Face the Music

By Lisa DeVore

Braden Brandish was on top of the world as guitarist for the famed rock band Edge of Redemption. But an attack at the scene of a fire erased all his memories. Firefighter Quinn Callahan is haunted by the victim she resuscitated—she knows him from somewhere, but can't place him. She checks up on him at the hospital and realizes he's a member of her favorite band. When Braden mistakenly believes she's his wife, the doctor encourages her to play along in order to prevent jeopardizing his health. Desire blooms between them, even once Braden learns he's not really married to Quinn. But when it's discovered that the fire was actually arson, and more deadly fires erupt, the two are thrust into danger...and it appears Quinn's fugitive ex-husband might be involved. Will Braden regain his memory in time to put a killer behind bars?

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
• Release date: Jun 24, 2016
• ISBN: 9781509207800

Lisa DeVore

Lisa DeVore has always dreamed of being a published author since she wrote her first "book" at age eleven. Living in her NE Ohio town, with its own castle, led to an active imagination. She splits her time between family, writing, and utilizing her accounting degree. She's an avid reader, loves dolphins, the beach, and hearing from her readers on Facebook or Twitter. Lisa is married to her best friend, and they have two sons and a daughter.

Book preview

me.

Chapter One

He inhaled. The smell of gasoline fumes floating through the air intoxicated him. Sweat dripped from his forehead. He cast a glance over his shoulder. She was home. He had made sure of it. He slowly opened the screen door to the covered porch. His hands shook with anticipation as he drenched every inch of the wicker furniture. A smile crept across his tanned face. He had forgotten the rush. He didn’t know the woman who lived in this old two story. It didn’t matter. He’d been watching her for over a week. She deserved what she had coming.

He quickly moved around the screened-in porch, careful not to make a sound. He visualized the place going up in flames. He could almost hear the sound of the fire crackling and popping. He loved that part. Then there would be the screams. He grinned. Too bad he didn’t get to stay behind and watch all the chaos. He knew how long it would take the fire department to arrive on the scene, and he’d be out of the way before they got here.

He stepped outside into the darkness of a warm Florida night and looked all around. The barking of a dog echoed from a far off distance. He had no worries about being seen. The old wood-framed house sat back away from the road and he was careful to park a safe distance away. The planning was crucial. He walked to the cover of a large oak tree—a good place to enjoy a cigarette. He took a long drag and glanced up at the second floor. The house was dark. He had waited until the last light went off before preparing for the inferno. The hunger was getting to be too much. He took the few strides over to the porch and eased the door open, tossing the cigarette on the wicker chair. The fire erupted. He stood and watched as it spread across the cushions. The flames mesmerized him, maybe a little too much. The anger was subsiding, for now anyway. His mind rolled with the flames. How could she have walked away after all this time? Hadn’t their goals been the same? They had so much history.

The fire spread quickly. Smoke billowed out from under the porch eaves, taking his breath away. He retreated across the lawn, careful to stay in the shadows.

Headlights flashed against the trees, alerting him he wasn’t alone.

Damn, he muttered under his breath. He grabbed the gas can and headed around the opposite side of the house, stopping at the corner. His eyes searched for the source of the loud banging noise. He grabbed a two by four on the ground next to a half-built shed, and eased his way behind the unsuspecting man beating on the front door. Just as the man kicked in the door he made contact with the back of his head, and he dropped to the ground.

Good. He smiled. Maybe he’ll burn up with the rest of the house.

He took one final glance before a blood curdling scream erupted from the second floor. Success.

****

9-1-1. What’s your emergency?

This is firefighter Logan Holt. I’m reporting a fully involved house fire with possible injuries at 1123 Bellview Road.

Is this your residence? The dispatcher methodically asked.

No. I was driving by and saw the flames.

Sir, could you tell me…

Logan cut her off. Send the fire department and EMS. I’m going to see if there’s anyone inside. The fire’s getting out of control. He hung up and ran to the back of the house. He had no time to wait.

****

Quinn Callahan opened the refrigerator and peered inside. Her head fell back in frustration as the tones sounded throughout the building. This always happened when she waited to eat her supper.

