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  Chapter 32

  When my dad left, I told Josie to get ready for bed and walked Jean home. She lived right next door, but with what she had seen earlier in the day, with Emilia’s dad watching us, I didn’t like for her to be out on her own. I felt uneasy at the thought of him lurking out there. I was extremely grateful for what he had done, giving my daughter a new heart, and I still wanted to thank him for it, but showing up like that, sneaking around my house? Running off when I approached him? It made me very uncomfortable. I couldn’t figure out why a man like him would do that. Why didn’t he just come to our door if he had something he wanted to talk to us about?

  Why did he rush off in such a hurry?

  But if I was completely honest, it wasn’t just that. I had another reason that I wanted to walk her home. I had enjoyed her company this whole evening, and frankly, I didn’t want it to end.

  “So…” she said as we walked up her stairs and stopped by her door. The old porch swing was moving in the wind, the chains squeaking. There was a nice breeze tonight, and it felt good on my skin.

  “This is me.”

  “Thank you,” I said with a deep sigh. “For everything. For helping out today with Josie and Camille, for cooking, for just being there and for…well… being who you are.”

  That made her chuckle. “Wow. That was a lot.”

  “I just…I don’t know how to thank you enough. I know the past month has been…well, it’s been terrible, to be honest. I missed you, and I know it’s selfish and I…I want to make sure you understand that you don’t have to hang around us if it makes you uncomfortable. I don’t want to force you to come over if it’s too unbearable; I hope you know this.”

  She placed a hand on my arm. “I know, Harry. No one is forcing me. I do it because I enjoy it. You never meant for any of this to happen. It’s not your fault. None of this is. It’s just…bad timing.”

  I nodded, pressing back tears. I looked into her eyes, feeling my emotions stir again. She smiled, her sweet eyes narrowing, creating small lines in the sides. For a second, I thought I’d kiss her, and leaned in slightly, but then pulled back.

  “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” she said, and let go of my arm. “Us hanging out too much.”

  I nodded. She was right. What we were doing was dangerous. The more time we spent together, the more I was falling for her. But being without her this past month had made me miserable. I didn’t want to go back to that.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I am so, so sorry…for everything.”

  She chuckled, but it didn’t sound happy. She then lifted herself onto her tippy toes and placed a kiss on my cheek. I closed my eyes as her lips met my stubble, genuinely wishing it could have been on the lips.

  “Good night, Harry Handsome,” she whispered, her eyes closed, leaning in against me. I grabbed her wrists and took in a deep breath, smelled her, trying to take as much of her back with me as I could.

  She sighed. I sighed. I could feel her warm breath against my skin. I wanted to stay like this forever. I wanted to hold her in my arms forever.

  “I should go,” she whispered, but she didn’t pull away, and I didn’t let go of her. Neither of us dared to move because, in doing so, we’d ruin the moment; we’d rip our lives apart yet again.

  “I’m gonna go now,” she said, finally pulling away from me. It felt like someone pulled away the very ground I stood on. I took a deep breath and looked at her again when out of the corner of my eye, I spotted someone coming down the street. A guy walking his dog. He gave us one look, then said:

  “Did you guys see the fire? It looks like it’s only a couple of blocks down. It looks big.”

  I turned around, walked down the stairs, then looked behind Jean’s house where the man was pointing. And there it was. What looked like a few streets behind ours, a thick pillar of smoke reached the sky.

  “Oh, dear Lord,” Jean said. “I hope no one is hurt.”

  “I’m gonna go check it out,” I said, grabbing my phone and calling nine-one-one.

  “I’ll go with you,” Jean said and followed me into the street.

  Chapter 33

  Flames were licking the windows of the house. A window popped as we approached it, sounding like gunfire. The thick smoke was hanging deep from the ceiling, emerging through doorways and the vents. The heat greeting us was immense, like a brick wall, the air thick with toxic components from the burning synthetic materials like furniture and paint inside the house.

