Smoke And Ashes

He’d been embarrassing her for years—when he hadn’t shown up to dinner dates, when he had forgotten to come home at night and when he had called her names in front of their friends. Now he was telling her she was embarrassing him?

It might have been the margaritas, but she couldn’t even look at him.

He pushed her into the passenger seat of his coupe and then went to his side and got in.

“You’re such a slut.”

A feeling of sickness rose in her throat.

“I’m not a slut,” she said under her breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” She swallowed back the urge to vomit.

“Did you think Andrew would be there? Were you parading yourself for him?” He looked her up and down. “He can do better.”

“I don’t know how to prove to you that I’ve never cheated.”

The road buzzed by. “So you’re a liar and a whore? Real classy. I married you to be a pure wife and a wholesome mother. First you couldn’t give me the children I wanted, and now you’re a cheater. There’s no reason to keep you in my life.”

“I...” She tried to swallow the sickness back, but it was no use. She threw her hands over her mouth. She tried to tell him to pull over, but it was too late. She was sick all over his black dashboard.

He’d never forgive her. He loved the car more than anything, and definitely more than her.

“What the hell!” He pulled the car to the side of the road. He reached across her and opened the door. “Get out! I’m never going to be able to get your stench out of the leather.”

They were only a few houses away from theirs, but distance didn’t matter... She was sick. If he’d been sick, she would have spent the rest of the day being the dutiful wife her mother had taught her to be. Yet he cared so little, he was kicking her out on the side of the road.

“I can’t believe you, David.”

“Get. Out.” His fingers tightened on the steering wheel.

She grabbed her purse and stepped out of the car. He slammed the door and sped away with a spray of gravel.

Once again, she was alone, just as she had been as a child when her parents had fought. Sometimes it frightened her how much David reminded her of her father. They were cut from the same cloth, constantly berating and putting down their wives—and this time, instead of her mother, it was Heather being demeaned.

David stopped at their house. He didn’t pull the car into the garage; instead he got out and walked in through the front door.

What would happen if she didn’t go home?

David would probably love it. He’d never have to see her again. He’d get everything. All he’d need was a new wife. A wife to give him the family he’d always wanted—something he was only too happy to remind her she’d failed to give him no matter how hard she’d tried.

She stepped up onto the sidewalk and made her way toward the house. Before she could go inside she needed to clean herself up. She walked around the side of the house and washed up with the hose.

When she entered the kitchen, David threw a manila envelope at her.

“I’ve had the divorce papers written up. All you have to do is sign them. Do it now.”

She stared at the envelope that lay on the counter just where his note had been only hours before. She didn’t dare touch the paper out of fear that, if she did, it would make everything real.

“David...no...”

“Just sign the papers. You have to be as unhappy as I am.”

For the first time in memory, she agreed with him. She wasn’t happy. In fact, she couldn’t remember the last time she had been happy with him. But that was what marriage was, right? It had ups and downs, and the job of both people was to make it work. Wasn’t it?

“Things will get better. We just need to work together. Maybe you could take some time off. I don’t remember when we spent real time together.”

“Did it ever occur to you that I was avoiding you? We should’ve put a stop to this relationship a long time ago, but I know you’re nothing without me. It was an act of sheer kindness that I’ve allowed you to be my wife this long.”

Something inside her broke.

“You’ve allowed me to be your wife? Hasn’t it occurred to you all I’ve given up to be with you? I gave up my education for you. I gave up my hopes of a job.”

“A job,” he said with a smirk. “That would take dedication.”

“Just because you don’t see it doesn’t mean that I’m not dedicated—if I love something, I give it everything... Even if my love turns out to be misplaced.” She looked at him and tried to control the hatred that welled within her.

“If you loved me so much, maybe you should have tried a little harder.” He reached into a drawer and pulled out a pen and laid it on the envelope. “Just sign the paperwork. It’s over.”

She stared at the envelope but didn’t move. “We made a promise to each other. You told me you never wanted to get a divorce. That marriage meant something to you.”

