THEY TOOK the rigs out of service this morning, so the fire house is quiet. Traffic’s whizzing by, but I can tell from over here there ain’t any action going on. Wonder if they’re talking yet about the fire yesterday. That was a real beauty. The damage I did! Perfecto, if I do say so myself. Scared a shitload of people. And it’s me that’s responsible for all the fuss today. I like that they’re upset, worried, even if they’re more on guard now. But hell, if you can’t scare them, why do it? Gotta have some fun. And I don’t want it to be over too soon. It’ll have to end—don’t have a clue how—but right now, I’m just enjoying myself.
o0o
TRAINING IN THE fire department was a double-edged sword. Sometimes it was a boring and tedious, but most firefighters knew it was necessary and could save their lives. Today, Sophie didn’t mind the classroom shtick because Joe Carusotti was running it.
He was just about to speak when Torres rushed in. “Sorry I’m late.”
The guys grumbled but Joe cut them off. “Get some coffee and a doughnut, kid. Now, if everybody else has had their fill, I’d like to start this little show.”
“Your food wasn’t as good as the pastries the vice president sent Tyler,” Bilotti quipped.
“Yeah, well, we’re not all stars.” He rolled his eyes. “She a pain in the ass to live with these days?”
“No more than usual,” Murray put in.
“Bite me,” Sophie said. Then she narrowed her gaze on Joe. “You’d better watch your tongue, Carusotti. I can tell tales on you. Like the time you were fifteen and I found you in the backseat of your father’s—”
“Whoa! Mea culpa.” The others laughed; Joe sobered when Jules took a seat next to Sophie. “On to the task at hand. Squad 28 caught another fire last night that was incendiary. The administration batted around doing these training sessions anyway, and that cinched it. You’re my virgin run-through with this information.”
“Anybody get hurt last night?” Mackenzie asked.
“Uh-huh. The probie.” He nodded to Jules. “Listen up, Torres.”
“Yes, sir.”
Joe described the incident. The captain had gone first into a two-story apartment building with a forcible-entry team. Upstairs, in the public corridor, they encountered black smoke. After crawling down the hall, the captain tested the door, tried to open it, but it was stuck. The irons man wedged in the end of the halligan between the door and the frame. The probie drove in the tool with a long-handled ax. Two other smoke eaters pulled back the halligan and the door popped, but would only open a few inches. They tried to shoulder their way through, but couldn’t. They managed to widen the entrance enough for the captain to get his hand inside, where he found a wire holding it closed.
“Shit,” Mackenzie said. “The torch didn’t even try to cover this one up?”
“Nope.”
“How’d the probie get hurt?” Jules asked.
“He went in after they cut the wire and tripped over other wires that had been rigged.”
“The guy was trying to get the firefighters?” Jules asked, wide-eyed. Sometimes his naïveté about the nature of people shocked Sophie.
“You gotta expect the unexpected, probie, especially since we know there’s a lunatic out there.”
Mumbling among the crew.
“Torres, tell me about the kinds of lunatics out there.”
Jules flushed. He’d made it through the academy, but Sophie knew he had trouble with book learning. She’d helped him at the firehouse review things he needed to know.
“Revenge. Profit. Vanity fires. For kicks.”
“Right so far. What else?”
He thought hard.
Come on, Jules.
“To cover up crimes.”
“That all?” Carusotti asked.
A frown. But no answer.
“It’s the number one cause.”
Jules shook his head.
“Mackenzie?”
“Kids. Juveniles start the most incendiary fires.”
“Fuck,” Jules said under his breath.
“He didn’t remember because he is a kid,” Murray joked.
“This morning we need to cover what to look for when you’re on the scene. I know, I know, even with your flashlights, you can’t see your hand in front of your face most times. You gotta find the fire or look for victims. But you can still help us by being aware of a few things.” He clicked into his PowerPoint presentation, which was displayed on the wall behind him. “Sophie, read them.”
She read the list out loud.
1. Are the doors and windows opened or closed?
2. What is the color of the smoke?
3. Trace the burn pattern.
4. What is the point of origin?
5. Note any obvious starting devices or flammable accelerants around that indicate arson.
“Now,” Joe said, “let’s talk about what these are exactly, and why they’re important. I know you’ve had all this training, but we’re dealing with a dangerous criminal right now, and everybody in the department has to be up to speed.”
