Rescued by the Firefighter Read online

  “For all of you who went to St. Mark’s last night, Father Michael phoned me early this morning and told me that you were the best group of kids he’s ever seen. You made me proud. Bruce and Cindy didn’t have to worry about any of you. You took an emergency situation and dealt with it calmly and respected those in authority. I couldn’t ask for more. Thank you to the older kids who helped the younger ones. Everybody pitched in. You’re all—” she looked directly at Chris and Eli “—the best group of campers who’ve come to stay with me. I hope you all come back next year and stay for a whole month!”

  The room erupted in cheers and clapping. Beatrice’s heart swelled and she breathed in their affection.

  They were so young, and though the night had been fraught with terror, they’d all grown from the experience.

  “So, listen up, guys. Amanda has made a special breakfast for you all. Pancakes, bacon and baked cinnamon apples with oatmeal crunch. We have lots of homemade syrup from the Indian Lake Boy Scouts and plenty of butter. After breakfast, Cindy is taking those who signed up for kayak lessons to the lake. Bruce and Maisie are heading up baseball practice. Joshua? How’s the leg? You think you want to try some batting practice?”

  “You bet, Miss Beatrice,” Joshua replied happily.

  “Great!”

  Amanda, Bruce, Maisie and Cindy entered the dining hall with trays filled with special breakfast plates. While the kids cheered, Beatrice’s cell phone rang again.

  This time, she turned away from the dining tables and headed toward the door. Walking in her boot slowed her down enough that she could read the caller ID.

  It was the same number that had tried to reach her previously.

  Still looking down at her phone, she reached for the screen door to the outside porch. “Who in the heck is calling me?”

  Then she ran smack-dab into a broad, rock-hard human chest. Beatrice wondered if she’d suffered a concussion. Not another trip to the ER! And what would that cost? “What?”

  “I called,” Rand said. “You didn’t pick up.”

  “I didn’t know it was you.”

  “I gave you my card.”

  “When?”

  “Last night. Er, this morning. In the hospital.”

  “Sorry. I was drugged. I mean, medicated.”

  “I see that. We’re here about the investigation.”

  Beatrice’s skin iced over as if the contents of her boot had thrown over her whole body.

  She tried to remember that he was responsible for saving her, and Eli and Chris. He was handsome. And strong and heroic.

  But Rand stood like a colossus in front of her, and at this moment he represented every fear that had festered in her head from the instant she’d smelled smoke. Her earlier resolve to go toe-to-toe with him faltered.

  Ultimately, she was responsible for Eli and Chris being in that fire last night. Their safety was her obligation. She’d put them in harm’s way. Would Rand report to his superiors that the camp was unsafe? That she, personally, was at fault for the kids being out by themselves?

  If Rand found one fault and declared her camp unsafe, the sheriff could shut her down, send the kids away and force her to make improvements. Not until a city inspector deemed the camp safe again, could she open. If Rand or his superiors declared her negligent, her state license could be revoked. She would lose more money than she could ever recoup.

  And Beatrice’s dreams would be lost, too.

  The fact that everyone was safe and alive didn’t matter, she realized. Rand was here to find fault. From the dour look on his face, she guessed that he believed she should be toe-tagged with the blame card.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “YOU’RE READY TO START?” she asked, her mouth suddenly dry. She forced a smile that she was sure would crack her lips. She just hoped she didn’t bleed in front of him.

  “Yes. The forensic team is already on the job.”

  She tried to peer around him, but his shoulders nearly blocked the entire entrance and all of her view of the outside. “Okay—”

  He didn’t let her finish. “Since that—” he tilted his head to indicate the fire site across the street “—is county property, this is just a courtesy to let you know we’re here.”

  Her sigh of relief was instantaneous. He wouldn’t be investigating the camp. She was off the hook.

  “However...”

  She held her breath. She should have known she wouldn’t escape this man’s scrupulous and discerning eye. “Yes?” She lifted her chin defensively. She was ready for him. She had nothing to hide.

