She kept running, dodging puddles of smoldering pine nettles, hoping her sneakers didn’t melt from the heat. Even if they had, she wouldn’t have stopped. Nothing would stop her. She had to save Eli.

Fortunately, Eli was wearing a long-sleeved sweatshirt. Even in the heat of the day, Eli always claimed he was cold. She didn’t doubt it. He was so thin. The kind of thin that broke her heart and made her want to cook his favorite dish, spaghetti, for him—at every meal.

He also wore jeans and high-top sneakers. Eli never went anywhere without his high-top sneakers. He was determined to become a basketball player in the NBA someday, and though he was of average height for his years, he was the kind of kid who would “think” himself tall.

This was Eli’s third week at camp, which was due to the good graces and hard efforts of Zoey Phillips, the director of Indian Lake Child Services.

Eli and his brother, Chris, who was ten, were new to foster care. Their father had recently been sent to prison for drug dealing. Their mother had simply abandoned them in an upstairs apartment over an antiques store on Main Street. She’d told the boys she was going out for groceries, but three days later, she hadn’t come back. It was Eli who had called the police, hoping they could find his mother.

His brother’s call had angered an already resentful Chris. Chris had an iceberg-sized chip on his shoulder. He’d worshipped his father and copied his arrogance and cocky attitude.

From their first day in camp, Chris had posed one problem after another to Beatrice and her counselors. Beatrice believed the boys needed—craved—attention and caring. Eli was bright and genuinely a good kid. Chris rattled her nerves from breakfast to lights out. She was amazed the two were genetically linked. Bruce had tried to get through to Chris, but Chris had so far only stonewalled him. Beatrice believed Chris’s heart was broken, but she hadn’t the first idea what kind of glue would mend him.

Once the boys left her camp, Beatrice feared she would never see Eli or Chris again once the system sent them to a proper foster home. They’d likely be split up and sent out of the county.

As the flames jumped from tree to tree, Beatrice kept her eyes on Eli and his outstretched arms. She leaped expertly over a burning log, miraculously evading the flames. She kept running.

“Stay still,” she warned as she drew closer to Eli.

The fire had made daylight of the forest. It was hard to imagine that it was night. Flames shot out of forty-foot-tall dead pine trees that should have been felled years ago.

A pine tree about seventy yards away exploded like a cannon. The sound frightened Eli so much that his feet left the ground when he jumped.

“Miss Beatrice! Help me!”

She continued toward him but an enormous branch swooped through the air with a hissing sound and thudded in front of Beatrice.

She slammed to a stop before falling over the branch. The smell of it was pungent. The odors of pine, flame and smoke mingled to form a forbidding fragrance.

Like flaming needles, the sparks from the logs shot into the air and seared the skin on her arms.

She simply brushed them off, not feeling a thing.

Everything about her had turned to ice, except her heart. It was beating through her chest as if it knew she was going to die this night, and had to beat its last moments as hard and powerfully as it could to make up for all the years she would lose.

Eli’s face was covered in tears and snot when she finally reached him. She scooped him into her arms and crushed his face into the crook of her neck. “I’ve got you now,” she said comfortingly. “Nothing bad will happen to you.”

“You promise?” His voice was muffled as he burrowed his head into her throat.

“I do.”

“How can you promise? We’re both going to die.”

“No, we won’t,” she said sternly. “Didn’t you just see me jump?”

“Huh?”

“I was state champion in high hurdles for my girls’ team in high school.”

He hugged her tightly. “I’m sorry for this.”

“It’s not your fault, Eli,” she said. “But you shouldn’t have been out here. That’s why we tell you to stay in your cabins at night. The forest can be dangerous.”

He lifted his face from the shelter of her neck. “I’m sorry,” he repeated.

She looked around. “The fire is getting stronger. You hang on to me and I’ll get us back.”

“I can walk,” he protested.

“No. And I mean it. You stay with me. Understand?” She had him in her arms. There was no way she would let him go. For this moment, she felt in control, though her brain told her that she had just done about the most unthinkable act of her life.

