Chapter Eleven
Peyton ignored Gabe’s questioning expression when she joined him in the lobby outside the jail. She should have waited before coming over here, should have taken more time to gather herself, to think through what she’d learned.
Gabe’s loyalty to the man who had been disloyal to him touched her. Because Gabe believed Doug was innocent, so did she. But the evidence was really of the oh-hell variety.
As in, oh hell, it was pretty damning.
Part of her didn’t want to destroy the faith Gabe had in Doug, not when he’d stepped out of his own resentment to defend the man.
They had no motive. Sheriff Bosquez had admitted as much to her. As long as he didn’t have motive, she could believe like Gabe, despite the physical evidence.
She couldn’t help studying Gabe’s hands though. While there was no recent burn, of, say, a metal handle searing into his palm, he had a number of scars, though he wore gloves on the line. So while she felt relief that they couldn’t pin this on Gabe, saying he set up Doug, she had to wonder about the relevance of Doug’s burn scars. Clearly they wouldn’t eliminate a lot of suspects by using lack of scars. All the Hot Shots had them.
She dropped to the bench beside Gabe with a sigh, looked toward the door where Doug would be released once he was processed.
“Anything?” she asked.
“Christ, Peyton. You’re the one who just got back from the sheriff’s office,” he blurted with uncharacteristic impatience.
Like she could keep anything from him. The man saw right through her, every time. “You wear gloves whenever you’re on the line?” She turned to him.
“Yeah.” His tone was edged with caution.
“Even when you’re operating the drip torch?”
“Especially then. You don’t want to take any chances.”
She reached for his hand, laid it palm up on her lap, traced her fingers over it. “What are you doing?” he asked, his voice thicker.
She glanced up with a grin, saw his tightening jaw. “You have a lot of scars, for all the gear you wear.”
“Been doing this a long time.”
“But with the gloves, how do you get the scars?”
He folded his fingers over hers. “Peyton, what’s going on?”
“Doug has a scar, a recent one.”
“What are you talking about?”
She closed her eyes. When she told him, would he change his mind about Doug? And if he could, was Gabe the man she thought he was? “A scar from a heated drip torch, across the palm. That’s the evidence they have against him.”
He snorted and dropped her hand, folding his arms across his chest. “And you believe them.”
“I’ve been a reporter long enough not to take things at face value,” she said. “But you have to admit, it doesn’t look good.”
He closed his fist. “A lot of firefighters have burns.”
“This burn could lock him up.”
He pushed to his feet. “Then we’re going to have to prove he didn’t do it.”
His loyalty was commendable, and Peyton wondered, just for a minute, what it would be like to be on the receiving end.
“Did he tell the sheriff how he got it?” Gabe asked.
“He admitted it was from a drip torch, but on a fire in Yellowstone.”
“Then we’ll find out when he was there and why he would be using one.”
When Doug was escorted out of the jail by two guards, Peyton’s gaze first went to his hands.
There was the telltale burn.
Gabe followed her gaze, and she sensed a bit of disgust from him as he moved toward the other man.
The relief in Doug’s eyes darkened to concern when he glanced around the lobby. “Where’s Jen?”
“At camp. She couldn’t get away. The president is coming tomorrow,” Peyton said before Gabe could speak. “She wants us to take you to her.”
Doug covered his crestfallen expression quickly, blinked. “Of the United States?” He gave Gabe a tight grin. “That cannot be making her happy.”
“She was a little stressed,” Gabe drawled.
She was a little stressed. Peyton couldn’t believe this conversation, as if Doug being accused of arson was no big deal, compared to Jen being upset about the president. Who were these people?
“I don’t know what she did to get the money. I hope she didn’t mortgage the house.”
Gabe opened his mouth, but Peyton quickly elbowed him and shook her head sharply. Bad enough Jen wasn’t here when he got out of jail. Doug didn’t have to know she hadn’t put up the bail.