  That I know about.

  She thought of the previous night with Eli and Chris, all their infractions and possible broken laws huddled together like balls inside a pool-table rack, waiting to be broken apart. Dispelled. And sunk.

  Beatrice’s best defense was honesty. “I intend to cooperate in any way I can.”

  “I should hope so,” he said brusquely. “After all, we’re here to ascertain if a crime has been committed.”

  “A crime?” Beatrice nearly lost her balance. She slammed her palm against the wall for support. “Sorry. I’m not used to the air boot.”

  His eyes flitted down to her foot and then back up.

  Oddly, she didn’t recoil from his glance at her camp shorts and T-shirt. When his eyes met hers, she could have sworn she saw empathy in them.

  “I’ll need to interview you, your staff, the two kids...” He lifted a notebook. “Chris and Eli.” He lowered his hand. “I trust they’re all here now?”

  “They are. And Officer Nelson, I’d rather you didn’t talk to Chris or Eli in the dining hall. I don’t want to disturb the other kids. You can use my office.”

  “That would be good.” He stepped back from the entrance, put the slim notebook in the back pocket of his jeans and smiled at her with a quirk of his lips. “Uh, and Bee. I’m not an officer. My father was a navy officer, an admiral, actually. I’m a firefighter. You can call me Rand.”

  Beatrice’s head hitched back as if she’d been doused with a bucketful of water. She wished he wouldn’t call her that. No one had called her “Bee” since she was little. Coming from Rand, she’d never heard it said with so much velvety charm.

  And where had that come from? Rand had been stoic and strong and purposeful during the fire, when he’d saved her and the boys. His gruff exterior only a second ago had caused her to believe he was as rough as sandpaper on the inside as well. But this sudden glimpse of something else—someone else—was unexpected.

  But was it real?

  He stepped outside. “I’ll get my recorder and be right back.”

  “Recorder?”

  “Yeah. I tape the interviews for the captain’s records. It will go with all the other forensic samples.”

  Beatrice wrung her hands as the depth of his investigation hit her. She looked at her hands and shoved them to her sides. She wasn’t the hand-wringing type. She’d just risked her life for her camper kids. She’d do it again. No second thoughts.

  But what if Rand’s investigation exposed some nuance of neglect? Just how far would he go to fulfill his duties as a firefighter?

  “Maybe you should tell me what exactly you’re looking for?” she challenged, raising her arms to cross over her chest. Armor to deflect the threat he posed.

  “Noncompliance with safety regulations.” He raised an eyebrow. “Unfortunately, it’s all too common. I’ve even seen day-care owners who posed as caretakers but in truth were anything but.”

  “And you think I’m capable of such behavior?”

  He stared at her.

  “Why would I—or anyone—do such a thing? They’re...children, for goodness sake.”

  “Money. Government funds. Grants.”

  She held up her palms. “Stop right there. I would never do anything to harm these k
ids. And what on earth would I gain by starting a fire?”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “Insurance money? I’ve seen that before, too. Insurance money is a quick way out for people who get into debt.”

  She narrowed her eyes to slits to filter out his accusations. He probably had seen that kind of person a dozen times over in his line of work. Maybe worse. Pyromaniacs. People whose euphoria escalated with the sound of sirens.

  And even though that was nowhere near the kind of person she was, Rand was the kind of by-the-book official who would shut down her camp if he found the tiniest infraction.

  Had she caused herself great harm by running into that fire to save Eli and Chris?

  And what of the boys themselves? The boys might have had something to do with the fire, but she would not let herself think that either of them had done anything intentional. It all had to be an accident. But even if it was, would the fact that the boys were in her care still be enough to bring charges against her?

  She could see the case Rand could make. That accusatory finger of the law was itching to point at her.

