Hall, Jessica Read Free Page B

mother's
friends flew to Paris each year to find new styles to wear and wow the society
reporters.
    "Yeah. Evan and his wife are flying in from Montana on
Friday." He eyed his partner. "My mother did send you an invitation,
didn't she?"
    "Why, no. My goodness." Terri pressed a hand to her
cheek. "It must have gotten lost in the mail."
    He knew what Elizabet would do if he asked her about
it—flutter her hands and blame one of the maids. "I'm inviting you. Come
on by so you can meet Evan's wife, Wendy. You'll like her."
    "No, thanks." She ran a hand over her short brown hair,
then tugged at her charcoal gray jacket. "My wardrobe simply isn't up to
one of your mama's parties."
    "Doesn't matter."
    "Au contraire, my friend. When you're the only woman wearing
permanent press in a room full of white designer silk gowns, it absolutely does
matter." The smell of burning wood wafted into the car, and Terri squinted
through the windshield at the black smoke still rising in a voluminous column
into the sky. "There it is."
    After negotiating his way through the police barricades, J. D.
parked out of the way, a block behind the pumper truck. Hashing red, blue, and
white lights lit the hazy air like dance club strobes. Heat rolled out through
the smoke in transparent waves, driving back anyone who strayed too close.
Firefighters held hoses on the smoldering building from all sides, but it was
only too obvious that the structure was gutted. The stench of wet charred wood
and the chemical foam they'd sprayed over a burned-out car parked in the alley
next to the building added an unpleasant density to the thickened air.
    Terri got out with J. D. and slammed the car door as she surveyed
the scene. "I hope that guy has decent insurance," she said, nodding
toward the car before scanning the other buildings. "Not a good place for
a campfire—the whole block could have gone up."
    J. D. walked up to a patrolman who was busy filling out a field
report. The uniform recognized him and lowered his clipboard.
"Lieutenant?"
    J. D. scanned the crowd, looking for particularly avid faces.
Mostly there were tourists; some were snapping pictures. "Where are you
boys at here?"
    "They got the fire mostly out, Lieutenant, but the building's
history." The officer grinned. "We got a survivor, though."
    "Lucky bastard." Terri peeled off her jacket and draped
it over her arm as she plucked at the front of her blouse a few times.
"Must have been a hot one."
    "Old building, lotta wood," the cop told her. "All
it takes is a little gasoline, a match, and whomp, you got yourself a
barbecue."
    "Officer. Lieutenant." One of the firemen joined them.
Water made channels in the black of his soot-streaked gear. "Security
guard from down the block claims the place was empty, but we pulled someone out
of there. We're going in to have a look around, see if anyone else was caught
inside."
    J. D. nodded. "Where's the survivor?"
    "Still at the unit, getting oxygen." The firefighter
jerked his chin to the left.
    J. D. saw the fire rescue unit, parked two alleys down. Two men in
paramedic jackets were flanking a smaller figure sitting just inside the open
back doors. A glimmer of dark red hair made his eyes narrow. "Is that a
woman?"
    "Yeah. Real looker, too." The uniform cleared his throat
when Terri gave him the eye. "Uh, not a local, according to witnesses.
She's not carrying any ID and she's not saying much. Couple of minor head
injuries."
    "Nice that you noticed that," Terri drawled. "Her
being such a looker and all."
    J. D. didn't laugh. To Terri, he said, "Start canvassing the
crowd. I'll talk to the girl."
    She huffed in mock disgust. "You always talk to the
girls."
    J. D.'s attention remained fixed on the woman, who had
a plastic oxygen mask covering her nose and mouth. Her hair was red. An unusual
red, deep and pure, that glowed like old garnets. He'd only known one woman
with that particular color hair. Can't be her.
    He stepped over a double length of wide gray fire hose