Chapter Eleven

 

There was nothing like a stack of wrapped hay bales to stop a runaway vehicle, Steve thought wryly. His head hurt like a bitch, but he boxed up the pain and shoved it into the back of his mind. He had survived far worse.

Luckily, he had managed to angle the vehicle so he hadn’t hit head-on.

A few good shoves with his shoulder, and he was able to get the door open enough to stumble out. Tiny stars danced across his visions while he regained his sense of balance.

No, not tiny stars. Flashlights.

The cops who had been trying to pull him over were now making their way across the field, and if their angry shouts were any indication, they weren’t too happy with the car chase.

“Knees on the ground! Hands where we can see them!”

It was impossible to see beyond the blinding beam, but he bet at least one of those yahoos had his firearm out and pointed in his direction.

Steve went down on his knees and put his arms up.

“Can you shine that somewhere else, please?”

“You drunk, boy?”

Steve recognized the voice as one of the cops who had come out to Sam’s the night of the break-in. Typical small-town police officer—older, paunchy, with an inflated sense of self-importance.

“No. The brakes went out on my Jeep.”

The cop chuckled, more in disbelief than humor. “That so?”

“You think I like driving across corn fields and crashing into things?”

“Well, now, maybe our little town isn’t exciting enough for you.”

“He’s got blood all over his face, Joe. Maybe we should take him to the hospital or something.” That was from the younger guy, the one who looked fresh out of the academy and at least tried not to come across as a total douche.

“Nah. He doesn’t need a hospital. He’s a tough guy, aren’t you, Tannen?”

Steven ground his teeth together. He didn’t know what kind of grudge they had against him, but he didn’t have time for this shit. He needed to get to Sam.

“I don’t need a hospital. I need to get back to my apartment building. Sam might be in danger.”

“Sam? You mean the girl who called us because someone sent her flowers?” This time, they both laughed. “What’s wrong? Did a fruit basket show up on her doorstep today?”

Steve tried to hold his temper in check, but it wasn’t easy. It would take all of about two seconds to disable both of these men, secure them with their own handcuffs, and leave them in the trees for someone else to find. As satisfying as that would be, he would only do that as a last resort.

“Can I put my hands down now?”

“Yeah, but put them behind your back so Lenny here can cuff you. Keep you from getting any funny ideas.”

Talking to these two was like talking to two of the three stooges.

“Are you going to take me to check on Sam and make sure she’s safe?”

“The only place you’re going, pal, is down to the station to sleep it off.”

They had officially reached the last resort.

Steve leaned to the side, sweeping out his leg in an arc and catching both men off-guard. Seconds later, he had disarmed them both and left them cuffed to each other, back to back, with a fence post between them.

“Sorry about this, guys,” he said as he took the clips out of their guns and tossed them out of reach. “I did try to be reasonable, but I don’t have time to play games. My woman’s life might be in danger.”

My woman.

The words made him pause, but there was no denying the truth of them. From the moment he had met Sam, he had felt compelled to look out for her, his gut recognizing what his mind wasn’t ready to accept—Sam was his, had been since the first time she had flashed those pretty eyes his way. Those same instincts were now urging him to get his ass moving with all the subtlety of an air raid siren.

Neither officer responded. When they woke up, they were going to be pissed. Plus, he would have a double shot of assaulting a police officer added on to whatever list of trumped up charges they could come up with between them. He would deal with that later. Right now, getting to Sam and ensuring she was safe was more important.

Steve grabbed his phone from the front seat of his Jeep and tried Sam again. His call once again went to voicemail. He called Church next, giving him a quick rundown of the situation. Church agreed to meet him at his place.

The police cruiser had been left running, something he knew officers did to keep the in-vehicle computers online. He slipped behind the wheel, turned off the lights, and made his way back to the road.

The next call that came over the police scanner all but stopped his heart.

“All units in the vicinity. Smoke reported at Sumneyville Apartment complex, 2173 Spruce Street. Engine and ambulance en route.”

By the time he got there, volunteer fire police already had the road blocked off.

Steve pulled off to the side and jumped out a block away. Flashing lights lit up the area in splashes of red and blue. The big red fire engine was in front of the building, the much-smaller local ambulance parked not far away. Curious onlookers gathered along with evacuated tenants, chattering nervously from across the street.

Steve rushed around to the parking lot side and looked up, his heart falling further when he saw smoke coming out of an apartment on the seventh floor. Sam’s apartment.