“Marriage does mean something to me, Heather. It means fidelity, trust, honesty. You haven’t given me any of those things.”

She shook her head, trying to get rid of the ringing of his words. “Why do you always accuse me of something I haven’t done? I’ve never given you reason to think—” She paused as a terrible thought came to mind. “Are you cheating on me, David? Is that what all this is about? Are you accusing me out of your own guilt? Are you trying to make yourself feel better about something you’ve done?”

“How dare you accuse me. I spend my days saving people’s lives. I’m a damn hero.” He ripped open the envelope and pushed the papers in front of her. “Sign them.”

Her hands shook. It wasn’t that she hadn’t imagined the possibility of him asking for a divorce; she had just never thought it would be today.

There was no coming back from this—not right now. He was too angry. There was only one thing to do that could make it any better—she had to hold him off.

“I’ll have a lawyer take a look.”

“Don’t you trust me, Heather?”

“If you had asked me two hours ago, I would’ve said yes. But now, it would be stupid if I did.”

She picked up the papers and her car keys and walked out.

Chapter Six

After Heather’s forced disappearance, Kevin hadn’t been interested in the Millers’ party and he’d found an excuse to leave. He shut his daughter’s door. Surprisingly Lindsay had dropped into her bed without protest, just as she’d easily agreed with him to leave the party.

Colter sat behind his computer in his bedroom as Kevin made his way down the hall.

“Where were you, Colter?”

His son shrugged as he faced his screen. “I dunno.”

“Try it again, bud. Where did you go after baseball practice?”

“Baseball practice ran long.” He didn’t turn around. “When I made it to the Millers’, the party was over.”

“You mind looking at me? I’m trying to talk to you.”

His son shifted a few degrees in his seat. “What? I’m talking to you.”

Kevin had never been much of a disciplinarian—that had always been more Allison’s job. God, he wished she was here.

Once again he was reminded how badly he wanted a woman in their lives, someone he could share the ups and downs with, someone he could hold in his arms at night—someone like Heather.

“Is Heather going to come to my game?” Colter asked, as if he could somehow sense what was on Kevin’s mind.

“I don’t know. If you’d made it to the party, you could’ve asked her yourself. Where were you?”

“God, don’t you get tired of asking the same questions? I told you... Baseball practice ran late. When I got to the party it was shut down. I didn’t stick around.”

“You don’t expect me to believe that baseball practice lasted that long, do you?” Kevin leaned against Colter’s door frame, half in and half out of the bedroom, just far enough in to let him know that he had his full attention, but far enough out that it wasn’t a confrontation.

Then again, everything with Colter these days was a confrontation.

“Were you with a girl?”

Colter tapped at his keyboard. “No.”

He was getting nowhere. “I would appreciate it if you would do as I ask. It’s important that I can count on you, or else this free-for-all is going to come to a screeching halt. No more baseball. No more girls. No more friends.”

His son spun around and cursed.

He twitched at the sound of his son’s language. That was a new one.

“If you want to talk and act like a big man, that’s fine, bud. But you need to know you’re causing problems. I’m trying to do my best here. I’m sorry I can’t be everywhere, but you aren’t making this any easier. I need to trust you, okay?”

Colter’s expression remained blank. He would make one hell of a poker player.

“Fine.”

“Will you let me know when baseball practice runs late again? Please?”

“Fine.”

“I love you, kid, but this attitude needs to come to an end.” Kevin pushed off the door frame. “Get to bed. You have school in the morning.”

Colter turned back around in his chair to face his computer. “Got it.”

Kevin closed the door and walked into the living room.

Every day since Allison had died, some more of Colter seemed to fade. No matter how hard Kevin had tried, no matter how many parenting books he had read, he had failed at helping his son—just like he’d failed to save Allison. He couldn’t help but feel as though he was on the brink of losing someone else he loved.

There was a knock at the door and he went to answer it, wondering who was calling on him now.

Heather stood on the top step. Her hair was disheveled, her eyes were red as if she’d been crying, her deep V-neck shirt was wet and soiled.

