Three alarm response, p.5
Three Alarm Response, page 5
“Everybody back up,” she called as she jumped down from the truck. “Anderson, confirm that’s a power line and not telephone or cable. Then make sure dispatch has called for a cut-off.”
She got close enough to the car to see the driver behind the wheel while staying well clear of the power line.
“Sir, can you hear me?” She shouted to be heard through the closed window.
The man bobbed his head and closed his eyes, then popped them back open, obviously fighting for awareness of his situation. She called out to him again, and he turned a hazy gaze on her.
“You’ve been in an accident.” When he reached for the door handle, she extended her hands, palms out, then pointed at the hood of his car. “No. Don’t try to get out yet. There’s a wire down on your car.” When she was sure he understood those instructions, she went on. “Are you hurt?”
He clapped a hand against the opposite shoulder, where the seat belt slanted across his chest, then touched a cut on his forehead; blood ran down the side of his face. When he eased his hand back and stared at his fingers, he paled.
“That doesn’t look too bad.” Britt scanned the rest of him and didn’t notice any obvious deformity, but she couldn’t see his lower extremities clearly.
“Head wounds bleed a lot.” He sounded like he was parroting something he’d been told rather than possessing genuine knowledge.
“Right. Just sit still and let us work, and we’ll get you out of there in no time.”
An ambulance rolled to a stop nearby, and two female paramedics, Jenna and Candace, climbed out, but they hung back, waiting for Britt’s signal to come in. They were good friends of hers, and she was relieved she wouldn’t have to worry about them. They’d responded on calls with her countless times and had always respected scene safety. She glanced once more at the driver, and then, assured he was staying put, she moved closer to the paramedics.
“He’s got a laceration on his forehead and probably a bruise from the seat belt. Doesn’t appear to be in any distress right now. As soon as we get the power shut off, he’s all yours.” She greeted them with a friendly smile but was all business about their patient. They could chat in their group text later.
Jenna nodded. “Just let us know. And if we can help in any way…”
“Sure. Let me check in with my guys.”
She met Anderson over by the vehicle, glancing once more at the driver. He was on the phone, and whomever he was talking to didn’t seem to be calming him down. He waved his free hand about wildly, pausing every so often to touch his forehead. The flow of blood from his wound appeared to have slowed, as she didn’t see much fresh blood each time he pulled his fingers away.
“What’s the ETA on utilities? Driver’s getting antsy.”
“You know they never give us one.”
Somehow, the electric, water, and telephone companies had gotten on the same page and all refused to give ETAs. Britt could never get away with that. If someone came over the radio and asked how far away she was, she damn well better tell them.
As she turned for another glance at the driver, a small SUV with the logo for a local news station pulled in behind the fire truck. A man hopped out, already filming with his cell phone.
“Damn it.” Britt strode toward him. Mason made a move to abandon crowd control in order to intercept him, but she waved him off. She stepped in front of the reporter, doing her best to obstruct his view of the vehicle. “Back up. We have live wires here.”
He flashed her what she was certain he thought was a charming smile—his on-air smile, no doubt—full of perfectly aligned, bright-white teeth. “I’m just getting a quick shot.”
“You can get it from over there.” She flipped a hand toward the other side of the street. “What are you doing here anyway? This isn’t exactly a big story. Even for Bellbrook.”
He shrugged, his demeanor changing now that she’d made it clear they weren’t going to be buddies. “I was out getting storm coverage when I heard it go out on the scanner. I figured this will do if I don’t find something better.”
“Better?” She sneered at his choice of words. She understood the media’s job and could even respect those reporters who managed to do theirs while staying out of her way. But she was fresh off a black eye, courtesy of some prissy little reporter, and not feeling very generous toward the whole breed.
“You know what I mean.”
“I do. Which is exactly the problem. So back off. And move your car. It’s too close to my truck.”
He dropped all pretense, and his expression twisted derisively. “Thanks for nothing.” As he walked away, he muttered, “Bitch,” just loud enough for her to hear.
She drew in a breath, suppressing a dizzying urge to snap back at him, but she suspected he’d never stopped recording. When the footage went to air, his curse would be edited out, but whatever she’d been about to say would have only dug her hole deeper with her chain of command.
* * *
Britt leaned against the jamb of the large overhead garage door, the truck ready behind her and, in front of her, a gray and sulfur-yellow sky casting an eerie, early morning glow over the town. The rhythm of a sprinkle of rain on the metal roof created a white noise that she found oddly comforting, given the electricity in the air.
Anderson joined her in the doorway carrying two mugs.
“Coffee?” He held one out to her.
“I don’t know. How long until the next round is on us?”
He shrugged. “Thirty minutes. And by the looks of that sky, it’s going to be active.”
“Then I pass on the caffeine. But let me hold one of those mugs to warm up.” Hours of running in and out of the rain had left her chilled so deep that even layering on a sweatshirt when they returned from that last run hadn’t helped.
“Are you still going to that adoption thing today?”
