Wild Fire

Tears welled in her eyes and she smoothed his navy tie, rubbed at the spot on his light blue shirt that she had wet with her tears. “You could go on one of those reality shows. Surely they have one about finding friends.”

“Think I’d be able to find somebody who would drag me out of a bar and keep me captive until I swore on my badge that I was sober and never going back?”

“That was special, wasn’t it?” she said wryly, wiping the tears from her face.

“You saved my life,” he said quietly. He’d told her before. With everything they’d shared through the years, they had both agreed not to keep count anymore, but he knew he wouldn’t be standing here if it weren’t for Shelby.

“You’ve done the same for me. I wouldn’t want another best friend. It would be hard to find someone who knows everything about me and would still put up with me.”

He grinned. “I don’t know everything. I don’t know where that tattoo is.”

She smiled, which was what he wanted. The small fox tattoo on his left shoulder matched the one she’d gotten at the same time. It had been Shelby’s idea to get a physical symbol of Jason, and she had wanted Clay to take her to the tattoo parlor on the first anniversary of her brother’s death. To this day, she’d refused to tell him where she’d gotten tattooed.

“I have to say, Jessup, you’re good with hysterical females.” She dabbed at her eyes again. “Must come from having two sisters.”

“You were hardly hysterical.” Unsettled at how the feel of her lean curves had affected him, Clay released her as she stepped away. “Wanna talk about it?”

“I guess I had a meltdown.” She held her injured arm against her stomach, folding the other one underneath it.

“You’re entitled. You’ve been dealing with a lot.”

“I can’t stop thinking that I might know what happened to M.B. And that it could’ve been me instead of her.”

“I know,” he said fiercely, clenching his fists tight. He had been responsible for Jason’s walking into danger, but he wouldn’t make that mistake with Shelby.

Her gaze, knowing and sad, searched his. “The hospital made me think about him.”

“Me, too.” Most of the time he lived with the memory just fine, but sometimes pain raked through him and nearly ripped a fresh wound. Like when he’d seen Shelby in that hospital bed.

“Why couldn’t I have lost those memories?”

The agony in her voice clutched at his chest. Their gazes met and he knew the memories in her eyes were the ones that hit him now. Jason hadn’t wanted to go climbing that day, but Clay had pushed until his friend gave in. They had scaled the ragged mountain face just fine, but coming down, Jason’s harness had broken and he had lost both his handholds and footholds.

Clay, secure in his harness, had scrabbled and grabbed, but Jason had fallen. Sometimes even now, four years later, Clay would dream about it, hearing over and over the sickening thud of his friend hitting the ground. Reliving the horror, the guilt.

Pain flashed across Shelby’s features, then was gone. “If only I could remember something. Anything. There are only…shadows in my mind. No definition.”

“Shelby.” Clay didn’t like the guilt that flashed across her face. “Don’t torture yourself. You know it doesn’t help. And the doctor said not to force anything.”

“I know.” She shoved an unsteady hand through her short brown hair.

“You hungry for some real food?”

“Yes.” She fell into step with him as they walked around the edge of her sofa. She squeezed his arm and gave him a small smile, telling him she was all right.

A pair of ceramic dalmatians flanked either side of the wide entry that led from the living area into the kitchen. She fixed drinks while he made turkey sandwiches. He glanced at her as she slid into the seat next to him, putting diet colas on the table at both their places.

“I went back to M.B.’s school today to follow up on what you told me about her being involved with someone. No one I spoke to knew anything about the affair, but I left my card for a woman named Gail Cosgrove, M.B.’s closest friend there. She’s the school secretary. Right now she’s in Arizona moving her elderly mother back here. I couldn’t reach her by phone, so I left a message at the school for her to call me when she returns.”

“Hopefully M.B.’s friend will know something.” Shelby stole a pickle from his plate. “It’s only been about two weeks since she told me about him. Maybe she broke things off.”

“Do you think it was the Hispanic man you saw once?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did she tell you what her new guy looked like? Age?” Clay pushed the jar of pickles toward her. “What kind of car he drove?”

“No. I assumed she wouldn’t tell me his name or anything because he was married, but maybe that wasn’t why.”

