Sandra Brown - Smoke Screen

“From kindergarten through college and beyond. Our parents thought we shared the same brain. We shared everything else. Bikes, toys, food, clothes.”

“Girls?”

“Sometimes. In our wilder days,” he said without any embarrassment that she could detect.

She could imagine them almost at every stage, but especially as college men. Equally attractive. Jay: fair, suave, and charming. Raley: dark and…And what? Not as suave and charming. Or maybe he’d been quite charming before his life was turned upside down. Maybe the bearded, scowling man sitting across from her now had once been more of a charmer even than Jay.

“We grew up knowing that Jay was going to be a cop, and I was going to be a fireman.”

“These were childhood ambitions?”

“Always. We enrolled in college knowing what we’d study.”

“What was your degree in?”

“I got dual degrees. Fire science. Environmental health and safety. Then Jay and I went through the police academy together.”

She looked at him with puzzlement. “You went through the police academy?”

“In order to become an arson investigator, you must first be a peace officer. Otherwise, once arson is detected, a fire inspector must turn the case over to the police.”

“I see. So you got the police certification first.”

“Then did my fireman’s training and went on to get my certification as an arson investigator.”

She was impressed by the amount of education and training he had.

He continued. “Jay and I excelled in our respective fields. I was working my way up through the ranks of the CFD. Jay made detective before the deadline he’d set for himself. We remained best friends.” He paused to take a sip of water.

“And then?”

“And then there was the fire at the police station. That changed everything.”

He scooted aside the bottle of Tabasco and reached for the box of toothpicks he’d toyed with earlier.

She was impatient to hear what he was about to tell her, but she said nothing, giving him the time he needed to arrange his thoughts. She tried not to think of police officers with a warrant for her arrest, cruising the streets of Charleston in search of her, believing not only that she’d committed murder but that she had fled to avoid capture.

She knew what she would have done with that news story if it had been about someone else. What she had done with similar stories. Had the subjects of her breaking news bulletins been as frightened of their futures as she was of hers now? Not once had she put herself in the shoes of the accused. She’d never stopped to consider their desperation. All she’d thought about was how much face time on camera she would have to report their crime, their flight, their capture.

“I was off duty that day,” Raley said, drawing her from her disturbing thoughts. “But I lived near downtown and heard the sirens and was already on my way to the fire station when my phone rang.” He glanced at her. “I carried a cell in those days.” She gave him a weak smile; he continued. “The blaze had gone to two alarms. I was told to get there as soon as possible.”

She watched his expression change as he reflected on that day. “I’ll never forget it. You can’t imagine the heat.”

“Actually I can. I covered the sofa factory fire.”

Another disastrous fire in which nine firemen had died.

“Did you know any of the men who died in that blaze?” she asked.

“Three really well,” he replied sadly. “The others by face and name.”

Neither of them said anything for a moment, then he picked up his account of the other major fire in Charleston. “The police station fire burned just as hot. Heat like Hell must be like. Consuming and inescapable.”

“You went into the building?”

“No. By the time I got there-I think it took me six minutes-it was an inferno. The roof had already collapsed. Which caused the floors to cave in one by one. Everyone who could be evacuated already had been. I got into gear, but our captain wouldn’t let any more of us go in. For anyone left inside, it was hopeless.

“The best we could do at that point was try to confine the blaze to that building. The first alarm had come in at six oh two p.m. Twelve hours later, we were still putting out hot spots.” He looked across at her. “Were you living in Charleston then?”

“I came about a month later. The building was still a pile of charred rubble. An investigation into the cause was ongoing.”

“Yeah. My investigation.”

“You were investigating the fire?”

“You didn’t know that, did you?” His facial features hardened. Anger radiated off him in waves.

“No, I didn’t,” she admitted.

“All those stories you did about me, and you never mentioned that.”

“I didn’t know it.”

“But you should have, shouldn’t you? You were the reporter covering my story, you should have gathered all the facts. Instead you were busy sweeping up the dirt.”

“I’m sorry.”

He gave the humble interior of the cabin a scornful glance. “A little late for apologies.”

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, a bit huskily.

He maintained his hostile silence for several long moments, then muttered “Screw it,” and continued his account in a neutral tone of voice. “Pat Wickham, George McGowan, and Cobb Fordyce. Do those names mean anything to you?”

“Of course.”

“Tell me what you know.”

“Those three and Jay saved dozens of lives that day. They got people out of the building. Even before the first fire trucks arrived, they risked their lives to lead people out. As catastrophic as the fire was, only seven people died. If not for those four men, there would have been many more casualties.”

Frowning, he said, “The four of them did lead people out. They did save lives.”

“So you don’t dispute that?”

“Not at all. When I arrived, it was a chaotic scene. People suffering from burns and smoke inhalation but weeping with relief that they’d escaped. Firemen battling the blaze. Policemen trying to maintain some semblance of organization. EMTs dispensing oxygen and performing triage, dispatching the worst of the injured to the hospital. Those four refused to go, even though they were near collapse. On oxygen. Scorched. You’ve seen the pictures. Cameras don’t lie.”

The bitterness with which he’d said that caused Britt to withhold her observation for several seconds. Then she said quietly, “Your best friend Jay was hailed a hero.”

“Overnight.”

She had dipped her toe in, she might just as well take the plunge. “Saving people from a fire.”

He came up out of his chair. “I know what you’re thinking.”

“What am I thinking?”

“That I was jealous of Jay because he got famous for doing what I was supposed to do. That I resented his becoming a hero in my field of expertise.”

“Were you jealous? Did you resent it?”

“No!”

“Are you human?”

BRITT HELD HER BREATH, WONDERING HOW RALEY WOULD react to the sensitive question.

He rolled his shoulders defensively and took a breath. “Okay, maybe I was a little pissed. Jay teased me about it. ‘I be the cop, you be the fireman, remember?’ He’d say it in that way of his, with that smile, and I knew he was ribbing, but, yeah, here I had gone through the training and done the studying, and then, in typical Jay Burgess fashion, he sails in and grabs the glory. Lots of glory.”

“Anybody would resent that, Raley.”

“On the other hand, I was proud of him and damn glad he’d saved all those lives. I was also grateful that he had survived.”

“That was the purpose of the party, wasn’t it? To celebrate his survival?”