It Had to Be You: Special Bonus Edition with free novel Blue Flame (Lucky Harbor) Read online

  Over the years, Joe had learned the hard way that the key to the job was detachment and an unflappable composure. But this case would test both because he had memories to battle here as well, memories strong enough to begin a low throbbing at the base of his skull.

  Socks had been just a kitten on that long ago day when everything had gone so terribly wrong, costing Tim Abrams his life, costing Summer Abrams the rest of her adolescence, costing Joe the only bright spot in his life at the time.

  But whether this cat at his feet was Socks or not, Joe couldn’t leave her down here, hurt and terrified. “Here kitty, kitty.”

  “I wouldn’t,” Kenny warned as Joe reached for her, and sure enough, the cat turned into a wild thing in Joe’s arms, hissing and spitting, using both paws to swipe down his chest, making him hiss as well. He didn’t look down to see if the damn feline had yanked out his heart or if it only felt like it, because at that moment the building shuddered wildly.

  Both their radios squawked to life. “Walker, Simmons. Get out,” came a booming voice in stereo. “Do you copy? Roof is going to collapse. Get out now.”

  “Copy,” Kenny yelled as dust rained over them. He snatched up their evidence-collecting bag and Joe’s flashlight. “Let’s beat it.”

  Joe still had his arms full of pissed-off feline. Chest burning from the scratches, he shook his head when Kenny turned toward the stairs that led up through the burned shell of the warehouse. “Not that way.”

  “It’s our exit, Walk. Time to get off this train.”

  “There’s a back door, and if it wasn’t destroyed in the fire, it’s a faster way out.”

  “If we die down here, I’m taking that cat to hell with me,” Kenny vowed, following so close on Joe’s tail he could feel him breathing down his neck.

  “We’re not dying, not today.” The dust and dirt falling on them turned to a cakey mud on Joe’s drenched body as they ran down a narrow hallway to a second set of stairs, leading up.

  The set he and Summer had always used when they didn’t want to be seen.

  “You weren’t here when they fought the fire last night,” Kenny said breathlessly as they began to climb the rickety wood steps. “And we haven’t seen the blueprints yet. How did you know—”

  “Been here before. Keep moving—”

  From behind them came another foreboding tremble, and everything around them began to shake as if they were in an earthquake.

  Not an earthquake, Joe knew, just a warehouse that had taken more punishment than it could withstand. He hoped to God everyone was off the roof because this sucker really was going to collapse.

  It wouldn’t be the first time. Horrifying visions rushed him. Summer screaming for her father, as she raced up the other set of stairs to the main floor, yanking open the door before he could stop her, allowing the smoke and fire to overcome her…He’d torn up after her, through the licking, hot flames, just as the roof collapsed through the center. He’d stood there in the blinding smoke and dust, frantically yelling for her before finding her trapped in the rubble, unconscious and bleeding. He’d dragged her outside, next to where Danny had escaped without trying to help.

  The fire department had come that day, and so had an ambulance, but it’d been too late to save Tim Abrams from the collapsed loft. It’d taken Summer two days to awaken from her head injury, and after a two-week hospital stay, during which time she’d missed her father’s funeral, she’d left town for the summer to join a river guide company in Colorado.

  Joe hadn’t seen her again, she’d made sure of it. She’d taken her high school equivalency test that fall, graduating two years early, hiring on at a different expedition company after that. She hadn’t entered San Diego State with him as planned. In fact, they hadn’t exchanged a single word since that terrible, stupid fight in the basement.

  Now he and Kenny charged up the last few steps, shoved open the door to the outside, and stepped into the early morning salty sunshine. In the parking lot in front of them were two fire engines and an assortment of fire personnel, all visibly relieved to see them.

  “Everyone accounted for?” Joe asked their Chief, who nodded just as a huge, thundering crash had them all whipping around in time to see a section of the main roof cave in, shaking the ground beneath their feet.

  “Jesus,” Kenny muttered, and removed his glasses with a shaking hand, leaving him standing there with a perfectly clear imprint of the lenses on his filthy face.

  The rest of the building stood firm, though looking a bit like an accordion on one side. All around them firefighters were still checking the perimeter and the hot spots. A cop was helping to keep looky-lous at a distance and out of harm’s way, and on a summer’s morning near O.B. there were many of them, in a variety of dress. Joggers, construction workers, students, bums, rich patrons of the galleys nearby…

  In the midst of all the chaos, Joe strode over to his city-issued truck, opened the driver’s door and set the cat on the seat. “Don’t tear up anything.”

  Socks gave him her back and stuck her tail in the air.

  Damn thing didn’t remember him, a reminder that when it came to his past, not many did. He slammed the truck door and put his hand to the front of his T-shirt, which not only came away muddy, but sticky with the blood now flowing freely from his deep scratches. “Nice,” he said to Socks through the window, and wiped his hand on the thighs of his coveralls before flipping through his clipboard.

  “You looking for the owner info?” Kenny asked, coming up behind him. His face was already clean. Joe had no idea how he did that. “Two sisters,” Kenny said, consulting a sheet of paper. “You going to call, or should I?”

  “I’ll do it.” Joe glanced at the names, though he already knew what he’d see. Tina Wilson and Camille Abrams—Summer’s aunt and mother.

  “Chief says he spoke to both in the middle of the night when the fire was still raging. They mentioned they have a vagrant who sometimes sleeps here. The old guy’s been known to leave odd things, or to try to start a campfire. Camille Abrams was reportedly pretty shook up, and didn’t stay long. But I’m surprised she hasn’t made another appearance in the light of day.”

  Joe knew exactly why Camille had been shaken up, and why she hadn’t made another appearance. She’d lost her husband here. With a heavy heart, he took his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed the number listed. She answered on the first ring. “Mrs. Abrams, this is—”

  “Is this about the warehouse?” She sounded anxious. “Did you find my cat? She was there with me last night and then vanished, and finally I had to leave without her, but I’ve been worried sick—”

  “I have Socks.”

  “Oh, thank God. How’d you know her name?”

  “I’m Joe Walker, Mrs. Abrams. Do you remember me?”

  “Joe Walker…”

  “I lived next door to you growing up.”

  Silence.

  He could have asked her if she remembered him sneaking into Summer’s window to escape his father’s fists. On the worst nights, Camille had brought him homemade healing tea and toast with cinnamon and extra butter. His first experience with basic kindness from a woman, and his first comfort food.

  “Joe Walker?” she repeated softly.

  “I’m a fire marshal now,” he told her. “I’m at your warehouse. With Socks.” If she gave any indication she found this as unsettling as he did, she gave nothing away. “The cat’s safe in my rig, though she appears to have a cut on her face. Your building—”

  “I’ll have to get her to the vet.”

  “Yes. Your warehouse—”

  “I know. It burned again.” Her voice quivered, giving her away. So she did remember. “No one died this time.”

  “No, ma’am,” he said gently, wishing he’d taken a seat to make this call because his legs felt a little wobbly. Whether from his own close call or the memories, he had no idea.

  “Thank you, Joe.”

  He hadn’t done much, but he wished h