“What happened?” He motioned for her to come inside.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know where to go. Brittany wasn’t answering.”

“Come on in.” He stepped aside. He would have asked her what was wrong, but after what he had seen at the barbecue there was no point.

She stumbled to the couch and sat with her feet curled beneath her. “Thank you.” She dabbed at her eyes. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“No. I just put the kids to bed.” He pointed at her shirt. “You want something clean to wear?”

She looked down and her mouth dropped open. “Oh, my God... Those damn margaritas.”

“Be right back.” He went to his bedroom and came back with a shirt. “Here, you can have this.” He handed it to her and turned his back as she slipped off her V-neck. In the mirror by the door, he caught a glimpse of her naked breasts. He stiffened as he looked away. No matter how much he wanted to look at her, to take those puckered pink nipples into his mouth and make them his, she belonged to someone else.

“I’m done,” she said. “Thanks for the shirt.”

He turned but didn’t know where to go, so he just stood there. “You’re welcome.”

Normally around women he was cool and collected. Yet with Heather, it was different. She was different. And no matter how badly he tried to break into work mode, treating her as though she was just another victim, he couldn’t. He didn’t feel right taking her by the hand and telling her it would all be okay. If he touched her, he might not be able to let her go.

“You want something to drink?” He moved toward the kitchen.

She stared into space. “David wants a divorce. He has the papers ready. I don’t know what to do.”

“What?” Kevin stopped and turned to her.

“Don’t make me say it again. It doesn’t feel real. None of this feels real.”

“I get it.” He felt like a moron, but he couldn’t think of the right thing to say.

In a way, he’d been in her shoes when he had found out about Allison’s death. A part of him had died in that moment. No matter how many times people said “I’m sorry,” nothing could staunch the pain.

“I never thought this day would come. I mean...we’ve been unhappy. I thought maybe, but...I thought we’d make it through this. I should have seen this coming.”

“When you love someone, sometimes you don’t see what’s staring back at you.”

“What do you mean?”

He thought back to David hitting on Brittany at the barbecue. If Heather hadn’t seen it, he was the last person who should tell her.

“Nothing. I just mean—”

“You think he doesn’t love me?”

“I didn’t say that,” he said, mentally trying to backpedal.

“It’s okay. I know he doesn’t. It’s been a long time since...well, since I think he felt something other than contempt toward me. A divorce seems like the only answer.”

“Is that what you want—a divorce?” The question came from a place inside him where he begged that she would say yes.

She didn’t answer. Rather, she looked broken, as though she was a pane of glass that had been waiting for the strike of a hammer, and now that the blow had been struck, she’d come to him to help find the pieces.

He saved lives, but he’d never been good at rebuilding them—not even when the life was his own. He tried hard, but despite his efforts, Colter was a mess and he didn’t spend nearly enough time with Lindsay. Everything he did was a struggle. Every choice was wrong or surrounded by guilt. He could never give Heather what she needed.

She wiped the tears from her eyes as she stood up and moved to him, her hips swaying with purpose.

What was she doing? She’d never looked at him like that before, with such intensity. If anything, she’d been overly insistent that they were friends...good friends, but that had been all. But that look, that light in her dark eyes, said there was something more—something he’d felt since the first moment he’d met her.

He must have been reading her wrong. He stepped back until he bumped into the table beside the door. “Heather...”

She put her finger on his lips, quieting him. Rising to her tiptoes, she swept her tear-dampened lips over the skin of his neck. Sparks of electricity shot down his body and reawakened a part of him that he had written off.

“What’re you doing?” he tried to say, but it came out barely above a whisper thanks to the soft pressure of her finger against his lips.

She slipped his earlobe into her mouth and sucked.

Oh, God... He wanted this. He wanted her.

He wanted to sweep her up in his arms and carry her to his bed. He wanted to wake up covered in her scent, to lick her flavor off his lips. Her kiss moved lower. Her tongue traced the neckline of his shirt. Her hands moved up his chest.

“Heather...” he moaned. “I want you...”

