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“It can’t hurt for me to go in for a few minutes.” The man made to move past Clay.
Clay blocked his way. “No, Tyner.”
“She might say different.”
“She won’t.”
Anger flared in Tyner’s face and he visibly struggled to control it. “It can’t hurt anything for me to just stick my head in there.”
“Think about Shelby, why don’t you?”
A dull flush crawled up Tyner’s neck and his hands curled into fists. He took a step toward Clay. “Is there something going on with you two?”
If Shelby weren’t lying hurt in the next room, Clay would’ve laughed. “No.”
“Then who are you to tell me I can’t see her? You have no claim on her.”
“Neither do you.”
“I have as much right to see her as you do.”
“Not gonna happen.”
Something cold and sharp flashed in Tyner’s eyes, a volatility that had Clay’s cop sense on alert.
He had always believed this guy’s Prince Charming act was just that. “I know you’ve been calling her and she hasn’t returned your calls. What does that tell you?”
Tyner’s gaze went to Shelby’s curtained doorway, then sliced back to Clay. He didn’t budge. Silence stretched out, pulsing with tension. The other man looked ready to erupt.
“Fine. Have it your way,” he snapped. “It won’t be for long.”
Clay watched the guy stomp down the corridor toward the exit. Did Tyner really think there was something sexual going on between Clay and Shelby? Sex? That was the one thing they had never shared. She and Jason had helped him through Megan’s long fight with cancer and death. He and Shelby had been there for each other after Jason’s death. And everything since.
He would tell her about Tyner’s visit, but not tonight.
No way was Clay leaving now. He didn’t trust the paramedic to stay away, and he wasn’t letting anyone upset Shelby. That hard light of slyness in the other man’s eyes was enough for Clay to make a mental note to keep an eye on him.
The door opened behind him and he turned as Shelby’s mom stepped out.
“How is she?” he asked.
“She’s resting.” Paula slid an arm around his waist and hugged him tight. “I’m glad you’re here.”
He squeezed her in response. From the age of twelve, when his mom had left the family, Clay had spent as much time at Shelby and Jason’s house as he had his own. His dad, working two jobs and raising three kids, had needed help. Curtis and Paula Fox had given it.
She stepped away. “I’m going home to get a few things. Do you mind staying until I get back?”
“I’m staying anyway.”
“Good.” The look in Paula’s eyes said she believed he was staying out of a sense of responsibility. The responsibility he’d felt for her and Shelby after Jason’s death, but also because of Jason’s death. Maybe that was the reason. For the last four years, Clay had provided as much support as he could.
He walked Paula to her car then returned to Shelby’s room. Her face was turned toward the opposite wall, her chest rising and falling evenly. Clay was glad she was finally getting some sleep. But as he moved around the bed and up to her shoulder, he saw she was awake. She smiled wanly at him, her blue eyes drowsy. “You leaving?”
“No way.” She had sat with him for hours after his dad’s stroke years ago, pulled him out of a bottle and literally saved his life after Jason had died.
“Even if the doctor makes you?” she asked faintly.
“She can try.” He lightly squeezed Shelby’s shoulder, her warmth reassuring him that she was all right. He intended to see she stayed that way. “I’m bigger than she is.”
Her eyes fluttered shut. “Good.”
There was a nine-year difference in their ages, but she was the one person he could always depend on, and he was the same for her.
She was every bit as good a friend to him as Jason had been, and Clay would never take their friendship for granted. Or do anything to jeopardize it. He wouldn’t let anyone else, either.
Chapter 2
“Except for the headache and the big black hole in my memory, I feel fine,” Shelby told Clay the next evening in her hospital room.
Tall and lanky, he filled the small space done up in sterile white and soft pastels. Her mother stood at the foot of the bed.
Shelby had spent the day alternately sleeping and attempting to follow doctor’s orders about not forcing her memory. Her friend’s death was overwhelming enough, but not being able to remember what had happened at M.B.’s house intensified the ache in Shelby’s bruised shoulder and back. Panic needled her and she felt as if she might crumble at any moment.