Attention Station Fifty, a possible structure fire at 1123 Bellview Road.

Quinn listened to the rest of the information on her way to the driver’s side of her truck. She flipped off her work boots and jumped into her turnout gear. The entire transformation took about thirty seconds. She climbed in the driver’s seat and securely snapped her belt. She waited as the garage door lifted, flipping on the lights and siren. Her lieutenant checked his computer and relayed information as she cautiously pulled into traffic.

The adrenaline rush was there as she focused on getting to the scene.

Callahan, make a right down this lane.

The directions weren’t necessary. The sky lit up behind the trees ahead. Quinn pulled up on the other side of the pumper and jumped down. Normally, she would run the controls on the truck, but the lieutenant grabbed the rookie and started on-the-job training.

Callahan, go with Myers and get some water in that house!

On it, Captain.

The hose was hooked up and ready to go when Quinn’s eyes connected with Logan on the front porch. She pulled off her air pack. What the hell are you doing here, Holt?

Can we chit-chat later? I need help getting this guy away from the house.

Is he breathing? Quinn grabbed his legs.

It’s shallow, but he’s still with us. Hurry up!

Quinn quickly removed her helmet and took her place beside Logan on the grass, checking vitals. Myers ran up beside them, handing Quinn an oxygen mask. This guy was out cold. She placed the mask on his face and shined a small light in his eyes, checking his pupils. He stirred.

His eyes opened and darted around, landing on her. Where am I? His voice was muffled from the mask, but she could make out the question.

You’re at a fire scene. You’ve been injured. My name’s Quinn. What’s yours?

He winced and attempted to focus on her. Why are you dressed like a fireman?

It’s ‘firefighter’ and I would be dressed like one, because that’s what I am. Another chauvinist, but she was used to it.

I don’t feel so good, he declared, right before losing consciousness.

Quinn looked over her shoulder and yelled. Over here yesterday! She moved out of the way for the paramedics making their way toward them. Her attention moved back to the victim. He looked familiar. His jet black hair was longer, but didn’t quite touch his shoulders. The stubble that wasn’t quite long enough to be considered facial hair shadowed his face. He was lean, but muscular. One look at his tattooed biceps clarified that. That unrelenting feeling she knew him wouldn’t let up.

She glanced to her right and saw another crew working on a female victim a short distance away. Logan and the paramedics concentrated on the male victim. She wasn’t needed here.

Quinn, Cap wants us on the hose. Myers informed her.

Yeah…okay. She took one more look at the unconscious man lying motionless on the grass. The vision gnawed at her. She lowered her air mask over her face. She’d worry about her thoughts later, for now it was time to fight a fire.

Chapter Two

Quinn stopped by the truck and threw her gear on the back before meeting with Detective John Burrows. He had asked to talk to her and Logan before they left the scene. Quinn didn’t know him well. In fact, she’d only met him one other time—another arson with a fatality. Logan knew Detective Burrows a bit better.

Logan extended his hand. You look like someone just dragged you out of bed. Quinn glanced from Logan to the detective. He appeared in no mood for humor.

Detective Burrows returned the handshake. Yeah, well, I was about ready to climb into bed after a long day at the cop shop. Now, I’m in the middle of a working fire scene with two victims, one could be a homicide at any moment. The paramedics are en route to the hospital with a female, approximately thirty years of age. I’m guessing she’s the homeowner, one Kayla DuMont. At least, that’s what one of the neighbors told me. He glanced at Quinn. You Callahan?

Yes, sir.

He nodded and set his attention back on Logan. I’ll be with you two in a minute. I have to find out if we have an i.d. on the other victim. The one you two pulled from the fire.

Quinn started after him, before Logan asked, Hey, where you going? She swatted the air behind her and followed Detective Burrows to where the paramedics stood. She had to know who this guy was. It was driving her crazy.

What do you have, boys? He asked gruffly. The bite in his tone wasn’t unusual, at least from what Quinn knew of him. Logan insisted he was a big teddy bear, something she didn’t want to disprove, so she kept a couple of paces behind him.

Sorry, Detective. No identification on him. And he was only conscious for a short time.