Jules choked on his coffee when Joe used the term dangerous criminal. But they took Joe’s instruction seriously. Because purposely set fires were the leading cause of all fires, and they claimed the lives of too many firefighters. Because purposely set fires were unpredictable and firefighters had a greater chance of getting hurt in them. And sometimes, because purposely set fires were ignited by another firefighter.
When the training ended, Joe thanked them for their patience. He spoke briefly to Jules, then approached Sophie. “Hey, kiddo, you doing okay?”
“Yeah. You did a good job here.”
“Necessary. Your guys were better than the rest are gonna be.”
A little loudly, she said, “Well, they’re not always morons.”
Joe squeezed her arm. “Taking the heat about the vice president?”
“Yeah, but who cares? It was great helping with the delivery.”
“You like the O’Neils, don’t you?”
One in particular. She could still see Liam lying on the bed, rumpled from sleep. The need to climb right in with him, kiss him, make love to him had been so strong, her body tightened just thinking about it.
“What?” Joe asked.
“Nothing.”
“Your face flushed.”
“Did it?”
He studied her. “Yep. But I gotta go, so I can’t drag it out of you. Call me if you wanna talk.”
“Sure, I will.”
As she watched him walk away, Sophie was grateful for his concern, but she knew she wouldn’t talk to Joe about Liam. It wouldn’t help. Nothing would. Like other things in her life, she’d just have to get over it.
o0o
MAN, LIAM THOUGHT, he couldn’t catch a break here. Circumstances kept conspiring against him and Sophie being able to keep their distance. Right now she was at the front of the pub, working with Mikey and a little girl named Cara. It had shocked the hell out of Liam when Mike had asked if Sophie could help him with safety activities for his Wolf badge, and if Cara Cahill could join them; she was a Brownie and had to do similar activities for a badge. Liam didn’t even think about objecting because Mike rarely asked friends to come over these days. He saw their heads bent together and had to chuckle. Even his kid liked redheads.
Making his way to the table by the window where they sat, he glanced outside. A light drizzle had begun, and the sky was gray. “How’s it going?”
Mike glanced up with a sparkle in his eyes. “Great, Dad. We’re drawing our houses and making a plan for...” He frowned.
“Hazards,” Sophie said. “And an escape route.”
“Sounds productive.” He asked the little girl, “Cara, can I get you something?”
“I don’t wanna be a bother,” she said quietly. She was intent on her own drawing.
“No bother. Do your mom and dad let you have soft drinks?”
“Sometimes.”
“Me, too, Dad.”
“I’ll get you Cokes. Sophie?”
“Yeah, sure. Thanks.” She kept her gaze on the papers they were working on.
When he returned to the table and set down drinks, Mike pointed to his paper. “Look at what we should do, Dad.”
He dropped down onto a chair next to his son. “Tell me about it.”
In the next ten minutes, Mikey talked more than he had at one time since...Liam didn’t remember how long it had been. His son told him about the fire hazards where they lived and escape routes. “Sophie said she could do better if she saw the house.”
Quickly, Sophie added, “But this is enough, Mike.”
Liam sat back and steepled his hands. “Yeah, it’s enough toward your badge, honey.”
“I want her to come to our house. She could see my room. Make sure it’s safe.” He glanced at Cara, then to Sophie. “Could you go to hers, too?”
“If her mother says it’s okay.”
Feeling helpless, Liam tried to cut this off. “Mike, I...”
“My mother will say it’s okay. I’ll call her.”
They both bolted up. Mike grabbed her hand. “I’ll show you where.”
“You can use my cell—”
But the words trailed off as the kids rushed away.
Backdropped by the window and the clouds, Sophie’s eyes were steel gray and troubled. “Everything’s working against us staying apart.”
“Not everything.”
“What do you mean?”
“Tony Caruso.”
She stiffened.
“Did you have fun after you left Bailey and Clay’s town house?” He wasn’t happy with the edge in his voice.
Again, her gaze focused on the plans. “Yeah, sure, I guess.”
“Look at me, Sophie.” When she did, he asked, “What did you do?”
“Liam, this isn’t helping.”
“I wanna know.”
Her sigh was heavy. “We went back to my place.”
“And?”
“Watched some TV.”
“And?”
Her glass hit the surface of the table hard. “What do you want to know, Liam? If he kissed me? Yes, he did. Did he touch me, like you did? No. Okay?”
Now that he knew, the fist around his heart loosened, but he also felt embarrassed. “I’m sorry. It’s just your being around so much makes me crazy.”