Frustration, combined with her efforts to let her mind work in its own time, tweaked the pain in her skull. She had thought she might remember something today, but she hadn’t. Except for the last time she and Clay had been in a hospital together, and she couldn’t handle thinking about her brother right now.
Clay moved up the right side of her bed, holding a large brown paper bag. His deep green eyes twinkled. “If you’re doing so well, maybe you don’t need this.”
Shelby peeked inside to find a six-pack of Diet Coke and several bags of microwaveable popcorn. “Oh, you’re a lifesaver!”
He grinned. “I figured if you didn’t get your daily fix, the doctor would have to restrain you.”
“Thanks.” She smiled, knowing his presence was responsible for easing the tension in her shoulders. She set the bag beside her. She had been trembling off and on all day, her nerves raw as her mind tortured her with what might have happened to M.B.
Shelby couldn’t catch any of the elusive shadows hovering on the edge of her mind. All she had were fragments, none of which made sense or seemed connected.
Clay had left about mid-morning, saying he was going to grab a shower, change clothes and meet with his lieutenant. He had called throughout the day to check on her, not able to get back to the hospital until after six o’clock.
His sandy brown hair, streaked gold by the sun, was disheveled where he had run his fingers through it. His eyes were bloodshot and he looked tired. He stood over her, his hands in the pockets of his khaki slacks. The short sleeves of his red-and-tan plaid shirt revealed strong forearms dusted with hair the same dark brown as his eyebrows. “What did the doctor say today?”
“Dr. Boren said my CAT scan showed no blood clots or fractures, which is good, but she now suspects my memory loss might be due to something besides the concussion.”
“Like what?”
“Like maybe I saw something horrible at M.B.’s and I just don’t want to remember.”
He frowned. “How’s your head?”
“It still hurts, but not as badly as yesterday.” She choked back the frustration screaming through her. “The doctor said I could go home in the morning if nothing changes.”
“But you have to rest,” her mother reminded her.
Clay nodded, studying her intently. She knew that look. If she didn’t rest as ordered, he would tie her to the bed. “I got your car home so you don’t need to worry about that,” he said.
Her mom moved up the other side of the bed, her blue eyes warm as she took out a bag of the popcorn Clay had brought. “Would you like some of this?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll find a microwave. And some ice for your Coke.”
“Thanks.” As Paula left the room, Shelby glanced at Clay. “Sit down. You look beat.”
He eased down into the hard, vinyl-covered chair next to the bed, scooting over to give himself a little room from the table at her shoulder that held a phone and a brown plastic pitcher.
“Did Lieutenant Hager agree to assign you to the case?”
“Yeah.”
“Was Jack all right with that?”
He nodded, scrubbing a hand over his face. The fluorescent light running in a track overhead shone harshly on the tiny lines fanning out from his eyes.
“So what did you find out about M.B. today?”
“I’ve been talking to Collier. He’s working the case for the Fire Investigator’s Office.”
Collier McClain was the newest of Presley’s two fire investigators. He had been a former station mate of Shelby’s when she worked out of Station House Two a couple of years ago. Only a fire cop since January, McClain’s first solo case had been a doozy. A prominent female defense attorney had turned out to be a serial sniper who had been killing Presley firefighters.
“Right now, he’s trying to determine if the fire at M.B.’s was arson or an accident.”
Shelby knew the two men would work together until one of them proved M.B.’s death was an accident, suicide or murder. It must have been an accident. M.B. was a delightful person. Who could possibly want to kill the school teacher?
Clay leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees. “Earlier today, Collier and I went to the high school where M.B. taught and talked to the other teachers, a few kids. She was well liked, very involved.”
“Yes. She was the science club sponsor. I guess you found that out?”
“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.”
His eyes dark with concern, he rang for the nurse.
