Page 42 of Smoke Season

True laid her eyes on Mel unflinchingly as she repeated herself. “Still. Maybe I can get a rapid tagnow.”

Mel stared back at her, her expression uncomprehending. Was her sense of protocol so entrenched she couldn’t make the leap? When comprehension did dawn, Mel didn’t look pleased. “I can’t possibly,” she snapped. “It’s a danger to you, True.” She swallowed. “There has to be another way.”

If there was, True sure as hell didn’t see it. Even when Mel left again for the station after rousing Astor to say good morning, True couldn’t figure any other way to get to Temple Bar to retrieve the ammo box before the fire—or anyone else for that matter—beat her to it. She called Sam to assure him all was well, got an update on Annie—holding steady, though last night was touch and go—and settled Astor in front ofJurassic Park, the only DVD stuck in Sam’s ancient office TV/DVD combo. She set back to work on the pancakes, her mind still churning through—and discarding—options. She was busy beating the batter within an inch of its life when she heard Astor’s voice rising over the sound of the TV in the office. A sound of surprise, followed by the quieter murmuring of conversation.

Had Mel returned? Maybe she’d rethought the rapid tag.

True dropped the first batch of pancakes on the griddle and hurried to the office, her heart already warming to the thought. Instead, the sight that met her at the doorway made her blood run cold.

John Fallows, in the flesh. But all True could focus on was the fact that he was touchingAstor’sflesh, his arms encircling her as he playfully covered her eyes as a raptor attack played out on the TV.

“Get the hell away from her!”

Though forceful, True’s voice sounded oddly distant to her ears. Detached from her body somehow. Her limbs were stiff, too, like she suddenly couldn’t move. But she would, oh yes she would, if she had to.Whenshe had to.

“Tsk, tsk. You’ll scare the girl,” Fallows drawled.

But Astor was already scared. Astor, whom True had taught to sit tall and take no prisoners, had shrunken in on herself, shoulders curled forward as if to put as many inches between her body and this man’s—this adult man’s—as she could.

True’s sudden presence seemed to give Astor the permission she’d been waiting for. She shrugged out from Fallows’s arms with a little yelp of relief, then scurried over to press herself against True’s side as though she hoped to infuse herself there.

Oh, Astor.True put an arm around her but didn’t take her eyes off Fallows. “What do you think you’re doing? How did you get in here?”

She wasn’t sure which question she wanted answered first, but it didn’t matter; Fallows was in no hurry to fill her in. He barely turned his gaze from the TV as the raptor attack faded out. “Honey. Like I was telling Mini-Mel here, Uncle John just wanted to check in.”

“Is he really my uncle?” Astor asked in a whisper from under True’s armpit.

True’s gaze remained laser-focused on Fallows. “No. He’s nothing to you.”

“Semantics,” Fallows chuckled; then he coughed. From the kitchen, a strong smell of burning hit True’s nose, accompanied by a waft of smoke.

The pancakes.

As if cued to action, the shriek of the smoke detector sounded from the hallway.

“I’ll go,” Astor said instantly, already turning heel and sprinting for the kitchen. True knew she knew the drill, thanks to hours at the grill with her dad. Turn off the burner, grab a dishcloth, and start fanning the smoke for all she was worth.

Which left True alone with Fallows. “I already told you everything I know last night,” she shouted over the incessant sound of the alarm. “So I’ll only ask you one more time. Why are you here?”

Fallows smiled, displaying a mouthful of dental neglect. “Because I can be.” He rose and crossed the room, not stopping until he stood just inches from True’s face. It took everything in her to resist being the one to step back and concede space. Even when Fallows leaned in and whispered in her ear, his lips brushing her lobe, she stood her ground, feet planted. “I can be anywhere I want to be. At any time. Here. At your cute little abode on the river.” He jutted his chin back toward the Paco Pad, where Astor had settled in to watch the movie minutes before. “Even in a Bishop baby’s sleeping bag.”

“You fucker, I’ll—”

“True!” a new voice called out over the continued wail of the stubborn smoke-detector alarm, accompanied by a pounding at the front Eddy door. “Sam? Anyone in there?”

Kim. She’d probably heard the alarm from her place next door.

“Right in here!” True yelled, with some relish, right in Fallows’s face.

He finally took a step back. From the kitchen, she heard a few harried words between Kim and Astor, and the alarm went abruptly silent.

Knowing that Kim was now at Astor’s side gave True a boost of confidence. “I will call the cops—”

He laughed, the sound mean and tight. “No, you won’t.”

Confidence dashed. “I’ll get your damned money,” she whispered.

“Bingo.” He tapped her nose with one finger, none too softly, either. “You catch on pretty quick for washed-up river trash.”

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