Page 13 of Inferno
“No,” he said quickly.Too quickly.
Prissy frowned as a whisper of unease ran through her.
She watched as Stan rose from the chair and began straightening his uniform. A change had come over him, so subtle she might have missed it if she didn’t know him as well as she did.
Struck by a sudden realization, she glanced at her wristwatch. “You don’t have to be at Mason’s school until one-thirty. Are you going somewhere before then?”
“No.” He paused, seeming to reconsider his answer before he amended, “I’m just dropping by the station to pick up some prep materials for the exam. The test date will be here before I know it.”
After fourteen years of distinguished service as a firefighter—climbing his way up the ranks to lieutenant—Stan was now up for a promotion to captain pending the results of written and oral exams he was scheduled to take in January.
“You know,” Prissy remarked, folding her arms across her busty chest, “you’re supposed to stayawayfrom the station on your days off. If the alarm sounds while you’re there—”
“I’ll let the fellas who are on duty handle the emergency. That’s what shifts are for.”
Before Prissy could argue, Stan pressed a quick, hard kiss to her mouth. “I’ll see you this evening.”
She nodded, walking him to the door. “Are you still taking the boys to the movies after school?”
“Yeah.It’s supposed to be a surprise. You didn’t tell them, did you?”
“Of course not.Besides,” Prissy added wryly, “I didn’t have the heart to tell Manny that he’s going to miss out on seeing a movie just because he gets out of school much later than his brothers.”
Stan grinned ruefully. “I’ll make it up to him.”
“You’d better.”
Stan kissed her again,thenwinked. “I’ll pick up dinner on the way home.”
“Okay.” She smiled softly. “Good luck on the presentation.”
“Thanks,honey. Hope your meetings go well.”
“Me, too.”
After Stan left, Prissy closed the door and headed to her private bathroom to freshen up and change her underwear. She kept an extra pair at the office in case of emergencies, which now, apparently, included midday quickies.
Blushing at the thought, Prissy surveyed her reflection in the mirror. She’d been called pretty, even beautiful on a good day. Her skin was the color of mocha and she had dark, almond-shaped eyes. Her forehead was round, her lips were full and her dimpled chin made her look younger than thirty-three. Before interviewing for the superintendent job two years ago, she’d exchanged her big afro for feathered tresses that framed her face. As much as she may have wanted to believe that her qualifications would matter more than her appearance, she’d known better than to take any chances.
After washing her hands at the sink, Prissy emerged from the bathroom and returned to her desk.
Five minutes later, she found herself unable to concentrate on the report she’d been working on before Stan arrived. Because try as she might, she couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d been hiding something from her. Something to do with the page he’d supposedly received from someone at work.
Supposedly?
Prissy frowned, her mind churning with speculation. After another moment, she picked up the phone and called the fire station.
After exchanging pleasantries with Dora—Engine Company 8’s only female firefighter who was on watch desk duty—Prissy said very casually, “Someone just paged Stan, but he couldn’t get to the phone right away to return the call. Do you know if anyone there might have been looking for him?”
“Not that I know of.But I can check with the other guys on duty, if you don’t mind holding?”
“I don’t mind. Thanks, Dora.” Prissy waited tensely, drumming her manicured fingernails on the desk.
After a few minutes, Dora came back on the line. “I was right. No one here paged Stan—”
Prissy’s heart sank.
“—but the fellas said he’s more than welcome to come to work if he’s bored.”
Prissy forced out a laugh. “Thanks for checking for me, Dora.”
“Anytime, hon.”
Prissy’s hand trembled as she hung up the phone.
Stan’s pager had been issued to him and other senior firefighters who had paramedic training so that they could be reached in case of an emergency that required additional personnel. Stan had never used his pager for personal reasons; his colleagues were the only ones who even had the number.
Prissy frowned, leaning back in her chair.
If someone from work didn’t page my husband,shewondered suspiciously,who the hell did?
