Firebreak (Josie Gray Mysteries #4)(4)
“The shrink doing you any good?”
Josie sighed. “I’m not sure how a therapist can fix me. I know the guilt is misplaced, but it’s still there. My involvement wasn’t intentional, but it’s a fact. And I can’t get it out of my head.”
Pete crossed his arms again and leaned back to get a better look at her. “I saw more shrinks during high school than you could count. You remember.”
She nodded. She did remember. Pete could do no right in his parents’ eyes. He had spent many nights sleeping on a cot in her garage after his own parents would kick him out for not obeying their rules. Then they’d come to collect him, to drag him off to another therapy session.
“Mom and Dad thought I was psycho because I wanted to skydive and drag race and raise hell. Everybody wanted to figure me out. Fix me. Drug me. They put me on diets. No meat, no sugar, no whatever. No alcohol. I was on so many drugs for a while I couldn’t function. It was crazy. Everybody wanted me to crawl around inside my own head twenty-four/seven. Thinking about everything but what I wanted. Talking about it. They tried to get me to live like somebody I wasn’t.”
Josie said, “I don't think that's my issue.”
“You don’t get it. You gotta get out of your head.” He paused, and she could tell some inner dialogue was taking place in his mind, swirling at speeds other people could never keep up with. He reached out and squeezed her arm, the grip tight, not friendly. “We’ll get together before I leave. I got your cure.”
Josie laughed in spite of his serious expression. “I don’t think I need a cure.”
Pete’s eyes widened and she remembered the old intensity of their days in high school. If Pete wanted something, the rest of them went along for the ride because there was no stopping him. “Josie, don’t act like I don’t know anything. I can help you. Hell, I could have helped Dillon if he was still here.”
A man dressed in a khaki jumpsuit opened the door and yelled, “Get in here and suit up, Pete. We’re headed out.”
Josie smiled. “We’ll talk again before you head back to Montana. Be careful up there.”
He nodded his head slowly and gave her a half grin. “I know the look. You’re thinking, He’s crazier than ever.”
She laughed. “That’s not true. I never thought you were crazy. Maybe a little manic, but never crazy.”
Pete looked back over his shoulder; the man who’d come to get him had disappeared. “Then trust me. I got my own method for getting your head clean.” He stood and wrapped her in a rough hug, then pulled away and jogged toward the door. When he reached it he turned and winked. “Look at me, Josie. I’m living proof.”
THREE
The Artemis firehouse was located a block west of the police department. The town was laid out in a grid formation aligned with the Rio Grande, just six miles to the south, and the Chinati Mountain range, about twenty miles to the north. Artemis struggled to keep the storefronts around the town square occupied and the businesses if not thriving, at least maintaining. Several large ranching operations brought most of the commerce into town. Artemis was primarily populated by those who wanted little to do with the outside world; they desired privacy and the freedom to run their lives as they saw fit with as little government interference as possible. Living off the grid wasn’t just unplugging from the electric company: it was an isolated way of life that Josie respected and often aspired to.
The streets around the firehouse were already packed with a mix of firefighters’ pickup trucks, sheriffs’ cars, and police jeeps. Josie parked in her designated place at the PD and walked to the firehouse, sticking to the side of the street where the shade trees provided a measure of relief from the sun. The bank sign down the street read 103 degrees, and the heat showed no sign of breaking. Temperatures in the hundreds down in the river valley were typical for early July, but Josie held out hope for an early monsoon season, especially with the fire risk so high.
Josie walked through the empty engine bay and figured the fire truck was probably already positioned up north near the mudflats and the prairie grasses. An open door at the back of the bay led to a training room for the volunteer fire department. She found every seat taken, and most of the standing area in the room occupied as well. Dozens of voices mixed together as worried officers and firefighters prepared for the worst.
Officer Otto Podowski stood at the other end of the room, smoothing down the white flyaway hair that never seemed to stay put on his balding head. He had been her boss when she’d first been hired by the police department, nearly fifteen years ago. When he decided to give up the extra stress that came with running the department he’d encouraged her to put in for the chief’s position. Otto was a first-rate cop and one of her closest friends.
He offered a friendly smile as she approached, although his demeanor was sober. “What’s the word?” he asked.
“Marta’s at the watchtower. I saw smoke in Piedra Labrada just before she came on duty. I called it in to Doug. We’re hoping it doesn’t jump the river,” Josie said.
“I hope Mexico’s got somebody working it. We’re stretched pretty thin.”
“We’ve got some extra help coming in today. I just left the Marfa airport,” she said. “I met up with an old friend of mine from high school that’s with a smoke jumper crew out of Montana.”