“Maybe she kept it a secret because he’s someone prominent,” he suggested.

“Maybe it was another teacher or someone else at school.”

“Like the principal? A custodian?”

“Or the school cop?” Three years ago, the city had instituted a program that assigned an officer full-time to the two high schools. The presence of law enforcement had cut down drastically on everything from fights to drugs.

He nodded. “One or both of them could’ve feared losing their jobs. I’ll go back this afternoon and see if I get anywhere with that.”

The door that led to the garage opened and Paula walked in carrying two grocery sacks. “There’s a police car parked out front.”

“I called for one.” Clay rose and took the bags from her, setting them on the counter.

“Even though Mom’s here?” Shelby asked.

“Even though.” He wasn’t taking any chances with her safety. Or her mom’s, either. He made a mental note to keep a close eye on Vince Tyner.

Paula glanced over as she began unloading items. “You’re still planning to stay, aren’t you?”

“Yes. Until Shelby remembers whether or not she saw anything. Until we know what happened to her and the victim.”

“Thank you, Clay.” Tears shone in Paula’s eyes. “I feel better knowing you’re here.”

“You should go back to the store whenever you need to, Mom.” Her mother’s bead and jewelry store, To Bead Or Not To Bead, did a thriving business, enticing customers from Presley as well as Oklahoma City and other nearby towns. “I’ll be fine.”

“Tracy can handle things there for a couple of days.”

Clay wrapped up the rest of his sandwich to take with him, then said goodbye to her mom. Shelby walked with him to the front door.

“Thanks for a while ago,” she said, not quite meeting his eyes.

That was a first, too. As long as he’d known her, even as a teenager, Shelby looked directly at someone, whatever the situation. Was she avoiding his gaze because she’d felt his body’s insane, mystifying reaction to her? “I’ve got a ways to go before I make up for the solid week you stayed with me after Jason died.”

“Yeah, that was a hardship.”

“You’re trouble in your own way.” He grinned, opening the door. Still off balance at the unexpected pull of want he’d felt, he searched her face. “I can have the department assign a female cop to stay with you at night, if you’d prefer.” He didn’t even consider a male officer. “I’ve already requested one for during the day when your mom has to get back to the bead store.”

“No.”

“Shelby,” he said firmly. “Until we know what happened in that house, I’m not leaving you alone without protection.”

“I meant no to somebody else. I want you.”

At her words, heat inched under his skin. What was going on with him? “You sure?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, you’ve got me. Call me if you need something or want me to bring you anything.”

“All right.”

“Lock up after me.”

She gave him a lazy two-finger salute. “Yes, Mr. Po-lice Man.”

“Smart aleck.” He stepped outside and waited until he heard the turn of the dead bolt, the click of the knob lock. Walking to his truck, his head felt fuzzy, as if he’d been out in the sun too long. He rubbed a hand across his chest, the spot Shelby had dampened with her tears.

He should be thinking about the case, about putting in a call to Collier McClain to tell him they needed to make a repeat visit to the high school, but instead his mind was stubbornly, startlingly fixed on Shelby not wearing a bra. The incredible softness of her skin, the feel of her breasts against him. Something hot and reckless and totally unexpected had charged through him. His body had gone hard; it still was.

He rolled his shoulders, uncomfortable with what could only be called desire. For Shelby, for whom he’d only ever had platonic feelings. He had to be wrong. There was something else going on, probably a combination of his reaction to her close call, fatigue, his self-imposed celibacy.

After Megan’s death, he hadn’t been interested in dating at all. About the time he’d become interested, they’d lost Jason. Since then, he hadn’t had the time or enough interest for a relationship.

Lusting after Shelby? His best friend? No way.

Chapter 3

Something strange had happened with Clay. Something physical. He had wanted her.

That couldn’t be right, Shelby decided. Things had never been that way between them. They weren’t now, either. The stupid concussion was to blame. Just because she didn’t need to have things repeated so often didn’t mean her brain was back to operating the way it should.

That…incident had happened on Tuesday. Today was Friday and she hadn’t stopped thinking about it, even though nothing like that happened again. Everything between them had been perfectly normal, just as it was right now.

