First

‘Maya—’

‘Dallas?’

He sounds tired. ‘Yeah. Sorry to call so late.’

‘Have you heard from Jake tonight? I think he may be on that fire downtown—’

‘That’s why I was calling.’

The wave of apprehension crashing over me is a little too intense for my tastes. ‘Is he okay?’

‘I think so. I mean, he’s too busy to call.’

‘What about Catherine? Has she seen the news? She’ll get so worried …’ I continue to watch the news report out of the corner of my eye, gut sinking lower and lower as new images of the fire emerge. God, it looks like some kind of monster rising up from the roof of the building.

‘Cat’s fine. Look, I don’t know if you’ve seen the news—’

‘I’m watching it right now.’

‘There’s some rough video in it and they’re running the fucking thing every ten minutes or so. I’m making sure Cat isn’t watching, but thought I should warn you too.’

Blood pounds in my ears so loudly I barely catch the rest of what Dallas is saying.

‘I don’t know if Cat’s going to call you or not. But if she does, can you try not to mention anything about it? I don’t want her to worry and I know Jake wouldn’t want that either.’

‘He never does.’ The live feed shows a portion of the building collapsing, sending up a cloud of sparkling embers that are swallowed by a guttering column of flames.

‘I’ve gotta go. Work tomorrow and Cat’s not letting up on the pestering.’

‘Sure.’

‘Maya—’ His voice softens. ‘He’ll be okay.’

‘Of course.’

‘Try to sleep. Night.’

‘Night,’ I mutter absently, turning up the broadcast.

‘Fire Chief Daniel Shultz issued a brief statement to reporters earlier this evening, stating that this fire is indeed one of the largest the town’s forces has faced.’

The chief’s face appears on screen. He’s composed, calm in spite of the flickering orange reflecting off the news vans around him. ‘Our crews are highly trained,’ he says. ‘We helped EMS reach the injured and are continuing to attack this fire in the safest but most aggressive way we can. As to earlier reports of injuries, I can confirm that there were three critical patients recovered from the building. They have been transported to the hospital with burns to their airways. As of this time, we have no reports of any injuries to our firefighters.’

The newscaster’s calm voice intones, ‘This is raw footage of the rescue of one of the victims from earlier in the evening was provided by a witness at the scene. As this footage is intense, we urge our viewers to watch it with discretion.’

Something’s happening on screen. Two firefighters come out of the smoking building, a limp form dangling between them. The camera shakes as the person filming tries to follow their progress. The firefighters lay the limp body down, removing their gear. Even from the back, I recognise the broad shoulders and buzzed blond hair of the man who begins compressions. The attempts continue until a pair of paramedics arrive.

The feed switches back to the pretty blond newscaster. She drones on and I press my knuckles to my chest, swallowing as the pain there increases. I rub lightly, hoping to make the ache diffuse, but it doesn’t. It was Jake running out of the burning building with that person.

He’s a professional. He knows what he’s doing, I tell myself. My throat’s tight. I stand and pace the narrow strip between the couch and coffee table. We’re now live at the scene, a reporter providing live updates on the situation. Suddenly he jolts as an explosion rocks the building behind him. I don’t realise I’m kneeling in front of the television until my fingers brush the screen.

Firefighters scatter, dark shadows disappearing back into nothingness as they cross in front of the orange glow. The reporter does an admirable job of updating, but his voice shakes and it’s clear he’s terrified as he and his crew retreat further away from the scene.

My phone is in my hands before I can stop myself. The text to Catherine makes a noise when it sends and I realise too late that Dallas is going to kill me.

Can I have Jake’s number?

‘Crap!’ I mumble.