The Night Belongs to Fireman Read Free Page A

But Mulligan snaked out a hand and stopped him cold. The big guy’s phone was at his ear.
    â€œLook,” he said, and pointed up the street, to the end of the block.
    The sight made Fred’s blood run cold. Illuminated by the chill light of a streetlamp, a white stretch limousine was stopped in the middle of the street. Its roof was crushed by the arm of a crane, awkward and ungainly, like a metallic giraffe that had toppled over. Steam hissed from the engine. If the crane had hit the gas tank, it could explode at any moment.
    â€œCalling 911?” he asked Mulligan.
    â€œYup.”
    The door opened, spilling a blast of music and a handful of people. “Keep everyone back. I’m going in.” Fred ran toward the limo.

Chapter 2
    A s the fire department’s newest Urban Search and Rescue member, Fred would have gotten the call if he’d been on duty. Of course he would have been in Truck 1, with all his gear, not to mention the Jaws of Life, air bags, and other tools to extract people from wrecked cars. But there wasn’t time to worry about that. He had to do what he could right here, right now.
    As he got closer, he saw that the telescoping steel structure of the crane arm had struck toward the rear of the limo, pinning the passenger doors. The truck to which it was mounted lay on its side, its bed abandoned. Whatever idiot had been operating a crane truck at night had fled. A pallet of something, possibly shingles, had spilled across the sidewalk on the other side of the street.
    The driver’s side door of the limo hung open and a man in a dark suit and cap knelt on the pavement. Blood ran down the side of his face. Fred ran to meet him.
    â€œDid you turn off the engine?”
    When the driver just stared at him blankly, Fred crawled into the driver’s seat and turned the key in the ignition. If there was a gas leak, the smallest spark from the engine could send the limo sky-high.
    When the world didn’t explode, Fred let out a breath and extracted himself from the vehicle. The driver was still staring at him with a look of confusion. Fred gave him a quick assessment. Dazed, disoriented, thready pulse. Very possible head injury.
    â€œIn the back. Party,” he told Fred. “Girls.”
    â€œI know. I’m a firefighter, and so’s my friend back there. We’ll take care of it. Can you make it to the sidewalk?”
    The driver shook his head. “I can help.”
    Absolutely not. Fred didn’t need an injured civilian getting in the way. “No need. The fire department’s been called, they’ll be here any minute. The paramedics will want to take a look at you.” He took off his sweater, balled it up, and pressed it against the cut on the man’s head. “Keep pressure on that wound.” He lifted the man’s hand to take the place of his own, and shifted to the firm, matter-of-fact tone that he always used at fire calls. “Sir, please sit down right away so we can do our job.”
    The driver toddled off, slumping onto the sidewalk with a moan.
    Fred did a thorough check under the vehicle, searching for signs of a fuel leak. When he found none, he turned his attention to the best way to get the girls out of the mangled limousine. He could grab a tire iron from his truck and knock out a window, or maybe pop open a door.
    Oddly enough, the front of the vehicle didn’t look so bad. The rear looked like a crushed eggshell, but luckily, it was an extra-long limo and the middle didn’t seem too severely impacted. As he’d been trained, he did a quick assessment of the crane’s stability. If it was going to shift again, he needed to be prepared. But the long, gray metal struts of the crane seemed rock-solid, as if the piece of machinery would never budge from its new resting place.
    Now for the passengers.
    He crouched next to the passenger side rear window. It was halfway open, which was lucky because he’d be