  A couple of neighbors were outside in their front yards, looking at it, and in the distance, I could hear sirens. I had talked to dispatch, and now the firetrucks were approaching.

  “Do you think whoever lives there was home when the fire started?” Jean asked.

  “I hope not,” I said. “With a fire like this, you’d have barely two or three minutes to get out.”

  As we stood there, staring at the flames, listening to the sound of them devouring the old house, we heard a sound. One so terrifying, it made my heart stop.

  “Did you hear that?” I asked.

  Jean gave me a look of distress.

  “Yes. It sounds like…knocking.”

  “Someone’s in there,” I said. “Hammering on a door somewhere.”

  I looked around me, realizing the firetrucks were still at least a minute out. If this person, whoever it was, was trapped inside, there wasn’t time to waste. A minute could mean the difference between life and death.

  “I’m going in,” I said.

  “Harry, no,” Jean said. “You’ll only get yourself killed; the smoke alone is poisonous. You know better than this. Harry, are you listening?”

  I wasn’t. I had already left her and was rushing up toward the house. Thick smoke emerged from all the passageways behind the front door. The door handle had to be too hot to touch, so instead, I kicked the wood again and again. It broke into pieces, and thick warm smoke hit my face. I turned away but was still blinded by it. I coughed as the heat forced me to my hands and knees.

  “Hello? Is someone in here? Hallo?” I yelled.

  I crawled forward into the house, staying close to the walls. I had been through training programs for situations like this when I was just a young police officer in the force, but that was years ago now. Yet I remembered the important stuff, like staying low, and as I was inside, I found an umbrella in the hallway, grabbed it, and used it to sweep the floors since I couldn’t rely on my eyes. They were burning badly, and I kept them shut most of the time while searching the surroundings.

  Then the umbrella hit something.

  There was something about the sound a human body made when being hit with an object. It was one you’d recognize anywhere. I knew I would, and at this moment, I did.

  I reached out my hands and felt to be certain. My fingers touched clothing. The feeling was sickening. There was no mistake; this was a person, a body. The question was whether this person was still alive.

  I grabbed ahold of the body and pulled it up on my back, then began to carry it out through the thick smoke. The body was heavy, a lot heavier than you’d think. I grabbed the arms to hold it steady, but the burned skin slipped off, and I couldn’t hold on properly. I crawled forward toward the door with the body on my back, crying because my eyes burned so badly, but also because of all the emotions in this instant, not knowing if this person was dead or alive.

  Once I reached the porch, I fell forward onto the wood and heard voices around me. People were yelling something that I couldn’t understand. Soon, black boots and yellow uniforms had surrounded me, and the weight was lifted off my back while other hands then grabbed me and lifted me as well. The last thing I saw was the ground disappearing right before I passed out.

  Chapter 34

  Jean went with Harry in the ambulance. Her heart was throbbing in her chest as she watched him on the stretcher. He was breathing, yes, but he was completely out. Jean had seen many patients in her life as a nurse come in after a fire, then die shortly after
ward. Usually, it was from inhaling carbon monoxide or other poisonous gases from burning synthetic materials on furniture or having the insides of their breathing passages burned. Harry had been inside of that burning house for way too long, without being equipped for it. It wasn’t just dangerous; it was stupid and so typical of Harry.

  Risking his life for some complete stranger.

  It made her so angry that he’d do that. But she couldn’t really be mad at him, could she? How could she be mad at a hero?

  As they arrived at the hospital, Jean ran inside with them. It was strange to be on the other side in a situation like this, seeing her colleagues come running out, grabbing the stretcher, and rushing off with him. The ambulance with the woman Harry pulled out had arrived shortly before them, and she knew they were already fighting to save her life. She had heard the paramedics yell that she was still alive right before she was rushed into the ambulance. The question was for how long. Jean had seen the damage the fire had done to her body. She had been severely burned on most of her body, and Jean knew her chances were slim, very slim.

