Page 11 of Slow Burn
“Best let it be,” Cole said, spotting his mama stepping through the door. Should’ve figured she’d show. She always gave him a little space when he was heated but never too much that anyone could forget about it.
“Cole—” Henry started.
“We’ll talk later,” Cole cut him off, already moving.
“There’s my boy,” his mama said, and he bent to kiss her cheek.
“Hey, Ma.”
five
“Fire is never a gentle master.” - Proverb
Though Jocelyn had seen it in news reports and pictures growing up, she had never stepped inside the Cedar Hollow fire station. The brick building loomed before her, older than most of the city itself.
Standing there stirred her resolve. The visit with the Hausers had shaken her confidence, but two days of lying low had steadied her, and she needed to get her focus back.
She hitched her purse higher and pushed through the administration doors. Passing the bay where the engines were parked, a glimmer of childlike curiosity tugged at her. She understood why kids loved school tours here—the unknown world behind those doors held its own kind of power.
“Help you?”
She jerked upright at the voice. A woman stood with a file in hand, sandy brows raised. She was probably in her mid-forties, fit despite being a little top heavy, with blonde hair pulled upinto a tight ponytail. Wispy bangs fell across her tanned, gently lined forehead.
“Um, yes,” Jocelyn began. “I wanted to speak with the chief.”
The woman’s shoulders rolled back, making the buttons on her crisp uniform shirt pull tight across her chest. “About what?” Her gaze raked over Jocelyn from head to toe, like she was trying to place her. If she’d known Jocelyn’s mama, she didn’t seem to make the connection.
Jocelyn couldn’t help shifting under that tight appraisal. “I had some questions about a fire from about twenty years ago.”
If possible, the woman’s squint got narrower, her brown irises nearly disappearing. “Why on earth—” Those eyes popped wide. “You’re the girl from the Hill Drive fire.”
Jocelyn’s fingers curled involuntarily into her palms, but she managed a nod. “I want to understand what happened. Were you there?”
Sympathy softened the lines in the woman’s face, and she melted in a maternal sort of way. “No, I wasn’t. I came to this station about seven years ago from Knoxville. Big fire fatality in a town like this, though, you hear about it, even years later.”
A bitterness cloaked Jocelyn’s heart. “Fatality,” she repeated. “That was my mama.”
“I’m sorry, Honey.” The woman gestured toward a row of chairs. “Let me see if the chief’s available. I’m Amber—I handle admin around here.”
“Jocelyn.” She managed a thin smile as Amber disappeared toward the offices.
The plaque beside the door announced it belonged to Chief Eric Ward. The name tickled in the back of Jocelyn’s mind, but she wasn’t sure why.
The other office was marked for the deputy chief, Gabe McCann, and she wondered if he’d also been around that night.
Amber returned with a rangy, copper-haired man in tow. Chief Ward’s still-handsome, weathered face shifted with something more than just recognition. She couldn’t be sure what it was—maybe nervousness? If he had been there that life-changing September, he’d know exactly who she was.
“Jocelyn Murphy,” he said, his quick gait eating the distance between them in a matter of seconds.
She stood as he stretched his hand to her. “Hello.”
“God, you look just like Bonnie,” he murmured.
The words burned against her skin, and she resisted the urge to jerk her hand back.
Ward dropped her hand, shaking his head. “Sorry. I know it’s probably painful to talk about her.”
Jocelyn took a breath, smoothing her expression, though a storm brewed in the back of her mind. “I forget what it’s like to talk to people who knew her.”
