Fireproof

Patrick. “It takes on a whole life of its own, swallowing up everything into red and gold flashes of light.”
    Patrick had always thought fire was fascinating, but he couldn’t say he’d use the word “pretty.”
    “Sometimes,” Harper said in almost a quiet confession, “even when I’m not on duty I’ll go to fire sites just to watch.”
    “Really?”
    “Oh yeah. Got my police scanner on to see if there’re any closeby. I’ve always had a thing for fire. My nickname growing up was Matches.” He laughed, but Patrick didn’t join him. “My parents were very relieved when they heard I wanted to be a firefighter instead of a fire starter.”
    Harper stared at the blazing steeple for a few more seconds, then, as if he’d flipped a switch, he went back to the computer and started tapping. He started to go through their checklist, completing the required form that their client—a group of law offices, three buildings down—would need to sign off on when they were finished.
    Patrick glanced over to where Maggie stood with Detective Racine. Harper’s admission reminded him of Maggie’s Christmas dinner last year and how Racine had asked him why he wanted to be a hose monkey. He didn’t take offense at the term. He knew cops and firefighters had a love-hate relationship and that Racine didn’t mean anything by her comment.
    Firefighters axed and stomped and crashed their way through a fire, their minds set on rescuing anyone inside. Get in quick. Find survivors and get them the hell out. Then put the fire out. It was messy. No doubt about it. But the cops, the detectives, the investigators, and the crime scene technicians hated that evidence got trampled, sometimes destroyed, and often washed away.
    Patrick suspected that Maggie thought he wanted to be a firefighter only because their father had been one. He had to admit, when he found out his father had died saving others, he did think that was pretty cool. He never knew the man. Thomas O’Dell died before Patrick was born. He probably did have an inflated superhero image of the man. And so what if he wanted to follow in his father’s footsteps? What was so wrong about that?
    Patrick knew he had the raw instincts needed to be a goodfirefighter. It became obvious to him a year ago when he and some friends were at the Mall of America on the day after Thanksgiving. Three bombs blew up and ripped through a portion of the mall.
    Patrick could have easily made it to safety, but without hesitation, without even thinking, he turned around and went back into the devastation. While other people’s instincts were to flee from danger, Patrick’s was to run toward it and see how he could help.
    “I think it’s what I’m supposed to do,” he had told Racine.
    “You mean like God told you?”
    By then he had already been warned about Racine’s smart mouth. He remembered smiling politely and saying, “Exactly. Just like God told you to be a homicide detective.”
    Suddenly the church’s stained-glass windows burst into a rain of colored glitter. Three firefighters were caught under the spray of shattered glass. They stopped to shield themselves, then immediately hurried into the building.
    Patrick stood back and watched. He felt his gut twist and his fists continue to ball up around his gloves. He should be following them instead of sitting on the sidelines preparing to hose down a building that wasn’t even on fire.
    A firefighter in front of him struggled to unwind more hose. Another shouted at the guy to hurry just before he disappeared inside the building. Patrick didn’t even look over at Harper. He secured the chin strap on his helmet and pulled on his gloves. Then he hurried over to help the firefighter with the hose, knowing full well he was probably walking away from the best job he’d ever get in a long time.

CHAPTER 45

    “It bothers you,” Racine said as soon as Ivan left, right after the windows exploded.
    It took a second or two for Maggie to realize that she was talking about Patrick. When she didn’t answer Racine continued, “Tate Braxton’s an asshole but his firefighters are highly trained and certified.”
    “How do you know Braxton?”
    “Just by reputation. He’s a businessman. In it for the almighty dollar. But he does a good job making sure his people are qualified.”
    They stood side by side watching the flames. A stretcher with a body on it had just been hauled to the first waiting ambulance. They sighed in relief