The heat of the flames had increased, and perhaps she was allowing her senses to register something beyond her fears for Eli. She finally felt the burns on her arms, but she willed away the pain. She lifted her foot to start back to the camp when a second tree blew up.

This time she was the one to jump. She rocked back on her heels. Cinders filled the air. Branches flew overhead and landed behind her. When the pieces hit the ground, the earth shook beneath her feet like an earthquake.

Eli screamed. The sound of his terror clanged in her head like discordant and mournful bells.

She realized that she didn’t hear the sirens any longer. Had the trucks arrived? Or had it been her imagination all along that they were on their way? Had she imagined the dispatcher’s words? What other mistakes had she made in this nightmare? Would she be Eli’s hero or the cause of his death?

From somewhere, she found a thread of solid strength that bolted up her spine and empowered her arms. She pulled Eli close to her chest. “We’re going to make a run for it,” she said decisively.

“We can’t leave...”

“What? Why?”

“We have to find Chris.”

CHAPTER THREE

RAND NELSON PULLED his fire engine to a stop in front of the camp and stared over the steering wheel in disbelief at what he was seeing: a woman running toward the fire.

“No way in...”

He jumped out the driver’s door, his heavy leather-booted feet hitting the ground with a thud. He grabbed his thermoplastic helmet off the console, then his goggles and pigskin gloves.

The massive Indian Lake fire engine pulled up behind him, Captain Bolton quickly exiting the truck and assessing the situation.

Bolton quickly dispensed orders to the team, though every man knew their tasks. Extensive, in-depth training and experience had taught the Indian Lake crew how to manage and overpower forest fires big and small.

“Was that a woman? Running into the fire?” Rand asked Captain Bolton.

“You’ve got to be kidding. Where?” Captain Bolton spun around to follow Rand’s extended arm as he pointed into the worst section of burning trees and brush.

“That blonde woman. Right there.” Rand put on his goggles. “I’m going in after her.”

Captain Bolton waved Rand on. Then he quickly went to the large hose lays on the wildland fire engine.

Rand had seen some crazy, reckless acts in his years as a smoke jumper in California, then as a trainer in Boise, Idaho, and now, as a part-time firefighter at Indian Lake Engine #2, but this was a first. He’d heard about people who went back into burning houses to save a family member or a pet. But he’d never seen anyone run into a forest fire.

And why?

Was there someone else out there? Even if there was, the long-haired blonde should have left the rescue to the professionals. She wasn’t wearing a Nomex suit like he was. Or a helmet, boots and gloves. Didn’t she know that the heat alone could boil her skin? Set her hair on fire? And why wouldn’t she at least tie that long hair up?

Should he use the hose to try and contain the fire around the woman? Their truck could pump five hundred gallons of water on the flames. As long as the wind didn’t change direction, they’d be able to keep the fire to the forest, and the kids and the camp property would be safe. Then the situation would be safer for both him and the woman.

“Sir! Sir!” He heard a female voice behind him. Then a tug on his arm.

A young woman with chin-length black hair pointed to the fire. “She’s in there. She went after him. You have to help her!”

“Who is she?”

“Beatrice Wilcox. My boss. She owns the camp.” The woman struggled for breath, coughing on the rising smoke. “I’m Maisie. A counselor. We evacuated the children. She and I are the only ones left. Except for Eli and Chris—they’re missing.”

“Missing?” His jaw dropped as he looked back at the fire. “How old?”

“Eli is six. Chris just turned ten. They’re brothers. Beatrice thought she spotted Eli. But now I can’t see her.” Maisie’s eyes filled with tears. She put her palms to her cheeks. “She’s not like this. Daredevil things are not her deal, you know?” Her eyes shot back to his face. “Please, sir. Help her. She’s in there...somewhere.”

He put his hand reassuringly on her shoulder. “I’ll find her. And the kids.”

Maisie held her breath and nodded.

The familiar sweetness of adrenaline shot through his body as he entered the fire. He was on high alert. The perimeter of the fire was already losing energy as it neared the road. However, the farther he went into the forest, the mightier the flames.

An explosion shook the air and the ground as Rand stepped over a burning log. He lifted his head to see a flaming branch head straight for him. Backing out of the path of the falling log, he reached into the tool belt around his waist and grabbed his hatchet, ready to attack any errant shrapnel that often erupted from dry branches as they crashed to the ground.

