Firestorm

Yes! She wanted to leap with victory, but she merely nodded. “I’ll survive.”

“I’m going to go fill out the duty roster for next week, and then I have some business in town.” He tossed a dingy sponge at her. “You can wash the engines. That ought to keep you out of trouble until I get back.”

Kitty picked up the sponge and wrinkled her nose as Tanner headed into the office. She would rather sort the files, searching for clues. Scrubbing the three fire engines and the brush truck would take at least two hours to do a proper job, but right now wasn’t the time to rock the boat. She was in. Ironic, though, because a few years ago she’d been dying to get out.

A siren blasted through the station. She ran toward the office in time to hear a female voice from the county Communication Center. “Station 169, Fire Investigation. Smoke reported on the south ridge below Pine Lake. Forest Service has been notified. Please verify.”

Tanner snatched up the radio mic. Kitty turned, raced out the bay doors and jumped into the driver’s seat of the red Bronco parked outside. She fired up the engine.

Tanner tapped on the window. He motioned at her to move, and when she wouldn’t budge, he yanked the door open. “Out!”

“I’m going. You just hired me, remember?”

His jaw tightened.

“I know a back way down the ridge. I can save you fifteen minutes,” she added.

“Move over.” He climbed in, his hard hip assisting her slide across the squeaky vinyl to the passenger side. Flipping on the red lights, he stomped on the pedal. Tires squealed as they shot out of the parking lot. “You’ve been an employee for what? Ten minutes? And you already think you can do whatever you want. I give the orders. You obey if you ever want to set foot inside the station again. Got it?”

“Yes, sir!” Kitty pulled on her seatbelt instead of saluting. He’d probably toss her from the car without bothering to slow down if he knew what she thought about his “orders.”

They sped south of town. Kitty looked out her window to where the ground fell sharply away from the two-lane road before leveling out to a plateau and then plunged down a series of small canyons. A minuscule puff of smoke drifted skyward.

“Stop!” she yelled. Tanner jerked the steering wheel. The truck skidded off the pavement, spewing up a billow of dust. Kitty pointed at the faint haze far below them. “Down there. Smoke’s coming from the Fish Creek area.”

Tanner peered through his binoculars, looking grim. “The campground is supposed to be closed because of the fire danger.” He handed the binoculars to Kitty. Even with the magnification maxed out, she couldn’t pinpoint the source.

“The old logging road is fifty yards up on the right. See the marker lying on the ground?”

“Hang on.” Tanner shifted into four-wheel drive and plowed through brush before landing on the tire tracks that plummeted down the hill. Kitty clamped her rattling teeth together as they bounced over the ruts and washed-out gullies.

After two steep miles, they reached the two metal pipes marking the back entrance to the Fish Creek Camp. The chain gate snaked across the ground, and Tanner drove over it. A bluish haze hung over the clearing, but the small campground appeared deserted. The truck jerked to a stop. Kitty jumped out and ran to where the smoke seemed the thickest. Green pine branches smoldered over hot coals in a fire ring. The pungent smoke billowed about in the breeze, stinging her eyes and nose.

Tanner strode up, speaking into his handheld radio, giving their position to the Forest Service. Kitty scrambled up on a large boulder to get a better view. “Nothing but a campfire,” she reported. “All this will entail is issuing a ticket.”

Tanner snapped the radio into his belt holder. “To who? You see anyone?”

Kitty squinted in the bright sunlight, still scanning the area. “Nope. But they can’t be far. Those branches haven’t been burning long.”

“Of all the stupid, irresponsible things to do. There are signs posted all around here warning against fires. One good wind and the whole mountain could go up in flames unless—”

“Unless that was their intention,” She finished for him, her stomach knotting. Her gaze swept the ridge. No dust clouds betrayed any moving vehicles. “We’re south of town, and the wind’s blowing north.”

“Doesn’t make sense they used the campground. If this were another arson attempt, why build a fire in the fire ring and attract attention by using green wood?”

“Who knows? Maybe they wanted to make it look like an accident. I’ll get the shovel.” Kitty trotted to the Bronco and dug the shovel out from under the piled equipment. She raced back to Tanner, panting in the oxygen-thin air.

