Chasing Fire
Page 108

When he left, she adjusted her plans for the day. She had to make room for a man. For her man. Closet space, drawer space. Space for manly things. The house she’d made completely her own would become a blend, picking up pieces of him, shades of him.
It amazed her how much she wanted that, how very much she wanted to see what those shades would be once blended.
She needed to make a list, she realized, of what should be done. He’d want some office space, she decided as she took out a notebook and pen to write it down. Then she tapped the pen on the table, calculating which area might work best.
“Oh, who can think!” Laughing, she tossed down the pen to dance around the kitchen.
She had to call her kids and tell them. But she’d wait until she’d settled down a little so they didn’t think she’d gone giddy as a teenager on prom night.
But she felt like one.
When the phone rang, she boogied to it, then sobered when she saw Irene’s readout.
She took two quiet breaths. “Hello.”
“Ella, Ella, can you come? Leo. Leo called.”
“Slow down,” she urged when Irene rushed over the words. “Leo called you?”
“He turned himself in. He’s at the police station, and he wants to talk to me. They let him call me, and he said he’s not saying anything about anything until he talks to me. I don’t know what to do.”
“Don’t do anything. I’ll be right over.”
She grabbed her cell phone out of the charger, snagged her purse on the run. On the way out the door, she called Lucas.
“I’m on my way over to Irene’s. Leo’s turned himself in.”
“Where?” Lucas demanded. “Where is he?”
“He called her from the police station.” She slammed her car door, shifted the phone to yank on her seat belt. “He says he won’t talk to anyone until he talks to her. I’m going with her.”
“Don’t you go near him, Ella.”
“I won’t, but I don’t want her to go alone. I’ll call you as soon as I’m back.”
She closed the phone, tossed it in her purse as she reversed down the drive.
Waking to the view of the Alaska Range and Denali lifted the spirits. As she stood in camp, Rowan felt the mountain was on their side.
The crews had worked their hearts out, had the burns and bruises, the aches and pains to prove it. They hadn’t slayed the dragon, not yet, but they’d sure as hell wounded it. And today, she had a good, strong feeling, today they’d plunge the sword right through its heart.
She knew the crew was banged up, strung out, but they’d gotten a solid four hours’ sleep and even now filled their bellies. With more equipment, more men, an additional fire engine and two bulldozers, she believed they could be flying home by that evening, and leave the final beat-down and mopping up to Alaska.
Sleep, she decided, the mother of optimism.
She pulled out her radio when it signaled. “Ro at base camp, go ahead.”
“L.B., Ops. I’ve got somebody here who wants to talk to you.”
“How’s my girl?”
“Hey, Dad. A-OK. Just standing here thinking and looking at a big-ass mountain. Wish you were here. Over.”
“Copy that. It’s good to hear your voice. Heard you had some trouble yesterday. Over.”
“Nothing we couldn’t handle with some bubble gum and duct tape. We softened her up yesterday.” She watched the cloud buildup over the park, and puffs of smoke twining up from islands of green. We’re coming for you, she thought. “Today, we’ll kick her ass. Over.”
“That’s a roger. Ro, I’ve got something you should know,” he began, and told her about Leo.
When she’d finished the radio call, Rowan walked over, sat down by Gull.
“Hell of a view,” he commented. “Libby’s in love. She’s talking about moving up here. Ditching us for the Alaska unit.”
“People fall for the mountain. Gull, Leo turned himself in this morning. He’s in custody.”
He studied her, then drank more coffee. “Then it’s a damn good day.”
“I guess it is.” She heaved out a breath. “Yeah, I guess it is. Let’s make it better and kill this dragon dead.”
“I hear that,” he said, and leaned over to kiss her.
It shook Irene to the core to walk into the room and see Leo shackled to the single table. He’d lost weight, and his hair, thinner, straggly, hung over the collar of the bright orange prison suit. He hadn’t shaved for God knew how long, she thought, and the beard had grown in shockingly gray around his gaunt face.
He looked wild. He looked like a criminal.
He looked like a stranger.
Had it only been a month since she’d seen him?
“Irene.” His voice broke on her name, and the shackles rattled obscenely in her ears when he reached out.
She had to look away for a moment, compose herself.
The room seemed airless, and much too bright. She saw the reflection in the wide mirror—two-way glass, she thought. She watched Law & Order, and she knew how it worked.
But the reflection stunned her. Who was that woman, that old, bony woman with dingy hair scraped back from her haggard face?
It’s me, she thought. I’m a stranger, too.
We’re not who we were. We’re not who we’re supposed to be.
Were they watching behind that glass? Of course they were. Watching, judging, condemning.
The idea struck what little pride she had left, kindled it. She straightened her shoulders, firmed her chin and looked into her husband’s eyes. She walked to the table, sat, but refused to take the hands he held out to her.
“You left me.”
“I’m sorry. I thought it’d be better for you. They were looking to arrest me, Irene, for murder. I thought if I was gone, you’d be better off, and they’d find the real killer so I could come back.”
“Where did you go?”
“I went up in the mountains. I kept moving. I had the radio, so I kept listening for word they’d arrested somebody. But they didn’t. Somebody did this to me, Reenie. I just—”
“To you? To you, Leo? I signed my name with yours, putting up our home for your bail. You left, and now I’m going to lose my home because even taking another job isn’t enough to meet the payments.”