Page 38 of Forged By Fire

He immediately raised a hand to stop her from continuing her train of thought.

“I’m going to share something my mom once told me. It was back in junior high. I was twelve and sure I knew everything. Well, I had a best friend named Ben, and we hung out all the time. Until one day, he betrayed my confidence. I’m not going to go into details, but I truly felt as though he’d stabbed me in the back.”

It’d been like torture trying to get through the rest of the school day while Ben was laughing at him with some of the other kids.

“When I got home, I went right to my bedroom. And there I was, this big, macho preteen crying my eyes out. My mom came in, and I remember standing up and trying to wipe the tears away before she saw because I didn’t want her to think I was being a baby.” He shifted so that he wasfacing Leslie. “Mom told me that sometimes crying is the body’s way of getting rid of all those things that are weighing us down. Tears aren’t simply drops of saltwater; they represent our worries and hurts and fears. We have to let them go before we’re able to focus on something better.”

“Wow.” She swallowed hard and blinked tears from her eyes. “Your mom is good.”

He laughed. “Yes, she is. Of course, this is the same woman who once yelled at me to clean my room, or she was going to buy a pig to complete the ensemble. So, there you go.”

Leslie tipped her head back and laughed loudly, and he couldn’t help but join in. It felt good to simply relax and share a laid-back moment with her.

And it was good to see that smile again, too.

His parents would like her. A lot. He prayed he’d have the opportunity to introduce her to them someday.

Clint’s stomach growled, and he realized he had never eaten lunch. He wasn’t sure whether Leslie had gotten something at the hospital or not. He’d planned to ask her out to eat before everything imploded this afternoon. “Why don’t I call and have a pizza delivered?”

“What about work? Don’t you need to go back to the precinct?”

Clint leaned forward a little. “I’m not going anywhere. After everything that happened with your car, I really don’t feel comfortable leaving you here alone. I can crash on the couch tonight. Or if you’d prefer, I can stay in my car outside—it wouldn’t be the first time. If you have no objections, of course.”

He’d been prepared to give reasons why it would be a good idea. To his surprise, her uncertain expression gave way to relief as she nodded her agreement.

“I’d feel so much better if you stayed. I’ve got blankets and an extra pillow.” She got to her feet.

“Are you sure it won’t be an inconvenience?”

“I think I’m the one who should be askingyouthat.”

He assured her that it wasn’t, and some of the stress in her features seemed to melt away.

“Then I think a pizza is a great idea.”

Clint placed the order online and joined Leslie in the kitchen, where she was pulling down plates for their meal.

She turned to look at him. “Did anything come of the appointment with the psychologist? Is it possible that Ortiz is the person behind all of this?”

That’s right, they hadn’t even had a chance to talk about the interview.

“Dr. Gerard never met Ortiz, and he didn’t have access to the files from Ortiz’s stay at rehab. He did verify that much of Ortiz’s behavior at the station sounded like kleptomania, except when he was caught trying to take the turnout gear. Apparently stealing something to sell or even working with someone else is very uncharacteristic of the illness.”

“They never caught or identified the person who was helping Ortiz, did they?”

“Not at the time. He and Ortiz were roommates for a while.” He told her a little more of what was said during the interview. “Ortiz did give us a name, but he hadn’t seen the guy in over a year. Paris is hoping to track him down and bring him in for questioning tomorrow.”

“You don’t think it’s Ortiz, do you?”

“Honestly? No. He’s made mistakes, that’s for sure. But there was nothing about the man that hinted at him being a stalker or becoming violent. His old roommate, though? That remains to be seen.”

Leslie leaned against the counter and frowned. “I just wish we knew why this was happening at all. I mean, if heistargeting me, there must be a reason. I keep wondering what I could’ve done to make someone hate me so much.”

Clint couldn’t imagine Leslie doing anything to make someone truly angry with her. Certainly not like this. He moved to stand in front of her and reached out to cup her elbows with his hands. “Whatever’s going on, it has more to do with him than it does with you. Assuming you’re the actual target. It could be a general anger toward the fire department, and something happened to put you and Danny on his radar.”

“I’m tired of all the guesswork, Clint.”

He was, too. Not having solid answers was making it incredibly difficult to predict—and catch—the man responsible.

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