She leaned against a tree to catch her breath as Tanner deftly extinguished the flames. Muscles rippled under his white shirt and a sooty shaft of sunlight struck his hair, making the waves gleam like polished black marble. He reminded her of a soldier on a mission. Confident and determined in the face of danger.

“You all right?”

“Huh?” She blinked, mortified that he’d caught her staring at him again. What was wrong with her? She’d come back from L.A. to prove what fools Tanner and the sheriff were being about her father. This man was supposed to be the enemy, but she kept acting like a schoolgirl with a crush.

Tanner frowned, still watching her. “Is the altitude bothering you?”

“Maybe,” she said, although she realized less oxygen wasn’t the only cause of her racing heart. Tanner was dangerous to her in more ways than just destroying her father’s memory.

She nodded in the direction of the campground entrance. “Isn’t the gate supposed to be locked?”

“Someone cut the padlock.” He threw another dirt load and smoke rose in a swirling cloud.

“No signs anyone’s pitched a tent here recently.”

“Most likely it was kids fooling around.” He stomped out the last burning ember. “They like to come down here to party.”

“Yes, I know,” Kitty said. She’d been part of that crowd before she’d smartened up and realized her ticket to freedom and out of Pine Lake wouldn’t come from carousing and landing in jail.

Tanner shot her an assessing glance before scanning the campground again. “We better look around before I call in an all clear.”

They separated and she scouted the east end where giant boulders and dense, thorny chaparral hemmed the campground. The wind had blown most of the heavy smoke from the campfire northward, but a dusky fog floated above a shallow ravine that dropped steeply away from the last campsite. Kitty skidded down the embankment. Gray wisps seeped out of the ground by a fallen log. She dug through the pine needles to discover a small hole. A steady ribbon of smoke streamed out.

Scrambling back up the hill, Kitty shouted, “Tanner, over here.” She waved her arms until he caught sight of her.

“Look at this,” she said after he joined her. She shoved the log over with her boot. Smoke billowed up through crannies in the rocky earth. Tanner used the shovel and unearthed a smoldering pile of twigs and dried leaves.

“Careful,” he warned as Kitty squatted and lifted a tin can out of a small pile of rocks. “Smells like lighter fluid.” She set the cylinder gently to the side.

“The log is soaked with something, too. Pretty clever delay device. Keep an eye on it. I have to go radio the sheriff. I can’t get a signal in the ravine. Here, blow this if you sense any trouble.” He handed her a whistle and climbed to the camp area.

Kitty spent the next several minutes systematically scouting the area as they’d trained her in class. No dropped litter, except a rusty soda can. Not even the baked ground revealed any tracks. No clues at all.

The minutes ticked by, and smoke curled from the log again. Arson. The thought sent alternating waves of fear and excitement through her. The same maniac who set the Wildcat Ravine could’ve struck again, which would prove her father innocent. But it also meant he could still out there, waiting to strike again.

The trees and brush grew too high up on the walls to provide much shade, and hot rays beat down on her head. Wisps of hair escaped her ponytail and stuck to her neck along with gritty dust, making her skin itch. She shooed away the tiny black gnats buzzing around her face as a pebble bounced down on the opposite ravine wall. Then another. Something moved along the ridge.

Clutching the shovel, she climbed the ravine edge, but she still couldn’t see over the dense chaparral thicket. Dry vegetation crunched. Her pulse quickened. Could it be an animal foraging for food? Or…had the arsonist returned to the scene of the crime?

She waved at Tanner, who stood by the truck, still conversing on the radio. He glanced in her direction and held up a finger, indicating he needed a minute. Behind her, the rustling noise grew fainter. She didn’t have a minute, and she couldn’t use the whistle he’d given her. By the time Tanner got here, whoever roamed back there would disappear.

As quietly as possible, Kitty jammed the shovel deep into the thick wall of thorny bush. Leaning forward, she could almost see through the leaves to the other side. Just another six inches and…was that a blue shirt? The shovel jerked, yanking her forward. She pitched over a rock and fell into the bush.