She nodded. She’d hoped they would get relieved by the next shift before catching another run, but if bad weather churned up again, the chances were better that she’d get stuck out on a scene and be late getting back to the hall for relief. If the next crew took over in time, she could still grab a power nap and a hot shower first. Otherwise, she’d resort to loading up on caffeine to make it through the day. “It’s forecast to clear up by then, so hopefully they’ll still get a good turnout.”
“I thought you didn’t like animals. Is this about Ms. Willows?”
She shook her head too quickly to be believed.
“You never tell me the good stuff.”
“There’s a reason for that.” She shot him a grin to soften the impact of her words. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him. She did, mostly. But she refused to be the lesbian that the male firefighters gossiped about when she wasn’t around. They probably did anyway, but she wouldn’t add any kindling to their fires. “There’s nothing to tell, man.”
“She single?”
“Don’t know.” She didn’t add—don’t care—because she didn’t think he’d believe her. She curled her fingers more tightly around the mug, clinging to the warmth still radiating through the ceramic. Was she pulling off casual? Anderson’s suggestion that a different kind of tension might be brewing between them did things to her insides that she didn’t like. She hadn’t felt that flutter of attraction in a very long time, and experiencing it while thinking about Claire both excited and irritated her.
“Are you?”
She chuckled at his implication that she’d been hiding a girlfriend. In reality, she was just as lazy about relationships as she was about everything else that didn’t have to do with firefighting. She couldn’t say she was too busy to date or that she couldn’t find Ms. Right. She just didn’t care to try, when she’d rather spend time alone.
Typically, she’d go home after shift, grab some sleep if she needed it, and have a chill day. Her second day off, she took care of any errands she had. That time by herself recharged her for the next shift, when she had to spend twenty-four hours in a row around other people. She certainly didn’t volunteer to go hang out at fund-raising events with someone who didn’t like her very much at all.
She still didn’t know why she’d done it. One minute she’d been trying for a civil good-bye, eager to escape the rescue, and the next she’d been asking about the fund-raiser. If she was being honest, she’d admit the fact that Claire so clearly didn’t want her to attend played at least a small part in her desire to do so. She’d known Lila was flirting a bit, feeling her out. And Claire probably thought that’s why she’d suddenly showed an interest in coming back. Lila was pretty and friendly, but Britt couldn’t envision pursuing anything with her. She told herself it was because Lila and Claire worked together and she didn’t want to spend any more time around Claire than she had to, but since she’d volunteered for the adoption event, that was clearly a lie.
* * *
Claire surveyed the guests starting to trickle into the yard from the main building, hoping the crowd would get bigger as the day continued. She’d done everything possible to promote the event, even accepting an interview on a local morning-television show, though she’d tried to talk Lila into taking her place.
Along the fence, a handful of vendors had set up booths under brightly colored pop-up canopies. She’d spent two days visiting local establishments and talking up the event, in the end securing attendance from several pet-related businesses and one woman who made and sold dog clothes.
The barbecue caterer and shaved-ice truck would set up in the parking lot, in order to keep anyone from bringing food inside the fenced area, where adoptable dogs might be roaming around. She’d set up a buffet-style table and some folding chairs nearby and posted a sign at each entrance asking guests to respect this rule for the safety of both the dogs and attendees.
Volunteers would rotate the available dogs into the yard throughout the morning, always loosely watching guest interactions. The dogs who weren’t friendly with other pups or needed to be careful around small children could be visited inside the dog house under closer supervision. Not to be left out, those looking to adopt a feline friend could stop by the cathouse, where volunteers waited to make a match.
Since she’d done the television interview, she’d made Lila agree to schmooze the VIP donors. Claire became nervous when she knew a lot of money was on the line, stuttering over the thought of how many animals they could help with a large donation. She would much rather leave the fund-raising to Lila while she coordinated the volunteers and helped with animal care. In fact, she’d volunteer to clean the dog runs and the cat rooms every day if she didn’t have to beg for funds.
She stopped to check in at the adoption and foster sign-up table, making sure plenty of applications were available. As she turned away from the table, another cluster of people walked in. Claire’s heart soared along with the attendance, then seemed to stumble in her chest as the group dispersed onto the grass, leaving Britt standing alone in front of the gate.
Britt looked freshly showered, her dark hair apparently free of product—soft and touchable. She wore comfortable clothes—navy knit shorts and a gray T-shirt with a faded logo on the front. She had said she’d basically be coming from work, and Claire blamed that knowledge for the fact that she suddenly could imagine Britt shrugging out of her suspenders and shoving her turnout pants down over her boots before stepping out of them.
As she drew her gaze up Britt’s body and met Britt’s eyes, she realized she’d been caught—if not full-on checking her out—looking far too long. Unexpectedly, Britt’s expression reflected the interest swirling through her.
It was a moment—for sure. And if not for their history of animosity, she’d have called it a snapshot from her favorite rom-com. Across a crowded lawn—two women’s eyes meet and—and what? How could she connect with a woman who took every opportunity to remind her of exactly what she thought of her career and life choices? She recalled the flickers of humor and humanity suggesting that a real woman lurked under the snark—a woman, in spite of everything, Claire wanted to know more about.
