Page 2 of Forged By Fire (Danger in Destiny #9)

Chapter Two

S moke billowed from the broken windows in the warehouse. Police Officer Clint Baker wasn’t going to pretend to know exactly how the fire department approached a blaze like this, but even he could tell the fire was anything but contained.

And somewhere in there, Leslie was trying to get her partner out with a shooter on the loose.

The last thing Clint wanted to do was wait outside for them to show up.

Instead, his instinct was to charge in, locate Leslie and her partner, and escort them out safely.

Except he wasn’t an idiot. He knew very well that doing that with no equipment or training would mean he’d be the one needing someone to drag him out of a burning building.

Officers were positioned around the perimeter of the warehouse, watching for the shooter to exit.

Meanwhile, Clint waited near Lieutenants Holden and Warren.

He could hear what they were saying to the other members of their companies, but wasn’t privy to the side of the conversation coming from inside the building.

Lieutenant Holden gave a sharp nod. “Understood.” He turned to Clint. “Our other team has located Granger and Bracken. They’re on the way out.”

Lieutenant Warren waved to get the attention of the waiting ambulance. “Get ready. They’ll be out any minute.”

The EMTs lowered a stretcher from the back of the ambulance. Medical gear hung from bags over their shoulders.

Clint spoke into the radio on his shoulder that connected him with the other officers in the area. “Be advised that we have four firefighters on their way out. At least one gunshot wound. We need to identify everyone exiting before they’re allowed to leave the premises.”

“Understood.”

So far, the shooter hadn’t emerged from the warehouse—a building that had to be burning down around him. Had the guy gone into this with a plan to escape the blaze? Or was it a random act of violence? The likelihood that the shooter had no intention of escaping alive flitted across Clint’s mind.

The possibilities threw everything into question, including the source of the fire itself. Was it a convenient distraction, or was it set to cover up a premeditated crime?

Someone yelled, “We’ve got movement!”

Clint watched the door as four people poured out with the smoke, one of the firefighters draped over the shoulder of another. Immediately, the fire medic helped ease the injured firefighter from Keyes’ shoulders and placed him on the ground.

Clint joined the two lieutenants as well as the EMTs as they jogged forward to assist. The lieutenants quickly checked the identification of the firefighters.

“It’s my company. We’re good.” Holden gave Clint a definitive nod.

Leslie took her helmet off and dropped it on the ground as she removed her regulator.

“Is he alive? I couldn’t tell if he was alive or not.

I just had to get him out of there. The fire and the shooter…

” She looked up and around, her eyes wide, until she saw Clint. “Did you find the man who shot him?”

Clint let the other officers in the area know that the four firefighters were legit and that the shooter was still in the wind. He put a hand on Leslie’s shoulder. “I’m afraid not. He hasn’t emerged from the building. We have officers posted all around the perimeter waiting for when he does.”

“I don’t have a pulse. Starting compressions.” Whitman climbed onto the stretcher, straddled the injured firefighter, and began CPR.

An EMT fitted a mask over the firefighter’s face and used a bag to feed precious oxygen into his lungs.

Whitman stopped compressions long enough to check the man’s pulse and shook his head. “Nothing.”

Another EMT gave a definitive nod. “Preparing the defibrillator.”

Leslie watched the medical personnel work. She cupped her elbows and held her arms as close to her chest as her gear would allow. Her jaw was clenched, and her gaze never left her partner.

Clint’s heart went out to her. He’d known her for a few years now, but only professionally.

They’d crossed paths many times when it came to different cases or emergency situations.

He’d been tempted—more than once—to see if she’d be interested in going to dinner with him. But the timing never seemed right.

Now, he wanted to offer his support. Let her know that he was praying for her partner. For her, too. Goodness knew it had to have been horrible to witness what she had.

But someone from her company stood on each side of her, almost shoulder to shoulder. She probably had all the support she needed.

Instead, he sent up another silent prayer.

Please, God, guide the hands of Curtis and the EMTs. Give them the wisdom to know what to do. Help us catch the shooter.

The EMT shocked Bracken twice before one of them gave a satisfied nod. “I’ve got a pulse.” They continued to assist with his breathing as they rolled him toward the ambulance.

Leslie whirled to face one of the lieutenants, her hazel eyes wide and filled with emotion.

“Go.” Lieutenant Holden tilted his head toward the ambulance. “The rest of us will be there as soon as we can.”

She barely took the time to nod before she was jogging to catch up with them and got into the ambulance, disappearing when the doors closed behind her.

Clint needed to get her statement. See if she could tell him anything at all about the shooter. As far as he was concerned, with Bracken heading into surgery, she was their only witness.

