Page 33 of Penance (Rising From the Ashes #2)
Theo
A n hour after I show up on the scene, another set of sirens come racing into the subdivision. I’d only thought I’d gotten lucky by avoiding Hayes and Campbell today. Turns out I’m not actually that lucky.
They both swagger onto the scene with their hands tucked beneath their vests. My men eye them, and I huff out a breath, not in the mood to deal with the egos on either side.
Campbell is the first to speak, doing what he does best—annoying me to no end.
“Theo, do you have any snacks in your truck? Hayes wouldn’t let me eat before we came.”
I glare at him. “What do I look like, a vending machine?”
“Well—now that you mention it.”
My gaze slices to Hayes, and he slaps Campbell on the back of the head.
“Hey,” Campbell cries, “you’re supposed to be my best friend.”
Hayes ignores him as he carefully picks his way around what’s left of the house. “Tell me what we are looking at.”
“Here? Nothing,” I say, sweeping my arm out and gesturing to the house. “But you’ll be interested in what we found stashed behind one of the other houses.” I jerk my head toward the back. “We’ll go out that way.”
Hayes leads the way with Campbell trailing behind me. He’s stomping along like a pouting child.
“Best friend stealer,” he mutters under his breath, and I pinch the bridge of my nose between my fingers.
If I put Campbell and Zane in the same room, I’m not sure which one would give me the bigger headache, but I guess I’m about to find out because Zane is standing outside by the evidence, his hands on his hips and a smile back on his face.
“Chief,” he greets. “Did the lesser guys finally make it?”
I pinch my nose harder.
“Zane, play nice,” I say, my voice heavy with warning.
“Fiiinnneeee,” he whines. My eye twitches.
“Goodbye, Zane.”
Mischief wrinkles his nose. “See ya, Chief.”
Hayes watches Zane go. “You have a Campbell.”
I hold his gaze when I say, “I have a Campbell.”
“Hey,” Campbell interjects, “I’m nothing like that guy.”
Hayes slaps his shoulder. “Whatever you say, buddy.”
A snort tears out of my throat, and Hayes and Campbell stare back at me with open mouths. Campbell’s eyes cut to Hayes.
“Did pigs just fly?” he asks, but Hayes shakes his head.
“No, but Theo just laughed.”
The laughter dries up instantly, and I narrow my eyes, glaring at them. “Do you want to see the evidence or not?”
“Ah, there he is,” Hayes says, stepping up to look at the pile of evidence on the ground. His brows furrow, understanding washing over him.
“It was arson,” he says, staring at the gas jugs scattered across the ground.
“It was arson,” I confirm.
_____________________ _
By the time I make it home, it’s late in the night—almost morning—and Tanner is already in bed. I go to bed dreaming about fires and figures dressed in black that slip through my fingers when I reach out. I’m exhausted this morning.
I’ve failed in pretty much every single area in my life.
My kid. My job. All the fires since the community building—the one Lily could have gotten hurt in—have been suspicious, but there’s never been any evidence until last night.
Even that evidence is minimal. Campbell and Hayes spent the night searching for more—fingerprints, footprints, anything—but they came up empty.
All the failures are piling up, and it’s left me with two things—a poor mood and a pounding headache.
Voices float from downstairs as I make my way down. Irritation niggles at the base of my skull where my head is pounding. I’m not in the mood for company today and still need to speak with my son.
I follow the voices to the living room, wincing at the morning sunlight that stabs my eyes as I walk in.
Bella is sitting on the couch, and Tanner is squatting in front of her. They are talking in a low enough voice that I can’t make out what they are saying.
“Tanner, can we talk?” I ask, trying to keep the annoyance out of my voice, but he doesn’t even look up.
“Tanner. Now.” His name comes out a little deeper—rougher—than before. I hadn’t meant for it to come out so harshly, but I guess the mountain of stress I’ve been juggling all summer is finally starting to crush me.
He looks up this time, but flames might as well be coming out of his eyes.
“Bella isn’t feeling well. I can’t talk right now.”
My irritation melts when I recognize the concern Tanner is wearing beneath his annoyance with me. “What’s wrong?” I ask, my first responder training kicking in.
Bella’s head is lying on the couch cushion, and she rolls it just enough to look at me. Her eyes are glossy, and her skin looks clammy.
“She has diabetes,” Tanner says, confirming my suspicions. “Her sugar dropped.
Nodding, I move into action, pulling the coffee table closer to the couch so I can sit while I examine her.
“There’s juice in the refrigerator. Go pour some,” I bark. Tanner’s hands curl into fists, the skin over the knuckles turning white. “Now, Tanner.”
He jumps into action, and I sigh a breath of relief.
“How’s it going, Mr. S?” Bella slurs, and I manage to chuckle a little.
“I think I should be the one asking you that, Bella,” I say as I reach for her arm, checking her pulse.
She shrugs. “I’ve been worse.”
“I’m sure you have.” But I’m not sure if I believe her. Her skin is ghostly white, and she looks like she’s two seconds from passing out.
“Did you think about what I asked you, Mr. S?” Bella’s words are becoming more slurred, and I glance at the hallway, willing Tanner to hurry up.
“What’s that, Bella?”
“You know, about coming to church with us. Tanner talks about asking you a lot, but I think he’s scared.”
The whole world goes still.
“Of me?”
“Nah,” she pauses. “Well, not really. I think he’s scared he’ll lose you.”
How do I tell her I’m terrified of the same thing?
With a loud crash, the world starts moving again, and common sense takes over. I get to work, assessing her .
“Let’s get you feeling better, and then we can talk about it,” I say, putting her off.
Bella doesn’t let it drop that easily, though.
She sticks her pinky out, nearly shoving it up my nose with a lack of coordination. “Promise?”
I stare at it for a minute, unsure what to do, before I wrap my pinky around hers and say, “Promise.”
Her lips press together in a warm smile, and her eyelashes flutter closed. Fear strikes me in the gut, but I don’t panic. But Tanner does.
Tanner comes rushing back into the living room about the time Bella’s eyes flutter closed.
“What’s wrong with her? What did you do?”
I stand, trying to get him to calm down as he rushes toward her, but he keeps shoving against me.
Grabbing each of his arms, I give him a little shake to get his attention. “Tanner, calm down. Now. You’re doing her no favors right now.”
Thankfully, it’s enough, and he looks at me with tears in his eyes.
“She’s going to be fine,” I say, a little less forcefully this time. “Give me the juice, and sit beside her.”
Woodenly, he hands over the glass and does as I instruct. He grabs her hand up in his, lacing their fingers and watching her stomach move to ensure she’s breathing.
He cares about her more than he realizes.
Placing one hand gently behind Bella’s head, I lift her and call her name while placing the juice to her lips. Her eyes flutter back open, but her stare is still glazed.
“I need you to drink this, Bella.”
She groans and shakes her head, but I continue to press the cup against her mouth. Eventually, she gives in, drinking in big gulps.
When the cup is empty, I lay her head back down and sit the cup beside me.
“Now what?” Tanner asks.
“Now we wait. You should probably text her mom so she knows what’s going on—just in case the juice isn’t enough—but it should be.”
Tanner nods, his head enthusiastically bobbing up and down. He pulls out his phone, shooting off a text to Bella’s mom. Then he shoves it back in his pocket.
We sit there with the silence surrounding us, with Tanner’s gaze never leaving Bella, until I finally break it.
“Tanner, we need to talk,” I say.
But he shuts me down, shaking his head. “Not right now, Dad. Please,” he says, his voice shaking. “Just not right now.”
I sigh, leaning forward and resting my elbows on my knees. “Okay.”
I, at least, owe him that.