She slid a look at him as they walked into the largest chapel at Presley Memorial Gardens. Clay had insisted on bringing her to M.B.’s memorial service. The funeral would be a family-only affair after M.B.’s body was released by the medical examiner. In the days since M.B.’s murder, he and Collier McClain had been conducting interviews at her school, with the firefighters on the scene and with neighbors.

Shelby’s mother had left this morning on a buying trip to New York City and wouldn’t return until Monday. If things went well and Dr. Boren agreed, Shelby would be back at work by then. She hadn’t recalled anything about M.B.’s murder yet, but surely she would. How long could amnesia really last?

She and Clay took a seat next to Collier just before the service began. Well over a hundred people listened in the flower-packed room as M.B.’s oldest brother, Glen, walked to the podium to give a eulogy. Almost half the crowd consisted of the students M.B. had taught and their parents. The others were teachers, administrators, friends and almost every firefighter from Station House Three. Shelby’s captain sat with several of her station mates in the row of dark blue dress coats across the aisle to her right.

The scents of roses and lilies mixed, the amount of flowers nearly overwhelming. She wanted to follow the funny story Glen Perry told about his sister, but the headache returned, the pain stabbing brutally from her temple to the back of her skull. She shut her eyes for a second and it seemed to ease. Looking again at M.B.’s brother, Shelby tried to pay attention.

The agonizing throb behind her eyes persisted, shooting flashes of light and shadow through her brain, but nothing else. No memories, no nothing.

As the somber, sturdily built man spoke, she closed her eyes. Shelby remembered M.B.’s contagious laugh, her ready smile, her sunglasses in every color. The void Shelby had felt since the murder grew deeper inside her, colder.

Her hands shook and she became aware that her entire body trembled. Maybe it was delayed reaction? Maybe just the realization that a service like this could also have been held for her? She might have the information to help find M.B.’s killer, but it was lost somewhere in her mind.

Glen Perry’s voice cracked and Shelby’s heart ached for him, ached for M.B.’s parents who were burying a child. She thought about her own mother having to bury Jason and couldn’t imagine how Paula would cope if something were to happen to her, too. That put a painful lump in her throat.

Stop! she told herself. Clay leaned forward with his wrists resting on his knees and she focused on the sight of his strong, gentle hands.

Finally the service was over. She fought a rising sense of suffocation as she waited with Clay and Collier to walk out. Once they stepped into the warm May sunshine, Shelby let out a sigh of relief. After telling Clay where she was going, she moved over to join the people in line to pay their respects to the Perry family. Returning to her friends, she tried to keep from bursting into tears. If she knew who’d killed M.B., why couldn’t she remember?

Feeling helpless and frustrated, she turned her attention to the tall man beside Clay. “Collier, how much longer before yours and Kiley’s wedding?”

“One week, one day and—” He glanced at his watch. “Seven hours. Y’all are coming, aren’t you?”

Clay and Shelby both nodded.

She was amazed at how perfect he and Detective Russell were for each other. “I never thought I’d see you walk down the aisle.”

“My momma didn’t raise no dummy. I’m not letting that woman get away.”

Shelby grinned, trying to keep her thoughts from sliding back into fear.

Clay nudged her shoulder, saying in a low voice, “See that guy over there in the white shirt and jeans? He’s a custodian from M.B.’s school named Antonio Sandoval. Everyone Collier and I spoke to said he spent a lot of time with M.B.”

“Why?” She turned, following Clay’s gaze to a lean, darkly handsome man with raven hair, a deep tan and striking bone structure. Double-take gorgeous.

“She was teaching him to read and write English.”

“He speaks the language well,” Collier added. “But he says he’s never learned to read or write it.”

“What reason could he have for wanting to kill M.B.?”

“We have to find out if he did have one.” Collier studied the Hispanic man. “Some of the other janitorial staff think there was more going on than reading lessons.”

“They think he was M.B.’s lover?”

Clay nodded. “Could Sandoval have been the guy you saw at her house that time?”

She frowned. “I don’t know.”

“He denies things went that far with M.B.”

Shelby’s throat knotted. She watched the other attendees move slowly among M.B.’s family members, heard a sob coming from someone. She looked away, filled with anger over her friend’s death, the chilling realization that she could easily have met the same fate, frustration over her memory loss.

