Robert B. Parker’s Buried Secrets

Fourteen

“Do you have a death wish, Stone?” Robbie Williams said, his face only inches from Jesse’s. “Because there are easier ways to go, and none of them involve my guys risking their asses to save yours.”

Jesse didn’t respond. He was still sucking down oxygen through the mask the paramedics had given him. He was seated on the bumper of their ambulance, feeling a little crisp around the edges. He’d turned the mask down at first, but once they’d strapped it onto his head, he had to admit it made his lungs feel better and the spots stop dancing in front of his eyes.

Probably a coincidence, he decided.

Robbie was the fire chief of Paradise, and he’d never liked Jesse. He resembled a fire hydrant, short and squat, except that he spewed insults and abuse instead of water. His one saving grace was that he was good at his job, which is why Jesse had never punched him.

Robbie probably had similar thoughts about Jesse, actually.

Ordinarily they gave each other enough space to do their work. Robbie was violating that space right now, almost nose-to-nose with Jesse. Although, to be fair, Jesse had run into a burning building, which was technically Robbie’s area.

“You want to explain to me what the flying fuck you were doing, Stone?”

“Ease up, Robbie,” Suit said. Suit stood over Jesse as well, looking concerned.

Everyone from both departments was there, surrounding the ruins of the house, now just smoldering timbers. Robbie’s guys were good — they’d kept the fire from spreading.

But everything inside the house, and most of the stuff on the lawn, was charcoal. A crowd had gathered. Now the TV crews from Boston were here. A potential murderer, a burning building, an injured cop. Everything they loved. Jesse could see the cameramen trying to get a shot of him.

“Fire doesn’t make you deaf or mute, Stone,” Robbie said. “Believe me, I would know. Now, you got an answer for me or what?”

Jesse took the mask off his face and looked at Robbie for a long beat. Even seated, he was almost as tall as Robbie. Robbie stepped back without seeming to realize it.

“That house was filled with evidence of dozens — maybe hundreds — of murders,” Jesse said. “I had to try to get what I could.”

“Moron,” Robbie said. “You think anything in that place was worth your life?”

“Guess we’ll never know.”

Robbie threw up his hands, turned, and stalked away.

Jesse flexed his fingers. They were still tender and blistered from where he’d grabbed the burning file box. The paramedics had wrapped them loosely in gauze.

Jesse looked at Suit. “Anything salvageable?”

Suit shook his head. “We had a few things down at the station, but most of it was still being tagged and excavated out here.”

“I should have put it all into a warehouse.”

“Jesse, we were working on it,” Suit said. “You didn’t know.”

“It was just sitting out here.”

“Come on, Jesse. Let’s get you to the hospital.”

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not,” Suit said.

Jesse stood and looked at the burned house of Phil Burton again.

He felt sick and guilty and angry. So many people died, and they were all connected in some way to this man in his town.

He had a chance to find answers.

And he’d blown it. Literally. He’d screwed it up.

Suit put a hand on his shoulder.

Together, they walked to Suit’s car and headed to the hospital.

The doctor who swept into the exam room was dark-eyed, slim and pale, her black hair pulled back in a messy bun. She kept her eyes on Jesse’s chart until she was almost right on top of him.

“Chief Stone,” she said, with a half-smile. “Figured I’d get to meet you in here sooner or later.”

“It’s Jesse.”

“Jesse,” she said. “Rachel Lowenthal. I’d offer to shake hands, but...”

“A funny ER doctor. You must leave your patients in stitches.”

She rolled her eyes. “My kid learned the same joke last year, but in his defense, he’s only six.”

She put the chart down and examined Jesse’s hands and arms carefully but quickly. She listened to his chest with her stethoscope. Then she got a scope and began looking down his throat and up his nose, which was less comfortable. Her movements were practiced and assured.

“So you thought it was a good idea to run into a house on fire?” she asked.

“Seemed like the right thing to do at the time.”

“You’re lucky,” she said. “No blistering in the nose or throat, no damage to your sinuses. Some irritation, but that should pass. I’m going to bandage your hands with some burn pads and gauze. You’ll need to come back in a couple days to change the dressings, or do it yourself. From your chart, I see you have plenty of experience getting hurt, so you’re probably good with bandages.”

She tossed the plastic cover from the tip of the scope into a nearby wastebasket. Quick and efficient. She told him to hold out his hands.

“You’re new in town?” Jesse asked, as she gingerly cleaned his blistered skin.

“Not really,” she said. “Been here about six months.”

“I’m surprised we haven’t met.”

She smiled. “I’m surprised you’ve managed not to show up in the ER all this time. I’ve heard about you.”

“What have you heard?”

“That you get shot so often I should probably be treating you for lead poisoning.”

Jesse laughed. “I wouldn’t say it’s that often.”

“I would. I saw your chart.” Rachel finished cleaning the skin and placed thin, gel-like bandages on the palms and fingers of Jesse’s hands, where the burns were worst. They made his skin look like steak under plastic wrap. “Tell me, have you ever considered ducking? Or getting behind things?”

Jesse laughed again.

“Hold still,” she said.

“Sorry.”

“These will cover the burns, but they breathe,” she said. “Try not to put too much pressure or weight on them. You want something for the pain?”

“I’m good.”

“Right. Tough guy. I almost forgot.” She snapped off her gloves, tossed those into the wastebasket, too. “Okay, then. You’re free to go.”

Jesse figured, What the hell.

“Hey, Doc.”

“Don’t call me Doc,” she said. “Really cannot stand that.”

“Okay. Rachel.”

“Dr. Lowenthal is fine.” But she was still smiling, so he plowed ahead.

“Can I see you again?”

Her smile grew broader. “I am sure you’ll manage to get hurt again. You’ll be back in my ER before you know it.”

“No, I meant coffee. Or dinner.”

She looked tempted. Jesse was sure of it.

“No,” she said after a moment. “I appreciate the offer. But no, I don’t think so.”

“Why not?” Jesse asked.

“Like I said, I’ve heard about you,” Rachel said, as she headed for the door. “I’m not ready to join the Jesse Stone Lonely Hearts Club.”

Then she was out and in the hallway.

“See you around,” Jesse called after her.

“Drop by anytime,” she called back.

Shot down hard, Jesse thought. That about fit with the way everything else was going in his life right now.