He ignored the stares at his blood-stained face and shirt as he searched for Sam among the crowd. There was only one face he wanted to see, and it wasn’t there.

“Smoke,” Church’s voice cut through the din.

Steve looked around to find Church, Heff, and Doc appearing suddenly, as if out of nowhere.

Doc’s eyes immediately went to the gash on his head. “You okay there, Smoke?”

“Yeah, looks worse than it is.”

Doc narrowed his eyes, but thankfully accepted his somewhat truthful self-assessment. Or, more likely, realized there were more important concerns at that moment.

“You find Sam yet?”

“No, and her car’s still in the lot. I need to get inside.” Steve turned his gaze upward. “The smoke’s coming out of her place.”

Church nodded. “Doc, go with him. Heff and I will take another look around down here.”

The fire police volunteer positioned at the back entrance was just a kid. He gave a half-hearted protest when the two men informed him they would be going upstairs, then stood down when he saw they weren’t going to quietly walk away.

“Looking pretty fierce there with that blood all over your face,” Doc commented as they double-timed it up the stairs. “You might want to wipe some of that off before Sam sees you.”

“That bad?” Steve asked when they reached the seventh floor.

“Not if you’re auditioning for the prom scene in Carrie.”

“Shit.” Steve took the bandana Doc held out to him and did a quick swipe. “Better?”

“It’ll do. You’re going to need stitches.”

“Later.”

Firemen dressed in gear were coming out of Sam’s apartment. One guy took one look at the two of them and held up his hand. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“It’s all right,” said a deeper voice behind him. “It’s all clear. You,” the fire chief said, his eyes narrowing when he saw who it was. “Is this your apartment?”

“No,” Steve said carefully. Apparently, the fire chief didn’t realize the place belonged to Sam. It also meant that Sam wasn’t there. “I live in the one next to it.”

“Well, it’s your lucky day, Mr. Tannen. We were able to contain the blaze before it spread, so you still have a place to sleep tonight.”

“Do you know what caused the blaze?”

Chief Petraski’s eyes narrowed. “Muffins, left in the oven. Who lives in this apartment, Mr. Tannen?”

“How should I know? I just moved in last week. Haven’t had the welcome mixer yet.”

“I’d watch myself if I were you, Mr. Tannen.”

“Noted. Can I get into my place now? It’s been a rough night.”

The chief looked like he wanted to say more, but didn’t.

Steve felt his eyes on his back as he opened the door. After Doc followed him in, he shut the door behind him and waited.

“Looks like you make friends wherever you go, Smoke.”

“That’s one of the douchebags who was giving Sam a hard time,” Steve told him.

“Yeah, I figured as much. Why don’t you go change and clean yourself up a little while we wait for them to leave? Can’t do much with them here.”

Steve would much rather be in Sam’s apartment looking for something that would tell him what had happened and where she had gone. There was no way Sam would have just up and left in the middle of baking like that without a damn good reason, not when she knew he was on his way.

If he thought for one moment Chief Petraski would actually listen, he would bring him up to speed, but the chief had already proven incapable of being objective when it came to Sam. Besides, while the Anthony Cavatelli theory made perfect sense, they had absolutely nothing in the way of supporting evidence. No, they were going to have to handle this themselves until they had viable proof.

By the time he took a quick shower, changed, and slapped some butterfly tape on his head wound, the last of the firemen were leaving. He and Doc waited until the hallway was quiet, then went next door. Ignoring the yellow tape across the door and the “By the Order of the Fire Marshall” post affixed to the door, they picked the lock and were inside in less than a minute.

Steve looked around, his chest tight. The acrid stench of smoke filled the small space, along with the chemical scent of whatever extinguisher they had employed. The door to the oven hung open, the twisted metal pan holding the charred, blackened remains of the muffins. Canisters of flour and sugar sat open on the counter, along with a jar of applesauce and a half-full carton of eggs.

He knew Sam wasn’t there, but he looked around, anyway, searching for some clue of what might have happened.

Sam’s lightweight jacket still hung on a hook by the door, her purse beneath it. A quick check showed her wallet was still there, as were her keys.

“Hey, Smoke, over here.” Doc was crouched down, reaching under the small breakfast bar that doubled as a table. “Recognize this?”

It was Sam’s phone. Steve took it from Doc and saw his two missed calls. A few swipes showed no texts or calls between the time she had talked to him and then.

“Where the hell are you, Sam?”