because he was so excitable.
At last, a familiar face! He turned away to stow something behind the driver’s seat of his truck, but she had seen enough to be sure it was him.
“No comment!” she bellowed, and plunged into the throng, pushing at warm bodies and heavy cameras and really not giving a damn if anyone dropped or broke any of their expensive equipment.
By the time she broke through the paparazzi, Tim was in his truck. She shouted his name and sprinted across the street. He was just turning the key when she wrenched open the passenger door and jumped into the seat with him. He gaped at her, his freckles standing in stark relief against a very pale face.
“Please, just get me out of here,” she gasped. “I’ll explain later, just please drive !”
Tires squealed. Tim floored it and headed off through town as she buckled her seatbelt.
“Where are we going?” he asked.
“Train station. But can you drive around a little bit and try to lose them?”
“S-sure.” The young firefighter blinked a few times and glanced up in the rearview mirror. He seemed nervous.
“They think I’m somebody else,” she explained.
“Maeve Renault.” Tim grinned for a second, glancing at her, and quickly sobered. “My girlfriend loved that show. I can’t believe how different you look now.”
“You don’t look so hot yourself,” Maggie observed. “Are you okay?”
He didn’t look okay. He was terribly pale, and she noticed now that his hands on the wheel were trembling. He licked his lips nervously and looked up at the mirror again.
“I-I’m just tired. We had a bad call last night. Grass fire got out of control and took out a little rental cabin. I’m surprised Spiffy didn’t tell you -- oh, right.”
“Was anyone hurt in the fire?”
“Just Spiffy. When I got there, he was in the cabin eatin’ smoke. Me and the chief had to go in and drag his silly ass out.”
Maggie’s heart pounded at the thought of Sean being dragged out of a burning building. She opened her mouth to question the rookie, but stopped as she became aware of a strong odor of gasoline. She sniffed and started looking around.
“See, that’s the thing about grass fires,” Tim was saying. “They don’t hurt anybody when they just burn grass , you know? Our guys are usually fast enough; we put everything out before anybody gets hurt. Nobody’s supposed to get hurt.”
“Tim, why do I smell gas?”
He glanced at her again and said nothing.
“S-Tim . . . please tell me you’re taking home gas for your lawn mower or something.” She glanced out the window and realized they were outside the city limits, driving through the green countryside. “Would you please take me to the train station now? I think we lost the paparazzi.”
“I’m so sorry, Maggie,” he said softly. “I can’t do that.”
# # #
“All charges have been dropped?” Sean asked for what seemed like the hundredth time. He stared at the little pile of his belongings -- wallet, watch, pager, cell phone -- and shook his head in disbelief
“You had a pretty good alibi,” Dan Harding told him. “Not to mention a couple of stellar witnesses who could place you at the scene of a grass fire at the time of the ‘kidnapping’.”
Sean glanced over at Chief Griswold, one of those “stellar witnesses” who had vouched for him. He wasn’t sure just how much the chief had told the policeman.
“Spiffy, as far as I’m concerned, you’re still my Lieutenant,” Griswold said, as though reading his mind. “I never accepted your resignation, and I don’t see that you’ve done anything wrong.”
“But I left the scene--”
“No, you didn’t. You left a con artist running around in the woods in a wedding dress at three in the morning, that’s all. You identified yourself as a firefighter and made every reasonable effort to locate her. She made the choice not to accept your help. End of story.”
“But the pictures on the
At last, a familiar face! He turned away to stow something behind the driver’s seat of his truck, but she had seen enough to be sure it was him.
“No comment!” she bellowed, and plunged into the throng, pushing at warm bodies and heavy cameras and really not giving a damn if anyone dropped or broke any of their expensive equipment.
By the time she broke through the paparazzi, Tim was in his truck. She shouted his name and sprinted across the street. He was just turning the key when she wrenched open the passenger door and jumped into the seat with him. He gaped at her, his freckles standing in stark relief against a very pale face.
“Please, just get me out of here,” she gasped. “I’ll explain later, just please drive !”
Tires squealed. Tim floored it and headed off through town as she buckled her seatbelt.
“Where are we going?” he asked.
“Train station. But can you drive around a little bit and try to lose them?”
“S-sure.” The young firefighter blinked a few times and glanced up in the rearview mirror. He seemed nervous.
“They think I’m somebody else,” she explained.
“Maeve Renault.” Tim grinned for a second, glancing at her, and quickly sobered. “My girlfriend loved that show. I can’t believe how different you look now.”
“You don’t look so hot yourself,” Maggie observed. “Are you okay?”
He didn’t look okay. He was terribly pale, and she noticed now that his hands on the wheel were trembling. He licked his lips nervously and looked up at the mirror again.
“I-I’m just tired. We had a bad call last night. Grass fire got out of control and took out a little rental cabin. I’m surprised Spiffy didn’t tell you -- oh, right.”
“Was anyone hurt in the fire?”
“Just Spiffy. When I got there, he was in the cabin eatin’ smoke. Me and the chief had to go in and drag his silly ass out.”
Maggie’s heart pounded at the thought of Sean being dragged out of a burning building. She opened her mouth to question the rookie, but stopped as she became aware of a strong odor of gasoline. She sniffed and started looking around.
“See, that’s the thing about grass fires,” Tim was saying. “They don’t hurt anybody when they just burn grass , you know? Our guys are usually fast enough; we put everything out before anybody gets hurt. Nobody’s supposed to get hurt.”
“Tim, why do I smell gas?”
He glanced at her again and said nothing.
“S-Tim . . . please tell me you’re taking home gas for your lawn mower or something.” She glanced out the window and realized they were outside the city limits, driving through the green countryside. “Would you please take me to the train station now? I think we lost the paparazzi.”
“I’m so sorry, Maggie,” he said softly. “I can’t do that.”
# # #
“All charges have been dropped?” Sean asked for what seemed like the hundredth time. He stared at the little pile of his belongings -- wallet, watch, pager, cell phone -- and shook his head in disbelief
“You had a pretty good alibi,” Dan Harding told him. “Not to mention a couple of stellar witnesses who could place you at the scene of a grass fire at the time of the ‘kidnapping’.”
Sean glanced over at Chief Griswold, one of those “stellar witnesses” who had vouched for him. He wasn’t sure just how much the chief had told the policeman.
“Spiffy, as far as I’m concerned, you’re still my Lieutenant,” Griswold said, as though reading his mind. “I never accepted your resignation, and I don’t see that you’ve done anything wrong.”
“But I left the scene--”
“No, you didn’t. You left a con artist running around in the woods in a wedding dress at three in the morning, that’s all. You identified yourself as a firefighter and made every reasonable effort to locate her. She made the choice not to accept your help. End of story.”
“But the pictures on the
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