  Jean was shown inside by her colleague, Tina, into the waiting room. It was so eerily silent in there, more than what Jean could bear. Time seemed to stand completely still. She stared at her phone while tapping her leg, then called Harry’s dad. He didn’t pick up. She tried again, but it went straight to voicemail. She knew he had a landline, but she didn’t have that number. Jean sighed, then tried again before giving up. She knew Harry’s dad, old Pastor Bernard, liked to go to bed early, and once he did, there was no waking him. Jean stared at the phone, then found Josie’s number and was about to call her when she stopped herself. How could she explain this to the girl? They had been through so much lately, and she was not supposed to get too agitated with her new heart and all.

  I need to know he’s all right first. I need to have something to tell her.

  Jean rubbed her forehead, then walked into the hallway, looking for anyone she could talk to. A nurse or a doctor, someone who could tell her if Harry was okay or not. It felt like she had been in that waiting room forever.

  Jean walked down the hallway. She spotted one of her colleagues, then called out her name, but she continued and ran into the operating room. She wondered if Harry was there. Had he suffered burns?

  The doors suddenly slammed open, and Jean stepped aside. They rushed someone out of the room, and Jean gasped when she realized it was the woman Harry had helped out of the house. As they rushed her out and down the hallway, Jean locked eyes with her, and she saw such deep terror in them, her heart almost stopped. The woman was breathing in puffs; her skin so burned it was falling off in flakes. It was a gruesome sight. It was hard to see that she was even human behind the disfigured skin.

  As her eyes met Jean’s, it was like she tried to get Jean’s attention. Jean held her breath and stared at her as she passed, while the woman’s mouth moved. As Jean looked at her, she realized the woman was speaking, that her mouth was shaping two words.

  Two words that would stay with Jean for the rest of her life.

  The woman had barely let them leave her lipless mouth when her EKG monitor flatlined, and all the alarms sounded.

  Chapter 35

  “Stop fussing over me; I am perfectly fine.”

  I growled at the nurse. She had just told me they wanted me to stay at the hospital for a few hours. I had told her a million times that I had to get home to my daughter and that I was all right.

  “So, this is where you’re hiding.”

  “Jean,” I said, smiling as I saw her gentle eyes lingering on me from the doorway. “Tell her I’m fine; will you?”

  She gave me a look, lifting her eyebrows.

  “Are you?”

  “Yes!” I groaned. “I’m perfectly fine. You can read the darn report yourself. It’ll tell you I’m great and ready to go. No severe burns, only some mild ones to my leg, but it’s nothing. And I have no signs of smoke inhalation. They took an x-ray of my chest to see if there was damage to my lungs; they checked my oxygen levels and the levels of carbon monoxide in my blood. The doctor said it’s all good.”

  Jean sighed. I could tell she wasn’t sure she believed me. She always thought I exaggerated just how fine I was. She grabbed my phone from the table next to me.

  “Here. You need to call your daughter and tell her where you are and don’t forget to mention how you got yourself into this trouble.”

  “All right,” I said and grabbed it, “but then can you do something for me?”

  Jean rolled her eyes with a sigh, then smiled as I pleaded with my hands clasped together.

  “There’s always something with you, isn’t there? Like what, might I ask?”

  “Find out how she’s doing.”

  “Who.”

  “The girl I pulled from the house.”

  “Oh, Harry…” Jean’s face went blank. I sank back in the bed, leaning against the pillow at my back.

  “Oh. Are you su…”?

  Jean shook her head, her eyes overwhelmed with despair. “I am sorry. She died just now in the hallway. They were transferring her to the Burn Center. They resuscitated her, but her heart failed. And that was it. She’s gone.”

  Tears welled up in my eyes. I couldn’t believe this. It had all been in vain? I had risked my life…for this? Only for her to die in the hospital? The thought was unbearable, cruel.

  “What…what was her name?” I asked.

  “Savannah Hart.”

