by, honey. It’s dangerous.”

“I was asking him to look for Eddie,” she said, and started to cry. “I can’t find him. What if he died in the fire?”

The parents exchanged pained looks.

Oh, God, Nicole thought. Who is Eddie? Her brother? She felt tears stinging her eyes as she relived the pain of losing Adam.

“He was sleeping on my bed when the smoke alarm woke me up,” the girl continued.

“Maybe he followed us out,” her father said, putting an arm around his daughter. “He can see really well in the dark.”

Nicole let out the breath she was holding. Okay, we’re obviously talking about a pet. Breathe.

“I asked the fireman to look for him and he promised he would,” the child continued.

“I’m sure he will, baby,” her father said.

“I’ll help you look,” Nicole offered. “Is Eddie a dog or a cat?”

“Cat,” the girl said.

“Maybe he followed you, just like your dad said. We could stay out of the way and look around together.”

Nicole had no idea why she was insisting on searching for a cat that probably perished in the fire. But in a way, she understood the girl’s grief. Knew what it was like to hope someone or something you loved had somehow survived against the odds.

“I’m Nicole,” she told the girl’s parents. “I’m staying with my friend Jane who owns the art gallery in town.”

“We know Jane,” the mom said. To her daughter, she said, “If you stay far away from the firemen and the trucks, you can go with this nice lady and look around.” Her face softened. “Maybe he climbed a tree to hide and he’s just waiting for you to come get him.”

Nicole took the girl’s hand. “What color is your cat?”

“Black. He’s all black.”

Great. Looking for a panicked black cat that may or may not even be alive. In the darkness. At least it was better than watching the firefighters systematically carry out smoldering furniture and other belongings. Anything was better than that.

“I’m Julia,” the girl said, her voice small. Her dark hair fell around her face and she looked tiny under the rough blanket. “Do you think we’ll find Eddie?”

“Yes,” Nicole said, trying to sound convincing. “He could be sound asleep in the mailbox.”

“Or my sandbox.”

“I’ll bet you’re right. We’ll check those places and then start looking under plants and in trees. Is Eddie a good climber?”

Julia wrinkled her forehead. “He never goes out of the house. He usually sleeps all day unless I’m playing with him.”

“So,” Nicole said. “He’s a beginner climber. That’s good. He won’t be too far up. But we’re going to need a flashlight.”

Nicole took the child’s hand and approached Kevin, who was now digging through a cabinet on the side of one of the fire trucks.

“Excuse me,” she said. “Do you have a flashlight in there we can borrow?”

At the sight of Nicole and the little girl, his brows came together in a skeptical look. “What are you planning to do with it? You can’t go in the house.”

“I’m not a fool,” Nicole said. “We’re looking for Eddie.”

Kevin glanced at the little girl. “The cat?” he asked.

“Uh-huh,” Julia said. “Nicole is helping me find him. We’re looking in the mailbox and up in the trees.”

Kevin smiled. “That’s really nice of Nicole, and I’m sure you’ll find him. He’s probably just scared. Fires are scary.”

He took a flashlight from the large front pocket of his heavy coat and handed it to Nicole.

“I’ll bring it back,” she said.

“I know where to find you,” he replied, smiling at her and holding eye contact as if he wanted to emphasize that they were on the same side.

“Thank you,” Nicole said. She took the child’s hand and they crept around the edge of the property, checking every hiding place they could find on the lawn. Trying to ignore the damp, smoky smell of the fire, she swept the flashlight into trees, under shrubs and beneath the swing set. Nicole smiled encouragingly at the little girl even though it seemed hopeless.

One set of searchlights went off. A fire truck left, and neighbors went home. It had to be two in the morning at least, but there was no sign of Eddie. Nicole felt tears of frustration, exhaustion and something she didn’t want to think about well in her eyes. Julia’s mother found them in the backyard and claimed her daughter’s hand. “Sorry we didn’t find Eddie tonight,” Nicole told the girl, “but I’m sure he’ll come back tomorrow.”

“We’re staying with my sister across town,” the mother said. “If you happen to see a lonely black cat around, here’s her number.”

Nicole took the scrap of paper and promised to keep an eye out. She watched the family climb wearily into an SUV with only the clothes and blankets on their backs. The fire chief and another firefighter put up yellow caution tape across the doors.

Nicole still had the flashlight and most of the trucks had left, so she approached the man in the red helmet. “Please give this to Kevin Ruggles,” she said, her voice faint with disappointment and unshed tears.

“He’s right here,” the chief said, handing the light over Nicole’s head to a man behind her. She turned and faced him.