Blue Smoke

out. He couldn’t have been in Maryland and gotten back to New York to clock in at twelve-oh-six. Which he did.”

    “So it just . . . happened? Why does that make it worse?”
    “You’re looking for answers, and there aren’t any.”
    “No.” She stared down at her hands and felt a little piece of her heart break off and shrivel to dust. “Sometimes the answers aren’t the ones you’re looking for.”

8
BALTIMORE, 1996
    How tough could it be? Reena circled the innocuous-looking trailer, dubbed “the maze.” Maybe it had earned an almost mythical rep within the department, but it didn’t strike fear in her heart. Sure, she’d heard the stories, the jokes, the warnings about what a recruit faced inside that box, but really, wasn’t it just a matter of staying focused?
    She’d handled the training in burn buildings right here at the Academy. She’d dealt with the physical stress. Climbing ladders, rappelling walls—in full gear. She’d worked shifts—mostly ride-alongs, true—but she’d done stints as a nozzleman in two residential fires.
    And manning a live hose wasn’t for the weak or the faint of heart.
    She was a cop now, wasn’t she? And proud to wear the uniform. But if she wanted to climb up to arson investigator, to carry a shield for that unit, she wanted to understand fire from the inside out. Until she could do what a firefighter did, until she had done it, she wouldn’t meet her personal goal.
    Not just in the lab, not just simulations. She wouldn’t be satisfied with less than hands-on.
    She was in good shape, she reminded herself. She’d worked hard to sculpt muscle onto a bony frame. The kind that could carry her in full turnout gear up and down five stories at a jog.

    She’d earned this rite of passage, and the respect she’d gain from the men and women on the front line of the battle with fire.
    “You don’t have to do this, you know.”
    She turned, looked at John Minger. “Yeah, I do. For me. And it’s more to the point that I can do it.”
    “Hell of a way to spend a pretty Saturday morning.”
    He had her there. But this was her mission, and in a way she couldn’t explain, her reward.
    “Sun’ll still be shining when I get out. Birds’ll still be singing.” But she’d be different. At least she hoped. “I’ll be okay, John.”
    “You’re not, your mother’s going to have my head.” He shifted his stance, studied the maze. He was nearing sixty.
    The squint lines around his eyes were deep.
    He trusted the girl, had a father’s pride in her accomplishments and her dogged pursuit of her goals. But with pride came concern.
    “I’ve never seen anyone train as hard as you.”
    Surprise flickered over her face, an instant before her smile. “That’s nice to hear.”
    “You’ve crammed a lot into these past few years, Reena. The training, the study, the work.” And he wondered if what had lit in her eleven years before had gone active and hot the day the boy she’d cared for died in fire. “You move fast.”
    “Any reason I should move slow?”
    Hard to explain to a girl of twenty-two how much life there was, not just to live but to savor. “You’re young yet, hon.”
    “I can handle the maze, John.”
    “I’m not just talking about the maze.”
    “I know.” She kissed his cheek. “That was a metaphor for the life I’m heading into. It’s what I want. What I’ve always wanted.”
    “Well, you’ve made plenty of sacrifices to get it.”
    She didn’t think of it that way. Summers spent working, studying, training were investments in the future. Added to it was the rush, the adrenaline spill she experienced when she put on her uniform, or when she heard someone call her Officer Hale. The heart-hammering,stomach-tightening thrill she knew when she was surrounded by fire, pitched in that battle.
    Or the absolute exhaustion that came after the war.
    She’d never be Fran, serenely content to run a restaurant, or Bella, juggling salon appointments and luncheons.
    “I need this, John.”
    “Yeah, I know that, too.” Hands in pockets, he nodded toward the maze. “Okay. It’s rugged in there, Reena. You don’t want to go in cocky.”
    “I won’t. I’ll just come out cocky. Here comes a couple of smoke eaters.” She lifted a hand in greeting, and regretted she hadn’t bothered with makeup.
    Steve Rossi, dark and wiry with eyes like a cocker spaniel, was Gina’s current hot item. That simmer had been coming to a boil since Reena