What’s his condition?

Nasty bump on the head. Possible smoke inhalation. We’re about ready to transport.

Detective Burrows shined a flashlight on his face. He paused for several seconds before he replied. I know this kid. His name’s…"

Quinn, what the hell are you doing? Logan was at her side. She threw daggers in his direction. Now, she’d missed the guy’s name. Slapping him upside the head was dangerously close to happening.

The detective paused and scratched his head. Quinn waited for more information, but was quickly disappointed when Burrows announced, Get him out of here. I’ll be along soon. For the first time Detective Burrows remembered her and Logan standing in wait. Give me another minute, will ya? He whistled in the direction of Zane Fallon, a relatively new officer in the department. Quinn was acquainted with him, like many of the officers. They were on the same side.

Hey, Fallon…get over here, kid.

The officer nodded in the direction of Quinn and Logan before addressing Detective Burrows. Yes, sir?

I need you to get over to the hospital and report back to me on the conditions of the victims. Keep your eyes and ears open. My bet is on this being an arson fire, but I’ll let the inspector make that call. Doesn’t hurt to be ahead of the curve, you know what I’m saying? Burrows didn’t wait for a reply. Emotions tend to run high if there’s family around. Be ready for anything.

Sir, I was assigned to crowd control.

I’ll talk to your superior, Fallon. Get moving.

Yes, sir.

Newbies. Burrows scanned the small crowd that had gathered. His gaze then settled on Logan. You see anyone in the crowd that looks familiar?

Quinn closed her eyes and counted to ten, her attempt to avoid a potential sarcastic comment that was floating a little too closely to the surface. None of the old timers took her seriously as a firefighter. She grew to expect the comments, the snide remarks, and the doubt in her ability. In all honesty, it made her a better firefighter. She had fought hard to get where she was, and she fought just as hard to stay here.

She and Logan scanned the crowd that had gathered. Logan replied first. No regulars if that’s what you’re asking.

What about you?

Oh, I’m permitted to speak? Quinn said snidely.

Burrows looked to Logan and folded his arms in front of him. What’s up her…

Quinn, just answer the question, so we can get out of here, Logan pleaded.

She cast him a sideways glance. Yeah, she was tired too. She’d put Burrows in his place another time. No one appears familiar. She’d dare to ask the question. Who was the guy they took away?

I can’t answer that. Privacy laws.

Quinn reached into her pocket at the sound of a phone ringing until she realized she was still in her turnout pants. Detective Burrows slid his hand into his suit pocket. You two are free to go. His attention turned elsewhere. Hello.

I’m going to head home and get cleaned up. Not the way I expected to spend my evening off.

Quinn stayed planted to the ground below her feet. Detective Burrows had moved a few steps away, but if she listened carefully she could hear the conversation.

Quinn, do you hear me?

Yeah, yeah, Logan. I hear you. Go home.

Are you coming?

God, he was beginning to annoy her. No, now will you shut up? I’m trying to hear what he’s saying.

She’d barely responded to his goodbye when she overheard Detective Burrows say, Hey, Chase, it’s John. I’ve got some bad news and I’m not going to sugar coat it. Braden’s on his way to the hospital. He was involved in a house fire. He wasn’t conscious when he left. You know his kin?

Braden? Who the hell was Braden? And why did she think she knew him?

She probably shouldn’t be listening to this conversation, but she couldn’t help herself. Her curiosity was way past piqued. And besides, it wasn’t like she was hiding in the shadows. Detective Burrows could have taken his conversation to another place.

It wasn’t his place, kid. At this point, I don’t know why he was there, but my card says I’m a detective and I plan on finding out. Now, can you contact the family and get over to the hospital? I’m not sure of his condition, and honestly kid, he didn’t look too good when they rolled out of here.

That was the last sentence she would overhear. He walked toward the crowd of onlookers, and she walked toward the clean-up with no more answers than she started with.

****

Quinn was at the scene until the wee hours of the morning. She finally hit her bunk, but sleep eluded her. She couldn’t stop thinking about the man injured and why she thought she knew him.