They still hadn’t seen the shooter exit the building.

Assuming the guy was still inside, Clint didn’t like the idea of Leslie sitting at the hospital alone.

He called in and spoke with Police Chief Arnold Dolman and was relieved when he received permission to head over to the hospital to speak with Leslie.

After all, if she had any description at all, it would help them spot the killer if he ditched the gear and tried to walk out in plain clothes.

At the hospital, Clint entered through the main door and was immediately hit with the scent of antiseptic, some kind of pasta being served in the cafeteria down the hall, and many voices as people got directions or checked in for a procedure.

He found Leslie in the waiting area of the emergency room. She’d shed the rest of her gear, which she’d piled on the floor and a nearby chair, and was standing in a pair of black pants and a dark green, short sleeved shirt. Her rich brown hair fell like a waterfall past her shoulders.

Hope lifted her features the moment she spotted him. “Please tell me you guys caught the shooter.”

“Not yet.”

The moment the words left his lips, the hope on her face gave way to worry.

“We will.” He spoke with confidence, hoping that it would help put her at ease. “How’s your partner doing?”

Leslie glanced at the information desk. “They’re getting X-rays so they can see exactly what they’re dealing with before taking him into surgery.” She swallowed as tears flooded her eyes. She blinked them away furiously as though allowing them to fall might show some kind of weakness.

“Were they able to give you any kind of prognosis yet?”

“No. Just that he’s in critical condition and they’re going to do everything they can.” She shrugged. “His wife, Becca, is on her way. She was visiting her parents in Dallas. I think they’re driving her in. Danny and Becca… They’re expecting their first baby in February.”

“I’m sorry, Leslie.” A firefighter, just like a police officer, knew the risks of the job. It was understood that there was a chance they could be injured or killed in the line of duty. Still, of all the dangers Danny Bracken could’ve faced today, getting shot never should’ve been one of them.

“It’s all so senseless. I don’t understand why it happened at all. ”

Clint touched her elbow and gently led her to a corner of the waiting room where they could sit and talk and not be overheard. “Can you tell me exactly what happened? Any detail, no matter how small, may help us figure out who the shooter is.”

Her gaze darted to the nurses’ station as though she were afraid she might miss an update. The nurse sitting there looked up at the same time and gave her a subtle nod. Only then did Leslie relax against the back of her chair a little.

She scrubbed her hands over her face. “Everything happened so fast. None of it makes any sense.”

The poor woman looked exhausted. No doubt the adrenaline that’d carried her this far was beginning to ebb.

Clint had plenty of experience speaking with witnesses and helping them focus their thoughts by asking specific questions. He might know Leslie, but that didn’t make his approach any different.

“Can you describe the shooter? You mentioned it was a man. How did you know? Was he taller or shorter than you?”

Leslie used one hand to massage her forehead with the tips of her fingers.

“I heard his voice. But even before that, I knew he was a man. Because of his stature, I guess. I’m five feet seven, and he was at least four inches taller than me.

I truly thought it was Bryce Keyes when I first saw him.

” She held one of her hands out in front of her.

“He wasn’t wearing a glove on his right hand.

The one he used to hold the gun. He was light-skinned, but I couldn’t tell anything more than that.

“Did you ever see his face?”

“No. Not more than an outline. He didn’t have facial hair, but then no active firefighters do. It would interfere with their masks. We were in the same room together, but I wouldn’t know him if I bumped into him again.” There was a bitterness to her voice.

“That’s not your fault, Leslie. You had no idea what was going on. No one did.”

She nodded her head, but didn’t look convinced.

“I know that’s true. Everything about him looked legit, down to his gear.

The only thing that didn’t add up was the fact that there was no name on his jacket.

If it weren’t for that, it looked exactly like the gear every station in the Destiny Fire Department uses. ”

“Okay, walk me through what happened from the moment you guys first saw him, what he said, and what happened before he ran away.”

He listened intently as she told him about seeing the shooter motion for them to follow him. They’d originally thought it was Keyes or Cho needing help. Even when they didn’t speak on the radio, Leslie had momentarily wondered if they were having trouble with communications.

Clint could imagine her shock when she rounded the corner to find the mystery firefighter standing there, gun aimed at them.

“Danny tried to talk him down. Suggested we get out of the building and talk. But it didn’t make a difference.” She wrapped her arms around herself again.

Clint wished he had a jacket or a blanket to offer her, even though he knew the chill she felt was beyond physical cold. He waited patiently for her to continue.

She took in a slow breath. “The guy said that it was too late. That’s when he shot Danny.”