Montana Fire (6 page)

“Yolanda?”

Jamie’s boss whipped around and placed a hand over her heart. “Oh, Jamie. Are you
okay?” Her gaze ran from head to toe and back again. “By the time I got the call about
the attempted robbery, the policeman said you’d left the clinic.”

“Yes, I’m fine. Really.” In the last six months, those words had become her mantra.

“I’m so glad you’re here. I thought you’d take the day off.”

She’d considered it. “I’d rather be busy.”

“I understand. Layla called in sick. Some upper respiratory infection seems to be
going around.”

That still left Nathan, Amanda, and Sasha to see the patients. Guilt and need collided.
“I hate to do this, but I’d like an hour to visit someone.”

Her boss set down the X-ray and sucked in a big breath. “Can it wait until the first
wave passes?” The clinic had an ebb and flow to it. The mornings, and around five,
were their busiest times.

Jamie wanted to give in, but she might never see Jonathan again. “There was a man
burned in the warehouse fire. He’s in critical condition.” She didn’t know that for
sure, but from Max’s description of the injuries, she suspected that was true. “He
was a good friend.” Even if she couldn’t speak with him, seeing him would give her
some peace of mind.

Yolanda bit down on her lip and glanced around. “I’m so sorry about your friend. Of
course. Check on him, but do hurry. Today is shaping up to be crazy.”

It might have been her anxiety kicking in, but Jamie gave her boss a quick hug. “Thank
you. I’ll be fast.”

Jamie charged down the hall and hurried out the front door. It was only a ten-minute
drive each way, which would give her plenty of time to visit. She climbed into her
car and before she headed in the opposite direction, Jamie gazed at the fallen warehouse
once more. Max Gruden was an intense man, driven to find answers. She prayed he’d
find the culprit who set the fire.

A few minutes later, Jamie entered the Lucy Ambrose Center for Excellence (LACE) hospital
parking lot, and a heavy weight settled in her bones.

It’s okay. Benny’s not here.
The pharmaceutical tech was behind bars, where he needed to be.

After gulping down her now lukewarm coffee to settle her nerves, and taking a big
bite out of her ham and cheese croisant, she slipped out of her car. Every day since
leaving LACE, she’d thanked the health gods that Amber had convinced her to quit her
job. Walking those haunted halls for those three months after the shooting had dragged
Jamie down and caused endless suffering. She’d finally admitted that the bad memories
would forever reside there.

Stealing herself from further bad thoughts, she entered. At the information desk,
she forced a smile for Janice Greenwald, a woman who’d always offered a friendly wave.

“Hey, how are you doing? I’ve missed you,” Janice said.

“Good. I miss a lot of people here, too.” That wasn’t a lie. Feeling good was another
story. As much as she’d like to catch up with Janice, Jamie didn’t have the time to
chat. “I’m here to visit Jonathan Rambler.”

Janice pecked at the keyboard then looked up. “I don’t have anyone here by that name.”

Duh
. If Max didn’t know Jonathan’s name, neither would the paramedic who brought him
in. She doubted her friend carried ID. “He was the John Doe from the warehouse fire
last night.”

“Let me check.” More keys clicked, followed by a smile from Janice. “Ah, yes. He’s
in ICU, room three.”

“Not in the burn unit?”

“Apparently, there wasn’t room.”

That wasn’t good. Keeping her gaze on her destination, and not on anyone she passed,
Jamie jogged to the bank of elevators and waited forever for one to arrive. When she
reached her floor, her friend, Becky Andrews, who manned the nurse’s station, was
chatting on the phone.

She held up a finger and disconnected a few seconds later. “Jamie!” She walked around
the counter and gave her a hug. “What are you doing here?”

Jamie told her about her friend. “Can I see him?”

“I’m sorry, but only family is allowed.”

Jamie should have called ahead and asked about his condition, but she’d hoped she
could have peeked in. “How is he?” She saw no need to say the homeless man might not
have a family—other than Charlotte.

“Stable. He’s intubated for smoke inhalation, but the doctor is hopeful that we can
take him off the machine soon.”

“And his burns?”

“Shoulder and neck. I didn’t treat him though.”

Poor man. If he lived, the rehabilitation would be extensive, and the skin grafts
painful. Her heart nearly broke in two.

“Do you know when he’ll be moved to the burn unit?” He’d get better care there.

“Again, we’re hoping for a vacancy later today.”

“Thanks.” It was probably for the best that Jamie not see him all bandaged and helpless.

When she returned to the clinic, the waiting room was packed. In a way, that was a
good thing. Running around helping one patient after another would keep her mind from
thinking about Jonathan.

She wasn’t the only one working hard today. Yolanda seemed more stressed than usual.
Not only was one of the nurses sick, but the second doctor, Shane McDermott, was on
vacation. Several of the doctors from LACE volunteered a few hours a week, but they
usually came on the weekends or in the evenings.

Jamie took her time with each patient, but she didn’t chat as she often did. About
the time she was ready to go home, another wave of people arrived, so she didn’t feel
right leaving.

Jamie caught Yolanda in between patients. “Do you want me to stay late? I owe you
an hour.”

“No, Jamie. You go home. I’m locking up tonight.”

“Not to sound paranoid, but what if those men return? You shouldn’t be here by yourself.”