Before he could say another word, her lips met his. She tasted sweet, like warm berries right off the vine. How could a woman taste so good?

He wrapped his arms around her as he relished their kiss. He could do this forever...hold her forever...be with her forever.

The scent of sweetened alcohol wafted from her. Kevin pulled back. Those lips, those pink, full lips weren’t berry flavored—they tasted of margarita.

If she had been sober and come to him willingly and openly, it would have been hard for him to say no, but as it was, with her judgment skewed and muted by booze, there was only one choice.

“Heather...” He unwrapped his arms from around her body. “We can’t do this. You can sleep here. You can have my bed. But tonight... This can’t happen.”

Chapter Seven

Heather rolled over in bed. Where her clock should have been was a glass of water and two red capsules she assumed were ibuprofen. The sides of the glass were beaded with sweat, reminding her of the letter that David had left behind.

The letter... The divorce papers... Oh...

She sat up but was forced back down by the thump, thump, thump of the bass drum beating in her skull. She picked up the pills and swallowed them down, anything to stop the pounding.

Light streamed through unfamiliar white curtains and she looked down at a dark gray shirt, underneath which was a miniskirt. She remembered Brittany’s skirt but where had the T-shirt come from?

The bedsheets were yellow and soft, but those, too, were foreign.

She sat up more slowly, and this time the pounding of the bass drum changed to the tom, tom, tom of a timpani.

She pushed down the miniskirt and the simple action brought back a flash of her kissing Kevin, her hands sliding over the muscles of his stomach, her lips tasting the salty flavor of his skin.

Her body ached from what felt like gallons of tequila sloshing through her veins. At the very least she hadn’t had sex with him—if she had, she could have never faced him again.

Hopefully he didn’t think that her feelings were just some attempt at a drunken rebound. She had been foolish, but for her, it had sometimes felt as though there was more than a simple friendship between them.

She was such an idiot.

She tiptoed to the door and peered out into the empty hallway. This early in the morning everything was still. She slipped through the house and made her way outside, making sure to grab her shoes and purse by the front door.

The grass dripped with dew and not a single house’s lights were on, with the exception of her and David’s perfectly white house, where every single window was alight. He must have been awake all night, waiting for her.

Her stomach lurched, forcing her to run to the hedges that acted as a fence between the houses. She made it there in time to be sick.

There was a squeak of hinges as a door opened. She looked in the direction of the eerie, disquieting sound. David stood on their front step and glowered out at her.

His arms were crossed over his chest and his jaw was set, making him look like a dictatorial tyrant peering down upon his subjects.

“Get in the house.”

She made her way to the door, carefully sidestepping him as she went inside. She could feel his glare upon her.

“Your catting around just saved me a lot of money.”

* * *

KEVIN TRIED NOT to think about Heather slipping away. He should have known that was exactly what she would do when she woke. Regardless, it still bothered him that she would run away as soon as she realized how badly he had wanted her.

Hopefully they could still be friends. Hell, maybe something more if her divorce went through, but something like that had to be months, maybe years, away from happening. For all he knew, last night had been her attempt at a one-night thing. Maybe she only wanted to get back at David. Maybe his was just the closest door.

Maybe, when it came to him, she didn’t really care.

He wouldn’t know how she felt until he saw her again. He didn’t know whether to look forward to it.

Meanwhile he walked into Colter’s room. He made his way through the mess and stopped at the side of his bed. Colter’s chin showed the nicked signs of a recent battle with a razor. He reached up and pulled fuzz from a hair that had been missed. The hair was barely enough to be called a whisker, yet it was just another sign of the changes in their lives.

He leaned in and gave Colter a kiss on the head and drew in a breath, the way he used to when his son had been a baby. He no longer smelled of milk and baby powder, but rather he carried the odor of sweat with a pungent sock-scented kicker.

“Hey, bud,” he said softly, trying to rouse him. “Time to get up.”

Colter opened one eye and, seeing him, answered with a forgiving, sleepy smile.

There was still a chance to fix what was broken.

