Hero's Journey (4 page)

Once the bags were out of the Cherokee, Stella closed the back door of the vehicle. “I haven't heard from him yet. He'll probably call tonight after he's done working.”

“Where does he live? Maybe you should go and wait for him.”

“I don't know where he lives, Eric. I know he'll call when he gets my message. I'm sure it's going to be okay.”

He went inside with her. “You're not sure. I know you well enough by now to know when you're lying. You're worried too.”

“I'm worried,” she agreed. “I think he'll be all right because I don't want to think about him being any other way.”

“You're not so tough. I knew there was a heart in that chest.”

“Yeah, well, don't tell anyone else.” She started putting away the groceries. She'd bought extra cans of Coke to see her through this emergency.

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” She held up a can of Coke in one hand and a dozen eggs in the other.

“I can do this. I can't look for Hero. You go look for him. I'll take care of the groceries.”

She put down the eggs but kept the Coke with her. “Yes, sir. You know, there can't be two chiefs in one brigade.”

“You're right.” There was a smile and a twinkle in his strange blue eyes. “I appoint you assistant chief here. That will have to do for now.”

“Huh. I don't even have any hope of you dying and leaving a vacancy for me to fill. That's not fair.”

“Get out of here. Look for the dog. Don't come back without him.”

Stella found herself abruptly scooted out of the kitchen and on to the porch. The door slammed closed behind her.

Eric had a way of getting his point across.

In this case, she agreed. She was wasting daylight hours. She took the Cherokee back down the mountain and picked up the Harley.

She cruised along at a slow rate of speed on the main road, ignoring the angry drivers and honking horns.

There was no sign of Hero in the ditch along the road to Sweet Pepper. She was grateful for that. She'd have to leave town before dark to check the other side on the way back.

Stella parked the Harley outside of the Sweet Pepper Café. Ricky Hutchins worked here with his parents, Lucille and Ricky Senior. The couple was popular and well liked in town. They even dressed up as their namesakes on Halloween—Lucy and Ricky from the classic TV show.

Lucille came right over when she saw Stella. “Have you found the missing puppy? We've been telling everyone who comes in about him.”

“No. Not yet. A bunch of people are out searching and there are flyers everywhere. I can't let myself think we won't find him tonight.”

“Well, let me get you something while you're waiting to hear. We have some wonderful pumpkin pie, and I just put on a fresh pot of coffee.”

“I don't think so but thanks anyway, Lucille. I'm going over to see if the police can do anything to help.”

“Okay. We'll call if we hear anything.” Lucille hugged her. “You take care.”

It had been hard for Stella to get used to all the hugging that went on in Sweet Pepper. Even the fire brigade tended to hug when they got excited. She'd learned to live with it. Sometimes she even enjoyed it.

Stella had stepped into the town hall when her radio went off. Phil was calling from the firehouse, where he was monitoring communications. “There's a residential fire on Fifth and Magnolia. John says it's possible there's a child trapped in the house.”

It made no sense for her to go back to the firehouse. She was already close to their destination. She could see smoke billowing from that direction across the tops of the trees.

“I'm going on to the house,” she told Phil. “Have Petey or Ricky grab my bunker coat, helmet, and boots. I'll meet everyone there.”

Stella believed the fire brigade had been together long enough that they could get ready and have the pumper and engine where it needed to be without her guidance.

At least she hoped so.

She'd never tried it before. They were going to have to handle calls on their own when she was gone. This was as good a time as any to see what happened.

She put on her helmet and got back on her bike, a little disappointed that she wouldn't be able to search along the main road going back out of town before dark. Looking for Hero would have to wait. Calls came first.

Her Harley took the hill going up Main Street to Fifth with ease. She didn't have to look for the address—there were flames and smoke coming out of the two-story house. John's police car was waiting in front with the lights flashing.

Her hopes for saving the house were extinguished when she viewed the scene. The fire was almost completely engaged. It was racing through the house with a speed only those who'd spent time with fire could appreciate. There would be significant damage, maybe a total loss.

She didn't like putting losses on her fire brigade's reports. There had only been one other complete loss. That one had also included a death. She never wanted to put that on another report again while she was chief here.

She saw John walking toward her. Something must have changed in the status of the possibility of a child still being in the house. Stella knew him well enough to know he'd be in there trying to rescue a child, even without the proper gear. It was the way he was made. Most firefighters she knew were the same way.

“It doesn't look good.” He'd taken off his hat but his dark police uniform still looked clean and pressed.

“What about the kid?” Stella stared at the house. “Was the report wrong?”

He nodded to the couple hugging each other. A little girl stood between them. “Those are the Loflins. They got out okay.”

“So was the report wrong? Was there another child? I know we're not standing out here talking about it if everyone isn't safe.”