What was it about Doug that made people want to protect him? Lord, she hoped she hadn’t made a mistake believing in this guy.
Doug hadn’t wanted to eat in town, had been anxious to get to Jen, either to comfort her or be comforted by her. Gabe was just as anxious to put some distance between himself and the Sheridans—his goodwill to Doug only went so far—so he guided Peyton toward the mess tent. They’d been at the courthouse so long, they’d missed lunch, and his stomach protested as they crossed the darkening camp. She was still uncharacteristically quiet as they queued for brisket sandwiches. He could damn near hear the cogs turning in her head. So when it came time to choose a seat, he picked a table away from everyone.
“What?” was all he said when he set his tray down.
“You’re going to have a hard time proving he didn’t do it.”
“I am.” Her words struck deep, in a place already open to pain after dealing with Doug and Jen.
“You know what I mean.” She didn’t meet his eyes, didn’t apologize. She was pulling away from him, he felt it. Could he lower his pride enough to draw her back?
“What do you mean by a hard time?” he asked, making his choice to do what it took to keep her. “You said the evidence was circumstantial.”
“Yes, except for the burn, which you could say is circumstantial as well.” She tucked her hair behind her ear and inspected her sandwich. “But you’re not going to get any help from an arson investigator, or the FBI. They’ve got their man. I think the only way to clear Doug’s name is to find who really did it. And you don’t have the resources.”
“Which is kind of why I hoped you’d help.”
“I guess I could help.” She looked at him then. “I just don’t know what we can do. I was only a cop’s wife, not a cop.”
“But you’re a reporter. You can ask questions, get answers.”
She gave him a wry smile, one corner of her mouth turned up. “Yeah, it’s gotten me real far with you.”
He acknowledged that with a nod, his mind working ahead. He shoved his tray away after only one bite of the sandwich. “Well, if we want to prove it’s someone else, maybe we have to think about motive. That’s one thing Doug’s case is missing.”
“Unless you say he did it to get his wife on as IC.” She lifted her hands in surrender when he scowled at her. “I’m not saying. But they will.” She took a sip of her tea. “You also have to look at access. His drip torch was used, fibers from a smokejumper’s Kevlar suit were found at the scene. Someone who has access to the base camp.”
“Maybe a smokejumper wannabe?”
“Or a smokejumper.”
He opened his mouth to tell her there was no way it was a firefighter when Kim charged over. She plopped down on the bench beside him, hair wild, nostrils flared in frustration. She didn’t acknowledge Peyton, but Gabe felt Peyton tense across from him.
“I’ve been looking for you everywhere. We’re not on the schedule.”
He eased back, not sure how many people had heard about Doug’s situation. He didn’t want to be the one to spread the word. And he didn’t know how many people had heard the president was on his way. “We just got back from town.”
“The crew is restless. Forty-eight hours off is driving them nuts.”
“Did you talk to Jen?” he asked.
“She sent me to you.” Kim folded her arms on the table. “Between you and me, Coop, this is too much for her. She looks like hell.”
“She must have something on her mind.” He pulled his sandwich close again, more as a reason not to talk than because of hunger. “Tell the crew not to sweat it.”
“Maybe you should tell them. You are the crew boss, no matter how you’re not acting like it.” She shot Peyton a glance saying this was all her fault.
“I’ll talk to them later.” He wouldn’t, though. None of their business. None of Kim’s, either.
“Can we talk? Alone?” The temper seeped out in Kim’s tone.
“I’ll go get some more tea.” Peyton rose with her Styrofoam cup, clearly glad to get out of the way.
Gabe’s own temper heated as he turned to Kim. “What?”
“You’ve never turned your back on your crew because of a woman.”
“And I’m not doing it now.” He worked hard to keep his calm. What call did she have to question him? Yeah, they’d worked together for a few years, and he trusted her judgment on the fire line, but not where Peyton was concerned. Kim was too ruthless, too focused, not someone he’d turn to for social advice. He was having a hard enough time being in a relationship without his crew thinking he was soft because of it.