Only inches from his boot, the log landed with a thud, the flames smothering themselves on the ground.

He stepped over the log and scanned the area.

Then he saw her.

Remarkably, she was standing in a tiny space that was untouched by the fire, though flames created a curtain on either side of her. She held a child close to her chest, the burning forest giving them a crimson outline. She almost didn’t look real. The heat from the fire lifted her hair from her shoulders. He could almost feel her eyes on him, as if they had a force of their own, drawing him in. Terror was powerful like that. The little boy was crying as he clutched Beatrice’s neck. “Chris!” she called.

Rand assumed that the child in her arms was Eli, the younger of the two brothers. Chris, evidently, was still missing.

Not good.

“Beatrice?” Rand called as he moved quickly toward her.

“Yes! Yes!”

“Don’t move. I’m coming in to get you,” he said, just as a sharp crack sounded. He glanced up.

An enormous limb from a forty-foot sycamore tree broke off. Flames waved long and wide from the limb, looking like amber silk scarves as it sailed straight for Beatrice and the little boy.

She dashed toward Rand, but her foot caught on an exposed tree root. She fell to the ground, still holding the crying little boy.

“Bee—!” Rand never got out the rest of her name as he bolted forward. In three long strides he was at her side. “Beatrice. I’m here,” he said. Then he looked at the boy. “Eli, don’t be afraid. I have you now.”

“It’s okay, Eli,” she said softly as she lifted her face from Eli to Rand.

He gazed into the bluest eyes he’d ever seen. “I can take the boy.”

“No!” Eli cried. “I want to stay with Miss Beatrice.”

“It’s okay, Eli. He’s come to save us. You’ll be fine,” she said, massaging Eli’s back. Then she handed Eli to Rand. “Thank you,” she said as she put her hand on her ankle, which was swelling before his eyes.

“Can you walk?”

“I don’t know.”

“Here. Take my hand. I’ll help you up.”

Rand eased her to a standing position. “Put your weight on it. Test it.”

Gingerly, she stood. “Agh!” She flung back her head. “I think I’m going to throw up. The pain...”

“It’s probably broken,” he assessed. “Just lean on me.”

“Okay.” She nodded. He could tell she was bravely fighting tears.

Finally getting her steady and with Eli in his arms, he turned just as another large tree limb fell from above.

Rand instantly chided himself. He hadn’t heard the crack. His instinctual “alert” system had faltered for a fraction of a second while he’d focused on Beatrice. He shouldn’t have done that. He should have kept all his senses amped.

The limb fell behind them.

He checked Beatrice and he realized that the limb had skimmed her back. Her hair and the back of her T-shirt were on fire.

“Help! Help me!” she screamed and grabbed her hair. She hobbled and nearly fell again.

Rand instantly put Eli on the ground.

“Stay!” he said roughly and firmly.

Eli stopped crying as terror and submission rooted him to the spot.

With lightning speed, Rand grabbed Beatrice and pushed her to the ground. He batted her hair and put out the flames. He rolled on top of her back and extinguished her burning shirt. Once she was safe, he examined her quickly and decided she would have some burns but the skin was not charred. He’d gotten to her soon enough.

Quickly, he stood, reached down and pulled her to her feet. “My ankle...it’s worse,” she groaned painfully, her face contorted.

He swooped Eli off the ground and handed him to Beatrice. “Hold him close.” Then Rand lifted her left arm. “Put your arm around my neck.”

“But...”

“Now! We have to go!” he ordered.

He hoisted them both firmly against his chest. He was surprised how light they seemed. He’d never carried two people at once. She was tall, though quite slim. The boy was very thin. Still, his best guess was that his adrenaline was working overtime. Again. It was a rush.

Beatrice’s arm clutched his neck as she cradled Eli between them both. The boy had stopped screaming.

Just as they walked out of the tiny clearing, a massive pine fell with an earthshaking thud, covering the oasis they’d found for the brief moment they’d needed it.

He walked as quickly as he could over burning tree limbs and smoldering brush.