  Beatrice sensed that if she let her growing sense of guilt show on her face or in her tone of voice, he would suspect her of crimes she hadn’t even thought of. That was the problem with being a cop’s kid. You could always see the dark side of a situation before you saw the light.

  She cocked her chin and pursed her lips. “Well, Mr. Nelson, I can tell you one thing—you’re never going to get the truth out of a kid acting like this.”

  “Me? What are you talking about?”

  “None of your questions and interrogations will be easy for a kid. I know you’re doing what’s necessary and all this is required by the law, but these kids—” she turned her head toward the dining room and then, after a thoughtful pause, back to him “—they’re good kids. All of them.”

  Ouch. Even she thought her defensive tone was sharp enough to pierce granite.

  “Look,” she said sweetly, changing tack. “Some of them have had a rough life. A couple have had a very tough life. Could you be a little...well, softer in your delivery?”

  “Softer?”

  “Yeah. Not so gruff.”

  His biceps flexed, bulged and relaxed as he folded his arms over his chest. “You think I sound harsh?” He leaned forward a few inches, but instead of seeming threatening, his closeness reminded her of the other reactions she had to him. The ones that made her wish they were not in this antagonistic situation. The ones that flashed visions of being held in his arms.

  “To a kid. Yes.”

  She peeled her eyes off his arms and hauled them up to his face. She met his gaze dead-on.

  “I’ll take that into consideration. Thanks for the advice. I’ll be right back.”

  He walked toward the huge fire truck.

  His heavy black boots left shallow imprints in the dry dirt as he headed across the summer-bleached grass that in spring had been dark green velvet. Their indentations left proof that he was on the job, performing his duty. Beatrice inhaled deeply as the space between the two of them lengthened. She realized that when she was near him, he didn’t just fill the inches and feet between them, but he overtook her thoughts as well.

  He wore regulation black jeans and a short-sleeved knit shirt, which had the ILFD logo over the breast pocket. Beatrice had never been the type to linger long over any male’s physique, but Rand was so perfectly sculptured, it was impossible not to conjure visions of ancient Greek Olympians and the mighty feats they accomplished.

  But then, Rand had carried her and Eli out of a blazing inferno. What was more Herculean than that?

  Beatrice was so immersed in her fantasies about Rand, that she didn’t notice that he’d walked back to her and had started talking to her.

  “Sorry, what?”

  He sighed, and started over. “I need to talk to all the kids about fire safety before I have the private, er, interviews.”

  She had to give him points for carefully choosing his words. Maybe he’d listened to her.

  She turned her boot around and let her body follow, using the wall for momentary security. “This way.”

  The kids were nearly back to normal, Beatrice realized as she entered the dining hall. Their voices were sprinkled with chuckles and had returned to the loud, happy tones she’d heard before the fire.

  She clapped her hands three times, the signal for their attention. Usually, it took them a few moments to stop joking with one another. This time they came to abrupt attention.

  “Guys. This is Firefighter Rand Nelson. Some of you met him last night during the fire.” She looked pointedly at Eli and Chris. Eli smiled at Rand. Chris scooted back on his chair. He clutched either side of his seat with his hands. Little Ricky’s eyes were filled with adoration.

  Cindy stared blatantly at Rand’s chest. Maisie’s cheeks were pink.

  Beatrice continued. “Mr. Nelson wants to talk to you all about fire safety.”

  Beatrice took a step back and nearly toppled over. Quick reflexes on Rand’s part saved her from the fall. “Thanks,” she said, feeling both clumsy and embarrassed.

  “You’re welcome,” he whispered but didn’t give her a second glance.

  He turned his attention to the children. His “official” hat was back on.

  “The first thing I want to assure you kids is that the fire has been extinguished. To make doubly certain, later this afternoon, our crew will be out here to cut down any remaining trees that appear to be a hazard. At this moment, our forensic team is in the forest to ascertain the origin of the fire.”

  Little Jessica Kettering raised her hand high above her cropped carrot-red hair. “Sir! Sir!”