“Please.” She tossed her head, a very girly gesture. Very un-Kim. “You’ve been off screwing her.”
His control snapped then and he threw the sandwich aside, the plastic tray skidding across the rough tabletop. “You will not talk about her like that.”
Kim blinked, and her eyes were wary, but not scared. “What, you love her or something?”
“Not your business.”
A flicker of hurt crossed her face, followed by fury, pure and simple. “It is when I’m having to do your job because you’re not. She is no good for you. She is no good for the crew. She’s going to cause more trouble than you know.”
Despite her words, he didn’t think her fury was directed at him, and a sense of unease had him shifting away. “She’s not, and I’m not discussing this with you. I’ll be back on top of things tomorrow. Right now I have other concerns.”
He looked toward the incident command tent, weighed his options. If he told Kim about Doug, she would be loyal to Gabe, she would believe Doug was guilty, and would spread the word of his disgrace. He couldn’t allow that to happen. It would hurt Jen too much. Kim would never believe that Gabe believed Doug was innocent, not when Gabe had made his hatred of the man clear when Jen left. It didn’t matter that these were different circumstances.
Kim had followed his gaze. “Is it because of her? Jen? Is she giving you hell? Is she keeping us from going out on another fire?” The possibility seemed to relieve her.
“No, that’s not it.”
Kim’s expression was grudging. “We should have asked for another fire when we found out she was IC.”
There, she’d proved his point. Her loyalty to him would outweigh the truth, so he’d have to keep it from her.
Peyton rejoined them then, her Styrofoam cup filled to the rim with iced tea. Kim gave her a look Gabe couldn’t decipher, and shot to her feet.
“I’ll tell them. But remember what I said, Coop. Remember why we’re here.”
“I’m telling you, she has it bad.” Peyton sat across from him. “It’s really bad when hero worship combines with a crush. You can do no wrong in her eyes.”
“Yeah, well.” Gabe picked up his sandwich again, licking barbecue sauce from his fingers. “According to her, sleeping with you instead of hanging with my crew is a sin, so you’re wrong there.”
Peyton shook her head. “But it’s not your fault, you see? It’s mine.”
“Don’t worry about her. She’s just a kid. What do you think about heading out to Missoula first thing in the morning, to Doug’s base, see what we can find out?”
Her eyes brightened, and he got the feeling she liked being on the hunt. Maybe this reporter bit wasn’t so bad after all.
Jen whipped around, wiping at her mouth when Gabe walked into the tent, intending to tell her about the trip to Missoula. Gabe noticed the wadded napkins at the corner of the table a second before the smell of vomit hit him.
“Are you all right?”
She glanced away, not meeting his eyes. Her face was strained, her mouth tight. “I may as well tell you. Can we sit down?”
He nodded and gestured toward the table. She sat first, nearly moaning with relief at getting off her feet. He hadn’t seen her sit since the day he got here.
“You aren’t leaving Doug, are you?” he asked half-jokingly. How would he react to news that she was available again? Since Peyton had come into his life, he hardly thought of Jen at all, and no longer fantasized about finding his way back to her. Last week he might have rejoiced, maybe allowed Jen to suffer a bit before starting a campaign to win her back. Now, he’d probably feel sad she’d sacrificed what they had together and was unable to make her new life work, but he wouldn’t pursue the relationship again.
Damn. That was liberating.
She didn’t dignify his comment with an answer. “This is my last fire.”
“You’re leaving?”
He couldn’t keep the shock from his expression. Jen was third-generation Hot Shot, had been in fifteen years, was damn good at her job, was only about the job. She’d finally achieved everything she’d worked for. Was it because of Doug? Did she want to quit before she was fired? Why would she—?