One more second in that clearing and they all would have been hit. They might never have made it out. The kid would have been crushed if the pine fell on him.

But they had made it. Rand’s mother would have said it was a miracle.

Rand would have to agree with her.

Still, he was just doing his job.

This kind of extraction was not new for him. But it was never routine. The circumstances were always different, but the pounding, throttling sense of triumph that shot through his veins was always the same. This was why he did what he did. This was why he chose to risk his life. He was saving lives.

Someone would live—perhaps live better than they had before—because he’d been there at the instant between life and death.

Rand walked through the last of the flames and felt the spray of water from the hose lines. As if walking out of another dimension, he heard Captain Bolton shouting orders to the team over the deafening sound of gushing water.

Two of the team had moved one hose to the far right of the fire and were advancing toward the center from the west, where a slight night breeze had originated.

Two others were hosing from the opposite direction.

An EMT crew and their ambulance had arrived. He spotted Maisie off to the side and behind the wildfire engine.

Joy leaped into her face as she saw them. She threw her hands in the air and then clamped them down on top of her head. “Beatrice! Eli!”

Maisie raced toward them.

The EMT crew got there first with a stretcher and oxygen.

“Thanks, guys,” Rand said to the EMT crew as he lowered both Beatrice and Eli onto the stretcher. He looked down at Beatrice. “You’ll be okay now. These guys are the top gun.”

He noticed that she never let go of Eli, and the little boy clung to her like a monkey.

To the EMT, he said, “Possible broken ankle or foot. Burns on her back.”

“We’ll check it out,” the taller of the EMTs said and immediately started to take off Beatrice’s shoe.

“You’ll be fine,” Rand assured her again.

Her blue eyes were wide as she looked up at him pleadingly.

“What is it?”

“Chris. He’s still in there.”

Rand nodded, taking off his glove. “I know, Bee.” He touched her face where a black mark slashed her cheek. The black soot smeared his fingertips.

Rand stood, and as he did she reached out and took his hand. She had a surprisingly strong grip. “What?” he asked.

“Just...thank you. Now, go.”

Rand dropped her hand and raced away, wondering if the tear he’d seen was gratitude or smoke in Beatrice’s eye.

CHAPTER FOUR

“CHRIS!”

Rand ran into the forest, the flames dying around him as the fire crew blasted water through the trees. He pushed through the piles of smoldering pine nettles and over the downed limb that had almost killed Beatrice, Eli and him.

As a firefighter the smell of wet earth always gave Rand hope. But would he find the boy in time? Did he even want to be found?

“Chris!” he yelled into the shock of burned and blackened trees, denuded of foliage and standing like spikes against the night sky. “Chris!”

Kids were strange ducks in Rand’s book. Most of them could outsmart the majority of adults. Granted, he didn’t hang with philosophers and academics, but his family and friends were no dummies. Kids, however, were open to all possibilities and concepts. That’s why a lost kid was so hard to find. They didn’t sit still. They didn’t follow patterns that “thinking” adults would take. They relied on base animal instincts. When trapped, they bolted for freedom. When cornered, they would outsmart their prey or vanish. They bucked rules, ignored safety measures and took risks.

He guessed that Chris had used plenty of animal instincts to avoid Rand’s search thus far. With the blaze petering out, Chris could circle around, exit through an unburned area and get back to camp. Of course, that scenario assumed Chris wanted to return to camp. But what if he didn’t? What if he was a runner? A kid who felt so displaced in his life that all he wanted was to skip over these tough years and wake up when he was much older. Rand had seen that kind of kid.

Sometimes they were arsonists.

Rand had fought fires from the Upper Peninsula of Michigan to Idaho to California. He knew exactly the kind of conditions that it took for Mother Nature to burn. But there had been no thunderstorms here in Indian Lake. No lightning bolts. And not quite enough heat to spark spontaneous combustion. No, this was a fire started by human hands. Rand would bet his reputation on it.

And if he was right, Chris had all the more reason to stay clear.

Rand had one shot at bringing out Chris. He had to take it.

“Chris! I know you can hear me. It’s safe now. Eli is safe.”