Yolanda smiled. “Don’t worry. I’ve hired security to walk the nurses to their cars
and stay around while I lock up. The cop I spoke with said the RHPD would be driving
by on a regular basis until nine.”

“That’s wonderful, and thank you for the added security.”

Even though Yolanda suggested Jamie leave at five, she stayed until seven to help
out. When she finally got out of there, even though it was still light, the guard
insisted on walking her to her car.

Because she hadn’t slept well last night, on the drive home, Jamie had to shake her
head repeatedly to keep awake. While she had enjoyed being with Zoey at her house,
Jamie looked forward to sleeping in her own bed.

Tomorrow before work, she’d call to see if the doctor had removed Jonathan’s tube,
and if he’d moved from the ICU. If he had, it meant leaving extra early for a visit.
She couldn’t in all good conscience leave Yolanda stranded again, especially if Layla
called in sick.

Sometime tomorrow, she had to remember to contact RHPD and ask if they find the location
of Jonathan’s daughter, Charlotte. Wouldn’t she want to see her dad one more time?
Jamie would give anything if she could have spoken with her father before that drunk
driver took his life.

Chapter Five

T
he sun had just dipped below the horizon by the time Max arrived home. It was no wonder
he was hungry and exhausted. He and Rich had surveyed every frigging inch of that
building, noting the burn patterns, and testing for chemicals. While they couldn’t
be positive without lab corroboration, it looked like the arsonist had used butane
to start the fire—the same kind of hydrocarbon based fuel the Blood Rights gang used.
Besides Jonathan’s mattress and an odd assortment of clothing, the forensic team had
unearthed all sorts of electronic equipment. Between the gear and the accelerant,
he should get some answers.

The warehouse owner, Ed Hanson, had shown up and, when he found out about someone
being injured in his building, he’d freaked. From his sincere reaction, the owner
didn’t seem like a likely suspect.

He also mentioned again how he’d planned to tear down the building soon, but that
his small amount of insurance wouldn’t do more than aid in clearing up the rubble.

After Ed left the scene, Max asked Trent to look into Ed Hanson’s insurance claim
to see if it was the paltry sum he’d claimed. Max also asked Trent to check with Thad
about whether he’d heard any gang rumblings about the fire.

Max needed a shower bad and headed into his bathroom. As he stood under the steaming
water and let the warmth soothe the ache in his thigh and knees, he wondered if Jamie
had found out anything from Jonathan Rambler.

Max had called the hospital to check on the man’s status, but after ten minutes on
hold, he’d given up. Tomorrow before work, he’d stop by LACE, though given the man’s
condition, Max wouldn’t be surprised if he was still intubated. Smoke inhalation could
be deadly.

He rubbed his face to banish the image of the homeless man’s haunted eyes that seemed
to have been reaching out to him, pleading for help. There was something about Jonathan
Rambler that made him want to help the guy. Hell, maybe it was the full moon exerting
some extra lunar force on him, or else the memory of his own family’s death by fire
had come back to haunt him. He blinked back the remembrance, shut off the water, and
stepped out to dry.

The evidence told him Jonathan might have awoken only when the burning board fell
on him, so Max doubted the guy saw or knew anything. Still, Max had to check.

A flickering memory of his wife reappeared. She was pointing to something high on
a shelf. It had been too long since he’d had to retrieve something for anyone, lift
a heavy suitcase, or unscrew the lid off a jar because it was on too tight. He missed
doing that for someone. Then the memory disappeared, and try as he might, he couldn’t
bring it back. Every family photo had burned in the fire, and the wonderful times
they’d shared were disappearing one by one as the years rolled on.

Move on, man
.

He had. Sort of. The only thing he could never put behind him was that if he hadn’t
been a cop, his family would still be alive. That guilt would never wash away.

Max stepped into his bedroom and dressed. He forced his mind back to the crime scene
to make sure he hadn’t missed some clue today. As he sorted through the facts again,
something about Jamie showing up didn’t sit right with him. Was it all about helping
her friend? Or did she know more than she was saying? If she’d heard scuttlebutt from
the locals about wanting the eyesore gone, why not tell him? Had she thought the attempted
clinic break-in was related to the warehouse fire, and she feared some kind of retribution?
There could be a connection, but hell, if he knew what it was.

Max strode toward the kitchen for some food. With renewed energy from the shower,
he yanked open the refrigerator. Empty. Crap. Guess he’d forgotten to shop. He shouldn’t
be surprised. Ever since his recent promotion, his life had been hell, and the coming
month didn’t promise a respite either. He sure as hell wasn’t looking forward to sorting
out the issues left to him. The amount of liquor licenses alone that had never been
renewed was daunting.

With keys in hand, Max jumped in his car. He ate at Italiano’s almost every night
because he liked to go back to the office after dinner and work. No reason not to
grab a bite there now. It was a place where he could think, in part because the staff
knew to take his order and leave him alone.

As soon as he stepped inside the familiar restaurant, a bit of tension eased out of
him. He slipped into his usual table next to the window that faced the door. While
he wasn’t interested in who showed up, he didn’t like to be taken by surprise in case
someone did. Having been a cop, his old habits never died.

Elissa, his usual waitress, hustled over. She always flirted with him for a bit, not
because she liked him, but because he tipped well. He saw through her ploy, but she
gave good service, and that worked for him.

“Trout or baked chicken tonight, handsome?”

“Chicken, and bring a pot of coffee.” It was going to be a long night of thinking.