Read Online Winter's Fire (Welcome to Covendale #7) by Morgan Blaze - Free Book Online
Authors: Morgan Blaze
Ads: Link
days. “Brake failure, you think?”
Dom glanced at the CB in his hand. “You know dispatch doesn’t know shit,” he said. “And we’ll be on scene in less than one. Why bother?”
“I don’t know, man. I just…have a bad feeling about this one.” He replaced the handset slowly, for some reason thinking of Winter—the woman, not the season. But she’d been right there with him when the alarm sounded, and he’d told her to stay put. This call didn’t have anything to do with her.
Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling.
Dom slowed a fraction as he turned onto Crescent. Not far ahead, a sheriff’s department car with lights flashing was parked lengthwise on the road, and three road flares burned a bright row alongside it. “Man, they always beat us,” Dom said. “Who’s that, Nick Donovan?”
“Looks like.” The sheriff’s department and the FD worked closely in a town this size, so most of them knew each other. The big deputy was visible just beyond the car, bent over something outside the line of sight. That meant the victim was likely still in the vehicle. Adam’s gut clenched as he glanced at Dom, whose features were as tense as he felt. “This is a bad one.”
Dom raced the last few feet and slammed the brakes hard, throwing the truck into park. “Let’s move,” he said as he flung the door open. “Better grab the jump kit.”
“Got it.”
Adam opened his own door and hopped out, snagging the bulky pack of emergency supplies from beneath the passenger seat on the way. Engine One screamed down the road toward them as he raced after Dom, who’d already rounded the squad car.
Suddenly, Dom stopped short and blurted, “Jesus!”
Adam went cold. He forced himself to keep moving, to haul one strap of the jump kit over his shoulder and out of the way as he darted past the hood of the cruiser. When he caught sight of the smoldering wreckage rammed against a massive tree, his first thought was that maybe the vic would make it, because he’d seen worse. At least it was still recognizably a vehicle.
Then he actually recognized the vehicle. A rust-red El Camino. Only one like it in town.
Dom faced him, shaken and pale. “Isn’t that…”
“Oh, God,” he said hoarsely. “Ben!”
He pushed past to where Nick Donovan stood beside the car with one arm reaching through the shattered driver’s side window. A few small flames danced around the edges of the ruined hood—not engaged yet, but it could flare out any moment, catch the oil pan or a gas line and burn like a mother. “Hose’ll be down in a second, but I’ll have them bring the foam,” he said. “Can you get him out?”
The deputy moved slowly. He stepped back from the vehicle and maneuvered his arm clear of the window, still blocking the view with his body. His hand was smeared with blood. “Adam,” he said in careful tones. “You know the victim?”
“That’s Ben Schaeffer’s car.” Something in the deputy’s delivery gutted him, but his mind refused to acknowledge it. “He worked Valley Ridge. Just retired. We have to get him out of there.”
Nick managed to look grim and sympathetic at the same time. “I’m sorry, Adam,” he said in that same careful tone. “He’s gone.”
“No.” Sudden fury surged through him, and he dropped the jump pack on the ground and shoved the deputy aside. “Goddamn it, get him out of there!”
He knew it was hopeless, even as he seized the handle of the crumpled door and yanked at it. The figure inside the car was utterly motionless—drenched in blood, face covered with cuts, head bent at an impossible angle. Still, he pulled and wrenched at the door, ignoring the fragments of metal and glass that tore at his gloves and punched through to slice him, until at last the door moved with a tortured squeal.
Adam shoved through the gap, yanked a glove off. “Come on, Ben,” he muttered, reaching for the man’s throat, his fingers seeking a pulse he knew he wouldn’t find. The
Dom glanced at the CB in his hand. “You know dispatch doesn’t know shit,” he said. “And we’ll be on scene in less than one. Why bother?”
“I don’t know, man. I just…have a bad feeling about this one.” He replaced the handset slowly, for some reason thinking of Winter—the woman, not the season. But she’d been right there with him when the alarm sounded, and he’d told her to stay put. This call didn’t have anything to do with her.
Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling.
Dom slowed a fraction as he turned onto Crescent. Not far ahead, a sheriff’s department car with lights flashing was parked lengthwise on the road, and three road flares burned a bright row alongside it. “Man, they always beat us,” Dom said. “Who’s that, Nick Donovan?”
“Looks like.” The sheriff’s department and the FD worked closely in a town this size, so most of them knew each other. The big deputy was visible just beyond the car, bent over something outside the line of sight. That meant the victim was likely still in the vehicle. Adam’s gut clenched as he glanced at Dom, whose features were as tense as he felt. “This is a bad one.”
Dom raced the last few feet and slammed the brakes hard, throwing the truck into park. “Let’s move,” he said as he flung the door open. “Better grab the jump kit.”
“Got it.”
Adam opened his own door and hopped out, snagging the bulky pack of emergency supplies from beneath the passenger seat on the way. Engine One screamed down the road toward them as he raced after Dom, who’d already rounded the squad car.
Suddenly, Dom stopped short and blurted, “Jesus!”
Adam went cold. He forced himself to keep moving, to haul one strap of the jump kit over his shoulder and out of the way as he darted past the hood of the cruiser. When he caught sight of the smoldering wreckage rammed against a massive tree, his first thought was that maybe the vic would make it, because he’d seen worse. At least it was still recognizably a vehicle.
Then he actually recognized the vehicle. A rust-red El Camino. Only one like it in town.
Dom faced him, shaken and pale. “Isn’t that…”
“Oh, God,” he said hoarsely. “Ben!”
He pushed past to where Nick Donovan stood beside the car with one arm reaching through the shattered driver’s side window. A few small flames danced around the edges of the ruined hood—not engaged yet, but it could flare out any moment, catch the oil pan or a gas line and burn like a mother. “Hose’ll be down in a second, but I’ll have them bring the foam,” he said. “Can you get him out?”
The deputy moved slowly. He stepped back from the vehicle and maneuvered his arm clear of the window, still blocking the view with his body. His hand was smeared with blood. “Adam,” he said in careful tones. “You know the victim?”
“That’s Ben Schaeffer’s car.” Something in the deputy’s delivery gutted him, but his mind refused to acknowledge it. “He worked Valley Ridge. Just retired. We have to get him out of there.”
Nick managed to look grim and sympathetic at the same time. “I’m sorry, Adam,” he said in that same careful tone. “He’s gone.”
“No.” Sudden fury surged through him, and he dropped the jump pack on the ground and shoved the deputy aside. “Goddamn it, get him out of there!”
He knew it was hopeless, even as he seized the handle of the crumpled door and yanked at it. The figure inside the car was utterly motionless—drenched in blood, face covered with cuts, head bent at an impossible angle. Still, he pulled and wrenched at the door, ignoring the fragments of metal and glass that tore at his gloves and punched through to slice him, until at last the door moved with a tortured squeal.
Adam shoved through the gap, yanked a glove off. “Come on, Ben,” he muttered, reaching for the man’s throat, his fingers seeking a pulse he knew he wouldn’t find. The
Similar Books
