She rolled down the window, got a blast of hot air on her face. “Oh, man! I can feel the heat from here. How can anyone possibly get close to this?”
“That’s what the fancy suits are for.” He took his helmet from her, climbed out of the truck, walked around to her window. “You can keep the window down, but stay in the vehicle. Got it?”
“Yes, Mr. Fire Chief.” She saluted.
His lips quirked in a lopsided grin. “Damned straight.”
She watched him move through the scene, talking first with his crews, then with a sheriff’s deputy, then heading back her way. He walked over to a small, thin man with a scraggly ponytail and mustache who stood in the shadow of the fire engine. The man wore nothing but faded jeans, every vertebra and rib visible.
“Sorry to see you in this sad situation, Hank.”
So that was Hank. Vic had thought him just a spectator, maybe a neighbor who’d come down the street for a better view.
“Do you think they can save it?”
“Save your house? No, buddy. I’m afraid it’s gone.” Eric spoke in a voice that held both compassion and a sense of authority. “Are you hurt? If you are, we need to check you and get you patched up.”
“I’m fine.” Hank gave a little laugh. “You shoulda seen me, man. I jumped about twenty feet in the air and ran like a deer on speed.”
“When the fire is out and I walk in there, please tell me I’m not going to find a bunch of butane canisters and a big pile of weed.”
Hank’s gaze dropped to the ground.
“Damn it, Hank, I warned you. I told you that if you were going to break the law, at least do it outdoors. You’re damned lucky you’re not burned to a cinder.”
“I know. I know.”
Eric rested a hand on the man’s shoulder. “They’re going to arrest you, buddy, and there’s nothing I can do about that. You understand?”
His concern for Hank made Vic’s heart melt. He wasn’t just trying to ensure Hank’s safety and protect property. He was doing what he could to shepherd the man through this ordeal, even though it was of Hank’s own making.
“You think I should run, go to Mexico maybe?”
“No, I don’t. I think you should stand your ground and face the consequences. That’s the only way to move forward.”
“I’m afraid I’ll get pounded in the ass. I’m not like you, Hawke. I’m weak and small for a man. I’ll end up being some guy’s bitch.”
“Jesus, Hank. Prison isn’t what you see on TV. Besides, you don’t know that you’re going to prison. Take it one day at a time. I’ll make a few calls, get you a lawyer. I’m not going to let you face this alone.” He put his arm around Hank’s shoulders, the smaller man making him seem huge by comparison. “Are you sure you’re not hurt?”
“I’m pretty shook up, but I’m okay.”
“I’m going to get you a shirt.” He walked to his truck, opened the door, and grabbed a shirt out of the back—a Team T-shirt. “Megs will have my hide if she hears you wore this to jail, so let’s turn it inside out and just keep it between us, okay?”
And Vic’s heart melted again.
Hank pulled it over his head, the shirt far too big for him. “Thanks, Hawke. I’ll get this back to you one day.”
“I’m going to turn you over to Deputy Marcs now.” Eric motioned to someone.
“Hey, Hank.” A woman in uniform stepped into view. “Remember me? I’m Deputy Marcs. I’m glad you’re okay. I’m here to arrest you and take you in. I promise no one is going to hurt you tonight. We don’t run that kind of jail.”
By the time Hank was cuffed, searched, and headed down the street in the back of a squad car, the fire seemed to be under control, smoke rising from the gutted remains of the house.
Eric walked to the truck, grabbed his air pack out of the back, and then came to stand next to her open window. “I’ll give you one guess: Whose job is it to investigate fires in Scarlet?”
“Yours.”
He chuckled. “Brainsandbeauty. You’re the total package.”