“It's the craziest thing I've ever hearda and that's saying a lot. There isn't another child. When I got here, Mr. and Mrs. Loflin were running out of the front door. They thought their daughter was with them. They turned around to get her off the porch, and she was gone.”

Stella raised her eyebrows, impatient for the resolution. “And?”

He shrugged. “I was about to go inside and look for her when she came running out of the back of the house.”

“People get separated sometimes. Thank God she's safe. What's crazy about that?”

“You're going to love her explanation of how she got out of the house.”

“Quit teasing. Everyone will be here soon. What happened?”

“The little girl said a big black-and-white puppy ran into the house, grabbed her by the hand, and led her out.”

“What?” Stella's heart beat faster.

“That's what she said.”

There wasn't enough time to ask any more questions. Ricky drove the engine up on the curb with the pumper/ladder truck right behind him.

Petey brought Stella her gear. She also brought gear for John, but he couldn't change. He'd have to work the fire as a police officer, keeping people safely away. Already a small crowd of spectators had gathered in the yard.

In record time, the first hose team had set up and was soaking the house with water. They were shorthanded. Bert wasn't able to come and neither could Dean. They would have to make do with who they had.

John moved the stricken Loflin family out of the way so nothing happened to them while the fire brigade was working.

Stella was proud of the team's quick arrival on the scene and their speedy hook up to the hydrant. There had been some problems working with hydrants earlier in their training. It seemed they had come a long way since she'd first arrived to face the group of raw recruits.

“Get a ladder up there.” Stella pointed to the roof where flames had blackened the light gray shingles.

JC and Royce responded, raising a ladder to the top of the house and going up, pickaxes in hand. They would have to vent the roof to let smoke out and water in.

Petey took her hose team in to get water to the flaming roof. Fire soared into the late evening sky as the volunteers fought to contain it.

In the end, it was as Stella had feared. The house, and probably most of its contents, were destroyed. It wasn't because of her volunteers, though. They'd done a great job. She couldn't have been more proud of them.

She could see from their smudged faces that they were going to need a pep talk when they got back to the firehouse. It was hard losing to fire, but there were times when nothing more could be done to prevent the destruction. This had been one of those times. Even knowing that didn't make it any easier for her. She simply had more experience with success and failure as a firefighter.

The husband-and-wife team who owned the
Sweet Pepper Gazette
were there taking pictures. Everyone in town called them the Smittys. They had stayed a respectful distance away from the action as the firefighters had worked.

Stella saw them interviewing the Loflins. She hoped the family would appreciate the effort put in by her crew. Sometimes civilians weren't kind to those who risked their lives to attempt to save other people's homes.

Once the fire was completely out, the members of the fire brigade moved through the hot ashes and debris to make sure there were no sparks left that could reignite.

Banyin poked and prodded as Kent and JC used fire extinguishers on hot spots. Ricky and Petey were putting the hoses back on the trucks.

“This burned too hot and too fast.” Stella sifted through what was left of the house with John at her side. “I'm sure we're going to find out this was arson.”

He glanced toward the Loflins. “I don't believe they're responsible.”

“I hope not.”

“I've been afraid something like this would happen. Our thief who likes to play with fire probably got carried away. You know how that goes. Don is so stubborn about keeping you informed. I'm sorry.”

“It doesn't really matter. Even though we knew it could happen, we can't be everywhere. There wasn't anything we could've done different. I'll go through this when it's cooled and we'll see. I think if it had been a normal fire, we could've saved the house.”

“I'll get you a report from the Loflins about how they think it happened.”

“What has the thief used to start the previous fires?”

“Nothing chemical like gasoline, at least not so far,” John said. “It's more like whatever he can find on hand. Newspaper, wood. You name it.”

“Well he stepped up his game on this one, if he's responsible. No newspaper or piece of wood started this, unless the Loflins were storing something they shouldn't have in the house.”

“I'm glad you can fill in as an arson investigator too. We used to have to wait months to get someone here from the state. I suppose we'll go back to that when you're gone.”

“Just don't ask me to go to court,” she half joked. “I'm not really certified to do arson investigation. I know a lot about it. That's not the same thing.”

He smiled and wiped a smudge of soot from her cheek with a gentle hand. “Better than no one doing it.”

Stella turned away, refusing to get caught up in her softer feelings for John. He had a tendency to look at her in a way that made her heart melt. A moment later, he'd be blasting her for being part of the Carson family. She couldn't trust him.

“Looks like we've got company,” she said. “Don's here.”

A second police vehicle—a white Cherokee like the red one that belonged to the fire brigade—pulled up to the curb. Police Chief Don Rogers stepped out, hitched up his pants, and began looking around at the fire scene.