* * *

AFTER COLTER LEFT for school, Kevin dropped Lindsay off and made his way to the diner. No matter what was going on in his personal life, work awaited. At least in an investigation there was a chance he could get answers. It was black and white. Not like his mess of a private life.

His phone rang as he pulled the truck into a parking spot.

“Hello?”

“Inspector Jensen, this is Chief Larson.”

“Hey, Chief, how’s it going?” He tried to sound nonchalant.

“Not so great. I heard you and I may need to have a little meeting.”

Kevin forced a laugh. “Come on now, Chief. I didn’t do anything that bad, did I?”

“You were at last week’s meeting, correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then you may have some idea why you and I would be having a problem.”

“I’m aware that we’re trying to cut back on costs. I understand and would love to comply with your request. However, sir, I must be able to do my job in a professional manner. Protecting lives and saving property—am I right, Chief?”

“Absolutely.” There was a rustle as the chief moved the phone. “However, as I was made to understand, your investigation was impeded by your need to go to a neighborhood barbecue. Correct?”

His stomach clenched. How did Larson know?

“I did need to attend a social event with my family. It was an unavoidable situation.” He tried his damnedest to make it sound like brain surgery instead of a party.

“So let me get this right, Jensen. You took two rookie firefighters and had them sit on an investigation that should have been buttoned up in one pass so that you could go to an unavoidable social event? Do you know how much you cost us? I had to call in two more firefighters and give them time and a half to cover for the ones you needed to retain your chain of custody.”

“That wasn’t my intention, sir.”

“Your intention or not, this has to come to an end or I’m going to have to start cutting. We’d hate to lose you, Jensen.”

“I’m working on the investigation now. I’ll have this wrapped up soon.” He walked up to the diner. Near the door was a newspaper kiosk where a picture of Elke’s yellow-taped house blared out from the front page.

“I don’t see why you need that much time.”

“I’ve come to believe this may be the work of a serial arsonist. I’m hoping to pin down the suspect before there are any other fires.”

“What makes you think it’s a serial arsonist?”

“It’s just my gut, sir.”

“Your gut is going to cost me thousands...and possibly cost you your job. You need to get your butt over to that scene and pull the men off the lines.”

He stared at the picture on the front page of the Missoulian. “I would, but I’d hate for the press to get the idea we aren’t doing our best to keep the public safe. I mean it would look bad if there was another fire, a fire where someone was killed.”

The phone rustled. “You’ve got thirty-six hours.”

The line went dead.

He slid his phone into his pocket. The pressure was on.

Kevin walked inside and a sixtysomething waitress strode up to him.

“Can I help you, sonny?” she asked in the raspy voice of a lifelong smoker.

“I’m looking for an Elke Goldstein. She work here?”

The woman frowned. “Waddya want with her?”

“I’m just here to talk with her. I’ll sit down and wait, if that’s okay.”

She grabbed a menu and led him to a table close to the kitchen door. “She’ll be right out. Coffee?”

He mostly wanted answers, but coffee would do for now. “Sure. Thanks.”

“Take it black?”

“Unless you can pour some of your sweetness in,” he joked.

“Oh, we got a charmer, do we?” The woman strode into the kitchen with a wide smile on her lips.

A minute later a mousy, brunette woman walked out and stopped beside his table. She had a nice face, but her eyes told him she was a woman who worked long hours and dreamed of something more.

“I’m Elke.” She scowled at him as she poured his coffee. “I know you?”

“The name’s Kevin Jensen. I’m a fire inspector for the city of Missoula.” He took a long drink of the ashy tasting coffee. “I was called to your house last night. Nice to meet you.”

She took a step back from the table and looked over her shoulder. “How’d you find me? I thought y’all weren’t going to bother me,” she said, her voice tinged with a slight Southern drawl.

“Battalion Chief Hiller told me you worked here.”

She nodded, but her body tensed and the pot in her hand shook slightly, sloshing the coffee. “He had no business tellin’ you. I didn’t have nothin’ to do with that fire.”