Before he could complete the last question in his mind, he knew. She’d told him once, a long time ago, the one reason she would leave the Forest Service without a fight. She probably thought he didn’t remember. His stomach dropped, swear-to-God dropped, to the toes of his boots.
“You’re pregnant.”
He had the pleasure of seeing the surprise on her face, then the wariness, but that was the only joy he felt. She couldn’t figure out how he’d react? She wore his best friend’s ring, answered to his best friend’s name and now carried his best friend’s child.
Damn, it hurt. Knock-your-breath-out-of-your-chest kind of hurt. During their short marriage, they’d discussed children in the abstract, but the reality that she was having a child, had created a child with Doug, churned up everything inside him once again, all the old feelings, pain being the strongest of all.
He lowered his head to his hands, feeling very old and very...mortal. He knew she still had the power to hurt him, but hadn’t expected her to use the power so effectively.
Through the haze of pain, he saw her watching him hopefully. Part of him wanted her to hurt like he did, but the part that once loved her wanted her to be happy. He just couldn’t make his mouth form the words.
“Gabe, I’m sorry.”
He sensed her reaching across the table for him but couldn’t face her.
“For what?” he asked finally, dragging his hands down his face. “You got on with your life just like you wanted. You don’t need my blessing.”
“I thought it would be better if you heard it from me.”
Gabe closed his eyes. He stood, unsteady on his feet. He looked down at her, saw the girl he’d married, the girl he’d made love with, laughed with, fought with, cried over. Lost to him forever now. God. He touched her cheek and dredged up the only words he could manage.
“Take care of yourself, Jen, all right? We’re going to Missoula, see what we can find out. We’ll be back tomorrow. All right?”
But he didn’t wait for her answer before he walked away.
*****
Something was definitely wrong with Gabe. He’d fetched Peyton with little more than a “come on”, led her to a battered pickup and barely waited till she was in before he pulled out in a spray of dust.
She questioned his changed mood once they were on the road. “What is it? I thought we were waiting till tomorrow.”
“I just want to get this done so everything can get back to normal.”
Normal, as in chasing fires up a mountain. Check. “So how far to Missoula?”
“Little more than an hour.”
Plenty of time. Maybe too much. “So what is normal for you?”
He glanced over at her, but his expression was closed. “What do you mean?”
“When you’re not on a fire, what’s normal? Do you have a house in Albuquerque?”
“An apartment. No one’s there to take care of it when I’m gone.”
“Your family doesn’t live there?”
“No.”
“So why do you live there?”
He scrubbed his hand over his face and glanced in the rearview mirror, the move telegraphing his impatience with her questions. “Because it’s beautiful. It suits me.”
“Where’s your family?”
He blew a breath out through his nose. “My dad died, and my mom doesn’t remember me.”
Her heart wrenched. She didn’t have the best relationship with her parents, couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen her dad, but for his mother not to remember him had to be devastating. “Oh, Gabe, I’m so sorry. Alzheimer’s?”
“Yeah.” He changed lanes unnecessarily. More of that energy with no place to go.
She started to reach toward him, wanting to give him some show of support, but realized he would brush her off. “Is she in a home?”
“Yeah.”
Damn, back to those one-word answers again. “Where?”
“South Carolina. Where I grew up. She’s in Sumter.”
“Do you ever see her?”
He lifted a shoulder. “Every now and then. I don’t see the point. It only upsets her and frustrates me.”
It would make him nuts, having something so out of his control. “Do you have any other family there?” She hoped he had a buffer, someone who could share his burden, though he wouldn’t admit it was a burden.
“My aunts visit her, see she’s taken care of. I send them money.”
“But you don’t have any brothers or sisters?” she asked, uneasy now. He was answering her questions without evading her. He wasn’t happy about it, but he wasn’t holding back. So she couldn’t stop. She wanted to understand the man beyond the Hot Shot, the man who shared her bed.
The man she was terrified she loved.
