“We’re friends, no need to worry about that.” He didn’t want to take her money. Although maybe part of that was out of duty to her father, who’d helped steer him into firefighting as a career.
She gave him a curious look, no doubt thinking about the fact that despite being neighbors while growing up, they hadn’t kept in touch the way friends do. His gaze dropped to her mouth for a moment before he caught himself.
Nope. Not going to think about kissing her. That would be crossing the line, and she needed his protection, not to be worried about him making a move on her.
He abruptly shot to his feet, putting badly needed distance between them. “I should call your father.”
She wrinkled her nose but nodded. “Yes, but let me talk to him first.” She pulled out her phone. “Dad? It’s me, Faye. I’m fine but call me when you get this message, okay?”
He frowned from his position near the connecting doorway. “Odd that he didn’t pick up. This is the second time you’ve had to leave a message.”
“He’s a busy man.” She shrugged. “He’ll call. But at least he knows I’m not hurt.”
He felt terrible for slamming her to the ground like a rugby player. Better that than being burned by the Molotov cocktail, though.
“What Mitch needs to do is get a list of all the firefighters that have been terminated in the last six months.” She tilted her head to the side. “Does he need a subpoena for that too?”
“Yes, he’ll need to go through legal channels for that. More so to protect your dad from any hint of impropriety.”
“That makes sense. He could be accused of bending the rules because I’m his daughter.” She sighed and rubbed the back of her head.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” He pushed away from the wall to stand before her. “You hit your head on the ground, didn’t you? And how are your hands? You took the gauze off to take a shower.”
“My hands are fine, and I have a small bump on my head. Didn’t even break the skin.”
He lightly pushed her hand out of the way to feel for himself. There was a knot back there, with a bit of swelling. “We need to get some ice on that.”
“Ice might help, but my headache isn’t that bad.”
He headed for the door when her phone rang. Turning back, he could see her father’s name on the screen.
“Hey, Dad.” She winced and pulled the phone away from her ear. Hearing her father’s angry tone, he plucked the phone from her hand.
“Chief Kimble? It’s Colin Finnegan.”
“I thought you were going to protect her,” Dorian roared. “She was involved in two more incidents since we spoke this morning!”
“Yes, sir.” He deserved the verbal tongue-lashing but knew he wouldn’t be able to have a rational discussion until the chief calmed down. “It’s my fault she was caught in the park restrooms. I did see the Molotov cocktail in time to get her out of the way, but I should have expected something like that.”
“Finnegan, you’re making it difficult for me to stay mad.” Dorian’s voice sounded worn out and tired now. “I know this isn’t really your fault, I’m just trying to understand what’s happening.”
“Me too, sir.”
“No one has Jayson Sanders in custody yet?”
“No, although that may be part of the plan here. Keep starting fires to keep Mitch Callahan tied up with investigating them.”
“I’ve asked Callahan to work with your brother Tarin on this. We need more cops out there looking for Sanders.”
“That’s a good idea but let me ask you something. Who else might have a grudge against you?”
Dorian Kimble let out a harsh laugh. “Too many to count. Why?”
“It’s just one of many theories. We have a list of patient complaints against Faye, but there’s nothing that really stands out there. We’ll keep digging, but using fire in the first place is more likely a firefighter with a bone to pick with you.”
“Then why take it out on my daughter?”
“I don’t know, sir, but she’s been in the media recently. She’s dedicated her life to caring for sick people too.”