No Mark Upon Her

was a medic in Iraq.”
    “Shit.” Ian’s usually jovial expression vanished in an instant. “PTSD?”
    “I think so. And a head injury. But he never talks about it.” She hesitated, then went on, uncomfortably. “I did some, um, research, before asking him to join the SAR team.” Admitting it made her feel ashamed, even though she’d had a legitimate reason to snoop. “He lost his entire unit to an IED.”
    “Poor bastard.” Ian shook his head. “So what did he do that was bad enough to deserve a bollocking from you? I heard you had a search call-out yesterday.”
    Of course he had. “Look, Ian—I shouldn’t have said—”
    The fire tone-out drowned her words.
    “You should have eaten, is what you should have done,” said Ian, popping the last bite of kebab into his mouth. “Falafel won’t be any good in the microwave. Wilts the lettuce—”
    “Shhh.” Tavie held up her hand. Over the sound of the engine rumbling to life in the bay and the shouts of the crew as they suited up, she’d heard the dispatcher say two words. Fire and island . Oh, God, surely not— Her walkie crackled with the fast response car’s call sign.
    “RRV . . . possible injury,” said the dispatcher. “Some sort of explosion—structure fire on the island across from Mill Meadows.”
    Tavie ran for the car.
    S he had the Volvo on the street before the fire engine was out of the bay, gunning the car with a squeal that had Ian, normally the most sanguine of passengers, gripping the dash with one hand as he scrabbled for his seat belt with the other. They flew down West Street into Market Place, lights on and siren whooping. Behind them, she heard the engine’s siren start. Blue lights flashed in the Volvo’s rearview mirror.
    “Hurry, hurry, damn it,” she whispered, exhorting herself as much as the crew on their tail.
    “What the hell, Tav?” said Ian through clenched teeth. “You trying to kill us?”
    “I’m afraid—” That was all she could force herself to say. “Just hang on. The engine will have to go round through the Rowing Museum car park, but this will get us closer.” She went through the light at Thames Side with a turn that nearly put them through the corner of the Angel. At the end of the road, she shot the car straight through the gap in the bollards and onto the paved pedestrian path that ran between the river and Mill Meadows. If there was anyone out walking after dark, they had bloody well better be paying attention.
    The car’s headlamps picked out park benches and rubbish bins on the right as they flashed past, the dark thread of the river steady on the left. There was a rustle and scrape as willow fronds brushed the Volvo’s roof. Across the water, a few lights twinkled in the houses and cottages on the island.
    Then, as they cleared another willow, she saw it.
    Chaos. Utter chaos. Ahead, flames and sparks shot into the sky. It looked as though the river itself was burning.
    But it wasn’t the river, it was Kieran’s boatshed. She had known it in her bones, and now she was certain. She recognized the bend in the river, the cottages on the near side of his.
    Dark shapes moved against the orange illumination. When she judged they were directly across the river from the shed, she pulled the car onto the grass and jumped out, her bag in her hand. In the silence as the Volvo’s siren died, she could hear shouts across the water, but the wail of the fire engine was still distant.
    Ian came round the car to stand beside her. “Holy shit. How’re we going to get over there?” A narrowboat was moored a few feet downstream, but it was dark and apparently unoccupied. “And they’re going to have a hell of a time getting down here from the museum,” Ian added. There was no sign of the engine yet.
    One of the dark figures had seen them and begun waving frantically. “Hey!” he called. “Can you help us? Where’s the fire brigade?”
    “Coming. We’re medics,” Tavie shouted back. “Bring the skiff across. There’s nothing you can do about the fire until the brigade gets here.” She could see Kieran’s little boat, still tied up by the landing raft.
    She saw the man hesitate for a moment, then he untied the boat, hopped in, and quickly rowed across to them. He handled the skiff’s oars easily.
    “I don’t know what happened,” he said when he reached them and maneuvered the boat against the bank. “I live next door. My wife and I were watching the telly. There was a boom,