“Can you talk Mike out of wanting me to go to your house?”
“I could forbid it. But even though he’s quiet, when he digs his heels in, he’s a lot like me.”
“How?”
“In the end, he gets what he wants.”
Her brows raised.
“I guess there’s always a first time.” He stood. “I’ll check on them then we’ll set up a time.”
o0o
SOPHIE DIDN’T KNOW what she expected, but it wasn’t what she found at Liam’s house in Brooklyn. The gray-sided building was nestled in an old neighborhood, with other old houses like the one he’d lived in with Kitty.
“I didn’t realize you were a landlord,” she said when he answered the door on one side of the duplex.
“It was the only way we could afford a place, even though Kitty’s parents gave us the down payment. And, of course, prices were unbelievably lower twenty years ago.”
“It must be worth a fortune now.”
He smiled sadly. “In more ways than one.” He stepped aside. “Come on in.”
“Who lives on the other side?”
“A businessman did, but he’s moved uptown. Dylan’s thinking about taking it.”
“Would you want that?”
He closed the door and leaned against it. Wearing dark brown jeans and a gauzy, tan rolled-up-at-the-sleeves shirt, he looked terrific. “I’d love to have Dyl and Hogan there. Wouldn’t you wanna live near Nate?”
“More than I can say.” She glanced around the foyer. “Mike didn’t tell me the structure was a duplex. It poses more fire hazards.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.” From behind her, he placed his hands on her shoulders and left them there for a few seconds, then helped her remove her leather jacket. Carefully, he hung it up in the closet. “Come on, let me show you around.”
A living room opened up off to the right. Spacious and bright, it had a beautiful stone fireplace and comfortable sofas and chairs. On the walls were family photos. And not a thing out of place. “It’s beautiful yet homey. And neat.”
His brow furrowed. “It wasn’t always. Kitty didn’t fuss about those things. Only after she got sick did we become so...tidy.” He ran a hand through his dark hair. “In retrospect, I guess it was something we could control.”
She squeezed his arm. He stared at her then covered her hand with his. The contact was warm, supportive, but set off sparks nonetheless. Sophie noted how his body stiffened; her stomach clenched.
A room that might have been a dining room, but was now set up for the kids, was straight ahead. It housed two computers, a big table and chairs. “You must have renovated.”
“We did. The place was shabby inside and out when we bought it. Patrick was a huge help—he’s the handiest of us all. Dylan pitched in because he can do anything he puts his mind to. Which I think is another reason he should move in the other side. Aidan was useless, though.”
She smiled at the thought of his charming brother trying to wield a hammer. “We helped Bilotti remodel his basement and that was a chore.”
“We?”
“Our company. And some others from the department.”
Liam led her down a hallway, off of which was a half bath. “This is the pièce de résistance.”
The kitchen was a chef’s paradise. It was huge, with a bank of tall windows, oak cupboards, granite countertops and tile on the floor, all in shades of brown and tan and splashes of terra-cotta. Gleaming pots and pans stood guard over a center island. Now it was filled with the scent of baking pastry, but she could detect herbs growing in pots near the window. There was a glassed-in eating area beyond the kitchen. “Liam, this is wonderful.”
“The backyard was big so we could go out several feet and could expand the space on both sides.” He hesitated. “We redid it all just before Kitty got sick.”
“Did...did she cook?”
“Nope, couldn’t boil water. It’s how I got into cooking. She was a nurse before we had the kids, so she worked crazy hours.” He gave a sad smile. “She wanted me to have this as my domain.”
Sophie was instantaneously jealous of the smile that claimed Liam’s face. Fuck, she was envying a dead woman.
Liam cleared his throat. “Mikey should be home soon.”
“Yeah, it’s almost four.”
“Want something?”
“Coffee would be good.”
He tipped her chin. “You look tired.”
“I subbed for another firefighter yesterday. We had a slew of calls. No arsons, though.”
His beautiful blue eyes widened and he dropped his hand. “Arson?”
“Uh-huh. There’s a torch loose in lower Manhattan. It’s been in the papers.”
He moved to the other side of the room and took coffee beans from the cupboard. “I see.”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
He didn’t look at her while he ground the beans. “I, um, don’t read about fires.”
“Why?”
“Call me crazy, but I hate to think about you inside burning buildings.”
“I’m sorry,” she repeated. There was nothing else to say.
“None of the guys read about it anymore or watch the news when it’s on, except Dylan. He didn’t mention an arsonist.”
