His sandy brown hair, streaked gold by the sun, was disheveled where he had run his fingers through it. His eyes were bloodshot and he looked tired. He stood over her, his hands in the pockets of his khaki slacks. The short sleeves of his red-and-tan plaid shirt revealed strong forearms dusted with hair the same dark brown as his eyebrows. “What did the doctor say today?”
“Dr. Boren said my CAT scan showed no blood clots or fractures, which is good, but she now suspects my memory loss might be due to something besides the concussion.”
“Like what?”
“Like maybe I saw something horrible at M.B.’s and I just don’t want to remember.”
He frowned. “How’s your head?”
“It still hurts, but not as badly as yesterday.” She choked back the frustration screaming through her. “The doctor said I could go home in the morning if nothing changes.”
“But you have to rest,” her mother reminded her.
Clay nodded, studying her intently. She knew that look. If she didn’t rest as ordered, he would tie her to the bed. “I got your car home so you don’t need to worry about that,” he said.
Her mom moved up the other side of the bed, her blue eyes warm as she took out a bag of the popcorn Clay had brought. “Would you like some of this?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll find a microwave. And some ice for your Coke.”
“Thanks.” As Paula left the room, Shelby glanced at Clay. “Sit down. You look beat.”
He eased down into the hard, vinyl-covered chair next to the bed, scooting over to give himself a little room from the table at her shoulder that held a phone and a brown plastic pitcher.
“Did Lieutenant Hager agree to assign you to the case?”
“Yeah.”
“Was Jack all right with that?”
He nodded, scrubbing a hand over his face. The fluorescent light running in a track overhead shone harshly on the tiny lines fanning out from his eyes.
“So what did you find out about M.B. today?”
“I’ve been talking to Collier. He’s working the case for the Fire Investigator’s Office.”
Collier McClain was the newest of Presley’s two fire investigators. He had been a former station mate of Shelby’s when she worked out of Station House Two a couple of years ago. Only a fire cop since January, McClain’s first solo case had been a doozy. A prominent female defense attorney had turned out to be a serial sniper who had been killing Presley firefighters.
“Right now, he’s trying to determine if the fire at M.B.’s was arson or an accident.”
Shelby knew the two men would work together until one of them proved M.B.’s death was an accident, suicide or murder. It must have been an accident. M.B. was a delightful person. Who could possibly want to kill the school teacher?
Clay leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees. “Earlier today, Collier and I went to the high school where M.B. taught and talked to the other teachers, a few kids. She was well liked, very involved.”
“Yes. She was the science club sponsor. I guess you found that out?”
“Yes.” His gaze searched her face. “I need to ask you some questions. You up for it?”
She nodded. “I want to help.”
“Do you recall seeing her that night?”
“Yeah, when she got home, which was about ten or ten-fifteen. She parked in the garage and waved to me before she shut the door.”
“Do you remember what you were doing before you went over to her house?”
The headache Shelby couldn’t shake throbbed at the base of her skull. “I was outside feeding the cat. A stray that started coming around the station house about a month ago. We call him Smoke. I heard a scream…”
She gnawed on the pad of her thumb, surprised at how clearly she could recall that, but when she probed for more, her mind became a mass of fractured light. “That’s why I went over to her house. At first I thought it might have been the television—M.B. loved horror movies—but it was too loud.”
“And you didn’t see anyone at her house after she went inside?”
“No. I did try to notice if anything was unusual when I got to her front yard, but I didn’t see anything or anyone.”
A knock at the door had Shelby turning her head, wincing at the sharp jab of pain up the back of her skull. Her captain, Rick Oliver, and another shift mate, Dylan Shepherd, walked in. Dylan carried a bouquet of colorful balloons with bags of microwave popcorn tied to the end of each ribbon.
“We come bearing gifts, little invalid.” Dylan’s eyes sparkled. “This is from everyone at Station House Three.”
Shelby laughed, exchanging a look with Clay. “I should have enough popcorn to tide me over for a while.”
She introduced Clay to the black-haired, black-eyed firefighter who was a couple of years younger than she was. Clay shook hands with both men, having previously met Shelby’s congenial captain at a city function.
Captain Oliver’s sharp gray gaze scoured her face. “How are you, Fox?”
“I’m all right, Cap.”
“You sure? Monroe said you couldn’t remember anything.”
“Not yet, anyway.” She smiled at the fighting-trim man with close-cut gray hair. “Other than that, I’m okay.”
“How long before you can come back to work?” he asked.
“Since my job is considered high-risk, I have to go at least seven days without concussion symptoms. The doctor has to examine me again then and if she likes what she sees, I can return.”
“We can keep you on light duty around the station house until your wrist heals.”
“All right.” At one time Shelby would’ve protested, but having come so close to never returning, she was content to be off full duty for now.
Dylan’s free hand closed over the rail at the foot of the bed, his dark eyes hot with interest. “That gives you a week to think of where you want to go on our date.”
He had been asking her out for two months. Broad-shouldered and lean-hipped, the former school teacher was gorgeous. And a genuinely nice guy. “Now, Shep, if I went out with you, I’d have to go out with all the guys at the station house.”
“Hey, I’m the one who carried you out.” He flashed her a quick grin. “Don’t you think you owe me?”
“I like you too much to date you,” she said wryly. After being blindsided five years ago by her bigamist husband, Shelby’s motto was leave and leave first. Her other hard-and-fast rule was don’t get involved with anyone at work.
Her relationship with Clay was the longest one she’d had with a man and that was because they were only buddies.
Dylan let it go, but she saw the determined glint in his eye. It was a shame she wasn’t interested.
“You really had me worried, Fox,” her captain said. “I better tell Aubrey she can’t have any more asthma attacks during my shift. You obviously need me around to supervise.”
Shelby grinned at his teasing, but her thoughts went to Rick’s daughter, who had severe asthma. The two-year-old had ended up in the emergency room several times. “How is she?”
“She’s okay.” Rick’s face softened. “As hardheaded as you.”
Dylan