  Rand looked at Beatrice.

  “Her name is Jessica.” Beatrice smiled. “Yes, Jessica. What’s your question?”

  Jessica shoved her thick glasses back up her nose, and angled her unpatched eye directly at Rand. “Do you think someone started it?”

  “We can never be sure until our investigation is complete. But since there were no thunderstorms or lightning strikes anywhere in our area last night, we felt we needed some expert eyes on the situation.”

  “Sir!” Little Ricky threw his hand up. “I think it was gangs.”

  “Gangs?” Rand questioned. “What’s your name, son?”

  “Ricky. I’ve seen all kinds of things on the news about the gangs near Indian Lake. We have to be careful because they try to give drugs to little kids.”

  Beatrice realized there were more fears buzzing in her camp kids’ heads than hornets in a nest. Camp was supposed to be an oasis for children. Their summer idyll. “Ricky, you are right. We all have to be very careful. That’s why we have camp rules about lights out and being in your cabin at sundown. We take special care to make sure all you kids are safe. That’s why Miss Cindy, Miss Maisie and Mr. Bruce are always close to you. We don’t ever want you to feel that you are alone.”

  “We don’t feel alone, Miss Beatrice,” Susan Kettering said, grasping Jessica’s hand. “This is the best place. You make it the best for us.”

  “Thank you, Susan.”

  Beatrice felt yet another tiny tear fall from her eye. She blamed the fire for her highly charged emotional state this morning. As she lifted her finger to slide it off her cheek, she noticed Rand watching her. His face was expressionless. Part of his stoic on-the-job mask, she guessed. But his eyes probed her more deeply than she ever remembered a man doing. She felt her knees weaken, but this time she was glad she had the air boot, because it helped her maintain her balance.

  “And thank you for listening, kids. Finish your breakfast and take your dishes to the kitchen for Miss Amanda. You all know your next activities.” She nodded for Bruce, Maisie and Cindy to gather their groups.

  “Except for Chris and Eli,” Rand said in a loud tone that caused both boys to sto
p in their tracks. “I need to talk to both of you. Miss Beatrice has said that I can use her office.” Rand walked over and put strong hands on each boy’s shoulder. “Where is it?”

  “This way,” Eli replied, looking up at Rand.

  Beatrice held her breath as she watched Chris blanch to a ghostly white.

  “Um, Mr. Nelson, didn’t you say you needed to speak with me, first?” she asked.

  He glanced at Chris and then raised his eyes to Beatrice. He dropped his hands off their shoulders. “I did.”

  “Okay, boys. You go out and join Mr. Bruce. I’ll call you later if we need you.”

  Chris nearly shot to the dining hall’s back screen door. Eli raced after him.

  Beatrice hobbled over to Rand, one hand on her hip. “I know what you’re thinking.”

  “Do you, now?”

  “I do. But until I get a formal forensic report from your guys out there in that forest, I’d rather you didn’t upset the children.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “If there’s any hot seat you’re cooking up, I’ll be the only one occupying it.”

  “Look, Bee—”

  “The name’s Beatrice.”

  He frowned. “All right. I’ll focus the questions on you. For now.”

  Questions that can trip me up, she thought. Her dad had been a cop. He’d always said that anyone who disclosed personal information was at risk. People didn’t understand how ordinary actions in one’s life could be twisted by a prosecutor against them. He’d told her he’d seen innocent men sent to prison and murderers set free. She didn’t have anything to hide from Rand, or anyone, but an investigation of any kind made her nervous. It rattled the bars of her carefully built security gates.

  Curiously, trepidation filled his face and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other as if he didn’t want to go through this any more than she did. But how could that be? He was so formal. So official.

  She knew he had a job to do, but could she trust this feeling of hers that he was uncomfortable enforcing codes and regulations? Did he always feel this way about this part of his job, or was it just her camp and this particular fire that bothered him? And if it was, could she trust that he might be lenient with her if he did find her culpable?