Page 119 of Frosting and Flames

My pulse leaps when I see notifications on the display. The happy feeling drops, though, at six missed calls, all from Rachel, along with two voicemails. Holy hell. That number is a red flag, a knot tightening low in my gut as unease threads through me.

I fumble to listen to the first voicemail, emotions running through me one right after the other without a break. Elation that I’m no longer under suspicion. A rising anger that Kyle broke into my house. And an aching worry for Rachel, who sounds so distraught asking for my forgiveness. There’s nothing to forgive. I understand where her head was at.

“Drive to the bakery,” I tell Mark when he gets in.

He raises his brows but doesn’t question me as he starts up the truck.

The next voicemail plays, my stomach dropping at the panic in Rachel’s voice. Jae is fighting Kyle? I listen to it again, still confused, and tell Mark, “Actually, go to the auto repair shop on Main.”

The operator comes over dispatch then, asking us to respond to a fire at the auto repair shop on Main.

Mark turns to me. “How’d you know?”

Goosebumps prickle down my arms. It’s a coincidence. It has to be. Rachel’s not there. She would have left by now.

I answer dispatch and flip on the sirens, then check the voicemail again. She left it less than ten minutes ago.

Fuck.

My heart is in my throat during the short time it takes to get there, and I send up a silent wish that Rachel is okay, even though I’m all out of wishes.

I’m imagining the shop engulfed in a towering inferno, thick, choking smoke hazing the area, and I sag with relief when it’s close enough to see, my terrifying vision nowhere in sight.

The fire is contained in one corner of the open garage and doesn’t appear to be spreading. Not to say it still couldn’t be dangerous with the amount of flammable materials and chemicals they keep in there, though.

“Doesn’t look like we’ll need the hose,” Mark comments.

“No,” I agree, scanning the area for Rachel.

“Why are you so tense?” Mark turns into the lot. “This’ll be a breeze to put out.”

I still don’t see anyone. “I think Rachel’s here.”

“What? The garage isn’t even open on Sundays. Why would she be here?”

That’s a great question, but I don’t have an answer for him.

Opening my door before the truck has fully stopped, I jump out, looking around one more time. Obviously, I should focus on the fire at hand, but the urge to find Rachel first is too strong. Maybe she did end up leaving before whatever happened here.

Someone runs around the far side of the building, waving at me. It’s Jae. That must mean Rachel’s here, too.

But where?

I glance again at the flames, though they’re not that bad. Mark and I can knock this out easy. Even one of us could alone.

“Rachel’s okay,” Jae calls out when she’s in earshot, as if she knows what my first question would be. “But she’s having a panic attack or something. The fire got pretty close to her before I could get her out of there.”

“You go,” Mark yells, already grabbing an extinguisher from the truck. “I’ve got this.”

Thank God.

I follow Jae around the side of the building, my heart stopping when I spot Rachel sitting with her back against the concrete wall, her knees tucked into her chest, neck bent forward and face hidden from view.

“Does she need medical attention?”

All the firefighters on staff have some EMT training, since we don’t have the budget for a dedicated EMT, but if anyone needs an ambulance, we have to call one from Kaysville, half an hour away.

“I don’t think so.” Jae jogs to keep up with me. “But she sort of froze when the fire was coming at her. I guess because of…”

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