Excerpt of Fatal Threat

"A man’s heart plans his way, but the Lord directs his steps." Proverbs 16:9

Chapter One

Flames were crackling, leaping and curling, generating their own updraft to send sparks and embers whirling into the spring night from a burning duplex on the outskirts of Paradise, Missouri.

One quick glance told Fire Captain Adam Kane that the wooden structure was doomed. First priority was to access the interior and check for occupants.

Engineer Frasier swung the big truck left to block the road. "Engine One on scene. Structure partially involved. Start a second alarm," Adam radioed before whipping off his headset. He grabbed his handheld radio as he jumped out, slammed his red Captain’s helmet down on his short dark hair and went to work.

"Clay and Walt, pull a two-and-a-half. Peter and Rafe, the hydrant. Dave and Ty to the roof. And get me more lights. We’ll set up to force ventilate from the front doors so we can search
for victims."

Besides the arrival of an ambulance, Adam noticed his own department’s rescue squad slowly pulling through the crowd of spectators and parking next to it. John Forrester was driving. And in the passenger seat was lithe, blond Sara Southerland, the ER nurse whose unexpected presence had unnerved Adam when she’d arrived at the station that evening.

Well, he couldn’t allow himself to dwell on Sara’s problems. Other lives depended upon him and his crews. Once the ladder truck arrived he could raise the snorkel and position it to spray the rear of the wood-frame building, doubling his efforts without endangering anyone. Or the equipment.

Radio in hand, Adam continued to issue orders. "As soon as the fan’s in place, Walt, give me a quick figure eight spray to cover Clay and Dave. We won’t have long."

Adam knew his firefighters were fully outfitted with protective gear, yet he sensed more angst than usual. It wasn’t that he was ever complacent about this job. It was simply an uneasy feeling that he didn’t recall having experienced since ducking snipers and dodging IEDs overseas.

A quick glance proved that Sara was suited up in bright yellow protective gear, too, her sky blue eyes trained on the action. Was her mere presence enough to unsettle him? It never had been in the past, although considering the trauma she’d recently endured he figured he might have developed a heightened sensitivity. Normally, he did find himself somewhat tongue-tied in social situations involving her but this was worse by far.
Adam huffed in disgust. He was a decorated Marine. A combat veteran. He’d guided men in battle and now commanded crews of paid firefighters and volunteers without hesitation. But one pretty volunteer EMT was enough to give him pause? That was not only disheartening, it was embarrassing.

Someone in the background began to cheer. Adam saw why and started forward to intercept rescuers Clay and Dave. The elderly woman supported between them was unsteady but conscious as they handed her over to paramedics, then turned and headed for the second apartment.

Sara was gesturing and seemed to be trying to tell the medics something. When they ignored her, she turned toward Adam and waved her arms overhead. "There won’t be anybody in that other unit," she shouted, approaching. "Vicki moved there right before we left for Texas."

Of course. That was why she’d appeared agitated. Vicki’s untimely death was still fresh in her mind and this had been her cousin’s new home. Those kinds of community ties always hit hard and in Sara’s case the effect would be even worse.

By the time she reached his side and stopped, he was already on the radio. "Clay. Dave. Be advised, that second unit is reported to be unoccupied." He was about to order them to withdraw when he heard another cheer arising from the crowd.

His crew had reappeared and were supporting the thin, limp body of a man. Adam frowned. Had a thief or arsonist been trapped by his own crime? It sure looked that way. He took a step toward the firefighters to see if he recognized the victim.

Sara grabbed the sleeve of his turnout coat so firmly she was impossible to ignore. He whirled, frowning. Her face had lost most of its color, her always expressive eyes were wide and filling with tears. Her lips trembled.

Expecting her to say something, he was jolted when she released him with a cry and began to run toward the rescuers, instead.

*

Sara covered her mouth, smothering a wail. Unless her mind was playing tricks on her she knew this victim. She and Vicki had met twenty-something Rodrigo Salinas while in Texas on their recent, ill-fated mission trip. The trip that had taken Vicki’s life.

Gently cupping the unconscious man’s cheeks in both hands, she raised his face to get a better look. It was Rodrigo, all right. Unfortunately, the rescuers had reached him too late.

A firm grasp on her shoulders pulled her back as paramedics moved in and took over. Sara knew it was Adam. They’d been friends for so long that she could sense his presence without even looking.

"You know this guy?" Adam asked.

She nodded and met his dark gaze. "Yes. From Texas. He was part of the missionary project Vicki and I…"

"What’s he doing in Missouri?"
Good question, Sara thought. Moreover, why was he in Vicki’s empty apartment and why was it now on fire? What in the world could he have been up to?

"Good job, guys," Adam told his men. "Was that the last victim?"
"Yeah. He almost made it to the front door before the smoke got him." Clay had removed his air mask and was coughing. A blackened smudge traced its outline on the sides of his face.

"Looks like Miss Bessie was the only one to make it out alive."
Bessie Alt? Of course! Sara took a sharp breath and coughed as a result. Had she been so upset by the involvement of Vicki’s apartment and the discovery of an unexpected victim that she’d missed keying in on such a vital detail? That was inexcusable for a firefighter, even a part time volunteer like herself.

One glance at Adam told her he was clueless. His words confirmed it. "We’ll take care of this, Sara. Go back to the rescue squad and get some O2 to clear your lungs before you end up sick."

"No. Listen to me," she shouted over the surrounding noise. "I know Bessie Alt’s medical history. She has a lot of breathing problems."

"Okay."

"Oxygen." She saw Adam tense when she pointed toward the duplex with her whole arm. "There must be tanks of compressed oxygen stored in there. H models, I imagine. The big ones."

"Everybody back!" Triggering emergency evacuation protocol with continuous high/low siren blasts he shouted, "Clear the area. It’s gonna blow!"