Britt broke the connection between them, scanning the grounds as she picked her way through the other guests. Claire used the time before Britt reached her to take a couple of steady breaths.
“Hi.” Certainly, the full-morning sun had brought the flush to her cheeks.
Britt lifted her chin in greeting. “The guys on the engine said they saw you promoting the event on television. I’m sorry I missed it. I’m sure it was much more entertaining than the last interview you did.”
Claire’s foolish warmth frosted over. Did Britt really have to be such a jerk? She might have seen a hint of regret in Britt’s expression, but no apology for the jab was forthcoming. Connect with her? Forget that.
“You look exhausted.” Most women would have considered Claire’s observation catty. And maybe she intended it that way—a little bit. But Britt appeared unfazed.
“Busy night. But on the upside, I got credit for activity during twenty-two of the last twenty-four hours.” She held up her wrist, indicating her smart watch.
“You didn’t have to come in. If you’d texted we would have understood.” If she’d canceled, she wouldn’t be here confusing Claire—er, spoiling her excitement for the event she’d worked so hard to plan.
Britt shook her head. “I made a commitment. Besides, I’m kind of used to operating on little sleep.”
“You don’t have to go in again tonight, do you?”
“No. I don’t work again until Tuesday. I’ll get some rest before then.”
“Okay. Well, it’s forecast to get warm quickly this morning. So drink plenty of water and get out of the sun when you need to.” Claire regretted the words as soon as she spoke. Why was she babbling about the weather and staying hydrated?
“Don’t worry. I have plenty of experience dealing with heat.” Britt winked and headed across the lawn to greet Lila, leaving Claire standing there feeling foolish and, once more, turned around by Britt’s hot-and-cold attitude.
Chapter Five
Britt sat down in the grass under the tree and opened her bottled water, watching people mill around in front of her. She’d been working alongside one of the rescue volunteers, a college kid who said he’d worked at the rescue since high school. They’d stocked a table with cases of water for volunteers and guests, filled large water bowls for the dogs roaming around the lawn, and then gone into the dog kennel building to tend to the animals there. Lila had joked about putting the firefighter on water duty as she’d hooked her up with the kid. But he was a nice guy and clearly possessed a selflessness she didn’t often associate with his age group.
The event seemed to be exactly what Lila said she wanted, a picnic day of sorts for the community. In addition to the food vendors, a veterinarian had set up a table, offering special rates for anyone adopting a dog or cat that day. Britt had also wandered by booths for a doggie spa and a pet store.
Some of the older dogs had been taken back inside as the day warmed to a temperature uncomfortable for them. And even the more active pups had settled in temporary wire enclosures under one of the tents for an afternoon nap. She yawned, but she’d passed the point where a nap would be productive. Now she had to hold on until she could crash. In fact, even sitting down was dangerous.
She leaned against the tree, and the rough bark pressing into the center of her back made her just uncomfortable enough to stave off her fatigue. A breeze ruffled the leaves overhead, breaking the heat for an instant, then feathered away. Across the grass, several kids ran around the lounging dogs, trying and failing to motivate them to play and chase. The children’s parents had sought out shade as well, standing in clusters talking about whatever parents gossiped about when they had a moment away from their offspring.
A trill of laughter from one of the smaller kids drew Britt’s attention again. The girl, about four years old, giggled again as a large, furry dog—taller than she was—swiped its tongue across her face. The girl’s dark pigtails reminded Britt of her niece, and she made a mental note to squeeze in a trip to her brother’s place outside of Indianapolis. She enjoyed hanging out with her niece, especially since she’d been growing into the sassy personality she’d had since she was two. Britt had never felt the pull of motherhood, but she loved being the fun aunt.
She closed her eyes, letting the distant voices, the faint music playing from one of the vendor tents, and the tinkle of wind chimes hanging by the back door of the main building mingle in layers that pulled the stress of her busy shift from where it balled in her chest.
A tickle against her hand jerked her awake. She stared down at a midnight-black cat, who stood next to her thigh and unflinchingly met her gaze. Glancing around, she tried to figure out how long she’d been asleep, and if she’d gone fully under or just drifted momentarily.
“Hey there. Where did you come from? Shouldn’t someone be missing you?” She hadn’t noticed any of the cats roaming around today, but she’d seen lots of people going inside the cat building. Maybe one of them had accidentally let this one out.
The cat ducked its head under her arm and pressed close, settling against her side. When she held out her hand, it inspected her, nose twitching, eyes oddly steady. After a disrespectfully long time, it finally rubbed its head against her fingers.
“Seriously? What were you so unsure about?” She curled her fingers and scratched behind its ear. A steady purr vibrated against her hip. “Don’t get attached, little dude. If you’re looking for a new home, you’re looking under the wrong tree.”
The cat crawled over her legs to her other side and began batting at her empty water bottle. Britt knocked it over and rolled it a few inches away. Startled, the cat fell back a few steps, then recovered, dropping into a crouch, almost visibly coiling like a spring. Seconds later, it pounced, attacking the bottle with its front paws and teeth, crinkling the plastic.