She was up and going through her morning routine at seven a.m. when Logan bumped into her at the kitchen sink. So, what were you doing at a house fire on your day off? And what are you doing here today?

Jesus, Quinn, writing a book? Logan took a sip of his coffee.

Just curious. Did you know those people?

What people?

The man and woman at the scene. She washed her cup and opened the cupboard door.

I was driving by and saw the glow in the sky. Why the interrogation?

With your track record with women, I was just wondering. So, she fibbed. She wanted the identity of the man they pulled off the porch. Did the guy we worked on look familiar to you?

No. Old boyfriend of yours? I thought you only had eyes for me.

Cut the crap. Logan was like a brother to her. They had been hired the same time and had become close friends. He was a huge support during her divorce.

She wiped down the counter and turned to him. I swear I know him from somewhere.

Sorry I can’t be of help. Hey, you doing anything tomorrow night?

No, why? Can’t get a date again? She grinned in his direction.

I can get a date with the snap of my fingers, sweetheart. You want to go see that new horror flick? You’re the only girl I know that doesn’t cover her eyes.

Lucky for you, my calendar’s free.

I’ll let you buy.

She threw the dish towel at him and went to collect her things from her locker.

The smile faded from her face. The vision of the mystery man invaded her thoughts again. She reached in and grabbed her purse, slamming the locker shut.

You okay, Quinn? Myers asked closing his locker.

I’m fine. Why? She hadn’t realized he was standing there.

I don’t know. You seem a little preoccupied.

Enjoy it. She flashed him a smile while tossing her purse over her shoulder. I’ll see ya in a couple.

Yeah. Take care.

Quinn had that hair-standing-on-the-back-of-your-neck feeling as she walked down the stairs. She glanced over her shoulder. He hadn’t moved from his locker. Creepy. Myers was a good guy, but sometimes he could be a little…odd.

Chapter Three

Quinn stepped through the hospital lobby doors. What the hell was she doing here? She had no rational explanation why she was asking the lady at the information desk if she could help her locate this guy who wouldn’t let her brain rest.

Are you family? The white-haired volunteer asked.

No, ma’am. My name’s Quinn Callahan. I was one of the firefighters that worked on him at the scene. I was wondering how he was doing?

She looked Quinn over with her lips in a firm line. Quinn fought the urge to squirm under her intense scrutiny. She reminded her of her sixth grade math teacher. One look and she could make you think you’d done something wrong.

Well… She hesitated. His name is Braden Brandish and he’s on the fifth floor, ICU.

Intensive Care? Why did her stomach just drop to her feet?

Any other information will have to come from his family.

I understand. Thank you. Quinn faced the elevator, not sure what to do. Braden Brandish. That name was familiar. She walked with purpose and fisted the button. She was going up. It was time to find out why this guy was under her skin. There had to be an explanation.

She marched to the nurse’s station like she belonged there. Hi, my name’s Quinn Callahan. I’m looking for Braden Brandish.

He’s in room twelve. The nurse responded, then turned her attention back to the computer she was fixated on.

Thanks. Quinn hated hospitals. The white walls, the sterile smells, and the gloom that hung in the air…yeah, she wasn’t cut out for this place. She rounded the corner and walked past four rooms with glass walls before coming to room twelve. The curtain was drawn half way. Should she go in? Her heart pounded in her chest and her breakfast threatened an encore. She inhaled and pushed the curtain aside.

Her eyes darted to the man in the bed. It was the same guy, all right. He was connected to IV’s and heart monitors and his head was wrapped. Oxygen was being administered. Even though she was a trained professional, the scene disturbed her. The question was why was it disturbing?

Quinn’s eyes traveled to a man and woman sitting in chairs on the opposite side of the room. The glare from the window blinded her from seeing their faces. She moved closer and extended her hand. My name’s Quinn Callahan. I was the firefighter/paramedic that worked on Mr. Brandish last night. I wanted to see how he was doing.

Her mouth dropped as she recognized the man that shook her hand. I’m Chase Reiss. He turned to the woman, now standing beside him. And this is my wife, Jena.

Quinn forced a smile, embarrassed at her star struck reaction.