The front door opened; a few seconds later, Mikey and Cara, dressed in their cute uniforms and carrying backpacks, rushed into the kitchen. Sophie was glad for the end of her conversation with Liam. Talk of arson had upset him.
Mike put his things away in a closet, then crossed to Sophie. “Hey, Sophie.”
Liam’s back was to her as he assembled the coffee so he didn’t see Mike hug her. Cara said a polite hello, and Liam told them to sit. He’d put out juice, fruit and dip, and some kind of tarts that looked delicious.
Cara seemed wary of the dip, but tasted it. “This is good, Mr. O’Neil.”
“Thanks.”
“Can I show Sophie my room, now?” Mikey asked.
“After your snack.” Liam joined them with mugs of coffee. “And don’t rush it.”
Sophie took a tart. It was flaky with raspberry inside. They made small talk about what happened in school today, and when the kids were finished eating, Mikey looked at Liam.
“Go ahead,” he told them.
“I want you to come, too, Dad.”
Cleary’s room was first down the hallway; it was small and not quite as neat as downstairs.
Mike said, “Mine and Cleary’s rooms used to be one big one, but when we came along, Dad and my uncles divided it in two.”
“Cool.” She noticed a patchwork quilt on the bed, but didn’t get close enough to see what it was made of. On the walls were baseball posters. No computer, but a boom box. Lots of books. “Does Cleary like to read?” Sophie asked.
Mikey took her hand. “Mom used to read to me all the time, and even to Cleary.”
“Ah.”
Liam smiled. “Those are nice memories.”
“Come see mine.” Mike tugged her out the door.
When she reached his bedroom, she chuckled. The decor was a hodgepodge. Cara said, “This is way cool.”
It was. Dinosaurs roamed one wall. Stars twinkled from the ceiling. Sports figures dominated another area. “It sure is, Mike.” She took note of the layout. “But you need to keep that window more accessible. The desk’s too high to be in front of it. It’d be hard to get out in case of a fire.”
“ ’Kay.”
Pulling the pad she’d brought from her pocket, Sophie began writing notes. As she walked around the room, she had a few other suggestions, like moving some items and getting rid of a stack of papers.
She stopped short when she got a good look at the bed. “What’s this?’’
Mike came up next to her. “It’s a quilt my mom made.” He coughed. “It’s of all the stuff from me when I was a baby.”
Her throat got tight. “It is?”
“Yeah, I’ll show you.” He pointed to a square. “This is from my baby blanket. It’s still soft.” He drew her hand to it. “Here, feel.”
Moved beyond words, she touched the yellow fleece.
“And this is from my first pair of jeans.” He went on to describe the Yankees jersey, the crocheted booty sewn into a patch, part of his baptismal gown, which he wrinkled his nose at.
When he finished, she whispered, “I’ve never seen anything more beautiful in my life.”
The room was quiet. Then Mike said, “She made one for Cleary, and Dad, too, only his had her stuff on it, too. ’Cuz they were married.”
Kitty had united them in a quilt for eternity. Slowly Sophie turned away from the almost tangible presence of Kitty O’Neil. She caught sight of Liam in the doorway. The expression on his face wasn’t sad, but more nostalgic. Full of good memories, like he’d said.
They left Mike’s room and she stopped to check out the smoke alarm in the hallway—and to regain her emotional equilibrium.
At the end of the corridor was another room. Liam and Kitty’s. She didn’t want to see it. Didn’t want to witness their quilt, the place where they’d made love. But what could she do? She braced herself when Liam opened the door.
But once again she didn’t find what she expected. Inside was a perfectly nice, masculine setting. Sand-colored walls. A hardwood floor that was covered with a dark blue rug shot with a circular brown pattern. And on the huge bed was a modern coverlet with geometric shapes tying in the brown of the wall and accented with shades of blue. A bathroom off of it boasted the same color scheme. “Liam, this is wonderful.”
“Brie did it.”
“What?”
He glanced down the hall where Mike was still in his room showing something to Cara. “She helped me clear out Kitty’s things then planned this out. We went ahead with it about a year ago.” He nodded to the closet. “Our quilt is stored in there.”
“Did that make you feel bad?”
“In some ways. But it helped me along emotionally.” He searched her face. “I have made progress, Soph. I’m ready to go on with my life.”
“I know.” And standing here, in his bedroom—and it was just his—she wanted desperately to be part of it.