Why couldn’t she remember? She wanted to help M.B., wanted whoever had killed the teacher to be brought to justice. All Shelby had was a yawning black hole in her mind, a fluid blurry memory that floated out of reach any time she tried to latch onto it. And a rage that flared occasionally. Dr. Boren had said the head injury would cause intense, often unfamiliar emotions.

The younger of M.B.’s two brothers leaned down to their mother and Shelby heard choked sobs coming from them both. Tears burned her eyes and she turned away.

Clay squeezed her shoulder. “You okay?”

“I’m ready to go,” she said unsteadily.

“You got it.”

They said goodbye to Collier and walked quietly to Clay’s black pickup truck. As they pulled onto the main road, she felt his concerned gaze on her. Fighting to keep from crying, she didn’t speak for several long minutes. “I keep thinking that service could’ve been for me.”

Clay’s free hand, resting on his thigh, curled into a fist. He didn’t prod her to continue; he just waited.

“I feel…terrified and I don’t even know why.” Her voice thickened. “Why can’t I remember? Why can’t I help her?”

“It’ll come, Shelby.”

“What if it doesn’t? What if a killer gets away with murder because of me?”

“First of all, it won’t be because of you. And secondly, I’m going to find this killer.” He looked at her somberly for a long moment. “But if you never remember anything, we’ll figure out a way to handle it.”

She felt so strange, confused and wobbly, as if she’d lost her footing. Reaching over, she slipped her hand into Clay’s. He linked their fingers and a sense of relief moved through her.

“I couldn’t do this without you,” she said quietly. “I’m so glad you’re my best buddy.”

“Back at ya.” He squeezed her hand.

She marveled at how the least word from him could reassure her. Looking into those familiar green eyes, she saw steadiness, concern, the always-present acceptance. Nothing heated or sexual or unexpected. Nothing like what she thought she’d seen the day she had come home from the hospital. She’d only imagined the hunger there, the reaction of his body to hers.

There was relief at the realization, but it was joined by an emotion she couldn’t identify. What mattered was that she had misread the situation with Clay that day. Completely misread it.

When Shelby returned to work on Monday, things were still normal between her and Clay. The odd physical awareness that had sprung up between them wasn’t what had her feeling backed into a corner. It was Vince Tyner, who stood in front of her at the firehouse.

She’d been carrying in groceries and found her ex-boy-friend in the kitchen. Her spine stiffened. Had he simply walked in? Where was everyone else?

“I wanted to come by and see you.” His smile seemed forced. “I’ve called several times, but I guess your buddy, Clay, didn’t tell you.”

“He told me. I appreciate you checking on me, Vince. As you can see, I’m fine.”

He moved around the long, scratched dining table, the muscles in his massive arms straining at the fabric of his paramedic’s uniform shirt. His gaze slid over her as his voice lowered suggestively to say, “You look good.”

“I’m well enough to come back to work,” she said brightly, although her guard was now raised. “Which is what I should be doing.”

“I want to talk to you, Shelby.” He eased closer, brown eyes glittering sharply. “I need to.”

“About what?” She stayed where she was, making sure to keep the open doorway at her back.

“About us.”

“This is where I work. You shouldn’t be here.”

“I’m not leaving until you talk to me. You won’t return my calls. Jessup won’t let me anywhere near you. This is the only way I figure I can talk to you about us.”

“I’m not interested in an us.”

“Is this what you told all those other guys, too?” he demanded hotly. “I know you feel differently about me than you do all of them.”

No, I don’t. She didn’t want to be so blunt, but maybe she should. “I don’t want to get serious with anyone, Vince.”

“Are you seeing someone else?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but no.”

“Then why did you just up and tell me you didn’t want to go out with me anymore?”

“Because I don’t,” she said firmly. “I didn’t like what happened that night, Vince.”

“I know I got carried away, but I apologized.”

“And I accepted. Doesn’t mean I want to reconsider.” They had been to a movie and when he’d brought her home, he had wanted to come in. She had said no. He had stopped just short of forcing himself on her. That had been enough for her. “I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but I’m not interested. Why can’t you accept it’s over?”

“You can’t dump me like you did all those other guys. I’m better than that.”

