“Hey,” he called. “Anybody back there?”
Silence answered, but there was movement behind the bins.
Oliver moved closer cautiously. If it was a trapped animal, it could be dangerous. And if it was a person, it could be an arsonist. Why else would someone hide nearby during a blaze? He switched on the flashlight on his shoulder strap as he stepped around the industrial bin, illuminating the dark corner. Huddled beside the bin, a wide-eyed, sandy-haired youth stared up into the beam of his light, frozen in terror.
Instinctively, Oliver knew the boy was “family.” It was the term he used in his head for Jerome’s not-quite-human residents. And just as instinctively, he knew better than to call this in. No one helpful was looking for this boy.
He made sure his radio was off before crouching down to the boy’s level. “Hey.” He kept his voice neutral, his body relaxed. “I’m Oliver. You need some help?”
The kid’s eyes widened a bit farther, as if he hadn’t expected kindness. He shook his head, lowering his eyes under Oliver’s continued scrutiny.
“You hungry?”
The dark eyes darted up once more, the answer obvious in them, though the boy didn’t speak.
Oliver took a protein bar from his pocket and offered it to him. After glancing past Oliver as if to see if this was some kind of trick, he snatched the bar from Oliver’s hand and tore it open, gobbling it down in two bites. As the boy looked up hopefully for more, Oliver took inventory of the dirty T-shirt, torn jeans and bare feet. The kid had been living on the street—or in the wild—for a while.
The boy jumped and scrambled back at the sound of Oliver’s radio crackling with an announcement from the team leader that the fire was contained.
“It’s okay,” Oliver assured him. “Everybody’s going to be leaving soon. I won’t tell anyone you’re here.”
Looking only slightly less mistrusting, the kid nodded.
“So you can understand my language, yeah?”
Another nod.
“Can you speak it?”
No answer.
“Okay, forget about that for now. Do you have a name?”
The kid blinked at him, understanding but clearly having no words. Whether it was because he didn’t have a name or simply couldn’t speak at all, Oliver wasn’t sure.
“Can I give you one? Just to make it easier for me to talk to you.” When the boy didn’t shake his head, Oliver pondered it for a moment. “How about Colt?” He reminded Oliver of one, skittish and wild.
The boy considered it and seemed to recognize its meaning, as a shy smile spread slowly across his face, and he nodded.
“Okay, Colt. I have to go right now, but I’m going to come back in a little bit. Will you stay here and wait for me? I can bring you some proper food and some water, give you someplace warm to sleep—but I’m not going to take you anywhere, don’t worry,” he added as Colt looked alarmed at the last bit. “I’m not going to bring anyone, either.”
Colt’s demeanor relaxed to his previous level of vigilance, and he hugged his knees, resting his chin on them with a slight, wary nod.
Oliver’s radio went off again, his partner wanting to know where he was.
He straightened and responded before nodding to Colt once more. “Be back in a bit.”
As he arrived at the front of the lot, a little zing of dismayingly pleasant recognition went through him at the sight of Lucy Smok conversing with one of the other firefighters. When she turned her head as if feeling his gaze on her, he smiled. And then felt like an idiot. What the hell was he smiling about? They weren’t friends. He tried to look nonchalant and let the smile fade naturally. Lucy’s expression made it pretty clear that he’d only succeeding in pulling off “idiot.”
She took in his uniform as he came closer and managed a perfect Spock eyebrow lift. “So now you’re a firefighter, too?” The words sounded like an accusation, like she thought he was messing with her.
“It’s a volunteer fire department, and I’m a volunteer. So, yeah, I guess. I mean, yeah.” Jesus. Why was he on the defensive all of a sudden? Something weird had happened last night. With that one little look from her as he’d kept her from falling, he’d lost his own mental footing with her.
The eyebrow was still halfway up. “Okay.” She seemed to be waiting for him to say something else.
Oliver cleared his throat. “What brings you here?” Jesus.
“The fire. I got a tip that someone had seen a wild dog out here right after the fire broke out. I thought I’d check and see if our...” She paused and glanced at the crew packing up around them. “If there was any connection to the case. Did you see it?”
Oliver had been watching her lips move, the dark lipstick she favored mesmerizing, and he’d forgotten to listen to the words she was saying. “Sorry, see what?”
Lucy gave him that inscrutable look once more. “The wild dog.”
He shook his head, and even as he said no, a certainty struck him in the gut. Of course he had. Colt.
“Well, it sounds like it wasn’t big enough to have been...the animal in the other reports, but your chief says this fire looks suspicious. Definitely arson, but I’m getting another vibe. Like the origins don’t make sense. No incendiary devices, no clear starting point, just combustion out of nowhere. Which is right up my alley. With Smok Consulting, I mean.”
“Smoke.” He was just blurting out dumb-ass shit now. So they sounded the same. Smoke/Smok. This wasn’t news.
Lucy squinted at him. “Right.”
“Well, I’ve gotta run. I’ll see if I can get any more details about the cause.” Halfway to the truck, he paused and glanced back. “How are those stitches? You look rested.”
“I... It’s fine. Yeah, I did. Get some rest.” Now Lucy was stumbling over her words, too.
He tried not to smile. “Okay, I’ll check in with you later?”
She nodded, and Oliver climbed onto the truck, avoiding looking at her as they pulled out of the lot, because looking at her made him feel warm. God, he was completely regressing to an adolescent state.
He shook himself mentally, remembering that Colt was waiting for him.
* * *
He gave it an hour before heading back in his regular clothes, a few boxes and a small rolled-up carpet loaded into the back of his pickup. The storage facility attendant didn’t bat an eye. They hadn’t had any direct interaction when he was here in uniform, so Oliver hadn’t expected him to, but he still felt guilty, like he was doing something illicit. Which, of course, he was. But not because of the fire. At least, he hoped it wasn’t because of the fire.
He asked for a unit in back, saying he didn’t want his stuff to smell like smoke, and the attendant accommodated him without question. The unit was just two down from the trash bins where he hoped Colt was still waiting.
After unrolling the carpet on the floor of the unit and moving his boxes into it, Oliver unpacked the inflatable mattress and pump and set it up before heading to the trash bins. At first glance, he thought Colt had taken off, but the boy scrambled out from between the bins and the wall after evidently seeing that it was Oliver. It had probably taken Colt a moment to recognize him out of uniform.
“Hey, Colt. So I brought you some stuff, and I’ve put it in that storage