Free The Protector by Dee Henderson Page A

You can’t see right now anyway.”
    She patted her shirt pocket. “Here. Only pair.”
    “I won’t lose them.”
    She opened her eyes enough to squint at him. “Swear?”
    If she wasn’t protesting a pair of glasses, he would have laughed at the irritation in her question. “I promise not to lose them.”
    She was reluctant to believe him. Jack reached down and gently squeezed her ankle. He understood why she would cling to something so simple. She’d spent three weeks with her eyes bandaged after the nursing home fire. Without the glasses her vision was very poor. “Promise, kiddo.”
    “Cassie.” Neal got her attention. “I need to clean this hand. It’s going to sting.”
    She just nodded at that. Jack supposed everything was relative. A sting wasn’t high on the pain meter compared to the pain she’d been through.
    Jack turned his attention to his friend and pitched his voice low. “Cole, she needs to see a doctor.”
    “Tell me something I don’t know.”
    “Then why—?”
    “She’d have to be dying before she would voluntarily step foot back into a hospital.”
    Jack supposed if he had dealt with over a year of being in and out of hospitals, he might feel the same. “It doesn’t change the fact she needs to see a doctor.”
    “So I’ll find one who makes house calls.” Cole pointed to the fire. “One of his?”
    Jack forced himself to focus on the problem they had to deal with. “Fire in the walls,” he confirmed. “Better than even odds we’ll find his signature.”
    “Peter Wallis owns this house.” The quiet statement was underscored by the significance of the information.
    “Chairman of the fire district board?”
    Cole nodded.
    Jack could feel the open question of motive for the arsonist finding definition.
    “That hurt.”
    Jack turned at Cassie’s words, saw the taut edge of pain around her mouth.
    “Almost done,” Neal sympathized. He had her hand clean, was dealing with a blister forming between her two small fingers. Jack stepped back to her side and let his hand touch her shoulder.
    Cassie pushed away the oxygen mask. “This fire was set?”
    “It looks that way.” Jack nudged the mask back on, wishing she was a better patient. She ignored him.
    “He set it,” she murmured.
    “What?”
    She frowned and shook her head.
    “Cassie, did you see something?” Cole pushed. “Anything?”
    “By the drive. Watching the fire. Weird the way he was watching the fire,” she whispered. “A tall man, brown jacket, jeans.” She looked down at her hand. “I didn’t really get a good look. He was in the shadows.”
    Jack shot Cole a look. They had been hoping for someone to see the man, but Cassie— Jack was afraid of what that meant. She had seen him; that meant he had seen her too.
    Cole dug his keys out of his pocket. “As soon as they say she can move, take her to the station and get her statement,” he said quietly. “I’ll bring her car.”

Seven
    J ack knew Cole used his vehicle as his mobile command center. He hadn’t realized that meant there was barely room for people. In the back were empty paint cans to use for evidence collection, metal screens for sifting debris, shovel, rake, crowbar, garbage bags, a large red toolbox, and rolls of plastic sheeting to protect evidence.
    Jack nudged down the volume on the radio dispatch calls, keeping his attention on the traffic even as his peripheral vision stayed locked on Cassie beside him. “Leave that oxygen on.”
    “I’m fine.”
    “You’re still coughing between every other word.”
    “It’s not the first time I ate smoke. It’s almost cleared.”
    He frowned at her. “I can tell.”
    She raised the mask again.
    Cole’s jacket swallowed her slim frame. Cassie’s system had swung from overheated to chilled as it coped with the crashing adrenaline. Jack was feeling very responsible for her as she’d been entrusted to his care and he wasn’t all that happy about it. He wasn’t a paramedic.
    She