“I should've called him sooner.” John left her and went to join his boss.

“Get some crime-scene tape and cordon off the area,” Stella told Banyin. “We don't want anyone stumbling around here and getting hurt.”

The pumper crew was packed up and ready to go. She released them to return to the firehouse. She'd do the same with the engine crew once they'd finished going through the debris and ashes of the house. It looked as though they'd done everything they could. It was time to go back home, clean up, and talk about what had happened.

“Ms. Griffin.” Don nodded as he reached her. John was by his side.

He was a fifty-something man with a graying blond crew cut. His pale blue eyes never seemed to smile.

He was about the same height as Stella. Because she was wearing boots, she was an inch or so taller. She enjoyed looking down on him, knowing it irritated him. “Chief Rogers.”

“Kind of a mess, isn't it?” His shrewd eyes surveyed the chaotic scene around them. “Guess your people didn't get here in time. How long have they been training?”

“The house was already fully involved before the fire brigade arrived,” John answered before Stella could. “There was nothing they could do to save the house. They managed to keep it under control so the fire didn't spread to the neighboring homes.”

Don didn't look pleased to hear John's response. “Aren't you supposed to be keeping spectators out of harm's way?” he asked his lead officer. “I don't think I need you up here, Trump.”

Stella hid her smile. No doubt Don didn't like John taking her side, as he disliked any reference to the fire brigade doing a good job.

John's chin came up. “Yes, sir.”

As John walked away, Don said, “Divided loyalties, Ms. Griffin. It never works. Always a bad thing for both groups.”

“If you say so. I can't see why anyone on the police department ,who also works with the fire brigade, would be considered to have divided loyalties since we both try to keep the community safe.”

“There's working—like I do. And there's working—like you do,” he quipped with a chuckle. “But never mind that. What can you tell me about the fire?”

She repeated what she'd said to John.

“Looks like I'd better have a word with the Loflins,” Don said. “People get in trouble, especially in this economy. It seems like a good way out to burn your house and collect insurance.”

He wasn't fooling Stella. “Or your thief went too far this time.”

His blue eyes squinted at her as darkness continued to settle around them and the streetlights came on. “I should've known John couldn't resist telling you. He's been rattling my cage about it all week. Looks like I can't trust him to keep his mouth shut anymore.”

“He was right to tell me. Whether you like it or not, I'm the fire chief. You're supposed to inform me when this type of situation happens, Don. I'd give you that courtesy if our positions were reversed.”

“You wouldn't have to. I keep up with what I need to know. It's not my fault if you don't.”

Ricky joined them. “We're heading back to the firehouse, Chief. You want me to take your gear with me?”

She did, but not with Don standing there. She relaxed enough to hand him her helmet. “I'll bring the rest with me. Meet you there.”

“You've got them trained like little puppies, don't you?” Don laughed as Ricky took her helmet and headed toward the engine.

“At least I don't feel like I have to demean them to show my superiority.”

Don spat on the blackened ground. “You can use all those two-hundred-dollar words if you want to. I'm not impressed. John is easy to get taken in. He looks at those pretty brown eyes and that shapely backside and gets all worked up. I'm made of tougher stuff. You'll be gone soon anyway. John will make a better fire chief. At least he knows where he belongs and he understands the people of Sweet Pepper.”

Stella laughed at his brief description of her. “I'm a lot more than eyes and a backside, Don. And I'm not gone yet. Keep me in the loop on this case or you'll find that out the hard way. I can play hardball better than you since you've never really seen tough out here in the pepper fields. Excuse me.”

Feeling smugly happy with her response, she left him standing at the fire scene and went down to her Harley. It was nice leaving him with his mouth open. She wasn't completely sure she could out-badass him, but she could give as good as she got.

Before she could put on her motorcycle helmet, the Loflin family came to find her. They thanked her profusely for everything the fire brigade had done.

“That must've been your Dalmatian that led our daughter to safety,” Mr. Loflin said. “Thank you for your hard work and training. I don't know if we would've been able to get Cindy out in time without you.”

Cindy looked to be about five years old. Stella was sure Cindy was scared and uncertain about what had happened. Still, she had to ask about the puppy who got the little girl out of the house.

“He was big, like some dogs, but he looked like a puppy,” Cindy described her rescuer. “He was all over white with black spots. He wagged his tail and barked at me until I put my hand on him. He put his mouth on my hand and walked out with me.”

This was exactly what they were training Hero to do. “Was he wearing a red collar?” Stella asked her.

“Yes. I think so anyway. There was a lot of smoke,” Cindy said.

“Did you see where he went?”

“He was with a man. I don't know who he was. He called the puppy, and the puppy ran to him and jumped in the back of his truck. Was he a firefighter too? Because he left right away.”