Flashpoint Read online

  Now he opened those eyes again, and let her see his sadness. “Is that it? Goodbye, the end?”

  “What else is there?”

  When he opened his mouth and then shut it, she shook her head. “Exactly. Goodbye, Zach.”

  WELL, WHAT HAD she expected, a marriage proposal? She’d only met him five and a half weeks ago, and he wasn’t exactly known for being a commitment king. Brooke drove to work, not acknowledging the burning in her eyes, doing her damnedest not to think about the fact that he’d let her walk away.

  He’d let her say goodbye.

  She pulled into the parking lot. With Zach and Blake both still out, plus several others hit by a flu bug, she was on the B shift for the first time, with a whole new gang, and she found herself working with an EMT named Isobel. Adding to her stress, Brooke was the scheduled driver for the day, which began the moment she got out of her car and the bell rang.

  “Watch your speed,” was Isobel’s most common refrain, uttered every two seconds on every one of their many, many calls. Isobel had a cap of dark hair and darker eyes, both her expression and demeanor screaming, I know I’m a woman in a man’s world, but hear me roar. “Watch that turn—”

  “I’m watching.”

  “Watch—”

  “I’ll keep watching,” Brooke said evenly, each and every time, though by the afternoon, she didn’t feel so even. She missed Dustin. “Believe it or not, I’ve actually driven once or twice before.”

  “You can never be too careful is all.” Isobel eyed the speedometer. “Watch—”

  “Okay.” Brooke took a deep breath. “Still watching.”

  “Sorry.” Isobel flashed a small, conciliatory smile. “I know I’m a pain. I’m just overly cautious.”

  Nothing wrong with that. If only Brooke had watched over her own broken heart as cautiously…

  Isobel was blessedly quiet until they turned on Third Street, heading toward their call, an outdoor beach café with a kitchen fire, where one of the cooks had passed out from the smoke and hit his head. A hundred yards ahead, the light turned red.

  Isobel pointed. “Watch—” Then she caught herself, and cleared her throat. “Nothing.”

  Brooke pulled up behind two fire trucks. They had the fire contained, but the flames were still impressive, leaping fifty feet into the sky. She and Isobel got out of their rig and immediately one of the firefighters came up to them. “The vic vanished on us. We’re still looking for him.”

  Isobel went back to the radio to report the information. As Brooke took in the fire, she was shocked to see Blake there, standing just off to the side. He was supposed to still be recuperating in the hospital. She’d visited him the day before, and he’d been in no shape to be up. Worried, she moved to his side. “Blake?”

  A low, raw sound escaped him and she took a closer look. He wasn’t in his gear. He couldn’t have been, not with the cast on his leg. His jeans were cut over the cast, and he wore a sweatshirt that looked odd, given it was at least eighty-five degrees outside. He leaned his weight on a crutch, but what caused Brooke concern was how pale he looked, and the fact that he was sweating profusely. “Blake?”

  He didn’t respond. Eyes locked on the flames, face tight, he seemed miles away.

  When she set her hand on his arm, he nearly leaped out of his skin. “Hey, just me.” She sent him a smile he didn’t return. “You all right?”

  “Yes.”

  “You don’t look it. You’re in pain.”

  “Nah. I’ve got enough pain meds in me to change my name to Anna Nicole Smith.”

  With a low laugh, she turned back to the rig and saw Isobel had located their vic. He was shaking his head, pushing her hands away before walking off. He didn’t seem to want treatment. “Looks like we don’t have a transport after all. Can we give you a ride?”

  When Blake didn’t answer, she looked at him—he was limping away with shocking speed. Running after him, Brooke caught up just as he got as close as he could to the flames without igniting. “Blake, what are you doing?”

  At the sound of her voice, he jerked. “Brooke?” He blinked, as if surprised to see her, as if he didn’t remember seeing her only two seconds ago.

  “Okay, you know what? You’re not okay.” She put her hand on his arm. “Let’s go sit down.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m working. On you. Why are you out of the hospital?”

  “I don’t know.” He closed his eyes. “I’m sorry. I just…I’m sorry. For everything.”

  “Come on. Let’s get you back.” Away from the fire and the pain she suspected he was suffering. “We’re in the way here.”

  He looked around and blanched. “God, I’m sorry.”

  “For what, Blake?”

  “I can’t…” He shoved his fingers through his hair and turned away from her, but not before she saw a suspicious sheen to his eyes. “I’m so damned sorry. I should have handled this better. I should have stopped it sooner.”

  “Blake? Stopped what sooner?”

  Staring at the flames, he appeared transfixed. “I don’t want to lose another partner. Or a friend.”

  “What do you mean? Blake, done what sooner?”

  “Lots of things, actually.” He walked off, but again she stopped him.

  “I don’t think being alone is what you need, Blake.”

  “Please.” He jerked free, his face tortured. “Just leave me alone. There’s nothing you can do to stop it from happening.”

  “What do you mean?” But she was afraid she knew, or at least was starting to know. “Blake—”

  “It’s not what you think.”

  But she was suddenly sure it was exactly what she thought. The arsonist was someone from within their own ranks. Possibly, terrifyingly, the someone standing right here in front of her. “Okay, let’s go over to the ambulance, and—”

  “Isobel needs you.”

  Brooke turned back to the rig and saw Isobel waving at her frantically.

  “We have a call!” she was yelling.

  Brooke turned back to Blake. “I have to go but I want you to come with me—”

  But she was talking to herself. “Blake?”

  He’d vanished.

  17

  BROOKE RAN BACK to the rig. Hopping into the driver’s seat, she pulled out her cell phone.

  “No talking on the phone while you’re driving,” Isobel said.

  “I’m not driving yet.” She punched in Zach’s cell phone number.

  “We have a call. Eighth and Beach.”

  “I know, but this is an emergency, too.” She got Zach’s voice mail. Damn it. “Zach,” she said, very aware of Isobel listening to every word. “I need to talk to you. ASAP.” She shut the phone and tried to order her racing thoughts. “We need to get someone else to take this call. Blake—”

  “There is no one else. We need to go, now.”

  “Fine.” She handed her cell over to Isobel. “Call the station, have someone come to get Blake. Then call Tommy Ramirez. Tell him—” What? What the hell could she say? All she had were suspicions. “Tell him I need to talk to him. That it’s urgent. Ask him to meet us at the hospital after we pick up our vic.”

  But Tommy didn’t meet her. So after Brooke and Isobel had turned their patient over to the E.R., she tried the chief, and shock of all shocks, got him.

  “This better be important, O’Brien,” he said in his sharply authoritative voice. “I’m in a meeting.”

  “It’s about Blake.”

  The chief was silent for a single, long beat. “What about him?”

  Brooke moved away from Isobel so that she could speak frankly. “He was at the scene of the Third Street fire today, and he didn’t look right. And…” Oh, God, how to say this? “And I think he was trying to confess to arson.”

  “You think? What the hell does that mean? And what arson?”

  “He wasn’t coherent. He—” She frowned at the static in her ear. “Sir? Hello, Chief?” S