Page 72 of Slow Burn
The glow was impossible to miss. Hell, he could see it before the car cleared the last bend, like the earth itself had split open and swallowed the place whole. It didn’t take more than a glance to know there was no saving it. All they could do now was try to keep the blaze from jumping to the trees.
The truck’s tires slid on loose gravel as Cole slammed to a stop, and Jocelyn hopped out before he’d even put the car in park. Hecursed under his breath as she sprinted toward the house. He was still trying to get the keys out of the damn ignition.
He shoved his door open, stomach lurching into his throat until a firefighter jumped forward to catch her, stopping her from getting closer.
It took only a few seconds for him to catch up, and when he did, he nodded at the crewman, sliding an arm around her shoulders to hold her in place.
“Oh my God, Cole.” She jerked forward again, but he held fast.
“You can’t, Jocelyn.”
“But Uncle Joe!” She turned wide eyes to him, flames dancing in the tears gathered there.
It was hell to say what he had to, but she needed to hear it: “If he’s inside, there’s not a damn thing anyone can do for him.”
Her face crumpled at the words, and he ached to carry the weight of her grief, to lug it until the end of time. But he made do with pulling her against him as they watched the crew scramble around the blaze.
There were dozens of yards between where he and Jocelyn stood and the house, but the heat nearly blistered his skin. He knew it was wasted effort to try to get her to move farther away, though. Tears spilled steady, but she searched window to window, looking for some sign of a miracle.
Wouldn’t be too good for anyone if Joe came running out now. If he made it through the first twenty-four hours, he would’ve been in for a mess of torture.
Experiences with burn victims had always haunted Cole’s daddy.
“Jocelyn!”
She stiffened in Cole’s arms then craned her neck to look at the man behind them who’d called her name. As soon as she recognized who was jogging their way, she pushed out of Cole’s arms. Relief hit Cole fast and hard at the sight of Joe Murphy.
The older man glanced toward the house for only a moment before Jocelyn had him in a hug so tight, she might’ve squeezed the air from his lungs.
She released him. “Thank God you’re not inside that…” Jocelyn looked at the house, the flames dancing and distorting in the new tears that brimmed.
Joe shook his head, lips going colorless as he held in a reaction. “Was at the neighbor’s. Heard about my own damn house bein’ on fire ‘cause someone in town decided to call and warn them.”
“Oh, Joe.” She put her hand on his thin arm. “I’m so sorry. All that work.”
He pulled in a long inhale, staring at the old house. “It’s ain’t nothing more than stuff.” He patted her hand, offering a grim smile.
Felt like he was saying it more for himself than her, and it struck Cole that this could derail his sobriety. Might check on him in the coming days, make sure someone had his back.
By Jocelyn’s expression, it was clear she was thinking something similar as she met Cole’s gaze.
A man’s voice cut across the din of crackling wood. “Joe.”
They turned as one, locking onto the firefighter jogging over. He was suited up head to toe. Full gear weighed at least seventy pounds, but he moved like it was nothing.
“Have some questions,” Kyle Lambert said. He was newer to the station, but Cole knew him well enough.
“Sure,” Joe said, following Kyle to the incident commander.
Cole’s daddy had run point on fires before, talked his son through the process when he was a kid and still interested. There’d be questions about others in the home, when Joe’d last been there, hazards inside, and whether he could guess how it had started.
The dazed look on Joe’s face said they wouldn’t be getting their answers tonight.
Jocelyn was tight with nerves beside Cole as she watched, waiting for Joe to head back. He did slowly, shoulders slumping as he walked toward them.
“Uncle Joe, you have somewhere to stay tonight?”
“My folks have a guest room,” Cole offered.
