She thought of being hesitant, playing it cool, but she couldn’t. “Only I bring the food next week.” She’d seen a few picnic baskets and buckets of chicken. She wasn’t sure she could face another burrito that tasted like it had been made from the oldest bull.
“Fair enough,” he said as she opened the door. “See you Monday at school, Rea.”
“See you,” she answered, and hopped out of the cab. “Thanks for not turning into a werewolf.”
“What—”
She slammed the door and ran toward the house.
Chapter 16
HANK ROLLED OUT OF BED AND PULLED ON A WORN PAIR of Levi’s as he walked across the room to answer his cell.
“Chief.” Willie’s voice was high with excitement. “We’re pulling out now. You said to call you no matter how small the fire if we took the truck out.”
Hank could hear the siren in the background. “What is it, Willie?”
“Highway patrol called in a trash fire out at the north rest stop.”
Willie had been sleeping at the fire station since he turned eighteen and his stepfather kicked him out. Brad Rister would be there tonight also. He slept there every time his wife kicked him out. Andy Daily, one of the night dispatchers across the street, would have caught a ride as well. Andy wasn’t much of a fireman, but he was an adrenaline junkie and about to starve to death in a town the size of Harmony.
“I’ll meet you there,” Hank said, and closed up his phone.
Andy and Brad were levelheaded, and Willie could follow orders. They didn’t need him to put out a trash fire. But Hank had been restless all night. He might as well go check everything out himself rather than lie in bed worrying about it. With a trash fire, there was always the chance it could spark a grass fire.
Glancing at his watch, he realized in an hour he would have been up anyway. He liked to get up and be at work before dawn when he was at the ranch. He’d work a few hours before coming in for breakfast with his mother and Saralynn. His sisters usually slept late, and his old aunts had their morning tea and bakery scones in their quarters.
As he took the side stairs outside his room, he hoped he made it back for breakfast. Tuesdays, his mother left early to visit the gallery in Wichita Falls that handled her pots, but every other morning, the three of them laughed and talked over pancakes and eggs before they started their day. Sometimes he thought his family circled around him in endless rings, but at the core were Saralynn and his mother.
When Hank pulled up to the north roadside park, he could see smoke rising gray against the night sky. The huge Dumpster was still popping with the heat, but the fire inside had been put out.
His men had sprayed the dried grass around the site to ensure that no spark would start something far worse than a Dumpster fire.
“What do you think happened?” Willie asked.
“Some traveler tossing his trash along with an ashtray, maybe,” Hank guessed. Dumpster fires weren’t all that unusual. An odd smell drifted with the smoke, making Hank wonder if some animal had been trapped in the Dumpster. Or maybe roadkill had been tossed in.
He noticed one of the sheriff’s cars pull up beside the highway patrolman’s vehicle, but Hank didn’t move out of the dark. If Alex was here, she was on duty and probably didn’t want to talk to him. For the second Saturday in a row he hadn’t gotten a call from the bar. She’d stayed out of trouble. Part of him was proud of her, and part wondered if she was staying away from him.
Flashlight beams floated around an old station wagon parked near one of the picnic tables. The crack of a police radio crackled across the cold air.
Brad Rister approached Hank. “Should we try to determine the cause, or just wait and come back in a few hours when it’s light? Both lids were down when we got here, so the fire had pretty much choked itself out. All we got was smoke; no flame when we popped the latch.”
“Go on back and try to
“Fair enough,” he said as she opened the door. “See you Monday at school, Rea.”
“See you,” she answered, and hopped out of the cab. “Thanks for not turning into a werewolf.”
“What—”
She slammed the door and ran toward the house.
Chapter 16
HANK ROLLED OUT OF BED AND PULLED ON A WORN PAIR of Levi’s as he walked across the room to answer his cell.
“Chief.” Willie’s voice was high with excitement. “We’re pulling out now. You said to call you no matter how small the fire if we took the truck out.”
Hank could hear the siren in the background. “What is it, Willie?”
“Highway patrol called in a trash fire out at the north rest stop.”
Willie had been sleeping at the fire station since he turned eighteen and his stepfather kicked him out. Brad Rister would be there tonight also. He slept there every time his wife kicked him out. Andy Daily, one of the night dispatchers across the street, would have caught a ride as well. Andy wasn’t much of a fireman, but he was an adrenaline junkie and about to starve to death in a town the size of Harmony.
“I’ll meet you there,” Hank said, and closed up his phone.
Andy and Brad were levelheaded, and Willie could follow orders. They didn’t need him to put out a trash fire. But Hank had been restless all night. He might as well go check everything out himself rather than lie in bed worrying about it. With a trash fire, there was always the chance it could spark a grass fire.
Glancing at his watch, he realized in an hour he would have been up anyway. He liked to get up and be at work before dawn when he was at the ranch. He’d work a few hours before coming in for breakfast with his mother and Saralynn. His sisters usually slept late, and his old aunts had their morning tea and bakery scones in their quarters.
As he took the side stairs outside his room, he hoped he made it back for breakfast. Tuesdays, his mother left early to visit the gallery in Wichita Falls that handled her pots, but every other morning, the three of them laughed and talked over pancakes and eggs before they started their day. Sometimes he thought his family circled around him in endless rings, but at the core were Saralynn and his mother.
When Hank pulled up to the north roadside park, he could see smoke rising gray against the night sky. The huge Dumpster was still popping with the heat, but the fire inside had been put out.
His men had sprayed the dried grass around the site to ensure that no spark would start something far worse than a Dumpster fire.
“What do you think happened?” Willie asked.
“Some traveler tossing his trash along with an ashtray, maybe,” Hank guessed. Dumpster fires weren’t all that unusual. An odd smell drifted with the smoke, making Hank wonder if some animal had been trapped in the Dumpster. Or maybe roadkill had been tossed in.
He noticed one of the sheriff’s cars pull up beside the highway patrolman’s vehicle, but Hank didn’t move out of the dark. If Alex was here, she was on duty and probably didn’t want to talk to him. For the second Saturday in a row he hadn’t gotten a call from the bar. She’d stayed out of trouble. Part of him was proud of her, and part wondered if she was staying away from him.
Flashlight beams floated around an old station wagon parked near one of the picnic tables. The crack of a police radio crackled across the cold air.
Brad Rister approached Hank. “Should we try to determine the cause, or just wait and come back in a few hours when it’s light? Both lids were down when we got here, so the fire had pretty much choked itself out. All we got was smoke; no flame when we popped the latch.”
“Go on back and try to
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