“What?” Mia’s word screeched out.
Jessie jerked back.
“It’s okay.” Mia softened her tone. “You can tell me.”
“A really big man drove a truck into the barn. He got out and poured something stinky on the hay. Then he threw matches on it. He said, ‘This ought to scare her.’ He laughed and left the truck behind. He was so scary. Big and no hair and mean looking.” Her voice had continued to rise. “Do you think the man meant me? To scareme?”
Couldn’t be Mia’s dad for sure. He had plenty of hair. But one thing Mia knew for certain—whoever this guy was didn’t mean Jessie. He meant Mia. Exactly as the letter warned her.
But who was he? Had her father hired him? Or perhaps the letter wasn’t from her father after all?
“Jessie,” Ryan called from the open doors. “Are you sure that’s what you saw?”
“Uncle Ryan.” Jessie hopped up and moved slowly toward her uncle. “Honest, it’s what I saw. You’re not mad that I was in the barn?” She peered at Ryan until his face broke in a warm smile, and he held out his arms. She bolted from the seat and charged into him.
Mia sat up and connected with Ryan’s troubled expression as he peered over the child’s shoulder. He pulled Jessie tighter and stared at Mia with the implication of Jessie’s words stamped on his face.
The fire was no accident.
* * *
Still dressed in his turnouts, Ryan sat on the bench running the length of the ambulance. The combined odors of alcohol and cleaning disinfectant overpowered the smoke on their clothing. The space was tight, but Jessie had begged him to ride with her. He would do anything to distract her from her residual terror, so he persuaded Watson to accommodate the four of them.
Mia lay across from him, and Jessie rested on his lap, oxygen mask strapped to her face, reclining with her head crooked in his arm. He stroked her sooty hair as he bounced on the seat from the rhythmic beat of the tires spinning over rough pavement. After losing her mom to a battle with cancer, Jessie’s emotional state had been tenuous before the fire. Now, she verged on breaking down. Reid better arrive at the hospital soon.
Then there was Mia.
He covertly checked her out. She’d closed her expressive eyes and drew oxygen through the mask, uncharacteristically quiet. What a brave front she’d displayed for Jessie. She’d kept it together, but her creased forehead revealed her pain.
The EMT said Mia should physically recover after some stitches to her abdomen and cheek, plus a short course of oxygen. Her injuries could’ve been much worse. She’d lived when others often died in similar situations. He’d dragged her from a near death. Maybe a certain death. From searing flames.
He let out a shaky breath and raised his head.
Thank You for sparing Jessie’s and Mia’s lives.
Jessie should be fine, but was Mia in danger?
Was the fire the first of a chain of events that would escalate until she left Evergreen—or was killed for staying? How could she refuse to seek Russ’s help and forbid Ryan from calling his brother?
All first responders, volunteer or not, were required to report crimes, certain statements, or potential threats and certain recipients of abuse. Like bullying. Sending a threatening letter via the post office was a crime, but receiving one wasn’t. While no law was being broken this could be perceivedas a threat, but reporting it was a judgment call at this point.
He would honor Mia’s request. For now. But he would also find a way to get her to talk to Russ. And if Ryan failed to persuade her, he would go behind her back and report it. He had no choice. Russ had to hear about the lurking danger before it caught up with her.
Ryan’s phone rang. Jessie startled, her gaze going to his, panic alive and living in her face like flames of the fire.
“It’s okay, Tater Tot.” Ryan made sure to use the funny nickname he’d given her as a baby and smiled. “Just my phone.”
He dug it out. His assistant at Wilderness Ways name appeared on the screen. Worst time ever for a call from Ian. Didn’t matter. As the director of the outdoor counseling program for wayward teens, whatever was going on in Ryan’s life, responsibility dictated he answer. Even if they didn’t have teens on-site at the moment.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“We have a problem.” Ian’s serious tone set Ryan on edge. “Paul just called. His mother slipped into a coma this morning, and he won’t make the first week of the program, if he comes at all.”
Man.This was all Ryan needed. With the drop in funding, he’d already had to cut one staff member and up the ratio of students to counselors. One less counselor and the kids had a better chance of ending up back in juvie than working through their issues, ultimately dooming this pilot program for juvenile offenders.
Not wanting to increase the anxiety level cutting through the ambulance, Ryan fought to keep the turmoil out of his voice. “How’s Paul holding up?”
“Says he’s okay, but you know, man. He’s hurting.”