  “Savannah Hart,” I repeated pensively. I wanted to remember her.

  “But there is something else,” Jean said as the nurse left us. She closed the curtain around me so no one could see us. She sat on the edge of the bed.

  “What?”

  “She said something to me right before she died.”

  I made a face. What was she talking about?

  “You were there? When she died? I don’t get it.”

  “I saw her when she was being transported down the hallway. Our eyes locked, and then she mouthed two words to me that I can’t forget. Her eyes were so insistent; it still gives me goosebumps to think about it. It was like she knew she was going to die, and it was important for her to get this message across to someone before she went. I can’t explain it; I just knew it was important.”

  “And what did she say? What were those two words?”

  Jean leaned over and whispered in my ear. As she spoke, my eyes grew wider, and my heart started to pound loudly. I could barely believe her. With two small words, shaping a name, some of the pieces in my puzzle suddenly fell into place. Not all of them, but enough for me to understand that this woman wasn’t in an accident. She was killed by the same murderer that had killed Major Wolfe, and if Josie’s heart told the truth, the same person who had also murdered Emilia and Jennifer García.

  Chapter 36

  “Timothy Wilson.”

  I kept repeating the name over and over again in the Uber on my way home. Jean was sitting next to me, yawning. I couldn’t blame her. I was exhausted too. I had called and spoken to Josie, then told her not to worry and just go to bed, that I’d be home soon. I just hoped she had been able to fall asleep. She needed all the rest she could get.

  “I remembered you told me that was the name on the guy’s grave,” Jean said, “the one where you found your old boss. That’s why it startled me so much. Do you have any idea why she’d say that name?”

  I shook my head. “Not really, other than she must have known Major Wolfe was buried there. Just like Emilia knew.”

  “Do you think she might have seen who killed him and buried him?” Jean said as the driver drove up in front of my house. I thanked him for the ride, and we both got out.

  “That is exactly what I think. You have a very sharp mind, Miss Wilcox,” I said, teasing her. “We could use someone like you on the force one day.”

  She scoffed. “I’ll just end up having to patch you all up when some tough guy roughs you up. I’d end up babysitting
all of you.”

  I exhaled as the Uber disappeared down the road.

  “Thank you…again,” I said. “For staying with me tonight when I was in the hospital. That means a lot.”

  She smiled, “Ah, don’t go all soft on me, Hunter. You know I’ll always be there for you. Besides, I had to make sure you were all right and that you didn’t drive the nurses crazy. Now, remember, if you have any signs…”

  “I know, I know. Cough, shortness of breath, headache, any changes in my skin…if it turns blue or pale due to lack of oxygen, if I feel confused, if I faint, if I experience chest pain…did I leave anything out?”

  “Maybe just vomiting blood; that’s something to look out for too.”

  “Isn’t it always?” I asked with a grin.

  “This is no joke, Harry Hunter. You listen to me. You come knocking on my door if you have any of those symptoms, okay?” she said. “Or call nine-one-one right away. It’s up to you. But don’t ignore it; you hear me?”

  I nodded. “Yes, ma’am. Loud and clear. Now, goodnight.”

  Jean sighed. Her shoulders came down slightly. It had been a tough night for her too. I hated that I made her worry.

  “Good night, Harry. Take care.”

  I sent her one last look as she walked up to her porch and I to mine. I smiled as I saw that she looked at me too, right before we both walked inside. I still felt like I could smell the darn smoke everywhere, and my throat was scratchy. I went to get a glass of water in the kitchen first, to bring with me up to bed.

  I had barely turned on the light in the kitchen when I heard a loud bump coming from upstairs. When I looked out in the street, I saw the gray Buick parked a couple of houses down under a streetlight.

  What in the…?

  Wasting no more time, I hurried into the hallway and grabbed my gun from the safety box in the closet, using my fingerprints to open it. With the gun held out in front of me, I walked as quietly as possible up the stairs.