“No. I was an only child, late in life. A mistake, I guess.” He shrugged. “My parents already had their careers and I was incidental.”
“What did they do?”
“Doctors, both of them.”
That stunned her more than anything she’d learned about him to this point. He didn’t act like a man who’d lived a life of privilege. “Really? Is that why you became an EMT?”
One corner of his mouth lifted in a smirk. “A far cry from medical school, as far as they were concerned. I just—I’m not cut out for the bureaucracy of working in a hospital.”
“Were they upset?”
“Oh yeah. Worse, I became what amounts to a manual laborer. Me being good at it didn’t matter to them.”
She felt a twinge for the man whose parents didn’t value who he had become. Her parents hadn’t always understood her choices, but they’d never made her feel like a failure.
No, she hadn’t needed help there.
“Neither of them supported your decision?”
“Hell no.” He chuckled humorlessly. “They were of like mind on that account, at least. Maybe the only thing in their marriage they agreed on. And then fifteen years after leaving home, I met Jen, who had her own ideas of making me better than I was.”
A thought struck her then. “That’s why you don’t want to be the focus of my article.”
He glanced over at her. “What?”
“You think I’m not seeing you for who you are, that I’m trying to make you better than you are.” Her words came faster as her thoughts tumbled over themselves. No one had put him first in his life. Their expectations were more important than knowing the man for himself. Did he understand this? Did he see a connection with her in her relationship with Dan?
Frustration tightened every line of his body. “There you go, analyzing me again.”
“No, but this is huge.” Her fervor reverberated through the cab and she shifted with a bounce toward him. “People have pushed you to be what you aren’t, and you think I’m doing the same thing.”
“I think you tried with your husband. I think you wanted him to be anything but what he was. I bet he picked up on it.”
Tears burned her eyes, all of a sudden. “I hated him being a cop. I hated him out there facing people every day who held no respect for human life. But I was right, wasn’t I?”
“Is it a comfort to you? Being right?”
“He left me!” The tears were choking her now, burning her nose as she fought them back. Because if she started crying, she wouldn’t stop. “That job was more important to him than I was, and he picked it over me, and it killed him. He was the only, he was the only—” Her breath came too fast, she couldn’t form the words, glared out the window, the scenery whipping past, blurred by her tears. “I loved him with everything in me. What was wrong with me that he couldn’t love me back the same way?” That no one could. Gabe would be no different. His job would come first. He’d said that was something he and Jen had in common. Why was it wrong of her to want more?
“You think it was a conscious decision? Did he think, ‘Hell, I’ll show her, I’ll go out and get shot in the face?’”
“Of course he didn’t.”
“Of course he didn’t. He was a good guy.”
She whipped her head around, swiping the tears from her face, no longer worried what he thought. “What makes you say that?”
The expression in his dark eyes was gentle. “You loved him.”
She couldn’t see that look, not when she was hurting so bad. “He might still be alive.”
“What?” Gabe’s surprise echoed through the cab.
“If I hadn’t been there. If he hadn’t known I was there. If I’d been anywhere else that night.”
“You wouldn’t have been with him when he died.”
“It’s not like he died in my arms.” She felt the weight of his body in her arms, smelled his blood. She squeezed her eyes against the image of blood everywhere. “He was dead before I got to him. And it’s my fault. I have to live with it.”
Gabe was quiet awhile, blaming her too, no doubt. “So are you writing these articles to assuage your guilt, or to revel in it?”
Shock edged past her pain. “What?”
“Are these articles your penance?”
When she opened her mouth to answer, she had no idea what to say. This wasn’t her penance. When she’d started writing them, she’d done it to be closer to Dan, to try to understand. Okay, maybe too little, too late, but that was how she’d stumbled onto this series.
Not to make up for her decisions, but to understand his. And now to understand Gabe.
She turned back to look out the window, hiding the tears that threatened. But so far, she understood even less. Herself least of all.