“Oh!” she said. “M.B. told me she was seeing someone.”
“Yeah?” Clay’s gaze held hers expectantly.
“She never told me who. I think he was married.”
“Did you ever see a man at her house?”
“About a week ago, I saw a red Corvette at her house, an older model, but I didn’t see who was driving it. I saw a man about a month ago in a different car, but only once.”
“Remember what either of them looked like?”
“I never saw who was driving the ’Vette. The other man was Hispanic, but I couldn’t describe him. That’s not much help, is it?”
“It’s a lead and we have too darn few so far.” He smiled.
The nurse delivered more pain medication and left. Shelby searched her mind, trying to recall anything else. All she had were shadows, elusive bits and pieces of…something. She couldn’t even determine if they were thoughts or pictures. “I want to know what happened.”
She sensed Clay tense subtly, the strain not visible in his face. Only in the barely perceptible shift along his lean muscles. Shelby knew he was keeping something from her. “What are you not telling me?”
Mouth grim, his steady gaze met hers. “Ken Mason, the medical examiner, had to go in for an emergency heart bypass a couple of days ago so it’s going to be a while before we find out M.B.’s exact cause of death.”
“Doesn’t he have an assistant?”
“Yes, but she isn’t certified to sign off on CODs. We’ve been able to piece some things together from what Collier learned at the scene.”
“Enough to rule out an accident?”
Clay nodded. “He checked for cigarettes and frayed wiring. Everything he’s found so far indicates the fire was arson. Most likely to hide another crime.”
Shelby’s fingertips tingled from that mix of adrenaline and apprehension she always got heading into a blaze. She didn’t want to ask the question that had dread fisting in her gut. “You mean—”
“Murder,” Clay said quietly, his large hands wrapping around the bed rail.
The shock of the words had her going still; then her entire body quivered. “Do you think I saw something? Someone?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you think Dr. Boren’s right? That I can’t remember because I did see something horrible? But if I saw who murdered M.B., wouldn’t they have made sure I was dead, too?”
“They tried,” he said tightly. “Your station is right across the street from her. A fire had started, so I don’t imagine the killer felt he had time to make sure you were dead before your crew arrived.”
Sickened at the thought, she laid back on the pillow.
Clay squeezed her shoulder, his eyes hard. “I’m not taking any chances. Until we know you’re not in danger, I’m sticking to you like white on rice.”
Clay was as good as his word. He stayed again Monday night with her and her mom at the hospital, and the next morning helped Paula load Shelby into the car to take her home. She finally got settled to her mother’s satisfaction and convinced Paula she’d be fine. Shelby wanted to be in the comfort of her own home, not that huge empty house her mom had bought with the ample insurance settlement from Dad’s death.
Stepping inside her kitchen eased some of the tension in her shoulders. The white of the cabinets, countertops and island top was broken by splashes of red on the wallpaper, in the curtain across the single, floor-to-ceiling window. Deep black-cherry candles and a floral arrangement spread color across the dining table. The familiarity soothed her.
Paula fixed lunch for all three of them, some bean sprout-tofu thing that wouldn’t satisfy a bird. Shelby was hungry, but more than that, she was jumpy. Her entire body ached. She was frustrated at the missing minutes in her memory and edgy over what had happened during those minutes.
Paula rose to get more tea. “Vince has called me several times to see how you’re doing. He wants you to call him back.”
Shelby shook her head.
“Are you sure?” Her mom refilled her glass. “He seems genuinely concerned.”
“It’s one thing to check on me. It’s another to keep coming around. Clay said he was at the hospital last night, too.”
Shelby glanced over, noting how his jaw had tightened. He had on his blank cop face. The phone rang and Paula answered. Shelby tensed, hoping it wasn’t Vince.
Her mom brought the phone over. “It’s your captain.”
Relieved, Shelby spoke to her boss, assuring him that she didn’t need anything and promising to let him know her progress as she recovered.
