Page 48 of Hunter

As she drew near the building, a man in a fireman’s hat tried to block her path.

“I’m sorry. You have to stay back,” he said.

“I have to talk to Mr. Emerson.” Ducking past the man, she made for the stretcher and saw with a sick feeling that she’d been correct. It was Hunter lying there, gray-faced, eyes closed. When she called his name in a high, strangled voice, he turned instantly toward the sound, his gaze searching for her in the crowd and zeroing in on her face.

She wanted to rush to his side, clutch his hand, hear his voice. She knew scores of eyes were watching her, so she remained standing where she was.

“What happened?” she asked, directing her question to one of the medics.

“Smoke inhalation,” the man answered.

“Is he all right?”

“He crawled out of the building under his own power. But we’re taking him to the hospital to check him out.”

“I am fine,” Hunter insisted. Although his voice was raspy, it sounded strong, and that reassured her.

He tried to sit up, but the medic put a hand on his shoulder.

Emerson came up behind her.

“How did this happen?” she asked.

“Some idiot started a fire in a trash can in the men’s room,” he clipped out. “Smoking. It’s against regulations to light up inside, of course. When I find out who it was, they’re going to be damn sorry,” he added.

She noted the intensity with which Hunter took in the conversation. Near him, a stoop-shouldered little man in a gray sweater was also listening and looking sick.

“Who’s that?” she asked in a low voice.

“Hertz. From computer support,” Emerson said, making no attempt to lower his volume or hide his annoyance. “He was supposed to oversee John. . . Hunter. He was supposed to stay with him at all times. He came running out of the building alone.”

“He wouldn’t leave the computer,” the man said. “I wasn’t going to stay in there and get turned into toast.”

“The computer?” Kathryn asked, her gaze shooting back to Hunter.

“I had to shut down the program properly,” he said in a flat voice, avoiding direct eye contact with her. She was pretty sure that it wasn’t the whole story.

“What was I supposed to do—carry him?” Hertz whined.

“I made him go without me,” Hunter wheezed.

“That was. . . foolish,” the Chief of Operations growled.

“I could not disobey orders.”

“Your orders. Yes, I understand,” Emerson agreed.

Hunter’s eyes flicked to Hertz. “I do not wish to cause trouble for him. He is a good computer instructor. . .. He did his job every moment until the smoke began to fill the room,” he said.

The man looked relieved, and his head bobbed vigorously in agreement.

A fireman came up to Emerson, and they conferred briefly. Then the Chief of Operations raised his voice and spoke to the group of people who had turned toward him. “The fire’s out,” he announced. “And the damage is confined to the men’s room where the blaze started and the hall immediately outside.”

The crowd gave the firemen a round of applause. When they finished, the medics moved into position on either side of the stretcher, raised it to waist height, and began to roll it toward the ambulance. Kathryn wanted to follow. She wanted to ride with Hunter and stay with him. Yet she understood that showing too much concern wasn’t prudent.

“I’ll wait back at the house,” she said.

“Good idea.”

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