Her temper stirred. “You need to leave. The firehouse is no place for this conversation.”

“I’ll pick you up after your shift ends tomorrow and we can have coffee. Talk.”

“No, Vince.”

Something cold and sharp flared in his eyes; a dull flush colored his handsome face. “I’ll let you think it over.”

“I don’t need to think it over. Please don’t come back here. And don’t call me anymore.”

“Don’t jerk me around,” he snarled.

“I’m not. I don’t like it when you act this way.” In fact, she was growing alarmed. She started out the door, intending to go get the last bag of groceries.

A hard, hot hand clamped on her shoulder and spun her roughly. “Don’t walk away from me!”

Startled at the forcefulness of his grip, she tried to shake him off. His fingers bit into her flesh. “Get your hands off me, Vince.”

“That’s not what you said the other night,” he sneered.

“Let go right now,” she said through clenched teeth.

He yanked her toward him. She raised her uninjured arm and drilled an elbow into his chest. “Back off.”

“You listen to me, you little—”

“Get away from her, Tyner.”

Captain Oliver appeared and grabbed the other man’s arm.

Vince shook free, releasing Shelby. “This isn’t over,” he hissed.

“Yes, it is,” she said more steadily than she felt. “Don’t come back here.”

Savage fury twisted his features and he took a step toward her. Oliver pushed between them. Dylan Shepherd appeared, and so did Jay Monroe.

Vince’s gaze locked on each of them and lingered, challenging. Shelby knew he was sizing up his chances in a fight. She didn’t think he could take Shep’s powerful build or Monroe’s wiry strength.

The glare Vince gave her was so full of venom that her skin prickled. She’d never seen him this upset.

He pivoted and stalked out. Her captain turned, eyeing her intently. “You okay?”

“Yes.” Her muscles, gone rigid as Vince talked, finally relaxed. The headache returned. “Thanks for stepping in, y’all. I guess he just didn’t want to take no for an answer.”

“We’ll keep an eye out for him.” Shep’s dark eyes reflected concern.

Captain Oliver’s gaze narrowed as he watched Tyner pull away from the curb in his ambulance. “I don’t like him coming around my firehouse.”

“I’m sorry, Cap. I had no idea he’d come here.” Shelby tried to calm the boiling mix of fear and anger inside her. “I’ve told him more than once that things are over.”

“It’s not your fault, Fox.”

The phone in his office rang and the captain jogged past Shelby to answer it. Shep and Monroe moved up beside her.

“You sure you’re okay?” Jay’s ruddy face was as serious as she’d ever seen it.

“Yeah, thanks. I don’t know why the guy won’t leave me alone.”

“He might be a jerk,” Dylan said, “but he knows a good woman when he sees one.”

She cut him a look. “Don’t start with me, Shepherd.”

He grinned, opening his mouth to say something only to be interrupted by the shriek of the fire alarm. He and Monroe bolted for their gear; Captain Oliver rushed out of his office, stepped into his own bunker pants and steel-soled boots, and climbed into the driver’s seat.

Shelby wished she were going. She stayed out of the way and in two minutes flat, the truck roared out of the garage. She waited until they disappeared and then went into the kitchen, shaken up more than she liked by Vince’s visit. She finished putting away the groceries, giving in to a little self-pity that she couldn’t go on the call with the others.

Glancing at the clock, she saw it was nearly three. Her usual time for a snack. She took a bag of popcorn from the cabinet and stuck it into the microwave.

As it cooked, she fixed a bowl of cat food for the firehouse cat and carried it outside. Just as she started back in, an explosion ripped through the air. Training had her ducking as metal clanged against metal, thudded into the wall. Debris shot through the kitchen’s open doorway and across the bay’s cement floor. Smoke rolled out. She jumped to her feet, awkwardly grabbed the nearest fire extinguisher with her uninjured hand and then raced into the kitchen, killing the small blaze in short order.

She stared in disbelief at the powder-covered mess. The microwave’s door was across the room, its glass shattered. What if she’d been standing in here, watching the corn pop as she usually did? She might’ve been killed.

Fear formed a knot in her belly. Making sure all the embers were dead, she left things as they were and called Clay.