Clay cleaned up the dishes while Paula made a list of things to buy at the grocery store. Shelby wandered into the living room, sank down on her oversize saddle-brown couch.
Her mom left for the store and Clay put in a call to his lieutenant. Shelby couldn’t sit still. Pain jabbed at her temple. Her nerves were raw, urging her off the couch and to the large plate glass window that looked into her backyard.
M.B. had been murdered. Clay’s words kept circling in Shelby’s head. Did she know anything about it? Were the answers buried somewhere in the writhing shadows of her mind? Had she lost her way in the smoke and fallen? Or had she been thrown over that railing?
Panic swelled inside her and she fought it, afraid if she gave in that she would fall apart. But it was hard to dismiss the fact that her friend was dead. And that at least ten minutes of her life were missing. Gone. As if they had never existed, hadn’t been even a hiccup in time.
She wrapped her arms tightly around herself, cradling her injured wrist. What if she never remembered? Besides feeling that she would be letting M.B. down, Shelby didn’t know how she would accept such a blank space in her life. In the scheme of things, maybe five or ten minutes wasn’t much, but a murder had been committed in front of her. Maybe she hadn’t seen anything, but if she had, she wanted to know what.
Shelby had tried not to think about the danger Clay felt she might be in, but for the first time since being rescued, a frozen, slow-moving fear climbed over her, suffocating her. What if she had died, too?
Clay stood in the wide archway that led from Shelby’s kitchen into her living room, frowning as he saw her looking out into the backyard. He said her name, but got no response.
Surrounded by the warm light of the midday sun, she stood motionless in front of the large picture window. She wore a baggy red T-shirt, with Presley Fire Department written in thick white letters across the back, and khaki shorts that drew attention to her sleekly muscled legs. She was barefoot.
She didn’t move. Didn’t appear to know he was there at all.
He walked around the edge of her sofa and stopped behind her. “Shelby?”
Still she didn’t move, didn’t speak.
Clay stepped up so he could see her face. And was startled at the tears streaming down her cheeks. She stared outside, unblinking, her breathing shallow.
His heart lurched. He had only seen her cry like this at the hospital when the doctors had given them the devastating news that Jason was gone.
Clay pushed away a zing of guilt as something close to panic unfurled inside his chest. He teasingly bumped her shoulder with his. “This means you wanted popcorn instead of that grass stuff your mom made, right?”
Her face crumpled and she looked away.
“Hey.” He slid an arm around her shoulders.
His touch seemed to break the lock on her emotions. She turned into his chest, choking out a sob, her good arm going around his waist and holding tight. Her palm rested on the small of his back.
Careful of the bruises on her back and shoulder, he curled his left arm loosely around her waist. His right hand went to the back of her neck, slipping under the short ends of her hair. He brushed his thumb soothingly back and forth across her nape.
They stood like that for a long moment, her sobs quiet but deep enough to rattle her body. Nearly thirty-six hours after the incident that had caused her injuries, Clay figured everything was hitting her at once. Grief over her friend. Frustration and uncertainty over the loss of her memory. The realization that she could’ve been killed.
That one certainly scared the hell out of him. He snugged her face into his neck and rested his cheek against her hair. He stroked her nape, murmuring to her over and over until finally she stood quietly against him, drawing in ragged breaths.
Her vise-like grip on him eased, but she stayed where she was, her breath fluttering against his skin. He rubbed her back. He realized then that she wasn’t wearing a bra and the feel of her breasts flattened against his chest had his body going tight. Jolted by his reaction, Clay’s mind froze for an instant.
He inhaled the light floral scent of her shampoo. “It scared me when I heard you were hurt.”
She looked up at him with glistening blue eyes, her dark lashes wet and spiked. A wobbly smile lifted the corner of her lips. “You? A big bad cop scared?”
“Yeah.” He suddenly wanted to hug her close again, calm the brutal fear that reared up inside him just as it had at the hospital. “You’re my best pal. It would be hard to replace you.”