Rand kept going, toward the most burned section of forest. It was his guess that it had been near here where the fire started.

“Chris!”

“Do—do you promise?” The young voice traveled down from the sky to Rand.

Rand turned on his boot and looked up. To his right was a tall, wide pine tree that had been burned on the bottom, but halfway up the tree, the limbs were unscathed. Huddled between two enormous lush pine limbs was a boy. Rand couldn’t see his face in the dark. But he could feel his fear.

“Yes, I promise your brother is safe with Miss Beatrice at the camp.”

“I don’t believe you,” he sniffed.

“It’s true.”

“How did they get out? I barely got up here myself before it all exploded.”

Now the boy was crying and the sobs caught in his throat, restricting his words.

“The trees did explode,” Rand said, careful to keep his words calm.

“It was scary. Really bad.”

“But you were brave. You climbed that tree all by yourself.”

“I’ve been climbing stuff all my life.”

“I’ll bet you have. Let me guess. Windows? Fire escapes? Rooftops, maybe?”

“Yeah.”

“I was kinda like that, too. I’m still climbing ladders. Ropes. That kind of stuff.” Rand paused as he heard the dissipating sound of the hoses. The crew was winding down. “The fire is under control. You come down.”

Silence.

Chris coughed and then hacked. Rand guessed the kid had inhaled his share of smoke tonight.

“There are paramedics here who need to help you. The smoke—”

“I know all about smoke,” Chris interrupted. “Okay?”

Rand felt impatience kindle in his belly. “Chris. You have to come down, son.”

“I’m not your son.”

“No kidding.” Rand ground his teeth. This was no place for attitude. A burned limb could fall at any moment and crash into them both. But while he could think of a dozen retorts to Chris at the moment, not one of them would get the kid to climb to the ground. “If you don’t come down, I’ll come up and get you.”

“How?”

“Just like you did. Climb. Then I’ll tie a rope to you and lower you to the ground. Or you can stay there, where the burned bark will skin you alive. Your choice. But I’m not leaving here without you.”

“Why?”

“It’s my job.”

“Oh.” Chris started coughing. He cleared his throat. He coughed again. “I’m coming down.”

Rand knew that once Chris got past the living foliage and sturdy limbs, his descent was going to get rough. There was a good twenty feet of burned bark and sharp splinters on that half-denuded trunk. Rand could see jagged stubs of limbs on the trunk, but could Chris? Were they strong enough for him to get a foothold? Or would they break under his weight? Worse, would the kid make a jump for it and risk breaking a leg or ankle in his drop?

“Once you get to the last limb, Chris, I want you to take it slow. I’ll guide you down.”

“I don’t need your help, okay? I made it up here and I can make it down on my own.”

Rand heaved a frustrated sigh and put his hands on his hips. Beatrice certainly had her hands full with this one.

“You’re doing great,” Rand encouraged the boy as Chris moved down through the limbs and came to the burned part of the trunk.

Chris toed the trunk with his sneaker, searching for a foothold, but he found none. The boy grabbed the limb with both hands and lowered his feet farther down the tree, still looking for a brace.

“The trunk is too wide for you to hug and slide down. Plus, you’ll scrape your skin in the process,” Rand said. “Or...”

“Or?” Chris asked with just enough trepidation that Rand thought he might have made an impression on the kid.

“You can drop and I’ll catch you.”

“No way.”

“It’s okay, my body will cushion your fall.”

Chris peered down at Rand, his arms stretched over his head as he hung on to the limb. His knuckles had gone white and his fingers were starting to slip. The kid wouldn’t last much longer.

“Why?”

“There ya go with the questions again. Just drop.”

“You’re angry at me.”

“I’m getting there, yeah.”

Rand heard the hoses stop, then he looked up. The wind had died completely. Tiny pellets of long-overdue rain had started to sprinkle from the sky. A mist of droplets hit his face. It certainly wasn’t a downpour—only a gentle rain—but it was wet, nonetheless, and would ensure the fire was completely extinquished.

Rand heard one of the other firefighters shouting his name. He heard boots stomping over brush and smoldering leaves and nettles.

“My friends are coming.”

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