Wild Fire. Debra Cowan

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      “Yes.” His gaze searched her face. “I need to ask you some questions. You up for it?”

      She nodded. “I want to help.”

      “Do you recall seeing her that night?”

      “Yeah, when she got home, which was about ten or ten-fifteen. She parked in the garage and waved to me before she shut the door.”

      “Do you remember what you were doing before you went over to her house?”

      The headache Shelby couldn’t shake throbbed at the base of her skull. “I was outside feeding the cat. A stray that started coming around the station house about a month ago. We call him Smoke. I heard a scream…”

      She gnawed on the pad of her thumb, surprised at how clearly she could recall that, but when she probed for more, her mind became a mass of fractured light. “That’s why I went over to her house. At first I thought it might have been the television—M.B. loved horror movies—but it was too loud.”

      “And you didn’t see anyone at her house after she went inside?”

      “No. I did try to notice if anything was unusual when I got to her front yard, but I didn’t see anything or anyone.”

      A knock at the door had Shelby turning her head, wincing at the sharp jab of pain up the back of her skull. Her captain, Rick Oliver, and another shift mate, Dylan Shepherd, walked in. Dylan carried a bouquet of colorful balloons with bags of microwave popcorn tied to the end of each ribbon.

      “We come bearing gifts, little invalid.” Dylan’s eyes sparkled. “This is from everyone at Station House Three.”

      Shelby laughed, exchanging a look with Clay. “I should have enough popcorn to tide me over for a while.”

      She introduced Clay to the black-haired, black-eyed firefighter who was a couple of years younger than she was. Clay shook hands with both men, having previously met Shelby’s congenial captain at a city function.

      Captain Oliver’s sharp gray gaze scoured her face. “How are you, Fox?”

      “I’m all right, Cap.”

      “You sure? Monroe said you couldn’t remember anything.”

      “Not yet, anyway.” She smiled at the fighting-trim man with close-cut gray hair. “Other than that, I’m okay.”

      “How long before you can come back to work?” he asked.

      “Since my job is considered high-risk, I have to go at least seven days without concussion symptoms. The doctor has to examine me again then and if she likes what she sees, I can return.”

      “We can keep you on light duty around the station house until your wrist heals.”

      “All right.” At one time Shelby would’ve protested, but having come so close to never returning, she was content to be off full duty for now.

      Dylan’s free hand closed over the rail at the foot of the bed, his dark eyes hot with interest. “That gives you a week to think of where you want to go on our date.”

      He had been asking her out for two months. Broad-shouldered and lean-hipped, the former school teacher was gorgeous. And a genuinely nice guy. “Now, Shep, if I went out with you, I’d have to go out with all the guys at the station house.”

      “Hey, I’m the one who carried you out.” He flashed her a quick grin. “Don’t you think you owe me?”

      “I like you too much to date you,” she said wryly. After being blindsided five years ago by her bigamist husband, Shelby’s motto was leave and leave first. Her other hard-and-fast rule was don’t get involved with anyone at work.

      Her relationship with Clay was the longest one she’d had with a man and that was because they were only buddies.

      Dylan let it go, but she saw the determined glint in his eye. It was a shame she wasn’t interested.

      “You really had me worried, Fox,” her captain said. “I better tell Aubrey she can’t have any more asthma attacks during my shift. You obviously need me around to supervise.”

      Shelby grinned at his teasing, but her thoughts went to Rick’s daughter, who had severe asthma. The two-year-old had ended up in the emergency room several times. “How is she?”

      “She’s okay.” Rick’s face softened. “As hardheaded as you.”

      Dylan placed the balloon-and-popcorn bouquet on the window sill. “The nurse told us we could only stay five minutes so we’ll get out of here.”

      “Thanks for coming.”

      “We’ll be checking on you,” Rick said.

      After the two men left, Clay grinned at her. “How long has Shepherd been chasing you?”

      “A couple of months. He only likes me because I say no.”

      His gaze softened as it skimmed over her face. “Maybe he thinks you’re pretty.”

      She shrugged. “Maybe.”

      “He’s definitely interested, but you’re not, huh?”

      “You know I don’t date guys from my station house. After a few dates, I’m finished. If they aren’t, things get messy.”

      “Like with Vince?”

      “Yeah.”

      Clay folded his arms. “He came by last night. I told him about your injuries, but I wouldn’t let him see you.”

      “Thanks. Was he a jerk about it?”

      “Not too much.” Clay eased down on the edge of the window sill, crossing his long legs at the ankle. “Tell me whatever you remember about last night.”

      She rubbed two fingers in a circle against her throbbing temple. “Well, like I said, I heard a scream. When I got to M.B.’s front porch, I knocked. I heard another scream, but it was cut off. So I opened the door and called out. When she didn’t answer, I went inside.”

      She paused, forcing her mind to play through what she had just told Clay, but when she tried to remember beyond stepping inside the house, she came up with snatches of darkness and light, garbled unidentifiable sounds. In other words, nothing.

      The dull ache at the base of her skull sharpened into a stunning pain that radiated up the back of her head, stabbing behind her eyes. She clasped her head in her hands, massaging her temple. “That’s all I remember.”

      Clay straightened, moving toward her. “You okay?”

      “Yes, it’s just this headache. It comes and goes.”

      “Do you need something for the pain?”

      “I took a couple of ibuprofen about an hour ago. Maybe I’ll take some more.”

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